Finally got test results from my liver scan and it seems the suspicious area is nothing but cysts! Whoooohooooo!
Thanks to all who worried (and prayed) with me for the past week. Must have worked!
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Another hurdle in my path
So, had a PET/CT scan last week to "restage" my colon cancer after January's surgery and six months of chemo. Showed up at my oncologists office this Tuesday expecting the all clear ... see you again in three months. Surprise! Latest scan shows a spot on my liver. Scheduled for a new CT scan tomorrow — this one with radioactive gunk running through my veins to give a clearer image of my latest hurdle. Dr. Miranda says it could be a collection of blood vessels — no big deal. Or it could be a spread of my cancer — big deal.
I've tried to keep myself optimistic, at least on the outside. On the inside, I'm screaming "ENOUGH ALREADY!"
Stay tuned.
I've tried to keep myself optimistic, at least on the outside. On the inside, I'm screaming "ENOUGH ALREADY!"
Stay tuned.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, I'm free at last!
Not quite yet , but when I'm disconnected from my chemo pump on Thursday morning, I will be free at last. Hopefully, chemo free! Hopefully, cancer free!
It's hard to believe that I've almost finished all 12 bi-weekly chemo treatments. They started March 1 and here we are Aug. 2 and almost done. In many ways its been easier that I expected. In other ways, harder.
Some things I have learned:
"Chemo Brain" is real!
I've known there were side effects. Hyper sensitivity to cold in my hands, feet and mouth; bathroom issues that have made me think of buying stock in Imodium; incredible fatigue. I've attributed other issues — can't find the right word, "(almost) senior moments," general klutziness — to stress. But during the previous treatment, I overheard three fellow chemo guys talking about "Chemo Brain." Sure enough, when I Googled it that night, it's an actual clinically observed side-effect. The Mayo Clinic lists these symptoms:
There are crises, then there are CRISES!
Surprise divorce is a crisis. Cancer is a crisis. Moving certainly has crisis potential. Other things, not so much. Delayed flights, unexpected car repair, broken AC — these are NOT crises! Yes, such an issue can be complained or worried about, then I need to Just Get Over It! The Serenity Prayer has become my guideline for life's issues and life's CRISES!
The health, happiness and well-being
of my kids rocks my world!
OK, I'm smart enough to know that you can't let your world revolve around the happiness of others. But I recognize the joy I get from knowing that 23 years of parenting (soon-to-be ex shares the credit) has produced two level-headed, well-rounded kids. Are they perfect? No. But they do light up my life.
Allow me to brag:
Amanda has had three jobs in the seven months she's been home. They haven't all been picnics. The first was a part-time child care job where she saw first-hand the problems created by a disengaged parent. She came to dislike the job, but she had made a commitment though mid-July and she stuck with it. She's even continuing with occasional weekend / evening work with the family, just to stay in touch with the kids. (Small doses!) Her second part-time job was with a tech start-up. Her dad's and my antenna went up early with her tales: showing up at 8 a.m. at the boss' directive and finding no one else paying attention to the new starting hours; going from "you're one of our best employees" to "you're fired" in a matter of weeks (she talked her way out of that!); and management by threat "if you dont' all ... you're all fired." She started a new full-time job last Friday — another tech start-up, but this one seems to be managed by normal people. I know she'll do great, and I'm proud of her initiative and perserverance in a lousy job market. She's also been a great help and comfort to me during the recent ups and downs of life.
Nathan is finishing up a 10-week stint in a wood-bat baseball league in Ohio. His defensive play has been awesome, but his batting average during the first half of the season was below the "Mendoza Line." After his first two weeks, he blogged: "If there’s one thing I've learned from my first two weeks here: I really better make sure I pay attention in class my senior year because its pretty clear that any kind of baseball career isn’t going to work out." It was heart-breaking to read because I know how much effort he has put into baseball. It would have been so easy to give up — physically or emotionally — but he hasn't. He's set up up an intense work-out schedule for himself (and is looking really buff, if moms are allowed to notice such things). He's showed up for every game ready to play, or cheer his team from the bench. His hard work is paying off: For the last 30 days, he's batting a respectable .342 — including a three-RBI triple to win the Aug. 2 game. If Nate's got his heart set on baseball, I hope baseball works out for him. But even if it doesn't, the lessons he's learned — and taught himself — about individual and teamwork will pay off in spades no matter the life / career path he follows. Nate has been in school or in Ohio for most of my trials, but he, too has been a great help and comfort to me — albeit remotely.
