Coffee Good

I "woke up" over the weekend, in the sense that the Decadron kept me awake until 5:00 AM on both Saturday and Sunday mornings. This meant a sort of tag-team sleeping arrangement with my 300% more-handsome-than-the-next-most-handsome-man husband. No fun!

I slept for three hours on Sunday from 5:00 to 8:00 AM. I can't say if the fog has lifted or not, but I sure am sleepy. I won't be scheduling any brain scans. I don't want to know if I have cancer in my brain. If I do, I'm sure it will become apparent in a timely manner.

Here I am! At work... latte beside me... assuming that NM is the magic fairy who largely kept my desk clean during my absense last week.

I have a new port insertion scheduled for Wednesday morning. I'm not too worried about it. Even if I have another bout of post-surgical whirly-brain, it's not the end of the world.

There are just thirty-seven work days left in this school year. That's gotta put a little spring in a person's step, whatever else is going on.

Week End

It's a quiet chemo day. Lots of conversation at the hospital -- yakyakyak, extra blood work, little brain-games to assess my mentation (a word I learned today).

The doctor and nurses noodled for a while, and then I was allowed to receive chemo. My oncologist has a shady-sounding theory as to why I'm groggy and slow. But, anyway... if I don't "wake up" over the weekend I'm to schedule a brain scan on Monday or Tuesday.

I don't have much interest in scans. The more exhaustive the search, the more likely that something bad will turn up. When it comes to metastatic cancer, there's always something bad to be found. For reals. And not much to be done about it, either.

How I feel about my life and future and days and hours has to be tied to something other than health screenings.

I've spent the last four days hanging out in the fog with a hand crank brain. It's not the worst feeling... just ready for a change.

Yawn

Left work around 1:00 PM yesterday and called in sick today. So far, I'm in no condition for chemotherapy tomorrow. Would like to feel better. I'm in the comfy chair with the comfy blanket, coffee at my side, fingers crossed.

But seriously, folks...

... I can't seem to bounce back from surgery. This is only the second day, of course -- and I had chemotherapy last Friday, which means that I'm reaching the lowest point of the week today. Still. I'm pooped.

I'm here at work, a bit of a grouchisaurus, longing for home and bed.

Post Op Post

Well... surgery yesterday was a little more involved than I'd anticipated. It was the real deal O.R., with the booties and the wheelchair and the the whole team. Serious anesthesia. Serious ouch.

All I can say is that if I'm given one more incision in the same area of my right chest, I'll seriously have a tic-tac-toe board of scars. I used to say that scars are just tattoos with better stories, but I'd consider a little star at my ankle an improvement.

For reasons I don't even understand myself, I'm going to work.

Feliz Cumpleanos

It was a pleasant, quiet, easy, birthday with Eric today. I've already decided that I like being forty-two. I sure wouldn't trade it for twenty-one!

Many friends called in the last few days to wish me a happy birthday. It was sooo nice to talk to folks. My time and energy is dominated with work and doctor's appointments -- I rarely get to play with all of the people I love anymore, which is a striking difference between being 40 and 42.

Eric gave me a wonderful new desktop computer! It's all shiny and compact and full of flat-screen-goodness, and I love it! I love him, too. Just in case I haven't made that clear already.

I'm going to work in the morning, then I'm off to the hospital at noon for a li'l outpatient surgery. I'm receiving anesthesia, so I'm not supposed to consume anything but clear liquids after midnight. I'm planning on cheating and having my usual latte. I want the earth to keep spinning on it's axis, after all.

Sadly, I believe I'll have to spend many hours in that room with the gurneys and curtains. The nurses are nice, but it's a strange sort of limbo space. It's not my favorite place to be.

That's it! A mellow birthday and no complaints. I'll take it! And at least a couple more of 'em, I hope.

The u(U)niverse & stuff.

This is my second version of this post, and it's pretty obvious that I don't often do any editing here. It takes a lot for me to delete something.

Initially I got all high & mighty about our fearless leader's recent prattling about prayer. I strung a few high-minded sentences together about GW lifting his voice to God for the 30 some odd students killed at Virginia Tech, but wondered if he ever spares a prayer for the tens of thousands civilians murdered in his immoral war in Iraq?

Blogs are boring, and mine's one of the boringest. I'm resigned to that. But I don't wanna be all outraged about GW, too. Most people just get it about him, anyway, right? Unless they don't. In which case there's not much I can do to help.

I don't pray, and it's never occurred to me to start. I wouldn't know how to pray, or to whom. I won't be asking the Easter Bunny or the God of Abraham for any favors.

