This is my third Day 3 of Week 1. Translation: I get a major infusion of drugs on Monday. When I leave the office I have a little pump that I wear until Day 3 at which point it is disconnected. It makes a little noise, seemingly innocuous, but annoying. It does not let me forget I am connected and being infused with drugs. I guess its preferable to being connected in a hospital bed. I get to go anywhere I want. Not a big hardship - except for the constant reminder of being a person who is receiving chemotherapy.
I'm tired these days. I go to work, putter around for a couple of hours. usually managing to accomplish one small thing, like balancing my personal checking account or weighing in on some minor work situation. By 11 I start to fade and go home. Right now, the Tour de France is on television, so I watch that until I cannot keep my eyes open and then go take a nap - a couple of hours. Last night I went to Whitney's and had dinner with him and his children. By 9 I was spent and went home and right to bed.
Next week, Week 2 is, in my short experience, a week of more energy and less concentration on being in treatment. Last week felt almost normal. I went to hear Laurie Lewis three times and had dinner with her on another occasion. I went to work, felt normal, took Tye for a walk a few times, and tried to remember that I am a person who is more than someone in treatment.
And now, today, I am ready to be done with Treatment #3. 1/4 of the way done. 3 down, 9 to go. Single digits! I drift, on occasion, to thoughts of purification, to the image of my body, cleansed and cancer-free. I imagine going to Chapel Hill and seeing the doctor and having him say that the tumors are all gone and I do not have to have surgery after all. That yes, I need to finish the treatment, but without the surgery. But I'm also trying not to get too fixated on that, as it would be a huge disappointment if I had my heart set on it and it didn't happen.
We'll see.
So now, maybe a little more napping until it is time to go to work.
In other notes: I feel good, look good, get comments to that effect, and am generally relieved to not have things worse than they are.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Iron Woman
Well, this IS a collection of thoughts about what is going on in my life right now, and, as such, does not really need to be all Pollyanna all the time. Yesterday was an example of a tough day.
I needed Iron, I was told. And so we scheduled it for yesterday. Fridays are usually not a treatment day. I go in on Monday, get a few hours of "treatment" (i.e. chemotherapy or, as I prefer to call it, the Magic Elixir or The Golden Elixir). And then, when I leave at the end of the treatment, I wear a pump home for the next two days which gives me a slow infusion of more drugs. I go back in to have the pump removed on Wednesdays and at that time I get "hydration" - saline water. But on week 1 I ended up dehydrated and cramping and in the hospital for the weekend so they decided to try more hydration on the Friday of my second treatment.
Oh, and Iron.
Well, the hydration is not a big deal. I have a "port" which is a place under my collarbone where they can put drugs into my blood without sticking my arm. It hurts, but not a whole lot. And I had had 3 treatment or hydration sessions and was feeling okay about everything, kind of knowing what to expect. I was told that the Iron would take a long time and there might me side affects but I was not ready for the two page list of possible things that could happen to me. And when the nurse read them to me and told me of all the things that might happen I was very frightened.
I mean, I had never been told that something I was about to willingly accept might make me violently nauseous or might make me have heart palpitations or worse. But I have had low energy and if your "counts" are low, you might have to skip a treatment and I do not want to slow things down at all so I signed the paper and tried to both brace for and willingly accept the test dose of Iron.
The nurse sat with me. Heather did too, holding my hand as I gripped hers. I cried. Who, after all, wants to get instantly, violently sick? In a room full of people? Or not, for that matter. But then I tried to breathe easily and tell myself that it was good, it was going to make me strong, it was going to make me better. And the test dose dripped in and was okay and then the real bag of Iron came and it, too, went into my port and then, a long time later, we were done.
I spent today near home. They warned me I might have more affects today but I didn't. I actually feel pretty good. No fever. No chills. No odd sensations. Nothing, except a residue of anxiety that I am trying, still, to shed. It is slipping away. Slowly.
