The Scream

When I look back it was the scream that confirmed to me that something was wrong and would never change. That trying would never be good enough.

Life is a trip. One moment it's spring and all of the seasons are spread before you. There's such an innocence to spring, a feeling of hope and the knowing that one can do anything they put their mind to. You jump in mud puddles just to see how it feels, you find a treasure trove of mosses in the woods and bring them home to plant in your "garden". You peak under last year's leaves looking for the signs that spring has arrived, hepaticas blooming, lady slippers poking their way through the earth. Spring seems never ending until you feel the heat and hear the scream.

Suddenly it's summer and the hints of warmth you felt in spring now surround you like a blanket. You're free of childhood, able to make decisions based on the heart. You can play grown up, drink coffee with your friends, start a family, go to college and plan for the future. You have all the time in the world to plant your gardens, mow your lawns, buy your house because after all this feeling will continue forever, right? Only until you suddenly hear the scream. Then innocence is gone.

It's autumn now, a time of preparing for falling leaves, hibernation and death of what was once so vibrant and alive. You think you're prepared for the losses as you've had so many fruitful days before. You know it can not last. Yet you hope to hang onto the leaves, the thick grasses of summer, the flowers and the gentle breezes. You hope that if you can only coddle life a little bit longer that you'll be able to hang on to it .... all the while ignoring the rising voices in the background.

So this is where I find myself, having survived illness and sad losses, having to regroup for the future and whatever it might hold. I've so enjoyed the newness of spring, the warmth of summer and even the changes of autumn. And from now on I'm going to ignore the scream

Maggie's Birthday

Nine years ago today my first grandchild, Megan Amelia Olive, was born. We didn't know the sex of the baby before she was born so it was with even greater anticipation with which we awaited her arrival. After waiting for what seemed an inordinate amount of time that morning I snuck into the recovery room to see my daughter and her first child. I remember how tiny Maggie looked at the time, all pink and wrinkly. Now she reminds me that in 7 years she'll be able to drive. Where does the time go?

Happy ninth birthday my Maggie. I love you so very much.

Granma

And so life goes on ....

You go Carol! I finally got my password issues resolved and am ready to dive into blogging again.

When we last left our heroine she was on the road to recovery from a slight touch of breast cancer. So much has happened in the meanwhile that it will be difficult to relate everything, but I shall try.

First moi. I am well. When I first completed my radiation course and went back to work I was overwhelmingly tired. I found it difficult to process even little things. Imagine the look on the face of the NYSDOH inspector who asked me the first day I was back on the job .... "So, there's a fire on the unit. What would you do? What are the steps?" "Uhm, .... see that window behind you there Joe? I'd be out it in a flash." I'm so thinking that's not the answer he was searching for. Thank goodness for the ability to laugh and my chemo cap. I do believe "Joe" realized quickly that I wasn't dealing with a full deck. Now my patients would fare better as I would call a code red, evacuate the building laterally while manning the command post on the floor. Ok, I'd probably hit the window, just like I said.

Yet on the heels of all of my becoming well again came great sadness. In late May, after years of chronic illness and pain I lost my mother. Actually, she's not lost at all but rather fills every empty space in my heart. Mom was an elegant, beautiful lady who'd spent her last 15 years in and out of hospitals and bravely faced her passing as she faced her life. Now she is the warm breezes which surround me in the summer and the cooler breezes which lift the coloured leaves to the skies. I miss you mom, so very much.

With such changes as I've faced come changes in what one is willing to put up with in life. I now find that relationships have changed, the need to listen to babble and nonsense is no longer a requirement and that I can pick and choose with whom I want to share my life. It's been a freeing feeling, no longer wondering what words might set off a reaction, trying to be supportive without being an enabler. Freedom is more than an other word for nothing left to loose ....

And it is during these times of change and growth that I have also found confidence in a new relationship. We are only in the beginning stages of rediscovering and will have to make decisions as time goes along ... who moves, who is willing to try something new. After what this past year has presented to me and how I feel coming out on the other side, I think things will work themselves out and all will be okay.

It does appear as though I'm gonna live

that's the latest word from here. I feel so much better, so much more like myself I could cry with joy. Last night I gave it up around 2030 and headed off to bed. I was tired of fighting the "Darn, I'm tired feeling." And when I awoke this a.m. at 0430 I felt great. So I will take advantage of this day and run up to the yarn shop in Tivoli just because I can. Yea, me!

What do I do now?

Not a bad day, all in all. Tried to see just how much I could do and I managed to make some headway here at the ranch. The house is clean, the clothes are washed and put away, I have fresh linen on the bed and the dogs have been walked. I'm still feeling weak and tired but I try to remember that might just be because all of my rapidly dividing cells are being killed off by the chemo. So my body is working overtime. Funny, it doesn't look it.

