16 DOWN – 0 TO GO!
Wow. It’s finally the finale. You managed to stick with me through the long trek in the deepest, most dense dark forest. It’s really mysterious in there but certainly not all scary. Some of it is quite pretty, like any forest. It was just a matter of continuing to walk, not stopping, not giving up. Because of you all, I never doubted we’d get here and even beyond that, you all have kept me in good spirits the entire way, even if I needed to sit and hang with the moss for a while. You all have kept me company reading this journal. I consider it the greatest favor that you shared this part of my life. Each time I had to go to the hospital and show up to get an infusion, it was a comfort to know I had a group of people to report to with the count down, each and every bloody time. I can’t thank you enough for the flowers, the kind words, the company of those who shuttled me there, and for the freedom I had to talk all about it with you. Thank you. I Knew I could count on you. I have the best friends in the world. I know Dana among others really likes quotes. I’ve been saving one that I found in the paper close to the start. Here it is from Sir Edmund Hillary’s obit (ok that’s a little morbid, but it fits). Upon his return from ascending Mount Everest, an exhausted Hillary famously said, “Well, we’ve knocked the bastard off”. My sentiments, exactly.
THE CATALOGUE OF MOANES AND GROANES
Now, there is nowhere to go but up, now. But just to fully catalogue the fabulous side effects, I have few more pics for your viewing pleasure.
- Here’re my bruised fingers. I didn’t photograph my toes, but they are also quite numb. I will be a lot happier when I get feeling back and I can open a can of soda without severe pain. I hate my fingers right now. Behind it is one of the wonderful rhodendrons my sister and I planted in celebration of the end of chemo, just so you know.
- I have a few odd sores that appeared mysteriously on my wrist a couple of weeks ago.
- I got a CT scan of my sinuses and the ENT, said it showed only a small inflammation. So, I think I can just blame the avastin, with no solution until that over.
- My mouth tasted like shit again for the last infusion, but Kyle bought me some chocolates. Now almost 2 weeks later, I think I don’t have to worry about that anymore. NO MORE MOUTH SORES. YIPPEE!
- My fatigue is just shy of crippling when it rains for some reason and we’ve had a lot of rain the past few weeks. I think that about covers it. Now I can release all these stupid things right out into midair. They will start floating away from my body starting at this moment. Some times I really wonder what the heck is going on inside my cells. They are so infinitesimally small.
WINGIN’ IT
A few weeks ago, just as it started to get warm, I was running (read: mostly walking) one day and my arm started to bug me, throbbing a bit. I decided I had to slow down and that I as over taxing my lymph nodes, so I did. As I did, I also decided I needed to raise my arm and I ended up walking along with my arm up gliding through the breeze the way a kid makes their hand sail through the wind out a car window. It was a beautiful day, but of course a weird moment. I felt happy with the sunshine flying along the Crescent Trail, but also unhappy knowing this was a bad sign. Another blow to my ego and hopes to train in the summer for the half marathon. But I’m undaunted. I decided to embrace my new body and took a flight over to Sheryl’s Health Boutique in Rockville. There I purchased a very sexy and attractive arm sock and “gauntlet” (compression sleeve and glove). It’s so damn ugly that I gave it a tattoo with a sharpe. Now it’s nicer, I think. You can be the judge. Sheryl herself explained the way it works. Your lymphatic system doesn’t have a pump to help move proteins and waste through it the way like your blood does with help from your heart. Instead it relies on your muscles so the compression sleeve helps your muscles do the job. It feels good, in fact and I think it’s giving me some superhuman strength, too. Don’t be the last one on your black to get the super-elastic special fantastic arm sock. It comes in tan and tan.
IN OTHER HEALTH NEWS & SPEAKING OF ARMS >>>
As many of you know, Lily broke her arm a couple weeks, just in the 36 hours that Kyle happened to be taking a work trip. Fortunately, it also coincided with the days where I could actually function with some reliability. Wed, midday, I got a call from the school nurse. “She fell on the sliding board and seems to be upset about it.” “Mom, sniff, it really hurts. Are you coming to get me?” My response? “Well, I wasn’t planning on it, but …ok”. I brought her home and since we coincidentally had an annual checkup scheduled for later that day, I just let her chill for a while. After school, the pediatrician, said yes, she thought we should go to the emergency room next for an x-ray. We landed there at 5pm and were helped pretty quickly. Her left forearm is broken in 2 places but one is only a chip. She was pretty excited at the glory of it all and wanted us to sign the temporary splint. Even Argo and her Teddy Bear’s name were signed. She hadn’t been thinking about her new bike that she was about to get for her tenth birthday and now could not ride for 6 weeks. Poor kid.
