Cancer Gives Me Hope

Lymphoma is a blood cancer.  So much of my recovery is wrapped up in blood, and blood products, that I realized early on I can’t allow myself to be too squeamish about this whole process if I want to write about it with anything approaching honesty.

As I’ve mentioned before, blood cancer is not a stranger to our home.  Gerry’s been dealing with Multiple Myeloma (a bone marrow cancer, a sister cancer to lymphoma) so in a weird way this experience is NOT as foreign to us both as it might have been.  Once again, Gerry goes ahead and quietly forges a path for us both to walk.

The point of my chemotherapy  (R-Chop is the term used to describe the cocktail I’m being given) is to throw some VERY powerful drugs at my cancer until it yells “Uncle!”

Hopefully the cancer will give up before my body does!

Here’s a brief explanation from The American Cancer Society’s webpage on R-Chop and a cancer similar to my own diagnosis.  It gives me a vague idea of what I might expect going forward:

Diffuse large B-cell lymphoma

Diffuse large B-cell lymphoma (DLBCL) tends to grow quickly. Most often, the treatment is chemotherapy (chemo), usually with a regimen of 4 drugs known as CHOP (cyclophosphamide, doxorubicin, vincristine, and prednisone), plus the monoclonal antibody rituximab (Rituxan). This regimen, known as R-CHOP, is most often given in cycles 3 weeks apart. Because this regimen contains the drug doxorubicin, which can damage the heart, it may not be suitable for patients with heart problems, so other chemo regimens may be used instead.

Stage I or II

For DLBCL that is only in 1 or 2 lymph node groups on the same side of the diaphragm (the thin muscle that separates the chest from the abdomen), R-CHOP is often given for 3 to 6 cycles, which might be followed by radiation therapy to the affected lymph node areas.

Stage III or IV

Most doctors will give 6 cycles of R-CHOP as first-line treatment. After several cycles, doctors may get imaging tests such as a PET/CT scan to see how well treatment is working. People who have a higher risk of the lymphoma coming back later in the tissues around the brain and spinal cord may be treated with chemo injected into the spinal fluid (called intrathecal chemotherapy). Another option is to give high doses of methotrexate intravenously. (This drug can pass into the spinal fluid.)

For younger patients with a higher risk of the lymphoma coming back based on the International Prognostic Index (IPI) score, high-dose chemo followed by a stem cell transplant might be an option. But it’s not yet clear if transplants are better as the initial treatment. Most doctors feel that if a transplant is done as part of the first treatment, it should be done in a clinical trial.

If the lymphoma doesn’t go away completely with treatment or if it recurs (comes back) after treatment, doctors will usually suggest another chemo regimen.

Several different regimens can be used, and they may or may not include rituximab. If the lymphoma shrinks with this treatment, it might be followed by a stem cell transplant if possible, as it offers the best chance of curing the lymphoma. Stem cell transplants are not effective unless the lymphoma responds to chemo. Unfortunately, not everyone is healthy enough for a stem cell transplant.

DLBCL can be cured in about half of all patients, but the stage of the disease and the IPI score can have a large effect on this. Patients with lower stages have better survival rates, as do patients with lower IPI scores.

The Mighty Hemo
One of the best indicators of the success of my therapy can be found in my labs (the tests that they put my blood through to see how well I’m holding up.)  Three of the main tests that my medical team looks at are Platelet Counts, White & Red Blood Cell Counts and Hemoglobin.

Back in October/November, when I was beginning to feel SO exhausted that I started to lose hope that I’d be able to continue working on ModeKnit Yarn much longer*, I discovered that my hemoglobin was hovering around 11.  While that’s not bad, it’s not great for an otherwise healthy woman, and it WAS an indication that something might be up.

But at this point in my chemotherapy 11.2 is actually quite good for my hemoglobin, and I’ve been able to keep that level up.  I think it’s dumb luck, I really don’t think I’m doing anything so much better than anyone else, but I HAVE been trying to eat a lot of good protein (salmon, yogurt, eggs, nuts) and iron rich foods (spinach, raisins) and that might be helping.