If I had three wishes for them:
It's hard to believe that I've almost finished all 12 bi-weekly chemo treatments. They started March 1 and here we are Aug. 2 and almost done. In many ways its been easier that I expected. In other ways, harder.
Some things I have learned:
"Chemo Brain" is real!
I've known there were side effects. Hyper sensitivity to cold in my hands, feet and mouth; bathroom issues that have made me think of buying stock in Imodium; incredible fatigue. I've attributed other issues — can't find the right word, "(almost) senior moments," general klutziness — to stress. But during the previous treatment, I overheard three fellow chemo guys talking about "Chemo Brain." Sure enough, when I Googled it that night, it's an actual clinically observed side-effect. The Mayo Clinic lists these symptoms:
- Being unusually disorganized
- Confusion
- Difficulty concentrating
- Difficulty finding the right word
- Difficulty learning new skills
- Difficulty multitasking
- Fatigue
- Feeling of mental fogginess
- Short attention span
- Short-term memory problems
- Taking longer than usual to complete routine tasks
- Trouble with verbal memory, such as remembering a conversation
- Trouble with visual memory, such as recalling an image or list of words
There are crises, then there are CRISES!
Surprise divorce is a crisis. Cancer is a crisis. Moving certainly has crisis potential. Other things, not so much. Delayed flights, unexpected car repair, broken AC — these are NOT crises! Yes, such an issue can be complained or worried about, then I need to Just Get Over It! The Serenity Prayer has become my guideline for life's issues and life's CRISES!
The health, happiness and well-being
of my kids rocks my world!
OK, I'm smart enough to know that you can't let your world revolve around the happiness of others. But I recognize the joy I get from knowing that 23 years of parenting (soon-to-be ex shares the credit) has produced two level-headed, well-rounded kids. Are they perfect? No. But they do light up my life.
Allow me to brag:
Amanda has had three jobs in the seven months she's been home. They haven't all been picnics. The first was a part-time child care job where she saw first-hand the problems created by a disengaged parent. She came to dislike the job, but she had made a commitment though mid-July and she stuck with it. She's even continuing with occasional weekend / evening work with the family, just to stay in touch with the kids. (Small doses!) Her second part-time job was with a tech start-up. Her dad's and my antenna went up early with her tales: showing up at 8 a.m. at the boss' directive and finding no one else paying attention to the new starting hours; going from "you're one of our best employees" to "you're fired" in a matter of weeks (she talked her way out of that!); and management by threat "if you dont' all ... you're all fired." She started a new full-time job last Friday — another tech start-up, but this one seems to be managed by normal people. I know she'll do great, and I'm proud of her initiative and perserverance in a lousy job market. She's also been a great help and comfort to me during the recent ups and downs of life.
Nathan is finishing up a 10-week stint in a wood-bat baseball league in Ohio. His defensive play has been awesome, but his batting average during the first half of the season was below the "Mendoza Line." After his first two weeks, he blogged: "If there’s one thing I've learned from my first two weeks here: I really better make sure I pay attention in class my senior year because its pretty clear that any kind of baseball career isn’t going to work out." It was heart-breaking to read because I know how much effort he has put into baseball. It would have been so easy to give up — physically or emotionally — but he hasn't. He's set up up an intense work-out schedule for himself (and is looking really buff, if moms are allowed to notice such things). He's showed up for every game ready to play, or cheer his team from the bench. His hard work is paying off: For the last 30 days, he's batting a respectable .342 — including a three-RBI triple to win the Aug. 2 game. If Nate's got his heart set on baseball, I hope baseball works out for him. But even if it doesn't, the lessons he's learned — and taught himself — about individual and teamwork will pay off in spades no matter the life / career path he follows. Nate has been in school or in Ohio for most of my trials, but he, too has been a great help and comfort to me — albeit remotely.
