The bald head cometh

 It's that time.  I'm sporting my new look of headwear.  Earlier this week, little tufts of hair started coming out when I gently tugged on them, a now familiar harbinger of what's to come.  That afternoon, I had Paul give me a very short buzz cut, and I pulled out my old hats and caps and cut the tags from some new ones I'd bought.  The rest of the really short bits of hair are starting to fall out now.  I'll be totally bald soon, but I'm really not bothered by it.  It's kinda freeing.  Getting showered and dressed in the mornings has one less step, and all I need to wash my head is some gentle Dove soap.  And, I like hats.  Last time around with chemo, back in 2019, I splurged and bought myself a Stetson that I love, but you've got to have the right outfit to pull it off.  All I've been wearing these days have been my yoga clothes or something similarly comfortable.  Perhaps for my upcoming birthday, I'll sport the Stetson.

I'm currently in the middle of week 3 of this chemo cycle, and I'm happy to report that I'm feeling much better than I was in my last post.  Paul and I have started walking every day unless it's raining, and it feels great!  I get such an energy boost from it.  Granted, some days when I'm not feeling my best it's hard to get motivated to put on my shoes and go, but I've learned that I always feel better afterwards.  I saw my oncologist earlier this week and told her I really didn't like one of the anti-nausea medications I was prescribed to take, even if I wasn't feeling nauseous, a preventative kind of thing.  However, I felt terrible when I took it.  The doctor said it likely was why I was feeling so different this time around with chemo and that I could stop taking it.  What a relief!  

Tuesday will be my second round of chemo, and I'm looking forward to seeing if I feel better without the evil anti-nausea med.  At least I know that week three of the cycle will be a good one.  Luckily, that will be the week of Thanksgiving.  Christmas is a different story.  It falls on a chemo week.  I think I'll be handing out cooking assignments.  I may make it to the Christmas dinner table in my pajamas, but there are certainly worse things to endure.  

This time around is...different

Patience, child, that little voice inside my head tells me. It's only been six days since your first session of chemo this time around. You're supposed to be lightheaded, tired, a little frustrated. But I don't remember this from the two times before. Even just by day seven I was getting out of bed and eagerly showering and dressing, getting out a little bit. Doing things. But, this time around is...different. You must rest when your body says rest, the voice resonates, no matter what day of the cycle it is. Perhaps it's being almost 61, instead of in my fifties or forties. I don't know the rhyme or reason. I just know I don't like how I'm feeling. I feel like an almost-61 year-old petulent child who wants the red lollipop in my outstretched hand. I want to feel normal, as if there was something as crazy as normal during chemotherapy. I guess normal is just whatever you get. Don't get me wrong. I'm incredibly grateful that this therapy exists, that there's a magic elixer to prolong my life. You've got some strong drugs coursing through your body, my husband Paul reminds me. I'm also incredibly grateful for all you dear readers out there, supporting me along this journey. I'll settle in and let myself be what it needs to be. I just had to get a little whining out of the way first.

Just when you least expect it, another cancer recurrence

This blog has gotten a bit out-of-date, but it's, unfortunately, time to blow the dust off and devote some time to it again. My cancer has recurred again, and I'll be going through chemo a third time, starting as soon as everyone can get their ducks in a row. I don't have an exact date yet, but it should be within the next three weeks. It's the same cancer as before, uterine adenocarcinoma metasticized to my lungs again, stage IV. It was discovered during my routine annual scan. I've had a biopsy of a nodule that lit up on my PET scan that confirmed the diagnosis. The good news is, the treatment protocol will be the same, and I respond very well to it. While there are many other things I'd rather concentrate on right now...like building our retirement home, which we started earlier this year...there are much worse scenarios I could be facing. My oncologist and I feel very positive about my prognosis, and hopefully in 21 weeks or so, this will just be another one for the books. I'll keep everyone up-to-date as things develop. In the meantime, I'll keep busy trying to find all my hats and scarves for my inevitable hair loss, which will likely happen about three weeks after the first chemo session, if memory serves. Paul and I are also preparing some soups and stews to go in the freezer for those evenings when we won't feel like cooking. For those of you who don't know, Paul retired last month, so he now has two projects: a new house and a wife going through chemo. He's a pretty good sous chef too. So, dear readers, here we go again.