My platelet count is 228, not stellar, but not bad at all for someone who has just undergone a week of chemo. White Blood Cell and Red Blood Cell counts are 3.4 ad 3.94, respectively, which is also not bad.

This will change, I’m certain.  As my recovery progresses I’m sure I’ll have weeks when the numbers aren’t as good as this, and I’ll probably need a transfusion at that time. But the BIG NEWS THIS WEEK is that I do NOT require a transfusion.

Well, not today.  There’s always a chance I’ll need one on Friday.

SUCCESS!
The Nurse/Practitioner was very happy with my numbers, and so was I!  Because it’s August, everyone is on vacation, so he is a fill-in from Woodwinds Hospital in Woodbury, but he was a very nice guy and we had a great visit today.

So as exhausted and in pain as I was, dragging my sorry butt into St. John’s Cancer Center for a blood draw through my port, and came out feeling exhausted, but a bit victorious!

I need to caution myself, though, that if when I DO need a transfusion in future, it will not be some kind of failure, but simply the need to do for my body what it requires.

* This was a fear I lived with, quietly, for the past 9 months or so.  I would refer to my exhaustion every now and then to Kathleen, but mostly what I felt was shame that it seemed that I was unable to keep up my part of our work agreement. 

Of course, NOW I know that my body was battling Cancer, but at the time I thought I was just ageing very quickly, or maybe being lazy. 

I discovered during this period that sometimes, when I felt at the nadir of my strength, along would come a chilling fear that I’d NEVER have more strength.  A feeling like, “I will NEVER feel better than I do at this moment.”  It felt like the very definition of hopelessness.

As scary and overwhelming as the word CANCER is, it’s far LESS terrifying than the abject fear that I would NEVER feel any better than I did last November.  The diagnosis of Cancer has given me a bit of hope, and that’s worth gold.

THIS is why I feel lucky.  I feel that I’ve been given a chance to see the horizon, where before the diagnosis it was just a foggy bank of pain over in the distance.  Now I have a direction where I can look, and dream.

Some Days

Today is a pure exhaustion day.  It’s 9:17, I’ve been up and down since 2am (hip pain makes it hard to stay level, so I’m up, then down, then up, etc.  You get it…)

I just walked to the dining room, moved a very small watermelon to the kitchen, cut it open, chopped 1/4 of it into a bowl, and I feel as though I’ve worked a full day on the factory floor.

Jobs I thought I’d be able to do are slipping from my hands, and the gratitude I feel toward Kathleen and Layla for picking up the slack is larger than I can explain or ever return!

Today is the first time I’ll be able to get in to see the Cancer Psychiatrist, and this is a visit that is LONG overdue.  We were supposed to see her last week, but that visit was cancelled (it makes me sad because I wanted Max to have a chance to at least MEET the doc before he returned to school)

But I’m VERY grateful that it’s happening, and I’m going to try to
have the energy I need to make the visit really matter.

Couldn’t Come Too Soon
I’ve been so—stressed—over the past few days that I feel as though I’m coming out of my skin.  Small things, totally microscopic and inconsequential things, drive me up the friggin’ wall, and I’ve screamed more in the past few weeks than I have in the past 45 years.

I leave my first 11 years out of that because heaven KNOWS
how much I screamed during THAT period of my life…

So I’m hoping that there will be some strategies that will allow me to be a nicer, better person around my family (who are going through hell right with me…)

AND I’m wondering if there might be some kind of drug that would help me relax…

The Ol’ MJ
Of course, that drug COULD be the Medical Marijuana for which I’ve been approved, but I’m STILL waiting for my Pharmacist interview I have to go though to actually get PRESCRIBED anything.  Dang.