If I had three wishes for them:
- I wish they would make the effort to build a better relationship. Siblings are traditionally life's longest-lasting relationships. They have this approach to each other that alternates between "sniping" and "ignoring." Perhaps like wine, their relationship will improve with age.
- I wish that our divorce won't cause lasting trauma in their lives. Just because their dad and I are divorcing, doesn't mean their future relationships are doomed. Mark has said he doesn't think the divorce will affect them much. Personally, just because they're not toddlers or adolescents prone to acting out their emotions doesn't mean they aren't busy coping with them. IMHO.
- I wish they will always keep the lines of communication open. Parenting doesn't end with college graduation. I hope they know their dad and I will always have their backs. Yes, we will continue to give unsolicited (and perhaps unwanted) advice. But after a certain age / milestone (college graduation), that advice is given as "wisdom of our years", not mandates they must follow.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Rounding Third and Heading for Home!
Gosh, my posts have dwindled to one a month and this one's overdue.
On the breaking-news front:
I try to listen to all of the Ironmen games, which are broadcast on the Internet. To listen, go to http://www.lcironmenbaseball.com/ and click on "Listen Live" on the right hand side of the page. (Warning: the broadcast goes silent between innings and during pitching changes, so if you don't hear anything, give it a minute or two.) Seeing a few games gave me a chance to connect names to actual players and also to meet a few parents of players. About half of the Ironmen team hails from Ohio and the rest are scattered around the country. Amanda and I were walking out when one set of parents volunteered that the team loves Nate. "He's so positive, so upbeat, so involved with the team. Even when he's not in the lineup, he's supportive of his teammates." Makes a parent proud!
Amanda and I had lunch with my childhood friend Billie and her younger daughter. Billie is one of two school friends with whom I've maintained contact over the years. As lunch was winding down and the girls were taking a powder room break, Billie and I were congratulating each other on having raised such smart, beautiful, level-headed daughters. Guess we did all right! Makes a parent proud!
Who knew that all those years of slaving over jobs, houses, relationships, and life's ups and downs, the one thing that truly matters is your children. When they're good, life is good.
Life is good!
On the breaking-news front:
- I am in the midst of my 11th chemo treatment. After this, only one more to go, hence the headline.
- Just returned last night from a 9-day trip to my old stomping grounds, Ohio. (Guess the headline could apply to this too.) It was great to see my sister, who lives there, and my brother who flew up from Atlanta. We managed to work in visits with a couple remaining aunts and a cousin whose sense of humor and sarcasm kept us in stitches. Makes me wish I lived closer to "family." Of course, the 90+ percent humidity toward the end of the trip did dampen that urge.
- Got to see three of Nate's baseball games. He has played great at first and outfield this summer. His Uncle Ray is still bragging about a throw Nate made from deep left-field to home plate for an out. (Most such throws are to a "cut off" man, usually the third baseman or the shortstop, but Nate's got a good throwing arm so he threw a bullet directly to the catcher.) Now he's getting his hitting in order. Wood bats are different. He's been blogging about his summer baseball experience. You can catch up with him at http://natebeingnate.blogspot.com/.
- Amanda flew into Ohio a few days after I did and is still there, enjoying (NOT) the humidity. The bad news is we were only able to take Amanda and Nate's grandma to two games before the assisted living nurses said the humidity wasn't good for her.
I try to listen to all of the Ironmen games, which are broadcast on the Internet. To listen, go to http://www.lcironmenbaseball.com/ and click on "Listen Live" on the right hand side of the page. (Warning: the broadcast goes silent between innings and during pitching changes, so if you don't hear anything, give it a minute or two.) Seeing a few games gave me a chance to connect names to actual players and also to meet a few parents of players. About half of the Ironmen team hails from Ohio and the rest are scattered around the country. Amanda and I were walking out when one set of parents volunteered that the team loves Nate. "He's so positive, so upbeat, so involved with the team. Even when he's not in the lineup, he's supportive of his teammates." Makes a parent proud!