I've known people who do pray -- a few humanists who send "good thoughts" into the ether, a frantic Christian or two who constantly petition their lord for favors and guidance in all matters (however trivial) as instructed by St. Paul (that cantankerous old fuck), and Catholics of all stripes who seem to do whatever they want, believe whatever they want, and still wrap themselves in their faith as though it were half virtue and half birthright/burden.

I don't get it. Sure, I've sent up a few wishes in my day, and I've set flame to a burden or two, but... I'm just a simple atheist. I won't mitigate the truth by describing myself as "spiritual". Right thinking people have no business claiming spirituality. Ultimately we'll all be wormgrub or ash, and that's the plain truth of it.

My universe has no initial capital, thank you.

Some things can only be said in a small voice, in a serious way. Eric and I have talked about the fact that (barring axe see dents) I'll likely die before he, and sooner than either of us would like. It's heartbreaking, and the sort of thing that's best discussed in a whisper, with our foreheads touching.

I'm not saying I'm anxious to become ash.

A long, long, time ago -- back when the tight fist of guilt and sorrow hadn't quite lifted from my chest -- I asked Eric if he believed that love could be transformative... if love could make someone better than they were..

Eric just loved me. He could only guess at what sadness or regret lead me to ask such a question. But Eric told me yes, in the clear voice of man who'd lived most of his days feeling lucky and loved. And I believed him, and that's my total experience with faith.

I've said before that my life has been a miracle, and it has. I'm an atheist who believes in miracles, if his name is Eric.

I don't pray, and it's never occurred to me to start. If I sit quietly and listen, I hear the white noise of traffic and Eric moving around in the office. If my body doesn't hurt, and if I sit quietly and think about what I would want to pray about (if I believed in gods or spooks) I draw a blank.

It comes back to what I want to say, which is mostly just thank you. Thank you. Thanks. Certainly I wish that some things could be different -- GW and cancer, to name two, but -- if you have the ear of the cosmos or the sandman or even just a tiny corner of the blogsphere, it makes much more sense to me to be grateful if you can, and to let the rest go.

Man, it's early.

It's too early to be awake, but what's a girl to do?

After work yesterday I was went to see a vascular surgeon. I've scheduled (at least tentatively) two small surgeries with him, which means that I'll be going to the hospital a minimum of three or four times a week for the forseeable future. It's like a job with really, really, bad compensation.

Today is chemotherapy, and a blood draw before hand. I have accumlated multiple lab slips for blood work -- three doctors need different tests -- and so I see many vials in my future.

Eric and I went out for my birthday last night. My birthday's not until Sunday, but Thursday evening, post-vascular-surgurty-appointment, was the only time prior to my birthday that we figured I'd feel good enough to go out.

We zipped over to Larkspur in my cute li'l convertible and had fancy fondue... something different and fun. It was quite good -- sparkling wine, yummy fontina and bleu cheese fondue with scallions, white wine, and sherry, a very nice salad with mandarin oranges and almonds, and the a vegetable broth fondue with two kinds of marinated steak, chicken, potstickers, ahi tuna, shrimp, and vegetables.

For dessert we had a plain milk chocolate fondue with banana, strawberries, pineapple, cocoa-dusted marshmallows, brownies, pound cake, and cheesecake.

I probably wouldn't go there on any-given-weeknight. For one thing, it's in Larkspur. Also, it took a very long time. It take 1.5 to 2 minutes to cook a bite of food. But I'd definitely go back.

It was good to be there with Eric, smiling and happy, totally in love (as always).

Thursday

Now that I have an inch and a half of grey, poofy, straight, Miracle Hair -- the oncology nurses have never seen a patient continue with Taxol and not be completely bald -- the word is out around my workplace that I am done with treatment. Many believe that I have been cured.

I argued with a janitor about it just this week. He insisted that I'm in "remission", and wouldn't back down from his position. He also told me that even if I still have cancer (which he certainly wasn't conceding), that it's possible for me to live with Malignant Cancer for 20 or 30 years.

He has a friend who has had Malignant Cancer in his shoulder for decades.

Eventually I stopped arguing, on accounta why keep yakking about it when 1. I'm right and 2. I don't want to be?

I'm at work and I haven't had enough coffee. Will take care of that shortly.

Ack.

Too much media today. First, I tried to track down some information on the internet by visiting cancer websites. Imagine clouds of bubble gum tulle. I've been bludgeoned by hope.

Next, the cancer blogs: Ladies with less common cancers complaining about the popularity of breast cancer. Twice I saw breast cancer referred to as "sexy".

Then: Virginia Tech, and callers demanding to know why the shooter wasn't marked as a potential killer after turning in a violent creative writing piece. Reporters talking about "loners". Ted Nugent pleading with Americans to arm themselves.

George W. comments on the value of prayer.

Enough already!

I should enroll now.