So the question as always is do I now go back to work tomorrow? I know it will exhaust me, at least I think I do. Then why can't I just call in? Why do I feel like I'm letting people down by not going to work? Why do I even care? As a caregiver shouldn't I prioritize caring for myself? And yet I hesitate.

Just paged one of my nursing buddies to see how work is today. We shall see ....

so as the day progresses

I find myself in the same state. I decided to head up to the bank and then go get a few things at the grocery store which proved to be a lot of work. I can not for the life of me understand why I thought this chemo thing gonna be an easy job. In my mind I truly thought you get the drugs one day, the next day ain't so bad, the following not great and then I would be all better until 3 weeks later when we started all over again. So the purpose of these blog enteries is to remind me of what this journey is truly like, not to wallow. I want to be able to look back in years to come and be grateful for what 'making it to the other side' truly means.

My brother stopped by this morning with flowers, a card and chocolates from himself and Tina. How terribly sweet. It's a testament to just how crappy I feel that I actually have chocolates laying around in the house which have not even been opened, much less eaten. He stayed for a short time and then was on his way.

Shortly after I returned from Rhinebeck Mary showed up with Italian ice. OMG what a brilliant idea. It feels so good doing down my throat which is now sore, as is my tongue. We took the dogs over to the golf course to let them run and get some exercise (and get me some, also). It's an absolutely beautiful day with blue skies and a warm sun, in the upper 30's. Too nice a day to stay indoors and feel sorry for oneself. That is the one thing I don't want to master.

So now to make some soup, fold some clothes (?) and rest. May today be the turnaround day.

Happy 60th anniversary Mom and Dad!

Well I did say I was interested in what the experience would be like

and again I awake this morning feeling rather well. The dogs had me up at 0430 so I turned on the light in the bedroom which allows Emmie to play. She thinks we're all up and ready to go at that point and Rory and I just roll over and go back to bed. Silly pooch.

Drug myself out of bed around 0730 and made some hot rice cereal without which I don't believe I'd still be alive. It's been my life blood. I'm making myself drink lots of water to keep my mouth wet and to try and stave off thrush. My mouth was all yucky this morning and that's the last thing I need.

So off to the showers and then getting some light cleaning done. Sheets need to be changed. And I need to settle with some knitting. This has turned out to be much more difficult than I thought. I really thought that I could go to work, just sort of keep on truckin' like nothing was really happening. I guess I was mistaken. It's real.

Better days are coming

Or at least they'd better be. Went into work this morning which was a big, stupid thing to do in retrospect. I felt so well when I woke up and instead of thinking, "gee, this might not last" I said "sure, I'll come in and help out" when I got the phone call from the nursing supervisor. I arrived on time only to find out that I had pissed off the nurse who was supposed to be in charge as she was now out on the floor. She made it very clear that she didn't want to work the floor and wasn't even grateful that someone had come in to make her day easier.

By early morning I had started with the 'hit by a truck' syndrome, chills, achy feeling, nauseous and the legs swelled up like puff pastry. I stole into the clean utility room on the ortho unit and 'borrowed' a pair of thigh hi compression stockings and my legs felt so much better. Anti-nausea meds saved the day (as did Gina's wonderful home made rice pudding from the cafeteria) and I high tailed it out of work by 1300.

After a nice nap and some chicken soup I feel better but have determined that I won't be going back to work until I have one whole good day at home. I really don't know what I was thinking. I've known nurses to be out of work for a week with a cut finger for craps sakes. Why do I always have to play at being stoic?

The sisterhood of friends and siblings keeps me going. Off to work on a shawl. Peace.

I lived

A great day all in all. My brother Joe arrived this morning to put in my new hot water heater. I had one of those 'green' jobbies, electric tankless which hung on the wall and that's about all it did. Not much with the hot water. So I exchanged it (see: garbage pail) for a 40 gallon tank which I can go hug out in the laundry room any time I want.

Then sister Mary showed up and off we went to the Dyson Cancer Center in Po'town. As we were pulling up I thought how odd it was that my ex- and I were friends with John Dyson so many years ago when he ran for Lt. Gov. in our state. Who knew I'd be using the cancer center his sister endowed at the medical center.

I had some blood work drawn at the outset and then it was off to the chemo room. There they plied me with benadryl, decadron and then prilosec IV before starting the first chemo agent. I was about 15 minutes into that when I got massive bone pain. Indescribable as I've never felt like that before. I chalked it up at first to sitting in the chair so I got up to walk to the ladies and could barely walk. And in minutes I was in tears. Paula, my RN tour guide, tells me that she's not seen that reaction before. So the med gets turned off and I receive more decadron. 45 minutes later we start over and this time I do just fine. No pain at all. Although I've now consumed more steriods than Mark McGuire did in his freshman season. I'll probably be up all night cleaning.

Now I'm home having walked the dogs, fed them and myself and settling in for the night. It will be interesting to see what tomorrow brings. Once the steroids are finished on Tuesday I'm thinking I'm in for a big crash. We shall see.

