Sing, Sing A Song

I'm feeling less tired, and the wound-that-will-not-heal is healing. It's amazing what a month off chemo can do!

I know it's not just the good cells that are growing, but for right now I don't care. Who knows how long this will last? I'll enjoy it as much as I can, while I can.

Today The Ladies Who Lunch talked about a woman who works in our building who was mean, mean, mean until she had breast cancer. Once she had breast cancer she learned (according to them) that if she reaches out to people they will be there for her.

Well, most folks know how I feel about cancer-as-the-best-thing-that-ever-happened-to-me hooey. I think there might be a handful of early stage folks who can sing that song, but they're few and far between.

I don't know what song I sing, if not the I Love Eric song, or the I'm Going To The Doctor's Office Again song.

And I haven't really reached out to people in a while. This illness is too long-term to be reaching, reaching, reaching. For good or ill, I mostly reach in, and what I've found there hasn't surprised me. I don't have to reach for Eric, because he's never that far away.

But whatever. I'm feeling less tired, and I can envision a day without sterile packing material and bandages. Eric's sleeping a few feet from me -- he's tired, tired, tonight... a bit under the weather -- and there are only fifteen work days left in the school year.

I'll take it!

Pretty Day

We went to the Oakland Rose Garden today. It's only about a mile from our house, but we rarely go -- I'm not sure why!



So beautiful! And the roses are nice, too!



I don't even remember seeing this pool before!



It was a very nice place for a short walk in the sunshine.

Yawn

It's been a nice, quiet, weekend and there's a bonus day tomorrow!

I've done nothing 'cept go out w/ Pennie last night, which was loads of fun. That's all for tonight!

Just a Chemo-Free Friday

I am now in the midst of an official Chemo Holiday. If all goes well I won't have chemotherapy for the rest of the summer.

At our meeting this week my oncologist entered the room saying, "So when do you want to start chemo again"?

Is that a trick question?

I'll still go to the hospital roughly once a month for the bone-strengthening drug Aredia. And in two months I'll have tumor markers drawn, which might tell me if the cancer is running rampant. And, of course, I'll run to the hospital if I have symptoms of rapidly advancing disease.

Still: A chemo holiday!

I completed nine months (8 cycles) of Taxol without a break. It's not a world record or anything, but it's something. I worked as close to full time as I could, given my appointments. I was still looking at Eric all doe-eyed and in love, but by cycle five I was feeling like I (really) might be better off dead, and why the hell was I doing this?

Today I'm four weeks out from my last treatment with Taxol, and I'm not exactly turning back flips... but I figure I have to start feeling better soon.

Nine months ago I had breast carcinoma with bone, lung, liver and nodal metastases. Now my lungs, liver and (amazingly) nodes are clear. That's an excellent clinical response to treatment... very nearly as good as it gets.

I'm not exactly overjoyed at the state of my health, but I know toooooo many women who've given WAY more than their eye teeth chasing down that kind of response, and whose treatment has failed, failed, failed. They never caught a break. I've caught one, for now... and I'm not foolish enough to be ungrateful.

Bush isn't the first idiot in the white house.

This statement made in Moscow by President Reagan in 1988 still makes my head spin. I came across it today and decided to share it with my three regular readers.

He thinks, perhaps, we shouldn't have "humored" the Indians.

"Let me tell you just a little something about the American Indian in our land. We have provided millions of acres of land for what are called preservations - or reservations, I should say. They, from the beginning, announced that they wanted to maintain their way of life, as they had always lived there in the desert and the plains and so forth. And we set up these reservations so they could, and have a Bureau of Indian Affairs to help take care of them. At the same time, we provide education for them - schools on the reservations. And they're free also to leave the reservations and be American citizens among the rest of us, and many do. Some still prefer, however, that way - that early way of life. And we've done everything we can to meet their demands as to how they want to live. Maybe we made a mistake. Maybe we should not have humored them in that wanting to stay in that kind of primitive lifestyle. Maybe we should have said, no, come join us; be citizens along with the rest of us."

Scans

I received preliminary results from my bone and ct scans this morning. It was just a two sentence email from my mercifully cut-and-dry oncologist, but it was positive: bone mets stable and some improvement in the ct scan.

That's good news, and as usual I'm not turning back flips. I have to pull some of the stuffing out of my happiness at good results, so that I can pad the sharp edges of bad results when they arrive.