Mouth Of Sore
Aside from the mental wilderness into which my brain has wandered, physically the week of Chemo is catching up on me.

My mouth is one huge sore.  All along the edges of the mouth, in the palette and tongue and along the sides it feels as though there’s a constant fire going on all the time.

Ice, jello, ice pops and cold drinks are my friends.  Unfortunately, the more ice I take in, the more I have to make my way up to the bathroom for more good times, and the more exhausted I get.  A vicious ice circle.

Swallowing is becoming very difficult.  I think I need to start using straws, because even a small mouthful of ice water (or any beverage) makes it SO difficult for me to swallow.  I fear choking, or at the least a coughing fit because THAT really hurts my chest so badly.

The only foods that really go down smoothly are ice cream type of foods, ice pops, mochi, kulfi, all kinds of iced dairy treats!

On a side note, due to the kindness of my neighbor, Kristen, I’ve been able to make a bunch of YoNaNa frozen banana dessert, which helps me get potassium to fight the leg cramps (another side effect haunting me all night) and allows me a creamy treat without a great deal of dairy, which can play havoc with my digestion these days…

My hair is starting to fall out (not a ton, but it’s very obvious in the shower) I KNEW that would happen, I was told by my doc, and it’s not something that troubles me too much.  I’m cool being bald for a bit, and if my hair never grows back I think I’d be fine, too. I think…

The exhaustion has reached a whole new level.  Just getting OUT of a chair takes me as much mental preparation as getting ready for the first leg of American Ninja Warrior*

Sitting up takes more effort than I can muster some days, and THAT is a very frustrating and frightening aspect of this recovery.  I was prepared in part for the exhaustion, but I was NOT prepared for the weakness I feel in every aspect of my physical being.  I can’t sit with my legs up and cross them without help.

This is — hard.  That is the best word for it. Hard as a rock.

Audio hallucinations seem to haunt me before bed and when I first wake.  Sometimes visual oddities pop up, too; feeling that I’m seeing — someone — out of the corner of my eye.  It’s weird, but it’s also comforting in a way, as if I KNOW the voices I’m hearing and they’re just in the other room, laughing and having fun.  This is weird, I know, but Gerry used to get the same sensation (and I think he still does sometimes) so I know I’m not alone in this.

SO here I am, whining and bitching, sitting and inviting all of you into my stream-of-consciousness moan about my health.  Today is a rough day, let’s hope tomorrow is a better one!

*No, I haven’t actually PARTICIPATED in ANW, I’m just going by how impressively the contestants psyche themselves up before that first round… 

Japanese Milk Bread

I love baking.  A year ago I was all about the cake, this year I’m more about bread.  It makes sense, bread is slower, there’s less timing involved, and it’s easier for a person with pain and exhaustion issues to plan out a loaf and deal with it ON MY TERMS.

I can move slowly through a bread recipe, feel I’ve made something special for my family, and NOT knock myself out trying to make something special and memorable.

There are SO many excellent bread resources out there that I’m not going to even TRY to list them.

Right now my favorite source of recipes to try for bread items is the King Arthur website.  In full disclosure, I’m a member of their baking club. I pay a certain $ each year to get free shipping on my orders and other little treats.  

It’s a luxury, but when I break down how cheaply I can whip up a loaf of bread for the family, and how much they enjoy it, it actually makes good sense, financially.

Bread + Pain Strategy
So this morning, waking at 2am with intense pain (2 is when my 8-hour Oxycodone wears off, and at this point I could set my clock by the pain) my strategy has become to

  1. Take my 2am pain pills (short lasting Oxycodone for breakthrough pain)
  2. Get up and take care of nature’s call
  3. Try to stay in bed for at LEAST 1/2 hour
  4. Read a bit from my current bedtime book

If all of this leads to me falling back asleep, then I am what’s known as le Happy Camper.

The kids won’t have hot, fresh bread waiting for them in the morning, but they WILL have a well rested, happy, mom, and that’s worth EVEN MORE!