In the meantime, my hives of bees are doing very well. Lots of bees fly around my yard. And yesterday, while I was getting the Iron, my friend Debra came and visited the hive that had not had a Queen. She found 3 Queen cells, the makings of three new Queens. It seems that these bees are doing what they need to keep themselves going. To me this is a huge relief. The bees made it through the winter last year but will not last if they don't have a Queen who lays eggs which turn into workers who do the work that needs to be done to make it through this coming winter.
And while I was getting the Iron, Debra sent me a note saying that she had found the makings of Queens. And by then I was well into the infusion and I was feeling better and the fright had dissolved a bit and the good news of the bees, once again, washed over me and filled me with gratitude and made me trust that it will be okay.
I needed Iron, I was told. And so we scheduled it for yesterday. Fridays are usually not a treatment day. I go in on Monday, get a few hours of "treatment" (i.e. chemotherapy or, as I prefer to call it, the Magic Elixir or The Golden Elixir). And then, when I leave at the end of the treatment, I wear a pump home for the next two days which gives me a slow infusion of more drugs. I go back in to have the pump removed on Wednesdays and at that time I get "hydration" - saline water. But on week 1 I ended up dehydrated and cramping and in the hospital for the weekend so they decided to try more hydration on the Friday of my second treatment.
Oh, and Iron.
Well, the hydration is not a big deal. I have a "port" which is a place under my collarbone where they can put drugs into my blood without sticking my arm. It hurts, but not a whole lot. And I had had 3 treatment or hydration sessions and was feeling okay about everything, kind of knowing what to expect. I was told that the Iron would take a long time and there might me side affects but I was not ready for the two page list of possible things that could happen to me. And when the nurse read them to me and told me of all the things that might happen I was very frightened.
I mean, I had never been told that something I was about to willingly accept might make me violently nauseous or might make me have heart palpitations or worse. But I have had low energy and if your "counts" are low, you might have to skip a treatment and I do not want to slow things down at all so I signed the paper and tried to both brace for and willingly accept the test dose of Iron.
The nurse sat with me. Heather did too, holding my hand as I gripped hers. I cried. Who, after all, wants to get instantly, violently sick? In a room full of people? Or not, for that matter. But then I tried to breathe easily and tell myself that it was good, it was going to make me strong, it was going to make me better. And the test dose dripped in and was okay and then the real bag of Iron came and it, too, went into my port and then, a long time later, we were done.
I spent today near home. They warned me I might have more affects today but I didn't. I actually feel pretty good. No fever. No chills. No odd sensations. Nothing, except a residue of anxiety that I am trying, still, to shed. It is slipping away. Slowly.
In the meantime, my hives of bees are doing very well. Lots of bees fly around my yard. And yesterday, while I was getting the Iron, my friend Debra came and visited the hive that had not had a Queen. She found 3 Queen cells, the makings of three new Queens. It seems that these bees are doing what they need to keep themselves going. To me this is a huge relief. The bees made it through the winter last year but will not last if they don't have a Queen who lays eggs which turn into workers who do the work that needs to be done to make it through this coming winter.
And while I was getting the Iron, Debra sent me a note saying that she had found the makings of Queens. And by then I was well into the infusion and I was feeling better and the fright had dissolved a bit and the good news of the bees, once again, washed over me and filled me with gratitude and made me trust that it will be okay.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
The Golden Elixir
Today is Day 2 of Round 2. I have 10 more to go. Actually, I'm still in Round 2, as I am connected to my Pump Buddy until tomorrow. And tomorrow I will get more anti nausea medicine and will, I hope continue to feel better than I did on the first go-round.
A little while ago tonight I sat on my front steps watching fireflies. Around here they are very prevalent, especially at this time of year. And we had rain this afternoon which must get them all activated, because they were taking off in droves, lifting up into the trees. It's quite magical.
Speaking of Magic, I've been trying to think of some helpful thoughts and words to have in my hip pocket during these treatments, something that will make it better, that will make the chemicals go into me with ease and in the right spirit. Andrew spoke about his Magic Juice. I'm thinking of the Magic Elixir or The Golden Elixir. On Monday I was able to think of the medicine flowing through me, surrounding the errant cells, surrounding them, escorting them out. It felt good.