Amanda and I had lunch with my childhood friend Billie and her younger daughter. Billie is one of two school friends with whom I've maintained contact over the years. As lunch was winding down and the girls were taking a powder room break, Billie and I were congratulating each other on having raised such smart, beautiful, level-headed daughters. Guess we did all right! Makes a parent proud!
Who knew that all those years of slaving over jobs, houses, relationships, and life's ups and downs, the one thing that truly matters is your children. When they're good, life is good.
Life is good!
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Long time, no blog
Boxes are still running my life. You'd think that four-plus weeks after the move, I'd be unpacked and settled in. Hasn't happened yet. I guess I've got a good excuse. In my usual perfect timing, I came down with a sinus infection five days before the move. Antibiotics knocked it back pretty quickly, but not before the infection wiped me out. That and yet-another round of chemo — this one on the heels of the move — knocked me back into last year. Usually, the Tuesday to Thursday chemo leaves me fatigued through Saturday. This time the whole weekend came and went and I did squat. Just opening a box took enough out of me that I'd either sit for a while or, more likely, take a nap. Even Sparky got tired of napping!
I did finally start to feel better by the following weekend, but then it was time to gear up for another round of chemo. The good news is I now have eight rounds under my belt and only four to go. Boxes will be in my life as long as they need to be.
Things chemo, moving and divorce have taught me:
We lived a very peaceful life in Dove Canyon for nearly 15 years. Maybe too peaceful. It was the kind of neighborhood where you pulled your car into your garage, closed the door and cocooned in your house or back yard, rarely to be seen. If I hadn't been an avid (if sporadic) gardener, I doubt I'd see a neighbor for days. So I've enjoyed rediscovering the sounds of life that occur in my rental townhome. Kids actually play outside. Sirens whiz down Lake Forest Parkway. Even the occasional rumble of my neighbor's home theater sound system doesn't bother me. An added bonus: An ice cream truck cruises the neighborhood like clockwork at 5 p.m. each day. I'd forgotten there were such things. (So far, I've resisted temptation.)
I am ready for chemo to be done. My platelet count is low, so every little bump becomes a major bruise. I know I should be thankful that chemo has gone as smoothly as it has. Aside from the fatigue during chemo weeks, my other big side effect has been thinning hair. How bad is it? Let's just say I keep a lint roller by my bed so I can swipe clean my pillow each morning. I know I should be thankful that I still have hair — however sparse — all over my head. At least it's not like breast cancer chemo which leaves most women temporarily bald. However, it drives me a little crazy that Nate has taken to shaving his head. If he doesn't want that hair, I'd take it! The good news: It takes about a third of the time to blow dry my hair these days.
The other good thing chemo has done is kill my appetite. During one of my early chemo sessions, I panicked when I overheard a woman complaining that she'd gained 10 pounds during chemo. Since I'd dropped 10 pounds during the "divorce" year, and lost 5 more after my colon surgery, I wasn't eager to think about packing the pounds back on. Fortunately, I've lost 20 more. Chemo makes food taste differently — and not in a good way. Things taste bland or metallic; chewing is exhausting; swallowing an effort. Even when something sounds good, halfway through the meal it loses its appeal. Consequently, I don't each much during the chemo weeks. I think my stomach has shrunk, so that even on off-chemo weeks, I fill up pretty quickly. Can't decide if this has been the easiest or hardest 35 pounds I've ever lost! Makes me laugh: My good friend Shari has taken to calling me The Incredible Shrinking Woman.
I worried that the move would make the divorce more "real," and thought that I might sink into a major funk. However, it's been rather peaceful not having to tap dance around a soon-to-be-ex. I think I did my grieving while we were still living under the same roof. I'm still not happy to be divorcing, but I do know I will survive. A favorite quote: I can be changed by what happens to me. I refuse to be reduced by it. —Maya Angelou
Back to my boxes.
I did finally start to feel better by the following weekend, but then it was time to gear up for another round of chemo. The good news is I now have eight rounds under my belt and only four to go. Boxes will be in my life as long as they need to be.