However if, like this morning, pain won’t abate until I move a bit, I get up and wander the ground floor of the house, putting stuff away, emptying the dish washer, trying to do anything that isn’t too noisy.

If I’m still awake at 6am, I can take my entire pain pill regime (three times a day, 6am, 2pm, 10pm.)  To my list this morning I added, “Make Japanese Milk Rolls!”  Because – why not?

Soft Bread
I like soft bread, and I cannot lie.  Recently I like it even more.  When approaching a chewy crust of bread, I tense up a bit as hard chewing can really bother my teeth these days.  I’m such a sensitive flower…

I love this recipe from King Arthur Flour because it uses a warm milk starter, called a

Sometimes I like to bake my Japanese Milk Bread Rolls with an egg wash & sesame seeds.

“Tangzhong Starter” which really does seem to make the bread soft and easy to eat.  When I was a kid my dad used to buy a loaf of bread called, “MIlk Toast.”

I don’t know if this was an Ohio or WV thing, but we’d get this special bread at A&P, in a blue wrapper, sliced VERY THICK.  I remember it was a soft and comforting bread, and my dad would toast it, then cover it in cinnamon and sugar and warm milk and eat it like a pudding.

These Milk Rolls give me the same feeling when I eat them.  There’s a pleasant density and softness to the bread that makes me feel like I’m 5 again.  This is wonder bread, x100 for taste and texture!

Japanese milk bread roll with jam!

Once I’ve created the starter (I do it 30 seconds at a time in the microwave) and mixed together all of the ingredients, I knead it in my mixer, then give a few extra kneads on my table and put it in a buttered, covered bowl to rise.

60-90 minutes later, the dough’s been raised and it’s time to shape it,

Versatility
At this point there are a number of ways to utilize the dough.  One of my favorites is to create the above rolls, which are very easy to make.  If I feel the need to fill them with spices or nuts or chocolate or cheese, it’s easy to do and makes a beautiful change up from plain bread.

Japanese Milk Rolls baked as a loaf

Other times I roll the dough out into a rectangle, fold it up in thirds (like a business letter) then turn under the edges and slip it into a loaf pan.  Once again, when folding the dough I can add fillings to different section of the bread if I feel so moved, and can make a sweet or a savory treat.

I’ve used this recipe as the base for a nice Babka, too.  It’s such a versatile dough!

I think this morning I’m going to make a kind of cinnamon roll using a nice mix of Cinnamon, Cardamom, Nutmeg and a bit of Vanilla. That sounds like it would be great with a cup of coffee (I seldom drink coffee, but this morning I might!)

When the bread’s had a second rise I’ll roll a Cinnamon-Spice mixture into the dough, then do some creative twisting and try to make something pretty.  Once it’s baked up, I may add a bit of icing and there’s Sunday morning, done and dusted!

What About The Gluten, Annie?
And, for those of you keeping score, YES this is filled with gluten.  But I’m using an organic wheat which should guarantee that a Monsanto product wasn’t used in the harvesting of the grain.

I was experimenting with using organic wheat vs gluten free, and felt that I was having some good success, and then the cancer happened.

I’m so full of various pain killers that I wouldn’t even FEEL the side effects that I’d been chalking up to eating gluten.

So I’m giving myself permission to eat a bagel every now and then, and I’m ESPECIALLY giving myself permission to eat a wheat product I bake at home using organic wheat.  So far I haven’t had any terrible side effects from this, the pain I feel tends to line up with the pain from my lymphoma and metastasized tumors.

So, whether you consider yourself a baker or not, I have found this recipe to be a VERY good soft-bread, and not really difficult to make at ALL!

I hope you’ll give it a try, and let me know how it turns out!  From start to finish this generally takes me about an hour’s work and a few hours of rising/waiting.  Perfect for a 2am wakening on a slow pain-filled morning.

SO who wants to come by and have some bread?