CN has signed up for an online course through the University of San Diego. Quite brave of her, considering that she refers to Microsoft Word & Excel as "Word Perfect", and doesn't understand the distinction between emails and attachments.

She's already missed her first assignment. I showed her how to find the assignment, the class discussion, the support boards...

She was befuddled all day. CN has always been a pint of dreaminess and anxiety, and online education has added a swirl of neediness that made for quite an interesting Monday. I was patient. Today, anyway!

I can't believe I have to go to work tomorrow.

The moment Eric and I walked into this house I knew that I wanted it. I told the real estate agent I wanted it before I'd even walked upstairs... knew I wanted it despite the three-tone brown shag carpeting, the pastel blue walls, the heavy draperies.

I couldn't believe it was even possible! I grew up in a ranch house in Long Beach, California. Two story homes were fancy to me, and I loved this house, and I couldn't believe that it could belong to us. I remember smiling at Eric and asking with disbelieve "could this be ours?"

A few times a year for the first several years, Eric and I would find strange things hidden here & there. Large stashes of old nylon stockings (the garter-kind), a buck knife taped beneath the bottom of a drawer, a WW1-era bayonet in the basement, a fake gun with real bullets in a cigar box on a secret shelf in a pitch-black-secret wiggle space "behind" the back wall of a closet...

Not to mention a gazillion hooks and pieces of decorate scrap wood nailed to the walls.

I never felt anything but good about this place, though. Finding stuff was an adventure. I wanted to live here for a long, long, time -- I thought perhaps we would live here together until we were too old and grey to make it up the stairs. Still, almost from the beginning I've hidden stuff for future owners to discover.

I stashed a few pretty marbles here and there -- nothing obvious, and I've already forgotten where most of them are. I've turned a few marbles into the dirt in the flower beds, as well.

I've tucked away an amethyst or two, some fortune cookie fortunes, a dried flower, and I taped the words "I love Eric" on the inside of the bathroom wall during a remodel.

I think I'm leaving nicer stuff than I found.

Eh.

It's nice to be home, although it's hard to be excited about a long day in the blue plastic recliner. It was fine, as chemo-days go. Eric's foot is a bit worse than it was in Las Vegas. We're just crusing along into the final day so spring break. We'll see what the weekend brings.

G'night

This has been a delightful vacation, Eric's poor, poor, foot aside. We've had such a nice time visiting & eating good food & playing with glitter-and-glue-and-feathers-and paint-and sequins (which most of my three regular readers know is pretty much my dream activity).

Casino life has been fun, as well. I haven't gambled LOTS -- not by my standards, anyway -- but I've gambled enough, and Eric and I are both leaving with wins rather than loses.

We're flying home tomorrow morning (this morning, really). I'll have bloodwork in the afternoon, and a long day of chemotherapy on Friday. I absolutely don't Don't DON'T want to go back to lying on the couch trying not to think about food. But I will. I guess.

Good Monday

My toes have disappeared. That's totally not what I expected to type when I opened this li'l window, but I was just reminded (for the umpteenth time today) of how seriously weird it is to not feel my toes. But that's another story.

We're having a good time in Las Vegas, Nevada -- although Eric spent five hours at the emergency room on Easter. He's ooookay... but slipped by the pool at our hotel and hurt his foot. His foot isn't having a good time, and he's walking with crutches, but otherwise Eric's in good spirits. And there's Eric for you: insisting on flying solo at an emergency room on a crowded holiday weekend, and still smiling and being the handsomest man in the room.

It's been really good to see everyone. It feels like a big, big, bonus.

Eric and I were here visiting my sister-in-law and nieces and great nephews and great niece (whew) on Easter two years ago, just before I was diagnosed with this ridiculous creeping gaunch. It feels like a long, long, time ago. We were happily anticipating our first summer off together, and thought we'd have many, many, more. We were even happier after many happy years. We were psyched.

This is a happy time, as well. It's very different now. My body feels alien and weak, and there's no pleasant anticipation of summers & summers. But it's the same, too. Here I am with Eric... still charmed by him, and still laughing with him... still feeling like the luckiest person the room. Isn't that a kick?

This is the perfect time to be here. I'm at the very best point of my chemo arc, so even if I don't feel so hot, I don't need to lie down 18 hours a day, either. All Mondays should be so good!

I am Risen!

Greetings from Las Vegas, Nevada. We flew in yesterday afternoon -- a strangely long travel day, given that it's only a hour flight. Somehow it STILL took all day to get here!

It's nice to see everyone. I don' t know when there was such a conglomeration of Hobbses. I wonder what the collective noun is for Hobbses?

A school of fish, a murder of crows, a murmuration of starlings (seriously) and a what of Hobbses?

