Humpday

I was home from work again today. It was a different experience, though. I spent my time in a dreamy, queasy, narcotic fog. Bone pain's back... familiar but not a friend. My spine, scapula, clavicle, sternum, hip, The Works.

It's been a while since I've taken these drugs. I don't mind a day of napping now & then. It's pleasant enough when the pain is controlled. I wouldn't choose it as an ongoing lifestyle, though.

Something's gotta give, and I'm hoping it's not one of my tired ol' bones or my sad ol' liver.

Drowsy & dreamy day... taking drugs and trying to eat and watching the worst of the worst programming on television. Somehow the worst of the worst is more satisfying to me than the best of the best. The best so often falls short. The worst is amusing either way. Bring on the music videos from India and reality TV

I was sorry to see Edwards drop out of the Democratic primary race. I know it was inevitable, but I liked having a third voice... particularly one that spoke about poor people. He impressed me very much when he was running w/ Kerry precisely because he spoke of poverty in America, which is an oddly and unquestionably uncomfortable subject.

Wishingwishingwishing for a better day tomorrow. Today was okay. Today was doable. But just a slight improvement tomorrow would be welcome.

Priceless

I've been married to Eric long enough that I no longer question why he knows the things he knows. He just does. I'm not surprised when he mentions that Ry Cooter was a pioneer of digital recording, or when he quickly identifies two or three products I've seen lately that were designed by Isaac Mizrahi (and then answers when I ask "who?")

Eric just knows.

In twenty years I've never seen Eric sit down to watch a sporting event on tv. He's watched a game or two at my request -- a world series game, or the super bowl. But on his own? Not once. He has no interest in baseball, football, basketball, hockey, soccer, golf, or tennis. BUT... he knows about the players, and the games. Why ask why?

Eric can rebuild an engine, make a Bearnaise, and explain the quadratic formula to a fourteen year old. He can tell the truth, and say "no" with a smile. He can grade papers in a chemotherapy suite. He can name the longest river in the world, the largest desert in the world, and he can tell you how a refrigerator works.

He can juggle five balls and does a mean Gollum impression. He can make me laugh, always -- every single time -- by pretending to be the The Fighting Aubergine. I just adore him. Absolutely adore him.

I'm thinking about Eric today as I sit her at home. Again. Too sick to go to work, or to do anything else for that matter... but well enough to be bored. It's a strange position. I want to feel like a day home to rest is a BONUS, but I'd really much rather feel better and go to work.

I miss Eric, too. Can you tell?

Monday

Eric and I have an Oscar Nominee Weekend tradition. Over one weekend (including Friday evening) we'll see all of the nominees for Best Picture that we haven't yet seen, and sometimes we've included the Best Actor and Actress performances, as well.

I believe we'll continue the tradition this year, but I really don't want to see any of the movies. It's kinda sad. The nominees are:

Atonement
Juno
Michael Clayton
No Country for Old Men (the only nominated movie that we've seen)
There Will Be Blood

That's just four movies to see ... not too bad. Still, I'm just not psyched for those movies.

I'm home from work today... just not sure how I feel about this chemotherapy -- or, how this new chemotherapy makes me feel. We'll see.

That's All

It's been a cold, rainy, few days here in Oakland, California. Haven't had much to say lately or much energy to say it. I'm glad it's the weekend. I'm glad I'm spending the weekend with my handsome husband.

When the fat lady sings.

There are so many people in the world who believe that they'll be reunited with their loved ones in death. If pressed they'd probably have to admit to believing that they'll be reunited with their enemies, as well, but they're all figuring to be better spirits in heaven than on Earth.

Or maybe it's a small majority who've bought into the Family Circus model: Grandpa peeking over the clouds, watching fondly as little Billy runs a circuitous route through home and garden.

People speak of spirits, souls, the cosmic consciousness... reincarnation and a zillion other post-life conditions -- including conscious, eternal, torment in hell -- for which their exists not one shred of evidence.

