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 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.

Shortly before my visit, one of my ex-sisters-in-law called to say I was welcome to stay at her house while attending Nathan's games. Sharon is a cancer survivor and knows the benefit of having family around during times like this. Sharon and Ray have been hosting Nathan for the last three weeks and have actually enjoyed having him and have offered to keep him through the rest of the season. I think Ray — father of three wonderful daughters and grandpa to two wonderful granddaughters — is enjoying having the testosterone level evened out a bit in his household. Anyway, it was sweet for me (and Amanda) to be included in their household for a few days. And it's nice to know my second family — which I've been a part of for nearly 25 years — isn't divorcing me, too.

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!

Life Goes On ...

Cancer diagnoses were for other people. I never gave a thought to how I would react to such a diagnosis. If I had, I would have guessed my world would grind to a halt and life would center on cancer.

But it doesn't.

Funny, but on the scariest day of my life, I managed to work in a great breakfast, a nap (one of my chief coping methods), a trip to my primary care physician and an urgent trip to the vet for my on-again, off-again blind dog. (Blind again!)

Referrals for a CAT Scan and surgeon's visit came through the next morning, as promised. Appointments were easy to schedule and the race was on. Cancer seemed to be a blip on the radar that periodically flashed into focus and drifted off again.

CAT Scan Dec. 2: The case of the disappearing veins
Prep for a CAT Scan would have been distasteful if I hadn't just prepped for a colonoscopy. CAT Scan prep, by comparison, was a frozen daiquiri. Finding a vein was another story. For the colonoscopy, it took two nurses and three sticks to start an IV. I thought that was bad. The CAT Scan folks required three people — including one who seemed near tears over my plight — lots of vein "thumping," hot compresses and five sticks. There were so many holes in me, I'm surprised the radioactive gunk I had to drink didn't leak out all over the scan bed.

Surgeon Meet & Greet Dec. 3
When I met with Dr. Shaver, I wanted this cancer out of me so I could move forward with my Christmas visit to Ohio. Could he could squeeze me in next week so I could take my scheduled Dec. 14 flight to Cleveland? The medical gods were having another chuckle at my expense. If I wanted surgery next week, Dr. Shaver — already overbooked — would make it happen. But ... I wouldn't be flying anywhere for three weeks due to the risk of blood clots. Plan B, at his suggestion, was to take my planned holiday trip and schedule surgery for the new year. "A few weeks will not make any difference in your outcome," he advised. Another surgeon concurred. Furthermore, she actually had the CAT Scan results and said it looked to her like it would be a "surgical cure" (no further treatment needed). Reassured, I put cancer on the back burner and planned to enjoy the holidays.

How to tell the family
Mark and I had been humming along toward finalizing our divorce. How does cancer fit into that picture? Somehow, I couldn't or wouldn't call to tell him. Finally, hours later, he texted me and said   since he hadn't heard anything about the colonoscopy, he assumed everything went OK. So I gave him the info and he immediately came home. It was strange, awkward, comforting. Pick your adjective.

Next up: Amanda, who'd been living outside London for four months now and was eagerly looking forward to three weeks stateside for the holidays. I'd get to burst her bubble. Thank heavens for Skype. I told her before the surgeon's visit. Both of us staved off the waterworks, and I promised to Skype again after the doctor's appointment. In the interim, reality set in for her: I was sick and she was 5000 miles away; neither of us was in a good place.

Nathan had a week's worth of finals looming in Texas. I hated "withholding" news, but "Surprise, I have cancer!" didn't seem conducive to studying. It was news that could wait to be delivered with hugs.

My sister, my rock of Gibraltar during the divorce process, was stunned with the news. We shared a few choice words — the kinds mothers would prefer to think you didn't know, much less use! — about the latest bad twist in my life.

My brother and sister-in-law would be visiting for a week at the tail end of a Panama Canal cruise. BC — before cancer — I was planning to take them to Vegas for a couple days, maybe up to LA. Instead, I got to tell them the kid sister had cancer.


Ohio, and the Midwest in general, treated us pretty well considering the season. There was snow when we go there and every few days a fresh dusting — just enough to keep it looking pretty and white. Got to see lots of family — the permanent members who are stuck with me and the soon-to-be exes (who will still be family in my book). But I cut the trip a week short when I started thinking of all that needed done before surgery.

Ironically, it felt good to be back "home" — even if the house is for sale, the spouse is bailing and surgery is on the horizon.