So, good day. I'm happy. Today gets an A.
A little while ago tonight I sat on my front steps watching fireflies. Around here they are very prevalent, especially at this time of year. And we had rain this afternoon which must get them all activated, because they were taking off in droves, lifting up into the trees. It's quite magical.
Speaking of Magic, I've been trying to think of some helpful thoughts and words to have in my hip pocket during these treatments, something that will make it better, that will make the chemicals go into me with ease and in the right spirit. Andrew spoke about his Magic Juice. I'm thinking of the Magic Elixir or The Golden Elixir. On Monday I was able to think of the medicine flowing through me, surrounding the errant cells, surrounding them, escorting them out. It felt good.
So, good day. I'm happy. Today gets an A.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
A taste of Honey
Today I signed the contract for my book. Marilynne came here, intending to take some pictures of me working in my bees. Right when she got here it started raining, and that is not a good time to go into bees, so we went inside, chatted, and then I opened and signed my contract! I also showed her the piece that Lisa had sent with the public notice of my agreement with Storey.
Whee!
It needs to be complete by June 1, 2012. Time to get going.
In bee news: I did not find a queen in hive # 1. This is not good news since it is the third time I've tried to get them to grow a Queen. I'm not sure what the problem is, but there was not Queen, nor any sign of one. No brood. No eggs. Nothing. I moved a frame of capped brood from Hive # 2 and also a frame with a few eggs into Hive # 1. Then I added supers to Hives 2,3, and 4. I closed everything up and put everything away and then realized that those bees cannot make a Queen with capped brood. ARGH!!!
I should have just gone back in but I was spent and everything had been put away already AND the bees were all riled up. I'll give them a few days and then will visit them again.
The good news was that there were significant populations in the other three hives. I hope they will do what they need to do to make themselves some honey to go through the winter. We'll see.
Tomorrow is the second treatment. I'm nervous but also kind of interested, not quite excited, to see how it will go, how I will feel, what will happen. I do not want to get sick, or, if I do, I want it to come and go quickly. I kind of feel like I am on a swiftly moving river that is coursing toward the waterfall. I am not in control. The water is moving very fast. And there is nothing I can do at this point except hope and trust that I'll be okay.
And I want to be more intentional this time, want to be clearer about my intentions for the treatment: that I believe it is the right thing to be doing, that I trust it will work, that I believe that the medicine is going to the errant cells.
That's what I think.
Another good thing is that I have been feeling much better and have been eating and drinking much more. It'll be good to remember that I might not have an appetite all the time, but there will come a time when I feel okay and can store up. I feel like I can be easier on myself even if I don't feel like eating or drinking a huge amount every single day. And it is good to know that the coconut juice is drinkable and doesn't taste bad.
Whee!
It needs to be complete by June 1, 2012. Time to get going.
In bee news: I did not find a queen in hive # 1. This is not good news since it is the third time I've tried to get them to grow a Queen. I'm not sure what the problem is, but there was not Queen, nor any sign of one. No brood. No eggs. Nothing. I moved a frame of capped brood from Hive # 2 and also a frame with a few eggs into Hive # 1. Then I added supers to Hives 2,3, and 4. I closed everything up and put everything away and then realized that those bees cannot make a Queen with capped brood. ARGH!!!
I should have just gone back in but I was spent and everything had been put away already AND the bees were all riled up. I'll give them a few days and then will visit them again.
The good news was that there were significant populations in the other three hives. I hope they will do what they need to do to make themselves some honey to go through the winter. We'll see.
Tomorrow is the second treatment. I'm nervous but also kind of interested, not quite excited, to see how it will go, how I will feel, what will happen. I do not want to get sick, or, if I do, I want it to come and go quickly. I kind of feel like I am on a swiftly moving river that is coursing toward the waterfall. I am not in control. The water is moving very fast. And there is nothing I can do at this point except hope and trust that I'll be okay.
And I want to be more intentional this time, want to be clearer about my intentions for the treatment: that I believe it is the right thing to be doing, that I trust it will work, that I believe that the medicine is going to the errant cells.
