Giving Thanks

I thought about writing this to be read at our Wednesday-Before-Thanksgiving gathering. But just imagining doing that made me pretty emotional, so I've decided to write in the blog instead.
I CANNOT be thankful to have cancer...and a nasty one at that, and yet due to my diagnosis I have been made aware every single day of so many reasons to express gratitude. I want to name specific people today and say thank you - and that's not even enough to express how I feel.
Those of you who know Willie G well, know how very faithful he is. I am so lucky to be able to tell him anything. He's my rock, (and boy, have I needed to cling), and my truest love. How people find each other in this big wide world is a mystery to me, but I sure was lucky when Billy Jack showed up in the fall of 1971 with Willie G in his truck.
 And speaking of Billy Jack...he and Soleil have been like Mom and Dad to us, bringing meals, hanging out in the hospital, cheering us on. And they've continued doing all of this throughout Soleil's own medical crisis.

My sister Alicia drove here twice to see me through the roughest patches, held me when I stood at the stove, overwhelmed at the thought of making the morning oatmeal, and kept her lovely sense of humor throughout.

Willie G's sister, Pat and her husband Mike dropped most of their daily routines to take care of us in Houston. The best thing that happened was when Pat and I got the news together that the first 6 rounds of chemo effectively eliminated the disease. We laughed and cried and danced a hugging dance in the conference room.

Mary Jane regularly showed up at my door to hang out. I sure needed those hours of distraction. She and Bill gave us heaps of garden produce when my own neglected garden limped along.

Thanks to Greg and Martha for books and flowers I'm still ploughing through the stacks. Jill sent over Vietnamese pho and a HUGE roast. My red blood cell counts remained high enough to receive chemotherapy on time. From Byron came firewood and garden plants, so thoughtful.

Sandy checks in often, just to see how I'm doing and brings flower gifts and the very necessary pot.. And she and Soleil just KNEW to come and be with me at the night of my diagnosis. I didn't even know that I needed to have someone with me, but they were so totally and lovingly there.

Ammed and Brianne, I'm still using the items from your "Happy Basket." And Brianne that quilt....Oh!

Kathy and Steve, playing Scrabble the night before surgery was the best thing we could have done. Thanks for that time and all the other times you've shared with us, providing a much needed distraction.

 Stephen and Ruth Ann Zoeller have been right there too, holding out hands through some tough days.
And Holly's many, many careful massages. I knowed I healed faster because of them.

Thank you Bobby and Katherine for the mommy-daughter weekend, and for all your messages of love.

Gabe, Za, and Robin: You've been champs. I know how distressing this illness has been for you, but you continue to call almost every day and I cannot tell you how much I love you. Above all, I am so grateful for you darlings. Your father and I are so very proud of the fine people you are. Thank you for being willing to share your lives with us still.

Whew, this is long, isn't it?
So, every day I wake up glad to still be here HERE in my comfortable home, on a beautiful piece of land, surrounded by a community of love. I have received notes of encouragement from people I know through work, church and chorus. I am humbled by the prayers made on my behalf and the unconditional goodwill so many have expressed. Thank you all for helping me know and recognize what really matters in being alive. You've helped me savor this remission and I know I can bear the recurrence should it come to pass.
Happy Thanksgiving
I love you
I am grateful

NED

On Thursday, Oct. 21, I met with the MD Anderson oncologist to review the results of the previous day's ct scan. He told me that there was no evidence of new disease. This is the best report that I could have hoped for. It was all I could do to keep my composure and not jump up, scream, do a happy dance, kiss and hug everybody in the room.
Now, I know that O/C recurs really, really frequently, but I won't have another test for at least 3 months. I'm going to have as much fun as possible in those 3 months, grow my hair, eat whatever I want, and not think about cancer 24/7. The maintenance drug he recommended is a pill (no more needles) taken daily, and has few side effects. This is a regimin I can live with.
Today I'm on my way to Oregon to see Gabe, Robin, and Neva for a week or so. Life is really, really good.