The Pain Drain

One thing about this whole cancer adventure is that I can’t really know what to expect on any given day.

It’s a huge mystery, and it seems that there are as ways a cancer journey can unfold as there are folks who’ve had cancer.

I had THOUGHT that once we got my pain settled with the 3x Oxycontin + as needed OxyCodone, I would be good to go.  And that worked for a few weeks.

But apparently because the tumor in my spine had metastasized again into my hips and tailbone, and it brings a whole NEW tenderness and sensitivity.  I wouldn’t have chalked it down as actual “pain” until today, when the sensation definitely grew into a pain situation.

My morning adventure was getting X-rays at St. Joseph’s hospital, then seeing my neurologist to discuss the X-rays, and then a drive over to St. John’s Cancer Center for a refill of my chemo pump medications and home for resting.

Unfortunately, St. Joseph’s is one of those old-type hospitals in a downtown area that is actually a series of buildings that have been cobbled together into one unit.  This means that there are very few DIRECT ways to get from one department to the next, so my walk from the entrance to Radiology, and then another walk to the Neurology dept were BOTH extremely long (involving several elevator rides and lots of walking)

And this caused me extreme pain.  It wasn’t the walk as much as it was the big brace I had to wear, which pushes down on my hips in a MOST uncomfortable way, and causes me to sweat like a Swede in a sauna.

Seriously, you could have WRUNG OUT the T-shirt I was wearing under the brace,
and heat causes my skin to bleed (I’m a redheaded weirdo)
and THAT causes a great deal of pain.

It was so bad that I got a special dispensation to only wear the brace for comfort reasons. I’ve been pretty good about wearing it whenever I travel in a car, or when I’m walking around outside, but with the advent of the hip pain I must admit I’ve been leaving it off as much as I’ve been wearing it.

I feel very fortunate that my neurologist is taking the fact that the brace is CAUSING me pain seriously.

But it’s been hard to climb out of the hole of pain in my hips that I slunk into this morning.  I know that after I’m able to get a decent night’s sleep the pain will begin to resolve itself, but right now it’s a cold, hollow pain that fills both hips, it’s probably time for a lidocaine patch, to be honest.

Pain is such a game changer.  It feels good to discuss it, but I also know how boring it must be to open my blog and read, “Pain, blah, blah, blah, PAIN!” But that’s my reality today.  Which is so weird after a few weeks of very decent pain control.

It also makes me wonder if the chemo pump drugs I’m on are having
some kind of effect on my pain meds, perhaps undercutting them in some way..?

Tomorrow I meet again with my Radiational Oncologist to discuss returning for MORE radiation treatments to deal with this pain, and to deal with the metastasis of the spine tumor.  This whole thing sounds so danged scary, but each and every nurse and doc and health professional I deal with has been NOTHING but hopeful that all of this is just part of my own, personal cancer journey.

I appreciate their hope, it gives me a lift, and makes my days a bit easier.  My nights, however, continue to be honeycombed with pools of pain and fear.

On a personal/work level, I am feeling terrible that I’ve not been able to swim above this pain to get more done on the website.  It’s like I can’t 100% focus on anything but — well — pain.  That’s what pain is, I guess, a big, fat element of life that steals all the focus from everything else.

And, by comparison, the pain I’m feeling is actually much LESS than the pain I was feeling for most of the Spring/Early Summer.  It’s just that now that it’s attached to the word “Cancer” it’s as if the pain has a deeper color, a scarier hue, and it can be alarming.

Chemo Day 1, Done & Dusted!

I’ve been pretty nervous about this chemo thing, nervous for many reasons.

70’s Movie Fest
First of all, I grew up in the 60’s & 70’s, I watched Brian’s Song and Death Be Not Proud and Love Story.  I watched Terms Of Endearment and Garbo Laughs and a plethora of other movies.  Oh, and the TV ad parodies…

Gee you’re swell!
Guess what? No one fucking lives in those movies.  NO ONE. It sets a kid’s head on a bit crooked to only ever see folks die in ‘cancer flicks,’ but that was the 70’s.