That's what I think.
Another good thing is that I have been feeling much better and have been eating and drinking much more. It'll be good to remember that I might not have an appetite all the time, but there will come a time when I feel okay and can store up. I feel like I can be easier on myself even if I don't feel like eating or drinking a huge amount every single day. And it is good to know that the coconut juice is drinkable and doesn't taste bad.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Third time's a charm
My friend Carol today suggested i come up with a word or a thought, now that I am feeling well, that I can remember when I am not feeling well. I am hoping a couple of things:
1) that this treatment will not be as hard hitting as the first one - because I know more what to expect and also because they are going to try some different tings this time
2) I hope I will get to the "recovery" phase sooner the next time. I got blindsided last Friday, ending up in the ER from severe cramps and dehydration and all that and that set me back and I did not get to feeling good until Tuesday. Hopefully I'll feel better by Friday the next time.
3) I am not going to take the Ativan this time. Ativan addles my mind and I don't want to lose days again. Carol is going to take me this time and she is coming here earlier in the day and we're going to try and help me be less fearful and more relaxed and I hope that will help. I AM doing this treatment and I DO need to be an active participant, i believe, and I can't really do that when I am unconscious.
And so, back to the first thought: I am not at all sure why I have cancer for the third time. But it IS true that there are a lot of people cheering for me and praying for me and wishing and all that. And I wonder what the lesson is. And I don't know at all. But maybe, since I'm trying to see that this, along with all the other experiences - both hard and fun and excruciating and exhilarating - all are a part of Following the Golden Thread...well, then, this is a part of it too. So maybe I get this opportunity to learn something or to teach something or who knows - something. But maybe today "Third time's a charm" is a good enough mantra to help me get from here to the next high spot, recovered from the next low spot. We'll see. For now it fits well enough.
1) that this treatment will not be as hard hitting as the first one - because I know more what to expect and also because they are going to try some different tings this time
2) I hope I will get to the "recovery" phase sooner the next time. I got blindsided last Friday, ending up in the ER from severe cramps and dehydration and all that and that set me back and I did not get to feeling good until Tuesday. Hopefully I'll feel better by Friday the next time.
3) I am not going to take the Ativan this time. Ativan addles my mind and I don't want to lose days again. Carol is going to take me this time and she is coming here earlier in the day and we're going to try and help me be less fearful and more relaxed and I hope that will help. I AM doing this treatment and I DO need to be an active participant, i believe, and I can't really do that when I am unconscious.
And so, back to the first thought: I am not at all sure why I have cancer for the third time. But it IS true that there are a lot of people cheering for me and praying for me and wishing and all that. And I wonder what the lesson is. And I don't know at all. But maybe, since I'm trying to see that this, along with all the other experiences - both hard and fun and excruciating and exhilarating - all are a part of Following the Golden Thread...well, then, this is a part of it too. So maybe I get this opportunity to learn something or to teach something or who knows - something. But maybe today "Third time's a charm" is a good enough mantra to help me get from here to the next high spot, recovered from the next low spot. We'll see. For now it fits well enough.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Like Texas
My friend Jan said that this trip I'm now on makes her think of me riding across Texas. On my big bike ride, Texas seemed to go on forever. A full third of the ride was in that huge state. 19 days, I think. And as I think about that, I recall some important things about those days that are applicable to now:
Though it was a huge long state, some of my most dear memories happened there. And though it was long and hard, each day was not necessarily that way. In the midst of it all there was much beauty, warm and easy puffs of tailwind, fine times.
And that was where I crashed my bike. But the crash came with unexpected help from Nancy, who loaned me her bike and Michael, who spent a whole day getting mine repaired. And though I missed nine miles of riding that day, I DID get on my bike (Nancy's bike) and ride, injured but persistent. If I'd stopped I would not have been able to restart for a long time. I would have stiffened up in a big way. But because I got back on my bike, I was able to continue.
In Texas I rode the most I've ever ridden in one day. And though I really wanted to quit - a lot - I did not quit. I was completely spent by the end of the day, but I did ride, 12 hours, and I got back on my bike the next day and rode some more.