Things chemo, moving and divorce have taught me:
We lived a very peaceful life in Dove Canyon for nearly 15 years. Maybe too peaceful. It was the kind of neighborhood where you pulled your car into your garage, closed the door and cocooned in your house or back yard, rarely to be seen. If I hadn't been an avid (if sporadic) gardener, I doubt I'd see a neighbor for days. So I've enjoyed rediscovering the sounds of life that occur in my rental townhome. Kids actually play outside. Sirens whiz down Lake Forest Parkway. Even the occasional rumble of my neighbor's home theater sound system doesn't bother me. An added bonus: An ice cream truck cruises the neighborhood like clockwork at 5 p.m. each day. I'd forgotten there were such things. (So far, I've resisted temptation.)
I am ready for chemo to be done. My platelet count is low, so every little bump becomes a major bruise. I know I should be thankful that chemo has gone as smoothly as it has. Aside from the fatigue during chemo weeks, my other big side effect has been thinning hair. How bad is it? Let's just say I keep a lint roller by my bed so I can swipe clean my pillow each morning. I know I should be thankful that I still have hair — however sparse — all over my head. At least it's not like breast cancer chemo which leaves most women temporarily bald. However, it drives me a little crazy that Nate has taken to shaving his head. If he doesn't want that hair, I'd take it! The good news: It takes about a third of the time to blow dry my hair these days.
The other good thing chemo has done is kill my appetite. During one of my early chemo sessions, I panicked when I overheard a woman complaining that she'd gained 10 pounds during chemo. Since I'd dropped 10 pounds during the "divorce" year, and lost 5 more after my colon surgery, I wasn't eager to think about packing the pounds back on. Fortunately, I've lost 20 more. Chemo makes food taste differently — and not in a good way. Things taste bland or metallic; chewing is exhausting; swallowing an effort. Even when something sounds good, halfway through the meal it loses its appeal. Consequently, I don't each much during the chemo weeks. I think my stomach has shrunk, so that even on off-chemo weeks, I fill up pretty quickly. Can't decide if this has been the easiest or hardest 35 pounds I've ever lost! Makes me laugh: My good friend Shari has taken to calling me The Incredible Shrinking Woman.
I worried that the move would make the divorce more "real," and thought that I might sink into a major funk. However, it's been rather peaceful not having to tap dance around a soon-to-be-ex. I think I did my grieving while we were still living under the same roof. I'm still not happy to be divorcing, but I do know I will survive. A favorite quote: I can be changed by what happens to me. I refuse to be reduced by it. —Maya Angelou
Back to my boxes.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Too much stuff
The world did not end on May 21, as predicted by apocalyptic Christian broadcaster Harold Camping. I would have been royally pissed if I did all that packing and moving, only to have the world end the day after my big move. Thankfully, it didn't. (Although, as I look around at these stacks boxes and jumbled rooms, the end of the world does hold a certain allure.)
So, the big moving day has come and gone and I have way too much stuff. Despite what felt like a major purge that included a garage sale, much paper shredding, many, many, many charitable donations, and a huge storage space, downsizing from a 3400-square foot house into a 1500-square-foot townhome has convinced me that 10 pounts of s--- won't fit in a 5-pound bag. Fortunately, one of our first pieces of mail was from another charity seeking donations. As I unpack, I've already started a pile of things I was crazy to move. The purge continues.
Even after an exhausting day, it was amusing to watch five grown men try to squeeze a 34-inch wide refrigerator through a 30-inch wide doorway. From our view on the patio, Amanda and I could clearly see the fridge wouldn't fit without removing the doors. Still, they persisted, each mover offering what he thought would be the magic maneuver to make it fit. Thirty minutes later, they took the doors off and squeezed the fridge in the house.
