big news

As I have related ad nauseum, last Monday was my last big chemo and instead of celebrating, I managed to get really, really sick afterwards. This might not be unusual in the world of chemo, but for me it was, and it was a blow to my pride in accomplishing the process relatively unscathed.
There might be a reason to being so sick that your mind simply doesn't function: to keep it off the upcoming petscan. Had I not had such a bad week, I'd have probably driven myself and everyone around me utterly crazy in anticipation of the test that would reveal whether or not the chemo worked. I would have been even more, no - a lot more, neurotic than ever.
So Monday, with it's dietary limitations rolled around and I must have spent about 2 hours on the 'phone making sure what I was/not allowed to eat and when. No doubt, and quite correctly, the clerks must have thought this woman is 'heeltemal en vreeslik mal', which does not translate well for my mental state (from Afrikaans). And finally, it was Tuesday morning, with a hacking cough that I was told was not pneumonia, I went to do the scan, having spent hours of mediation working out how I was not going to cough and mess up the whole procedure. Some of us have got a lot to think about. ....
Reuven and I were mucking about in the house, getting ready to go to chemo (still getting Herceptin) and my doctor's appointment, when the doctor herself 'phoned. She said she wouldn't let me wait to hear the great news that the petscan results were in and couldn't be better. The petscan has a resolution above half a centimeter, so, while there is a chance of tiny bits of cancer, too small for the scan to find to remain, the scan itself shows NO cancer. Utterly overwhelming news. The flip side of the coin was that "I had and still have pneumonia" as also shown by the petscan, which is a lot more sensitive than a regular x-ray (which lied through it's teeth).
It's like breaking the tape on a marathon, only to collapse on the other side. A famous saying in Hebrew: the operation was a success, the patient is dead.
I HAVE to get better fast or they will not do the surgery and I have to have the surgery soon so as not to have wasted all this chemotherapy. I am in a tizz. Some people will do anything for attention.

It's never over 'til...

Big excitement - my last big chemo on my 55th birthday. Auspicious.  With only one real blip to my record, I felt confident that stage 1 of my treatment was over and behind me. All seemed fine. Tuesday, a nasty niggly cough. By Tuesday night, I knew I was sick and by Wednesday, I'd begun a truly horrible week (well, so far, not quite a week). Thursday, with tubes coming out of me in more than one direction, zero energy, fever, nausea, pain in every bone, and a mind in a swirl, I was ready to check out of this world.  Possibly just flu, but after an entire road trip of chemotherapy, my body is clearly at a nadir of strength and took it badly. I have still not had enough energy to speak on the 'phone, so for everyone who has been so kind, please forgive me and wait a few more days.
Today, Saturday, I think I am finally on the upswing, but the cough is driving me crazy and preventing me from getting close to the rest I would like to have. With Mother Nature/G-d providing the most delicious rain outside, what could be more wonderful than cuddling up in bed? But no: cough cough cough ruining it all.
Along with the rain, in Florida, we get algae that needs pressure cleaning at least twice a year. The patio is black. I insisted that RR make an appointment with the cleaners.  At least if there's a shiva coming up, the veranda will be respectable.
We have learned that it's never over til it's over and not to be overconfident about our ability to withstand every physical challenge. It makes you wonder what the h it's all about anyway? All the corniest of questions arise and so far, there sure are no answers. The amazing thing is that every single one of us will go through these thoughts and face their finality at some point, yet we continue to live as though the questions do not exist. What does a hungry child in Africa think and am I utterly over self indulgent?
On the home front, Reuven has been very good today, making meals and becoming quite domesticated. Jimmi Hendrix has decided that he has a legitimate place at the table and if we don't nip him in the bud, on the table. It is quite funny to see that little black and tan face sitting on his own chair, seriously expecting to participate in human meals.
So, we have had the cute and the hectic this week. Hope to have something less dreary to report next time around. Meanwhile, anyone know a miracle cough cure?

May14-15 summary

Was going to call this chapter a postmortem of May 14th, but thought that would be a little macabre.  Woke up after a couple hours sleep at 2am. My thoughts racing around, going through the events of the previous day. So, here they are:

Got up well before the rest of the household, as usual. The kitchen table was bedecked with decoration
in my favourate blues, lots of shiny glitzy starts and flowers and banners reading Happy Birthday.
Cutest gifts from Nancy. I got my work done, we had breakfast and finally left for chemo, when I
remembered that I'd forgotten to take my steroids. So, we raced back as fast as possible, knowing that
there was a policeman right at the entrance to our community. Well, the genius had his lights flashing,
so it was hardly a secret.

Lucky to get back as I found Mr. Jimmi Hendrix well inside a huge plastic garbage bag, scattering it's
contents all over the kitchen floor. Fortunately, he had only just begun his pilfering, so I managed to
scatter him out of the kitchen, pick up the bits, take the steroids and rush back to chemo.

As we walked in, found Adam and Lee already there, with crowns for all and the whole room singing Happy Birthday to me. Eventually, I got hooked up, but clearly there had been some sort of snafu, which I was unaware of. Turned out that Nancy had ordered cup cakes, balloons and decorations, which were supposed to be hung up in the room before my arrival, but the woman brought them 4 hours late. To me, it made no
difference, but I think poor Nancy and, to a lesser extend the kids, were stressed out.

I nodded through a lot of the morning and it was all over by about 1.30 Very early. End of my big chemo sessions. Now, we have to wait for next week to learn whether they did their job. On Tuesday morning, I'm due for a petscan, which takes a 'photo of the body and shows where there is cancer. Quite nerve wracking in anticipation.