Even after experiencing the magic that is a “partial recovery” in my husband (well, recovery until his cancer reemerges every 3-5 years…) I find myself terrified that chemo = end of life.  But it doesn’t.  And I have to keep telling myself that.  It’s something I KNOW, but I still have to repeat it to myself.

Thank you, every made for TV movie I ever saw in the 70’s, for NOTHING.

Plus, in all those movies folks just get sicker and sicker.  They get sick ALL OVER THE PLACE, then they have a lot of pain, then they get sick again.  Then they die.  That is the script.  “Blech, ouch, bye.”

Not MY script.

Any Exhaust Port…
I was also fearful today about the port they had “installed” into my chest cavity a few weeks ago.

The first time they tried to use it, apparently there was swelling, but today after a bit of working around it was able to go just fun.  Huzzah!  Now I’m attached to a pump so I’ll be receiving the chemo meds all night long (Yo, check this Bitchie, Lionel Ritchie!)

I need to take a moment to talk about my Chemo nurse, Jennifer, who was SO damned amazing and wonderful and made my day good and special and positive.  THANK YOU SO MUCH, JENNIFER!   You did an amazing job today, and you settled the hearts and minds of myself, my husband and “Kid Caregiver” (Andy’s new moniker)

Tomorrow I’ll go back to the pump room to get more drugg-age to be pumped into my body and into my soul.  All night long.

Where Are We, Exactly?
Tomorrow I’m ALSO going for some kind of special big-time Xray at St. Paul Radiology so they can get a very good look of how my Spine tumor has dealt with the death ray we like to call “Radiation Therapy”

We just keep looking for the exhaust port in this Tumor so my tiny little Luke Skywalker can send some radiation torpedoes down it.  Tomorrow we see how successful those X-wings have been.

I’m nervous about what we’ll find in the Xray, but it’s a vital part of the recovery. Assessing how the therapies are working.

Lumbar Madness
On Wed I have yet ANOTHER Lumbar Puncture, with one each and every Wed after that for a month. And I have Jennifer, my amazing chemo nurse, chasing down anesthsia for each and every one of those punctures. THANK YOU, JENNIFER!

Why all the lumbar punctures? Assessment. We need to see what’s going on in what has become a pretty fast moving cancer ride.

The BIG Q is, “Is the cancer actually IN my spinal cord.”
Let’s just keep hoping the answer to that question will remain, “Nope!”
I told you the news last week wasn’t terrific. But I WOOL SURVIVE.

So every Tuesday evening will be a Dance party with Gloria Gaynor & Lionel Ritchie.  Let’s throw some 80’s Joan Armatrading in there for the Carrib beat.

“I’m lucky, I’m lucky, I’m lucky
I can walk under ladders…”

So that’s my upcoming week, and I am READY to go.

Breathe, Damnit!
Today during my chemo I had a bad reaction.  Not terrible, but not great.  When they sped up the infusion, my body responded by trying to shut down my breathing.  Gerry rushed to the chemo ward with my breathing meds, I was given a nebulizer treatment, and they slowed the chemo down to 50 again and all was well.

So I’ll be getting my Rituxan rather slowly, and that’s okay.  And I just realized I forgot to take my long-lasting Oxycontin OR my breakthrough pain Roxicodone.  It never ends, does it…

D Day

I’ll Be Taking The Walking Path For The Time Being!

The diagnosis of my cancer was PDQ (pretty damn quick), coming immediately after they’d finished my MRI on July 23rd.  At the time I was a bit nonplussed when the ER doc, after one test, made a pretty conclusive initial diagnosis; “Well, you DON’T have Fibromyalgia, you’ve got CANCER.”