I do know that the love, prayers, thoughts and support of all of my friends and family have made this journey so much easier. I am a lucky woman.

GO!

Well it's finally chemo day!! I've been waiting for some kind of treatment to start since I had my surgery 6 weeks ago. Doesn't seem like a lifetime to some but to me I just wanted to get a move on.

My bags are packed. Knitting in my new knitting bag, thank you very much Bets. Blankie, food stuffs, notebook with pink pen to take notes about lab results, etc. A great book, "Crazy, Sexy Cancer" which is full of great tips and a hoot to read. Now all I have to do is get dressed, clean up this joint and wait for my Sissie so I can head on out.

Thanks to everyone for your support during this. I have to say I'm not afraid, just curious as to the process and what the side effects will be. I'll check in later today and give you the low down.

BBFN!

Get Set ...

So it's Sunday morning, just 24 hours before I go for my first chemo treatment. And you'd think that the higher powers, whomever they might be, would give me one big freakin' break. But no. They just keep upping the ante'.

First, my thankless, better known in the trade as tankless, electric hot water heater died. That's right. Middle of January. Good plan powers that be. So off to my sister's I go to take a shower. New heater to be installed tomorrow. New heater means cleaning out the laundry room as I have purchased a regular old 40 gallon tank heater. I don't care if you keep the water hot for days on end until you use it. Don't care. I just want hot water when I turn on the tap. Into the laundry room I go, moving things around to make room, make room in a little cottage where there is no room. And as I move a shelf, a gallon of paint spills on the floor. I do believe this is a sign from the heavens that I need to just stop right now. Don't do one more damned thing today. Just chill out. Relax. Enjoy the day and get ready for tomorrow. Before I break down and cry.

Till tomorrow ....

Ready ....

Well it's Saturday, two days before the BIG chemo day and I'm sitting here wondering if this whole thing is going to be anticlimactic after all. The radiation oncologist told me yesterday that 90% of women tell her that the chemo wasn't as bad as they'd thought it would be and most of them were able to work the whole time. Hmm, I was counting on at least a couple of days off. I'm told though that the new anti-emetics keep you from puking (and thus loosing weight) and other than hair loss the side effects are basically fatigue and well, I guess that's it. We shall see.

Working on the Citron shawl from Knitty. Have a good start and plan to bring it with me on Monday in my knitting bag, a gift from a friend. Also have to think about what foods I want to take with me as I will be in "the chair" for 4 hours. I know I'm bringing a blankie because with all of the meds given for reactions before the chemo begins I'll be knocked out cold for a while. And a book. I was going to bring the Tibetian book of living and dying but that might be a tad too much. Think it will be "Crazy, Sexy Cancer" instead.

So I'm getting ready .....

Hair today...

gone tomorrow.

Today was the day I went to see my stylist and had my hair chopped off. Cheslea and I have quite a history. She's in her early 20's, tiny and cute quite the opposite of myself. Many years ago now I had frequented the salon in which she works. I left as the owner always thought he had a better idea of what my hair should look like than I did. Perhaps he was correct though I would have rather he just did as I asked. There did come a day when I left vowing not to return.

Then three years ago I stopped by on a whim to get a haircut. A "walk-in" is what they call me in the biz. "Sure, Chelsea can cut your hair", they said. And soon this little kid walked down the steps, black hair with Crayola red streaks, nose piercing sweet kid. And I thought to myself, "This is either gonna be really, really good or really, really bad." By the time I left we had exchanged life stories and I had a great hair cut. I've been her client ever since. She shared all of her medical issues with me as if I were her friend, someone probably older than her own mother. And 5 weeks ago I shared mine. I have breast cancer. Poor kid teared up.

Today I walked in and after exchanging the usual pleasantries I told her I would be starting chemo on the 18th and the hair had to go. I told Chelsea that I couldn't deal with waking up one morning surrounded by my hair. So I'd made the decision to cut it. And so we sat on the couch and came up with a plan. And when she was done my hair was all but gone.

I promised to return for the buzz cut which will inevitably come. Both of the chemo agents being used cause "hair loss". I'm on the look out now for a great eye brow pencil. And grateful for friends like Chelsea.

I love the grey ...

of winter. The sky, the trees, even the evergreens look grey in January. And it seems so peaceful, so calming ... so beautiful.

The dogs and I played outdoors today. Not wanting to waste the opportunity to play in freshly fallen snow we crossed the road to the neatly sculpted acres of the state golf course. Once off their leashes Emma and Rory ran and ran, stopping to stick their snouts in the snow pushing it along like little plows. They jumped at the snow as it fell to the ground trying to catch it in their mouths. They chased each other, rolling on their backs as they stumbled over their own feet. And in the midst of all of the craziness I couldnt' help but notice the subtle beauty of a grey January day.

I'm grateful for another day.