Today I feel pretty good. I do not have a stomach ache. I got a massage and my shoulders do not hurt very much. And I have some thoughts on how to approach my next treatment. In a meditation session this evening I was able to visualize a cleansing light coursing through my body, clearing away the cells that I don't want. I know this is harsh treatment, but I feel more able, knowing that I did, finally, reach the point of not feeling utterly horrible. I will go into the next treatment with a lighter spirit and I think it will be easier.
And finally, I watched a video about Ginny Ruffner, a glass artist from Seattle who I have admired for a number of years. At the height of her career she was in a horrible car accident and was in a coma for months. She did manage to come out of it but is still quite affected, physically. But she has an amazing spirit and she is continuing to create art; glass, sculpture, drawing, more. And she nearly died and is significantly handicapped, but has risen above it.
So, I feel, shall I.
Oh - and I got to practice something tonight. A friend said, "What stage are you?" and I got to say, "I'm working on Stage Zero!" Ha! No need to say more to anyone. I'm working on Stage Zero.
Good night.
Though it was a huge long state, some of my most dear memories happened there. And though it was long and hard, each day was not necessarily that way. In the midst of it all there was much beauty, warm and easy puffs of tailwind, fine times.
And that was where I crashed my bike. But the crash came with unexpected help from Nancy, who loaned me her bike and Michael, who spent a whole day getting mine repaired. And though I missed nine miles of riding that day, I DID get on my bike (Nancy's bike) and ride, injured but persistent. If I'd stopped I would not have been able to restart for a long time. I would have stiffened up in a big way. But because I got back on my bike, I was able to continue.
In Texas I rode the most I've ever ridden in one day. And though I really wanted to quit - a lot - I did not quit. I was completely spent by the end of the day, but I did ride, 12 hours, and I got back on my bike the next day and rode some more.
Today I feel pretty good. I do not have a stomach ache. I got a massage and my shoulders do not hurt very much. And I have some thoughts on how to approach my next treatment. In a meditation session this evening I was able to visualize a cleansing light coursing through my body, clearing away the cells that I don't want. I know this is harsh treatment, but I feel more able, knowing that I did, finally, reach the point of not feeling utterly horrible. I will go into the next treatment with a lighter spirit and I think it will be easier.
And finally, I watched a video about Ginny Ruffner, a glass artist from Seattle who I have admired for a number of years. At the height of her career she was in a horrible car accident and was in a coma for months. She did manage to come out of it but is still quite affected, physically. But she has an amazing spirit and she is continuing to create art; glass, sculpture, drawing, more. And she nearly died and is significantly handicapped, but has risen above it.
So, I feel, shall I.
Oh - and I got to practice something tonight. A friend said, "What stage are you?" and I got to say, "I'm working on Stage Zero!" Ha! No need to say more to anyone. I'm working on Stage Zero.
Good night.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Day One
Heather says that everything is part of the Golden Thread. These are MY words, but I admit not remembering and so, when she said them, yesterday, I realized she is right and so, here we go.
Day One is June 22, 2011.
Lucinda says I should write and that this, this time I am in right now, is the gist of my next book. Interesting that my FIRST book (well, second) is not yet written, though I do have a contract for it. But she is grasping, as we all are, to find something good to pull out of not feeling well and she says that my ability to write and make something more of most situations, than what meets the eye, is really worth paying attention to.
So today I start a blog, a journal, a record of this time.
I don't feel like reviewing right now so this start, with no description, will have to do. As starters go, it's, well, a start.
Day One is June 22, 2011.
Lucinda says I should write and that this, this time I am in right now, is the gist of my next book. Interesting that my FIRST book (well, second) is not yet written, though I do have a contract for it. But she is grasping, as we all are, to find something good to pull out of not feeling well and she says that my ability to write and make something more of most situations, than what meets the eye, is really worth paying attention to.
So today I start a blog, a journal, a record of this time.
I don't feel like reviewing right now so this start, with no description, will have to do. As starters go, it's, well, a start.
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