After a bit of discussion I understood what me meant was that there were THREE pretty sizable sites of metastasis (spine, back of the neck and lymph nodes) which was as much of a guarantee that I had cancer as anything else they could have seen.  The mystery at that point was, what exactly was the PRIMARY cause of the cancer.

The days between the initial MRI, the lymph node biopsy and the point when the pathology was ready to be addressed were LONG ones.  Only 5 days, but it felt like 5 months, and it weighed very heavily on my psyche.  Those were 5 days of pure fear.

Dexamethasone: All the sweats, hot flashes, puffiness and irascibility of Menopause, now in a convenient PILL!

When my Medical Oncologist, Dr. N, sat us down and told us that I had Stage 4 Diffuse B-Cell Lymphoma, our reaction was SO positive I think it surprised him.  My big fear was that I’d had a large, solid mass tumor somewhere; colon, liver, some terrible place.  And THAT would have been a very difficult diagnosis to process.

But I was extremely lucky.  Lymphoma is a cancer where the word “cure” is actually used.  Yes, I am VERY lucky!

TODAY is another D-Day, at least for me it is.  Today is the day we look at the results of all those tests I’ve been taking this past week, most especially the bone marrow biopsy and lumbar puncture, to see if the cancer has moved into my spinal cord.  I think it’s about as scary as it sounds.

I asked demanded that I have my two more painful tests under anesthesia, and more than ever I’m convinced it was a very good call.  The residual pain I feel in my back and hips from these tests is pretty extreme this week, I would hazard to say that the pain these last few days has been as bad as it was at the start of this adventure in mid-July, which is pretty bad.  The main difference is that this time I have several pain meds I can use to break through this pain, and that’s a mercy.

Dealer’s Choice
So today I have my “long visit” with Dr. N,  where we’ll go over the test results and discuss what may be the next step in this trip.  With absolutely no medical experience or education of any type, my only point of reference is having been Gerry’s caregiver for so many years.

Topical pain relief from Galina!

But the truth is, Gerry is the ‘researcher’ in the family; he goes into his head, he reads stuff, he deals with numbers and percentages, THAT’s his comfort zone.

I’m not dividing my observations into a male/female way of dealing with pain and new medical information, because I know many women who are very numbers oriented (me, for one!) and I know MANY men who approach things in a more “feeling” way.

But in the case of Gerry and myself, I tend to be the “emotions whisperer” with the kids, Gerry tends to put the numbers into some type of structure that we can use to understand them better.

For this reason, when Gerry gets scared, or shows his emotions, it hits me very hard.  I’ve been scared this week, no specific reason, just overall FEAR.  Gerry admitted to me last night that HE is hella scared, too.  His fear paralyzes me, but I never want him NOT to tell me he’s afraid; he keeps SO much stuff bottled up inside as it is, I’m HAPPY that he shares his fears with me, too!

Emotional pain relief from Galina!

Good teams, like our family, will always find a way to regroup and work together, changing roles as each of us changes our outlook or understanding of the disease.  I am DEFINITELY feeling the need for some therapy, though. HealthEast Cancer Care at St. John’s only seems to have ONE Oncology Psychotherapist, and we have an appt for next week.  Apparently she’s exceptional, well loved, and — it being August — has been on vacation.

Note to self: NEVER get cancer in August again if you want to see your care team together in the same week…

I’ve been mentally preparing for The Worst News Scenario, and alternatively preparing for The Best News Scenario.  It’s really all one can do at this point.  Having spent a life in the theater, mostly working backstage, I love the feeling of an audience receiving all the parts of a theatrical production in the “order” that the director, designers and actors choose to present it.  Seeing exposition (back story) presented cleverly and well is a hallmark of exceptional theater.

Rx Pain Relief from the Docs

In terms of my cancer, ALL of the exposition rests in the hands of Doc N, who will reveal precisely what HE understands is happening inside of me later this morning.  In 4-1/2 hours, to be precise.  Which Gerry will want to be.

News when I have it!  Love always!