I've had three consecutive weeks without chemotherapy, but I'm still not feeling so hot. I don't know what's what when it comes to side effects and fatigue and so on... don't know if it's chemo, cancer, or the position of the stars in the sky. I suspect it's not the position of the stars in the sky.

Just cruising along... gearing up for the year-end push at work... half-expecting better days, but trying not to the scan the horizon for 'em.

Monday's coming.

We went to the horse races today with Lisa & Janis -- it was a nice few hours in the sun. I won a little & lost a little & ate a grilled hamburger.

I can't believe the weekend's almost over! I'd love another day (or two) off.

Today

I spent all morning listening to music. It was nice... an extended online stream-of-musical-consciousness session, with one song leading to another artist, and another artist leading to another song.

Sometimes, when the ladies-who-lunch at work start yakking about how the world's gone to hell in a hand basket and boy it sure is hard to be a kid today and blah blah blah, I say: Yeah.... but the Internet. ALL QUESTIONS ANSWERED! No more wondering how old Elizabeth Montgomery is, or trying to figure out that song lyric you can never quite catch!

I lingered for a while with John Prine. John Prine's been on my mind for a few months now... not sure why... but I found nice live performances and interesting interviews. I rarely care to hear about why, how, or when a song is written. That's fan stuff, and I'm no one's fan. I just want to hear the music! But I enjoyed hearing what John had to say. I got a kick out of how he spoke in images that were similar to his those in his songs.

Eric and I waited over 2.5 hours for an appointment with the surgeon today. It was an absurd amount of time to wait, but it wasn't too bad... it was nice to be there with Eric.

I'm hoping for a quiet, restful weekend.

Just Stuff

I was happy to go to work today. Or, I was happy to just go to work today, because yesterday I went to work and to three appointments at the hospital.

The weather was beautiful this afternoon as I was driving home. I rolled down the windows and turned up the radio -- some crazy live version of Whipping Post was playing, and it was about as good as that flavor of radio can get.

I'm going to the hospital again in the morning. One quick appointment to access a vein, and then a ct scan. Then I'm off to work.

"So then every one of us shall give account of himself to God." Romans 14:12

1933 - 2007

G'luck, Jer.

"And, I know that I'll hear from them for this. But, throwing God out successfully with the help of the federal court system, throwing God out of the public square, out of the schools. The abortionists have got to bear some burden for this because God will not be mocked. And when we destroy 40 million little innocent babies, we make God mad. I really believe that the pagans, and the abortionists, and the feminists, and the gays and the lesbians who are actively trying to make that an alternative lifestyle, the ACLU, People For the American Way - all of them who have tried to secularize America - I point the finger in their face and say "you helped this happen."

-- Rev Jerry Falwell on the causes of the WTC attacks.

Eric & Anniversary & Appointments

Eric was always, and continues to be, totally cool.

When Eric was sixteen years old he and a friend bought a small boat, a clam rake, and a clamming license. They would go clamming for a few hours after school and make $30 to $100 dollars a day -- each. That was pretty good money for a couple o' teenagers in 1974. Someone working an 8 hour day at the federal minimum wage in 2007 earns just $41.20.

I wish I'd known him then, but I was nine years old and living on the other side of the country. It would be another 14 years before I'd be lucky enough to meet him, and on Tuesday it'll be 19 years since I looked up from my book and saw Eric for the first time.

Along with his handsomeness (300 percent more handsome than the next most handsome man) and sweetness and funniness and intelligence, I've always loved Eric's competence. Eric can DO things. Even as a sixteen year old he could own a fishing boat and work on the motor when it had problems.

We've had a quiet, unexpectedly-no-chemo weekend. We went out to see two movies: "Spiderman 3" and "28 Weeks Later". Other than that we've mostly just lounged around.

The next two weeks are mega-medical-appointment weeks for me. Ima figure out how to keep my head up and my nose to the grindstone at the same time. It'll all be okay in the end.

Correction

I wrote that I have fewer friends now, and that's not true. I see my friends less, though. Also, I dance less, see less live music, throw fewer parties, have folks over for dinner less often, see fewer movies, go to fewer museums, hike less, spend less time walking next to the ocean, and just generally have less fun.

Friends I've got!