This move would not have happened without tremendous help from Amanda and Nathan, who each did yeoman's work, most of it without complaint. Off to a slow start, soon-to-be-ex Mark even came through in the end. My Realtor friend Grace put in countless hours hauling me around over the last year as I struggled to picture myself in a different place. My friend Maggie pitched in with numerous packing and hauling tasks. She even had a great idea for arranging furniture in the new place. Other friends who pitched in included my long-time buddy Shari, my bookstore partner Denise, my (long-ago) walking buddy Martha and her husband Bill. Amanda's friend Ashley and Nathan's friend Alex also came to my aid. Even the friends who didn't physically pitch in gave much needed moral support along the way. Nothing like a life crisis (or two) to help you figure out who your friends are. Thank you every one!!!
Back to boxes ...
So, the big moving day has come and gone and I have way too much stuff. Despite what felt like a major purge that included a garage sale, much paper shredding, many, many, many charitable donations, and a huge storage space, downsizing from a 3400-square foot house into a 1500-square-foot townhome has convinced me that 10 pounts of s--- won't fit in a 5-pound bag. Fortunately, one of our first pieces of mail was from another charity seeking donations. As I unpack, I've already started a pile of things I was crazy to move. The purge continues.
Even after an exhausting day, it was amusing to watch five grown men try to squeeze a 34-inch wide refrigerator through a 30-inch wide doorway. From our view on the patio, Amanda and I could clearly see the fridge wouldn't fit without removing the doors. Still, they persisted, each mover offering what he thought would be the magic maneuver to make it fit. Thirty minutes later, they took the doors off and squeezed the fridge in the house.
This move would not have happened without tremendous help from Amanda and Nathan, who each did yeoman's work, most of it without complaint. Off to a slow start, soon-to-be-ex Mark even came through in the end. My Realtor friend Grace put in countless hours hauling me around over the last year as I struggled to picture myself in a different place. My friend Maggie pitched in with numerous packing and hauling tasks. She even had a great idea for arranging furniture in the new place. Other friends who pitched in included my long-time buddy Shari, my bookstore partner Denise, my (long-ago) walking buddy Martha and her husband Bill. Amanda's friend Ashley and Nathan's friend Alex also came to my aid. Even the friends who didn't physically pitch in gave much needed moral support along the way. Nothing like a life crisis (or two) to help you figure out who your friends are. Thank you every one!!!
Back to boxes ...
Monday, May 9, 2011
Moving on, literally and figuratively
My house looks like it's been ransacked, but packing does that to you. The sale of our house of nearly 14 years is proceeding smoothly with closing scheduled for May 20. (We'll have 3 days after that to vacate the premises.) Amanda and I spent lots of time looking at rental options on realtor.com and, with the help of my Realtor friend Grace, we settled on a townhouse in Lake Forest, about 20 minutes from here. Now that we have a new place lined up, everything else seems so much more real.
The owner has been nice enough to allow us patio access before the lease even starts, so we've made several trips over with my multitude of potted plants, plant stands and assorted tables and chairs. After decades of gardening in yards where the work is never done, I'm looking forward to "container" gardening where I might actually get everything looking good and be able to relax and enjoy the outdoor space without thinking: "There's another flower bed that needs weeding or planting."
Nathan's home for three weeks, so I have some muscle at my disposal. Typical Nathan, he called me Thursday afternoon on his way to the airport in Longview, Texas. He was 15 minutes away for a flight that was leaving in 20 minutes. Arrrrrgh. Actually, the Longview airport is so small that he had a slight chance of still making the flight. But, alas, the doors to the plane were closed so he had to bunk in with a friend and fly out Friday. It's good to have him home and if he ever stands still long enough, I want to measure his height. I swear he's taller than 6-foot-3.
Nathan was one of my concerns in rental house hunting. He'll hardly be in California for the coming year (summer in Ohio playing in a wood-bat league and then his final year of college in Texas). Amanda and I could have made due with a two-bedroom, but I wanted him to have "a space to call home." The townhouse has four bedrooms (tiny, tiny, tiny), so even Sparky gets a room!
Mark is "too busy" to find a place, so he's opting to live in a hotel for the coming year. With rents so high in California and his company's corporate discount at this hotel, it makes sense financially. Personally, I think it's strange, but I keep reminding myself I don't (pick your verb) get to / have to / need to manage his life anymore.