The Kindness of Strangers

In the past couple of days I've encountered some incredibly kind people, you know, the "random acts of kindness," directed at me. Even though I'd never consider cancer a blessing, I do recognize that these things probably would not have happened to me except that I'm obviously a cancer patient (no hair, eyebrows, eyelashes). So I see them as little miracles. Here's what happened:
Miracle #1. Last Friday, 6 days before my MD Anderson appt.) I got a call from that hospital that my insurance won't pay for out-of-state CT scans. The scan is one of the main reasons I want to return there. The next Monday, I talked directly to the insurance person who approves/disapproves coverage, and after a bit of honest talk she went ahead and gave us an approval (but won't do so ever again!)
Miracle #2. Yesterday I flew to Houston for the MD Anderson appointments. The cheapest way to fly involved 3 flights: CRW to ATL to Orlando to HOU. The Atlanta to Orlando was delayed so that I missed the flight to Houston by seconds; after rushing through the maze of Orlando's airports. At first the gate agent suggested I rent a car and drive to Tampa where he could get me on a flight. I nixed that idea while trying to NOT cry. Then he said, "Meet me at the next gate in 2 hours. I'll get you on that flight." and he did!
Miracle #3. On a airport train-like thing, a young man said, "Ma'am, your shoelaces are about to come loose." I started to explain that they are just extra long and always stay tied, but just leaned over to give them a little tightening instead.
The young man went down on his knees and said, "Please, let me do it. I was in the military and I just have to do it right. You could fall and hurt yourself if you stepped on them." And there on the little swaying train a twenty-something man double-knotted my shoelaces. It wasn't creepy, just very, very, sweet.  Of course, I UN-double-knotted the laces after boarding my plane.
Today I have a day of labs and tests at MD Anderson. Tomorrow the Dr. tells me what they all mean (or so I hope.)

The End of Chapter 2

I had my final round of chemo this past Friday. It feels like the end of a chapter. I'm glad to be done for awhile, give my body a rest, and my psyche too. After 3 weeks I'll go to MD Anderson, have a CT scan, and begin to figure out what's next. Although I'm not optimistic, I do hope to get lucky and at least have a bit of remission. The coolest thing is that I'm not particularly anxious about what's next. I suppose having ridden out a huge surgery, and then this first 6 rounds of chemo, I feel like I can handle what's next. Of course it has all been easier because I have Willie G, Za, Gabe, and Robin's steady encouragement as well as our amazing farm community, Pat and Mike in Houston, Alicia in Kansas. There's also a trip to Oregon to see Neva Jean, Gabe & Robin in my near future, and if that's not something to look forward to, I don't know what is!
Fall has arrived, and I'm going to enjoy it.

#5 Down!

I didn't really expect to have chemo 5 yesterday. My platelets were too low on Wednesday, but went from 79 on that day to 104 on Friday. Hooray for buffalo burgers!
Now I'm awake at 1:30 AM thanks to the load of steroids I've been given. I'm bracing myself for a hard crash - already feeling yucky in my head. Alicia, my sister, is here until Tuesday to help me ride it out. Last weekend we had Za and Gerrit here to visit for several days. Such glorious visits, I can't complain about a few days of crappiness now, can I?
I received two bits of good news from the doctor on Wednesday. My CA 125 is 33. That is considered within normal range and shows that the chemo is working. With low grade tumors, the CA 125 isn't totally reliable, but that's still good news. And there are no genetic markers indicated from the tests we had done. That means my female relatives can breathe a sigh of relief. But be sure to have check ups every year and make your doctors listen to any weirdness you think is going on with you. Ovarian Cancer is sneaky.
A cold front has moved in, and the air is sweet and fresh. The barred owls hoot down in the hollow behind our house. Maybe, just maybe they'll sing me back to sleep.
Goodnight everyone. I have to thank you over and over for your loving support.