The Medical Professionals at Kaiser yesterday wouldn't give me chemotherapy. This is the first time I've not received treatment on schedule. I wasn't given chemotherapy because of the gaping wound in my chest.

It might have been a good idea to stop chemo before the wound was quite so gaping.

Now I don't know what the heck's going on. It's going to take forever for this thing to heal -- it hasn't started YET, that's for sure... is just worse & worse & worse. And I can't go forever without chemo.

Well, I could go forever without chemo, but that would certainly hasten my demise.

I dunno.

I had talked of taking a chemo break anyway. My oncologist had okayed a chemotherapy break for me this summer, pending the results of the scans I'll be getting next week.

If my scans were stable, I was going to suspend chemotherapy for June, July and most of August. I've kept the plan on the down low, for the most part -- maybe I didn't want to "jinx" it somehow, because everyone has a leetle superstition in 'em, when they really really care about something -- but it's the only thing that's kept me trudging through these tiresome days. I even had a rough a sketch of where we might go, including two or three weeks in Hawaii and possibly a trip back to our Mexico destination from last summer.

But now...

Well. Like I said, I dunno. Maybe this thing'll heal, and I won't have major progression whilst off chemo. That'd be GREAT. But I ain't going to be soaking in any ocean. No oceans, no swimming.... no Hawaii, no Mexico.

Swimming in the ocean with Eric is my absolute 100% no-question-about-it favorite thing to do ever, ever, ever. It was what I wanted for this summer, which may be the last summer I feel good enough to travel (although it may not).

Everything's in flux and there's no plan, and no way for me to begin a plan. That's not my favorite way to live, but it's becoming familiar. I'm getting better at it, I think.

The median survival for patients diagnosed with stage IV breast cancer is 18 months.

It's been two years since I wrote my very first blog entry.

I didn't know that the cancer had returned, but I knew that the cancer had returned. When I wrote

If everything turns out to be okay, I won't feel foolish for any of this. I'll just be happy... I'll just be happy, happy, happy.

I was giving the fates one final chance to grant a reprieve.

Denied!

I would have been happy, too. I wasn't making it up. I would have finished up the last few months of the school year, and gone on my first full summer of travel with Eric, pain free and feeling like the luckiest person around.

Two years later my circle is smaller. The universe is wearing out along the path that I take from work to hospital to comfy chair. I have more worries and fewer friends. I have less to say.

I only have so much lament in me, though, and I defintely want to save some for later. Two years is longer than most women with stage IV breast cancer live, and I'm getting ready to meet the fabulous Tomas da Silva for a drink after work. Under the circumstances, it wouldn't feel right to complain.

Yak Yak Yak

I left work a bit early today to see the surgeon. The old port site is still not healing. I've had a progressively worsening open wound for five months now. (Note: not the sort of thing you want to include in a resume or personal ad.) All of those appointments and three surgeries later.... it's worse than ever.

Earlier today I was wishing for Christmas. I love Christmas, as my three regular readers know. I love the sparkles, the presents, the tree. I love the decorations, the music, the food. I love the traditions, particularly the traditions that Eric and I created together. Christmas with Eric is about the best thing I can imagine. Any-given-Wednesday with Eric is pretty wonderful, as well -- or, depending on what else is going on, any-given-Wednesday with Eric is at least way, way, better than a Wednesday without Eric.

So, here I am... wishing for Christmas at a time when I certainly shouldn't be wishing any of my life away.

My MAC (Medical Appointment Count) for the month of May has gone up to fifteen, although that's only over ten days.

The surgeon told me that when he heard that I was continuing to have difficulties, that he almost started crying. He's a nice fella -- truly -- but I'm only interested in his tears if they have magical healing properties OR if they can alter the space time contiuum and make it Christimas.

That's all I can think to say.

Eric says it's time to go to bed!

As I enter my ninth month of weekly chemotherapy, I can only describe my numb feet as squishy bricks. That's it. A mouth full o' dirty pennies, and a pair o' squishy bricks for feet.

Today CN told me how lucky I am to not have allergies. She has allergies, and they drain her. I know so many people who are felled by menstrual bloating, pollen, sniffles, and the vapors -- I wonder how they would feel about pennies and bricks?

Well, I know how they'd feel about pennies and bricks. There's a consensus about these things.

But seriously. If I sometimes feel that I should be made of sterner stuff, what about all the folks who require smelling salts for their dropsies?