I'd say that it must be nice to hold such beliefs... that it must be a great comfort... but it'd be like saying I wanted to crazy glue scales to my eyes. I wouldn't take a delusion pill if it was offered. I think.

But I will be taking chemotherapy pills very soon -- this week, or next week. It's another nasty (hopefully effective) drug, but this one's in pill form. In multi-pill form, really. I'll be taking a small handful of 'em in the morning and the evening.

This raises a question for me. If the pills make me feel sick, will I make myself take them? There's something about a scheduled appointment to show up for a 7 hour IV drip that takes some of the personal choice away. Not all of the choice, but enough that I can disconnect from the experience a bit.

But to swallow pill after pill...

Well...

No point in borrowing trouble.

Maybe it won't make me sick. Maybe it will shrink the cancer. There's about a 20% chance it will work for two or three months, anyway. Which is better odds than I'd give the likelihood of being reunited with loved ones in death.

If that's a belief you hold, I'd like you to think about it. Really noodle it for a few minutes and try to figure out the basis for your belief. Unless you're a Christian.

If you're a Christian, please don't think about it all. What's the point?

Monday Off

An uneventful 3-day weekend. Did a whole heap o' nothing.

Getting a bone scan tomorrow, which is a several hour process. First the injection of radioactive isotopes, then a loooooong wait.

Eric is going with me. It's just too much, now -- can't do it on my own.

I saw several pictures of my brother Mark today that I'd never seen before. He was killed in 1989. There was something about it ... the newness of the pictures, I think... that made me very sad. He looked so young. He was young when he died -- just twenty-six years old -- but he was still my big brother.

Now he's just a baby to me.

He told me once that he didn't think he'd live to be thirty. I can picture the oonversation. I can here his voice, hear his words. We were sitting on the front lawn of my familial home. I didn't think much of his prediction, and I still don't think he had a premonition. It was more like an unlucky guess, I think.

Anyway, those pictures threw me.

And a one and a two

I've had a song stuck in my head for two days. I won't say what it is because I don't even want to type the title. I don't want to look at the words. I think they'd burn my retinas.

I've tried replacement songs. I've been working on the railroad, but it didn't erase the offending song from my brain. Things may be great when you're downtown, but the song remains the same.

Other than that... I'm just hanging out and looking forward to a three day weekend.

Same Old

Wish I had something new to say!

I slept for 13 hours yesterday, after work -- still was sleepy this morning.

I'm looking at Eric. He's handsome and smiling. We're watching television and I'm drinking seltzer water from a pretty glass with a straw. When I fell in love with Eric I fell in love forever.

Turn to face the strange chachachanges.

It was a better day than many recent ones. Went to work... was sometimes able to forget about being so green around the gills.

Eric and I met with my oncologist this afternoon. It's not quite a crisis, but it's getting there -- baaaad numbers coming back from tests... signs of serious liver problems pending... was told today that my liver is "going sour". I believe it.

So I'm done with my current regimen. I'll have a two week break. During that time I'll have yet another ct scan and bone scan. Then I'll start a new chemotherapy.

I was given several from which to choose. Doesn't matter much which one I choose on accounta each of them will either work (less likely) or won't (more likely).

Cancer treatments have diminishing returns, over all. Your best bet is your first line treatment. Your second best bet is your second line treatment. I'm looking at third line. It was gonna happen -- could have happen a year ago, and could have happened a year from now.

And, anyway, it's always a crap shoot. Having held the title of highest ranking female craps player, I know that anomaly happens.

So I'm hoping for an anomaly... a treatment that is 1. effective 2. for a bit & a while, that 3. doesn't make me feel too bad. Could happen.

Could.

Sunday Night

I quiet, queasy, weekend. Eric's mother was here visiting. It was all fine. Tired and not looking forward to work tomorrow. What else is new?

But I do feel a bit better, and I hope that trend continues. We'll see!