So, then on Thursday we went to get the real cast on, but of course, that was not the end of the story. Later that night, Lil’s arm began to swell inside the cast, so I called my nurse sister-in-law, Shauna, for advice around 9pm. She very wisely told me to call the orthopedist. He would not mind getting the call. I wasn’t relishing making another trip to the emergency room – she was supposed to be fixed by now in my mind. I was really tired by that point. But I called anyway and he volunteered to meet me in Friendship Heights behind his office building, I thought, to let us in to his office where he could take care of things. So by 9:15, Lucy, Lil and I were standing there in our shorts and t-shirts waiting on the sidewalk. He pulls up in a convertible and madras shorts and jumps out with a portable saw, which he put into action immediately. He smiled as he said, “Street medicine”. It was kind of cool and seemed so reasonable to handle things this way.
As he cut the cast open, I commented, that my husband was just out of town for 2 days and all this happened. I added, it hasn’t been and easy year. He responded that he knew what I was going through since he had been through it all. He said to me, “She’s been gone 4 years”. My jaw dropped and I told him I was sorry about it. He split the cast on both sides and simply re-wrapped the split cast with an ace bandage to hold everything in place, but more loosely. Lil was instantly relieved. He kissed her on the head and jumped back in his car as I thanked him. We were home inside 20 minutes, believe it or not.
When we I told Sonia C about the news she says to me, “What plague will next befall your house? Will it be boils or toads?” I’m hoping for toads I have to admit. I kinda like frogs.
FREE RADICALS
I began with my radiation treatments today (last Monday). It is actually quite easy compared to the waiting and patience required for chemo. I go to Sibley. I have a special parking lot with a special card key to let myself in. They have a zen garden I can ponder as I wait to 2 minutes t be called on time for my appointment. Then I lay down in the giant table with my arm prone and the alien abduction commences. It’s pretty funny to look at the shadow of my boob projected on to the wall with a little lighted scale measuring it in millimeters. Anyway, the treatment takes about 15 minutes and I should be home within an hour, thankfully. “Dr. Irene Gage-She’s-so-Great” (actually part of her name) is the most down to earth doc of all the ones I’ve visited, told me that I shouldn’t bulk up on the anti-oxidant daily vitamin these days because they fight against free radicals, which the radiation is. Irony shakes her dark head. She also told me that basically they give you as much radiation as you can take before your “sunburn” becomes unbearable, but thankfully it isn’t even troublesome until the fifth week or so. They check out my skin each week to see if they’ve effected it enough. If for some reason the scare area, for instance, doesn’t look burned enough then they give the scar an extra dose. All of this radically (taking me down from 25%, radiation + Tamoxifen takes me down to 2-3% chance of recurrence or so they say) reduces your risk of cancer cells escaping in your skin without being killed. It is my skin at this point where the biggest risk remains.
So now my life has acquired obsessive-compulsive disorder; it’s Groundhogs Day; Pete and Re-Pete. The only thing more predictable is my hot flashes and runny nose. I thought I even saw Bill Murray at Sibley, like everyone else, in his hospital gown and bathrobe – one facing backward and one facing forward – please don’t break the cycle. The only thing more mind-boggling is when the system goes haywire, like it has done today. Blair the technician called and apparently the “bulb” went out in the laser beam and they are waiting for a new one, so I get my turn today at the convenient time of 3:15 – surprise. You know, they could have just asked me to drive over to Shadowland to pick up a new laser bulb on my way in. So in a fit of rage, I went online and bought some new yoga tops. I even bought one that is exactly the same color as one I already own but want to replace. I must be really upset.
VIRTUOUS MILESTONE
Today I’m full of patience. I think it’s because I got out and walked last week 4 times, putting in about 24 miles. That’s the first time in a long time I’ve done that. Wasn’t it about 3 years ago? I forget. Many of the Tough Alliance walked together yesterday morning on the Crescent Trail, bitching and moaning about our aches and pains, suburban life and the frequent rain. This was all music to my ears. There were lots of school social events this weekend and I have to say, I am really sick to death now of telling everyone I’m fine. I am jim dandy. I know this because yesterday, my green fingernail began to ooze from underneath. The ooze had been building up behind it but now the floodgates are open. I think it’s a sign, honestly. Also, my black sunglasses broke. That has to be a sign it's time to move on even if I don't know what sunglasses come next. Then yesterday, too, for the first time in these past months, I also saw the echo. There wa another bandanad woman on the trail. We passed eachother like ghosts changing of the guards. That really was spooky.
Since this update has been so long coming (today is now May 19th Yikes), I’ll spare you the concert news this time and simply put it up. I promise the concerts will be included next go round. You guys are the best!