I don't know what to say to people who tell me that they needed valium to have a small mole removed for testing.

I consider the continuum of aaaall the people who suffer... suffer in their bodies, suffer in their hearts... and I recognize that my life is quite pleasant Still, I don't want to be told that I'm lucky to not have itchy, red, eyes.

I'm sure I am lucky to not have itchy, red, eyes. Red & itchy eyes would really suck, on top of everything else.

Okay. I'm lucky. But (as is the case for everyone, I suppose) that's for me to recognize, not for someone else to point out.

And that's the news on Monday night!

Ha!

This made me laugh:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070507/ap_on_go_ot/spy_coins

For some reason, this didn't post on Sunday.

It's already a bright and sunny day. I imagine it'll be a laze-around-the-house day, as well.

Eric's sister and her best friend are in town. They've run away from New York and are having a San Francisco adventure -- staying at the St. Regis and walking around the city for hours and refusing to have an itinerary.

Yesterday, despite my nearly screaming desire to stay home and sleep, we took them to Sonoma County to taste wines. No one really tasted much, though. It was more about the drive and the countryside.It was nice, but absolutely exhausting. Sunday's a day of rest.

Here's my coffee, and there's my yogurt w/ perfectly field-ripened strawberries that we bought a roadside stand yesterday. Eric's here. I may be looking at the world with eye lids at half mast, but life is good

Bah

Ted Koppel was on the Daily Show last night, touting his latest special, "Living with Cancer". The taped pieces will be followed by a "town hall meeting" with cancer's greatest stars, Lance Armstrong and Elizabeth Edwards.

I can already tell that it's going to be a big pink Colonic of Hope.

The take-home messages from the interview last night were: 1. Cancer patients have great senses of humor and cancer can be funny, and 2. Stage IV cancer should be considered a chronic disease, like diabetes.

BAH!

Humor is helpful, if you have it in you.... but too much emphasis on the benefits of a good chuckle and you wind up with emails like the one I received recently from a woman who is this close to dying, and desperately wants to live. Her Naturalist told her that laughter would be the best medicine, so this sick, sick woman -- who should be saying good bye to her school age children -- sent out an S.O.S. asking for funny movie recommendations.

BAH!

Also: cancer is just another in group/out group. Until you have it, can the jokes, Ted.

As for chronic illnesses.... let's see.... we'll line up all the people with stage 4 cancer on one side, and all the people with diabetes on the other... and we'll see how many want to trade.

This chronic illness crap is just a buncha pained people seeking a li'l language anesthesia. Yes, people with advanced breast cancer can live longer than they used to live.... by months, not years... and often at the cost of their quality of life. Chronic illness. Pfffft.

BAH!

Jeez.

I don't know what went wrong during the surgical procedure yesterday, but something did. There was anxious muttering and a flurry of activity. There was pushing, pushing, pushing on my neck and chest. Then I was out.

Today I can barely move my head, I have an "extra" incision, and an unusual amount of swelling.

On the up side: They played Ozomatli's first album during my surgery.

Looks like I'll be staying home. Again. Oh well. I'll let you know if I see any particularly entertaining daytime television.

Just a Tuesday

Eric bought a new car over the weekend -- a hybrid Civic. I've been wanting a smaller car, and hybrids make a heap o' sense. I drove it for the first time today. It definitely handles differently from any car I've driven before.

A new car is a small matter when you're married to Eric, who is an accomplished and gleeful buyer and seller of motor vehicles. It's a small matter, but the folks at work have made it fun for me with their enthusiastic approval of the car's color.

I'm home from work tomorrow. More accurately, I'm at the hospital tomorrow. I'll have a new port inserted on the other side of my chest. I've no real concerns about the procedure, despite my past difficulties. I'd consider worrying if I thought it'd change the outcome.

My upper torso is quite a war zone: 1.8 breasts, axillary scar, 13 or so blue dot tattoos from two separate courses of radiation, permanent discoloration, almost-tic-tac-toe-board of two inch scars on my right chest, soon to be port-scar on my left chest, clavicle bulging with cancer and poorly healed fracture....

I can't tell you why it sometimes makes me smile, but it does. It doesn't make me happy, but it makes me smile. Maybe it's just relief... relief that it doesn't look ugly to me... relief that I largely don't care.

Back to work!