Hit hard

That last chemo was a real slammer. Not until 9 or 10 days after did I begin to feel somewhat back to normal. Until then I mostly dragged around the house feeling sorry for myself. Soooo unattractive.
Yesterday I went to a "Look Good, Feel Better" class sponsored by the American Cancer Society. It was about using makeup and head coverings to enhance your self image after chemo changes all that. Well, it was a fun and funny experience. Having never been one to use much makeup, I was a real newbie in the ranks. The eye shadow was a terrifying experience as was foundation!
Then, to top it off, I ended up with a wig. I find them (wigs) kind of creepy, but it was one of those times when you feel like you'll hurt someone's feelings if you turn them down. Once we were all dolled up, the lady sitting at the table next to me told me, "Well now we need to go out bar-hopping!" In addition to the free wig, we all left with bags filled with cosmetics, all donated by different manufacturers to this program. The American Cancer Society does well with the donations they receive. I applaud them.
So now it's all about platelet building until the next chemo. Protein and veges, hooray! And we have cool weather so gardening is possible. This year it's the triumph of pumpkins and peppers. Tomatoes got sick.

Chemo 4 done!

Friday the 13th and Chemo was no big deal. The only notable thing I remember (the drugs I get for nausea tend to leave me with little memory of anything) is dropping my laptop. And I didn't freak out. I just picked it up and everything seems fine. I remain convinced that an aluminum macbook is worth every penny.

One day later and I'm thinking how this cancer has stripped away some of who I am. A lot of the time I'm some cancer patient, but I just can't own up to that. So I'm left with this odd unfocused self-image. Another thing that happens is I identify in my mind a list of projects I want to accomplish and just run out of energy before doing even half. Having been a fairly lazy person all my life, it's easy to lay the blame there, but with so many other negative jibs and jabs at my psyche, I just can't take on laziness either. Much better just to take a nap. Oops, there's that cancer patient again.

And people are so nice! and helpful! Clerks in stores take their time with me, push my groceries to the car for me. A fellow teacher just gave me about 10 pounds of frozen beef, farm raised by her dad, grass fed, no antibiotics. When I protested that she was giving me too much, she begged me to take it. They had plenty. Neighbors cook and clean for us and comfort us and I'm grateful for all of this everyday. But I still kind of squirm because who does this make me to be? When did I become so needy? And the little voice inside says, "How can I every repay this?" Thanks to all of you. Thanks isn't enough to say how much I love you all.

One week out of chemo #3.

Well, this is notable. I realized this afternoon as I dug around in the garden that today I am completely free of any cancer related pain. It's the first time in months that I can say that.

Another kind of funny thing (funny in a painful way). At my annual visit to the GP last week we talked about the cancer dx. He asked me about pain, insomnia, and then he asked, "Are you feeling depressed?" We both laughed a bit - OF COURSE I AM!
but I also recognize that each day is too precious to sell out to depression. So screw it!
and then I just realized how in my last post I claimed to feel less sad and more angry. Ah well, chalk another one up to chemo brain.

Halfway done!

Today I had chemo #3. Same routine plus Avastin. In our conference with the doctor, he was less than enthusiastic about the Avastin, saying the the data doesn't indicate a great improvement in recurrence and no noted improvement in survival. But what I now know is that ALL the drugs are questionable as to their effectiveness for my particular, rare disease. So, I decided if the insurance was willing to pay for it, it was like adding an additional bit of buckshot to our attack on the cancer. Of course that also means more side effects to look out for, but if it proves to be too troublesome, I won't be torn up about dropping it. The doctor's office got it preapproved so Avastin is now coursing through my veins. ...along with lots of other scary drugs. More water, please.
Our friend Michiko is staying here for about one week. She really wants to help out with the after-chemo blahs that I always feel. It's going to be wonderful to have someone willing to do the cooking chores for a few days. Almost like having my sister Alicia here.
I think my general emotional health is more normal. I cry less, and usually from frustration, rather than from sadness. If I'm tired or aching, I become more depressed, but that happens seldom. It's great to be getting my own life back. Day by day as the saying goes.
I hope you all went to the facebook page and checked out the glorious wall hanging that was made by my friends and assembled by Alicia. It's a wonderful comfort to look up from my bed each morning and view it before rising. I love my support group.

Revised delivery for sicko hotline

Here's where I'm going to post from now on. That way you can check up on the life of this cancer story as you want. The next post will be sometime next week. In the meantime, I'm busy researching all the key terms I run into when I read my diagnosis reports. This is the education no one ever wanted.