Moving on

Wow!  I can’t believe it’s about 20 months since my last entry. I guess I can blame COVID for putting me into a state of suspended animation. We’ve all used that excuse, haven’t we?  But, there’s nothing like wanting to shout the good news from the mountain top to bring you back to living in the real world. 

Yesterday, I got my latest PET scan results, and I remain cancer-free!  I see my gynecological oncologist in two days to go over the results together - for the last time. More on that in a second. 

Through some sort of failed negotiations between our insurance company and my husband’s employer, the Northside Hospital System is no longer a part of our health insurance coverage. Since 2012, I’ve received all my oncologic care from the Northside network, probably the most robust gynecological oncology program in the state of Georgia. So, I’ve got to find a new oncologist, a new thoracic surgeon, a new radiation oncologist, and a new infusion center. I’m sure my current oncologist will have some suggestions for me, but I’m devastated nonetheless. Northside has saved my life at least three times. Going somewhere else is just unthinkable. 

But, I will persist. I will find what I need. Right now, however, it seems an impossible task. 

Thank goodness I’ve got a clean bill of health at the moment, so I won’t have to rush to find my new oncologist. I’ll have time to do my research and come up with an alternative that will be receptive to my myriad of questions at each encounter. 

So, I celebrate, albeit with a slightly heavy heart. Good bye, Northside. You’ve been very good to me. 

Six-month PET scan results: cancer free!

Yesterday, I went in for my six-month post-chemo PET scan and already got the results back:  I remain cancer-free!  Not even the tiniest sign of malignancy.  I do have an appointment on the books with my oncologist on April 14th, but it remains to be seen if I’ll be able to keep that appointment.  Perhaps, we’ll have a teleconference, at the least.  I’d like to find out if my next scan will be in three months or six.  I’m sure I’ll remain on the Arimidex, and I’m never going to complain about it again, if it helps me maintain the status quo.

Good news like this is a bright moment during these surreal days of COVID-19.  All is currently well in the Moore household.  We’re all healthy and trying to keep busy.  I’m lucky that my husband Paul works in a necessary industry (they make paper products, like toilet paper), but he is able to do his job from home.  My son Allen is completing his university coursework online, at least for the remainder of this semester.  He wants to go to summer school and, like so many college students, hopes that he can return to campus for this.  Boyce is taking some time off from college, but he hopes to restart again in the fall...again, hopefully on campus and not on his computer at home.

For those of you living in other countries, I thought I’d give a little update on life in Snellville, Georgia.  Most small businesses have had to close for lack of clients and concerns about infection.  Large gathering spots like movie theaters, playgrounds, and churches have closed.  Grocery stores, pharmacies, gas stations, and some restaurants remain open.  Restaurants that are open are for curbside pickup or delivery only.  The shelves at the grocery stores are not well-stocked, especially not for canned goods, meats, and the ever elusive toilet paper.  Our supply lines are well in place, but people are buying frantically, creating the effect of shortages.

We used to eat out a lot, and that has certainly changed.  One of my main tasks is food requisition and preparation.  However, dinner has become the highlight of the day.  I’m a reasonably good (though sometimes reluctant) cook, and my family has enjoyed finding out what each night’s offering is going to be.  We sit around the table — not in front of the television watching Jeopardy — and have conversation.  Today, I was reminded of a time when the boys were six (that’s 13 years ago), when I began reading them a chapter a night after dinner of Harry Potter.  I think I’m going to restart this tradition.  I enjoy reading aloud, and I’m going to search our bookshelves to find something suitable that we’ll get into.  Something fictional and engrossing, with lots of characters I can give voice to.  Feel free to offer suggestions.

In the meantime, please keep the health of a dear friend of mine in your thoughts and prayers.  She’s having to go through chemotherapy a third time in the midst of a pandemic.  Her immune system is very unstable due to the chemo, and she needs all good juju you can muster right now.