In any case, I'm glad to be here.

Food and Stuff

I should be asleep right now -- not sure why I'm so turned around! I've been playing computer games and listening to the soft buzzing of Eric's snoring, which is one my favorite sounds in the world (of course).

Thursday was a pleasant day, with not-too-busy work, and a nice lunch with NM and SpecialSue. When not nauseated, I've been loving food. Maybe it's some sort o' over compensation for all of the post chemo ickiness, but whatever... at lunch today I had a crepe w/ chicken, feta, macademia nuts and a very light drizzle of pesto. It was quite good ... better, probably, than it sounds.

Eric and I went to Dopo for dinner. The food was very good, but it's definitely following the less-for-more trend.

And finally -- saving the best for last -- Eric baked me a lemon cake for dessert! If I didn't love him before I'd love him now.

And now it's Friday (early, early, but still...) and it's the last day before we have an entire week off for spring break. I'll be sleepy, but that's oooookay.

Just Wednesday

I stayed home from work today to go to a few appointments with a few physicians. My appointments come in groups now. The li'l yellow print-out of future appointments I was given had 8 or 10 listings. So: there's spring.

I have fun things planned, as well -- lunch on Thursday, dinner with friends on Friday, and on Saturday Eric and I are flying to Las Vegas, NV... off to visit our family there... locals, and most of my siblings, as well. So: there's spring, too.

When I look up from typing this I see Eric. He just accused me of looking at him "funny", but he's mistaking "doe eyed and in love" for funniness!

I'm tired, but otherwise I have no complaints.

Holiday

Monday and I'm at work -- tired, but otherwise game for the day. Tonight is the first night of Passover, and Eric and I are having a li'l Seder at home.

The first Seder I ever attended was at Eric's parents' house. It was my first time meeting Eric's family. It was a different world, alright -- big and loud in a way that didn't feel familiar to me, despite my own large family. They were a lively bunch. Their accents alone would remain a source of some interest to me for years & years.

Passover celebrates the liberation of the Jews from slavery in Egypt and starts with a festive meal, the Seder. The food is blessed, and foods with symbolic meanings are eaten (salt water for the tears shed as a result of slavery, for instance) and there's plenty o' blessing & drinking of wine, as well.

The Haggadah is read, which tells the story of the Jews suffering and persecution in Egypt, and the ten plagues upon Egyptians sent by God. There's also sorrow for the suffering of the Egyptians, and recognition that there's still slavery in the world.

At my first Seder I sat next to Eric's brother-in-law, John, on accounta he was funny & warm & made an effort to guide my attention, so I'd know what the heck was going on. I counted the number of people ahead of me in the Haggadah reading line, and counted the participant recitations, so I'd know which paragraph I had to read. I asked John how to pronounce one of the words.

Everything about it was fascinating to me, although I tried to act cool and worldly. It wasn't just the Passover celebration, but also the New York-ness of it, the prosperity, and the shiny-chrome-mirrored-modern chicness of Eric's familial home.

Tonight it'll just be the two of us. I know that Eric will miss his family tonight, especially his father. I'll miss them, too. But we'll still do it -- say the prayers, eat the food, read many, many, participant parts. It's another holiday with Eric, which is a goodgood thing.

Wow, I didn't realize I'd stayed up all night again.

Friday was a difficult day, and it lasted a loooong time. I didn't go to sleep until around 5 AM Saturday morning -- Decadron being a drug of great wakefulness for me.

I slept for a few hours, and then woke up to Eric and reports of sunshine. Eric made me a lovely little breakfast burrito. Simple, but so perfect -- a perfectly soft scrambled egg with black pepper and cheese melted throughout, wrapped in a warm flour tortilla.

Not only is it super yummy, Eric's li'l breakfast wrap also brings back happy memories of camping. As our experience camping together has grown, our meals have become more simple. In the past we (Eric, really) worked harder and prepared fancier food. If we are with friends, we still do. But when it's just us -- breakfast burritos and sandwiches and oatmeal and snack bars and one-pot meals. Everything tastes so good, and it's soooo nice to be there together.

Today was a quiet, queasy, dreamy day. My dreams are expanding. I'm making room for dreams of dying well, and what that could entail in addition to my same ol' dreams of feeling better, and having fun, and alwaysalways being with Eric. I just don't want dying to be hard in that way. Not in that harsh, this-can't-be-it, inability to let go, way that I've observed time & time again from this side of the computer screen. Many of the cancer ladies kick and scream and scramble their way from this earth.

Just so's you know, there's no turn for the worse that indicates I need to "go there" now. It's just a shift in my thinking, and a subtle one at that.

My goal for today, Sunday (although just 4 hours into it) is to feel sun on my skin. I'll let you know how that goes.