I had a rest this avie and then, to my great delight, went off to see The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel,
which I've been waiting to see since the trailer showed, October last year. Why it took so long to be
released in the USA, is beyond my understanding. All good things are supposed to come to those who wait, and this was no exception. Nothing deep or heavy, but pure delight. A bunch of old codgers, pretty much down on their financial luck,  retire in a hotel near Jaipur. Having been twice to Jaipur, I especially loved the surroundings. Fabulous acting, light and lively plot. Just what the doctor ordered.

We got home a little later than expected and still had to see to supper. Lucky we live in an age of
freezers, so that was easilly accomplished, if not very healthy. Everyone collapsed into bed and it was
the end of the day.

I awoke about 2am and now, after 4am, am thinking of making another attempt at
sleep. Lots of thoughts about what the last 4 months have meant and now, more importantly, what the next 3 months will do and how I will get through them. It is definately going to be a different chapter in my life. I am inutterably grateful for all of the support I got through my chemotherapy. I am very, very lucky and want to thank everyone who kept me buoyed up through it all.

Also, thanks to the people who sent me birthday wishes via Facebook. I don't know how to reply on
Facebook, so I hope you read this.

May 14 20012. 55 years old today and very grateful.

This morning, woke up at a little after 5am. I have a wonderful feeling inside. Sometimes, you are just very, very happy, very very grateful. Today, is my last big chemotherapy. At least for now, this cycle. I have a wonderful friend staying with us and so far, the kids' being home has been a joy.
I know there are downs to match the ups, but in all honesty, I have been supremely blessed since my diagnosis.

Going through my emails, got happy birthday wishes from a few most unexpected sources. Thank you, thank you for remembering me and for your kindness.

The table is magically set with sparklers and napkins and a card and gift in blue (favourate colour).  I hope to share that with the family later today.

So, I'm pleased as punch about reaching my last big chemo. Feeling an accomplishment. I open an email from an old friend in Australia, who I haven't seen in 30 years or more, and see a video of two tall women fitting themselves into a box. Jeeeeez! Suddenly my own accomplishments seem so much more mundane. People can be so amazing.

Thank everyone for lifting me up for the last 4 months.

a really good week

I just had a great week! not only was it my strongest week of the 3 week cycle, but my blood count went up and I feel much better. Maybe it's all of that meat from last week. Even better, my aunt came to stay for a few days and having someone so supportive and caring around, is a great blessing.
I finally managed to get out of Boca for two days: we got in the car and drove up to Sarasota. After a near fiasco due to a misleading booking, we managed to organise a hotel right on the beach with a room facing the water.  You could stand on our balcony and jump into one of the swimming pools that seperate the hotel from the sand.  We chose to sit out there and drink in the gorgeous view. Fishermen, walkers, picking up seashells, funny birds of every variety and size and of course sunset and swimming. The hotel supplied us with huge deck chairs and when not lazing on them, we had a great time in the warm water. The waves on the Gulf of Mexico are very gentle, especially for one who remembers the rush of water at Muizenberg and the icy cold torture of Clifton. In South Africa, a wave gives you a zetz and fly into the depths, but here, it was all kindness - exactly right for oldies and sickies.
There is no such thing as me going anywhere and not having at least a little look for antiques, but Sarasota was a disappointment in that department. We made up for it by having lunch in the Amish area at a restaurant called Yoders, which confirmed that Amish food is as bland and boring as you would not wish to imagine. They do make nice quilts tho and I was tempted, but resisted a great offer. How much 'stuff' does one need?
I am cooking a great big pot of supper. All 3 kids are home and my bruv is due in any moment. A lot of guests expected on Sunday and then finally, the unbelievable: Monday is my last big chemo of this session. I am told that I will never be cured, but hopefully, the Herceptin will keep the cancer at bay until I reach a ripe old age. Perhaps there will be new breakthroughs before then. I can just hope and pray. Meanwhile, I hope that when it comes, I will be ready for the next world.
It also turned out that while I may not have a full mastectomy, I will need plastic surgery, so, on Wednesday,  I am going to see a doctor, who, coincidentally, I know from my old shul. His mother knew my late grandmother in Cape Town, so it is a very small world.

In Illness and Health

Another week has rolled by. Everything started off ok when I went for my little dose of Herceptin. Bright and cheerful. Then my bloodwork came back and the numbers had plummeted. The nurses were all still bright and cheerful, but I was devastated. How could it be??? Immediately, I felt terrible and for days could not get myself out of the slump of these low numbers. Did that explain the terrible tiredness of the week before?? Compounded with the fact that my friend, S, who had one dose of chemo, landed up in hospital with pneumonia because her numbers dropped so low. I ate so much meat that I gained 10 pounds and by Wednesday, started to feel chirpier. By Thursday, I forgot about the whole thing except the excess weight, which is still climbing. I have decided that I should apply for a job as a chubby little alien from outer space in a movie. I hardly look human any more.

Since I felt a lot better by the end of the week, I ran around a lot. Had tons of fun as my work involves shopping for antiques. Now, I have loads of stuff waiting to be done on my desk. No rest for the wicked.

Children have come home to roost. I guess roost is not what they do, but that's the saying. It's amazing that no matter how bad a patch your relationship with them currently is going through, there is a feeling of deep satisfaction in knowing that they are all home. Despite myself, a feeling of wholeness, quite uninvited, pervades.

It's difficult to remember, hardly a week ago, that feeling of deep exhaustion in every cell of one's body. When you feel good, you feel good and can't conceive of the other. It's difficult to even think of oneself as being 'sick' - you don't feel sick and the only thing to remind you, is when you look in the mirror. Or, try to get into any of your clothes that will not come close to closing around that enormous belly.
With that in mind, I am going to try to go for a teeny run, or at least a walk. Chow.