Chemo looms tomorrow — my sixth of 12 treatments — so the rest of the week will be wiped out. Hopefully by the weekend when the lease starts, I'll rally and be able to make a few trips over with lamps, pictures and other assorted stuff that's too hard to pack up for movers to handle. I've got some friends lined up to make some car trips and once my "stuff" starts to occupy my new space, a new page will be turned in my life.
One wrinkle: A few weeks ago, I rolled over to sleep on my stomach and felt a lumpy thing in my abdomen. Lumpy things are scary when you already have cancer. I mentioned it to my oncologist, who felt it and decided to order an ultrasound. (The ultrasound experience may be a blog entry of its own titled: "What's wrong with medicine today.") Anyway, best thinking is it's a seroma, which is "a pocket of clear serous fluid that sometimes develops in the body after surgery. When small blood vessels are ruptured, blood plasma can seep out; inflammation caused by dying injured cells also contributes to the fluid." (Thank you, Wikipedia.) This apparently has been developing since my January colon resection surgery. In the short term, it means a trip to my surgeon, Dr. Shaver, for a look-see on Thursday. In the long term, it could mean needle aspiration of the fluid or surgery to place a drain in my gut. Neither one sounds like fun, but at least no one is thinking it's a new tumor. Just one more hurdle on my road back to health.
The owner has been nice enough to allow us patio access before the lease even starts, so we've made several trips over with my multitude of potted plants, plant stands and assorted tables and chairs. After decades of gardening in yards where the work is never done, I'm looking forward to "container" gardening where I might actually get everything looking good and be able to relax and enjoy the outdoor space without thinking: "There's another flower bed that needs weeding or planting."
Nathan's home for three weeks, so I have some muscle at my disposal. Typical Nathan, he called me Thursday afternoon on his way to the airport in Longview, Texas. He was 15 minutes away for a flight that was leaving in 20 minutes. Arrrrrgh. Actually, the Longview airport is so small that he had a slight chance of still making the flight. But, alas, the doors to the plane were closed so he had to bunk in with a friend and fly out Friday. It's good to have him home and if he ever stands still long enough, I want to measure his height. I swear he's taller than 6-foot-3.
Nathan was one of my concerns in rental house hunting. He'll hardly be in California for the coming year (summer in Ohio playing in a wood-bat league and then his final year of college in Texas). Amanda and I could have made due with a two-bedroom, but I wanted him to have "a space to call home." The townhouse has four bedrooms (tiny, tiny, tiny), so even Sparky gets a room!
Mark is "too busy" to find a place, so he's opting to live in a hotel for the coming year. With rents so high in California and his company's corporate discount at this hotel, it makes sense financially. Personally, I think it's strange, but I keep reminding myself I don't (pick your verb) get to / have to / need to manage his life anymore.
Chemo looms tomorrow — my sixth of 12 treatments — so the rest of the week will be wiped out. Hopefully by the weekend when the lease starts, I'll rally and be able to make a few trips over with lamps, pictures and other assorted stuff that's too hard to pack up for movers to handle. I've got some friends lined up to make some car trips and once my "stuff" starts to occupy my new space, a new page will be turned in my life.
One wrinkle: A few weeks ago, I rolled over to sleep on my stomach and felt a lumpy thing in my abdomen. Lumpy things are scary when you already have cancer. I mentioned it to my oncologist, who felt it and decided to order an ultrasound. (The ultrasound experience may be a blog entry of its own titled: "What's wrong with medicine today.") Anyway, best thinking is it's a seroma, which is "a pocket of clear serous fluid that sometimes develops in the body after surgery. When small blood vessels are ruptured, blood plasma can seep out; inflammation caused by dying injured cells also contributes to the fluid." (Thank you, Wikipedia.) This apparently has been developing since my January colon resection surgery. In the short term, it means a trip to my surgeon, Dr. Shaver, for a look-see on Thursday. In the long term, it could mean needle aspiration of the fluid or surgery to place a drain in my gut. Neither one sounds like fun, but at least no one is thinking it's a new tumor. Just one more hurdle on my road back to health.
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