Slow

I measure my progress with a painstakingly calibrated internal instrument. I went to work yesterday and today. I feel the teensiest bit better. I'm able to stand a little longer. I made an extra trip to the mailbox today, which I couldn't have done yesterday. Let's face it: I'm too sick to be at work. I'm too sick to be at work, but I'm at work, and doing what I can.

The Ladies Who Lunch were sweet. They enthusiastically applauded the half inch of sparce, grey, poofy, hair I unveiled today. One of them let me sit while she made copies for me, as standing to make 20 or so copies really felt like it was toooooo much.

These are small matters, I know...

It was a small, quiet, day.

Will try again tomorrow.

Wow. Talk about a sick day! Sick, sick, sick.

I missed Eric so much. I've spent nearly every waking moment with him for two weeks, and yet I still wanted to cry when he left the house this morning. Eric. Sigh.

I'm really going to try to make it to work tomorrow. It's an iffy thing. I'm truly ill, and I don't want to get stuck there, overwhelmed, or to embarrass myself in any way.

But staying home and feeling sick and disconnected from the world -- that's not the high option, either.

Looking around for the high option but nothing is jumping out at me.

I guess that's all for now.

Done!

It was a slow, post-chemo, weekend. I'm thinking about work tomorrow. I can't imagine how I can go, and yet I want to go. We shall see.

I've completed 2007 in Review . It's overly long. No surprise there, I s'pose.

Other than that, all I can think to say is that I watched the New Hampshire presidential debates last night. What a mess THAT was!

Hoping the decodron allows me to sleep...

Fun Until They Fixed It

Eric and I discovered, when we returned home from my 6 hour stint in the BPR (Blue Plastic Recliner), that we were without electricity.

It wasn't unexpected. It was a dark and stormy day. The little beige television that swings on an awkward girder-and-industrial-spring mechanism at the hospital had been full o' reporters who were blah blah blahing about the rain and the power outages. Much ado about nothing, I thought.

Apparently it was the biggest storm in TWO YEARS! I can't tell you how that made me laugh the first time I heard it. Two years! Feh.

Anyway... we had no electricity and no heat, but Eric built a cheery, crackling, fire. We opened up the blinds to catch what light would filter through the clouds & rain, and played Gin (Eric won two out of three games, of course). The fire made the ornaments on our can't-believe-it's-still-standing-xmas-tree sparkle. We talked & talked.

I loved it, and I was sad when our electricity was restored in an annoyingly efficient time frame.

That's more or less my whole story. Chemo was fine. Tonight's been fine -- although our house has just been infused with the potent smell of skunk. It's STRONG. And it's within a few days of the one year anniversary of our horrible possum experience. So... wish us luck on the skunk front.

Day One

It's the first day of the new year, and even if we didn't start 2008 in our accustomed fashion -- herding a group of bleary eyed campers to Mama's Royal Cafe for breakfast -- we did continue a much older tradition in that we started the year together.

My mobility is limited, but I pushed myself to do more. More doesn't amount to much but I'm trying not to focus on that!

We took a picnic lunch to the Berkeley Marina and sat in the bright sun and brisk air. My cup of soup was delicious -- cannellini beans and faro and veggies in a thick, flavorful, broth. I was very chummy with that soup at a time when food is usually not my friend. Yum.


Blue, blue, blue

Our walk was embarrassingly short, but it was all I could manage. Still.. the marina is one of our old haunts, and it was good to be there, however briefly.

Then we went to the movies. The walk from our car to the theater nearly matched our walk at the marina. I stopped several times to catch my breath -- a thorn in my side -- but again: we were there. I did it.

We saw the sequel to National Treasure. We enjoyed the first movie very much. The sequel wasn't as a good. It had its moments, though, and it's always nice to be out at the movies.

Now Eric is peeling an orange for me.

I squeezed as much goodness from this day as I could. This is the biggest present I can give Eric, and I want to remember how important it is.

That's not a resolution as much as it's a wink & a kiss blown to the man who turned my life around & showed me how to be happy. And he peels my oranges, too.