I also want to take just a few moments to let all reading this entry to know how much you all mean to me...close relatives and friends down the chain to acquaintances I’ve never met.  These are uncertain times.  I encourage all of you to take a few minutes to get in touch with those you love and tell them what they mean to you.

I love you all.

Remain safe and sound

These are confusing, challenging times.  I struggle to find the words for what I want to say in this post.

First, I guess I should say that I’m doing fine.  Health is good, as is the rest of the family, who are all home for the duration of the COVID-19 pandemic.  Even Paul’s company has a work from home plan right now.  We are limiting our outings, which consist mostly of searching for toilet paper.  Ironic that Paul’s company makes it, but even their online employee website is out of stock.  I’ll probably make an early-morning outing tomorrow to see if I can score some.

The other challenge has been finding alcohol prep wipes to sanitize my skin before making an insulin injection.  However, a dear friend sent me some to hopefully get me through until an order I placed online arrives.  All local resources are exhausted.  I hear a rumor that people are buying them up to sanitize their cell phones.

I have a PET scan scheduled for next week, but I’m beginning to wonder if it will happen, with all the required precautions for spreading the virus.  March 19th represents my 6-month anniversary since my last chemo treatment.

My hair is growing in very, very curly.  Think 1970’s perm that your mom got at the beauty parlor.  I’m looking forward to it growing out further and perhaps stretching out the curl.  But, in the grand scheme of things, this is such a minor concern.

I’ve suspended my volunteer work at a local food pantry, which I really struggle to accept.  I don’t want to believe that I’m in a high risk category, but with metastases to my lungs, I guess I’m in that group, even thought I have no active cancer.  I was truly enjoying my time spent there, and I’m broken-hearted that I’m not there helping out at a time when they face true challenges.

So, in the Moore household, thing are certainly going as best as can be expected.  I think of all of you out there who may be facing difficult times, and I pray that you will all rise above those challenges and remain safe and sound.

I’ll be in touch later when I found out if I’ll have my PET scan...and hopefully the good results that it shows.

Happy New Year!

There are two ways of spreading light — to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.

— Edith Wharton 

New Years Greetings to All!

I rang in the new year by going to sleep about 10:30 on New Year’s Eve.  Just didn’t have it in me to stay up for the festivities.  That’s okay.  I’m glad the new year has arrived, so far with good news.  I had my check up with my oncologist on Friday, and my physical exam was good.  I’m scheduled for my next PET/CT scan in late March, with a follow up appointment with my oncologist two weeks afterward.

Though perhaps the best news is I’ve begun volunteering with a local food pantry, two days a week, for a four-hour shift each day.  I’ve been set to the task of answering the incoming phone calls for the organization, which is much more than it sounds like it might be.  I’m the front line of contact with people who are in dire straits.  They’ve probably been considering making their phone call for days, desperate in some area of their lives and needing help.  I’m there to listen to them, offer them some comfort, and hopefully find a way to help them out.

The organization does much more than just feed the stomach.  They have utilities and prescription medication assistance, as well as a job board, homework help, and various activities for their clients through out the year.  My first volunteer job was taking pictures of the clients with Santa at the pantry’s annual Christmas party.  I went to Walmart to find the most ridiculously decorated sweater I could find, wore my knee-length Santa hat, and dusted off my old Canon SLR camera for some good shots.  The kids had crafts projects to do, cookies and milk, and each received a stocking with small toys and other treats.  It was a wonderful evening.

I go in today for the tougher work, answering those phones.  I’m still on a learning curve.  I want to connect up potential clients with the correct services we offer, but I also want to be a resource of other services in the community that we don’t offer...like help with rent or house payments or clothing sources.  I’ve spent hours on the Internet educating myself about similar organizations in the community that offer compatible services.  I want every caller who makes that difficult phone call to hang up with some sort of resources, some sort of hope.

The magical thing about volunteering with this organization is the energy I receive back from my work.  Four hours is a long shift for me, but every time I leave with a sense of purpose and gratitude for what I have and what I have to give.  This is probably the best cure for my moodiness and fatigue I get from the post-chemo drug I’m taking, Arimidex.  I feel very fortunate.

So, my new year begins on a very positive note.  I wish the same for all of you dear readers.