Follow, follow, follow, ... follow the yellow brick road ...

My very first answered prayer came at age five. There was someone I was very attached to that had gone away and I was missing them. And one summer night (while I was supposed to be sleeping but instead I was waiting for my mama to get home from choir practice), I prayed with all my heart that God would please let me see that person just one more time. I may have even begged, I don’t remember, but I do know it was a fervent, heart-felt sincere prayer.

And the next day ... yep, the NEXT day, this person came to see me to tell me goodbye. And I knew that God had heard me. It was a pretty powerful revelation.

Yesterday was chemo eight of twelve. And the past week or so I feel as if I have hit a brick wall. Chemo is cumulative so it’s understandable that the strength I had at week 3 or 4 is now diminished at week 8. I’ve been praying for more strength, more energy and realized today that maybe what I need to be praying for is acceptance.

My infusion therapy nurse, Kerry, was an angel in scrubs as she accessed my port (read stabbed me in the chest with a needle. But really, it's no big deal. I love my port.) and inquired about my constitution.

I immediately started telling her just how weary I am. How I don’t feel like doing much of anything, even eat. And, yes, people, it’s bad when I don’t want to eat! I said that I feel empty and depleted and whiney and pathetic and AWFUL. And she stopped, looked me in the eye and said, “You are the most vibrant person I have seen this week!”

She reminded me that I am fighting cancer here, not receiving weekly botox treatments. That the effects of chemo are stacking up against me but that it’s clear evidence that the meds are doing their job. That housework and the rest of my life will wait for me. That maybe I’m being much too hard on myself. I hugged her, squeezed her and thanked her. She said that I had blessed her, but I can’t possibly see how. She was the first little present of the day.

Chemo eight was uneventful, painless and a breeze. Snagged a power nap and woke to the nurse removing my blood pressure cuff. And since it was an early ‘out’, we headed to the café downstairs to grab some lunch and kill time until my 3:00 oncology checkup appointment.

Dave and I got separated in the lunch crowd and when I rounded the corner to the seating area and scanned the horizon for my Dave but it was another, different but familiar, face looked back at me and I read the words on his lips, “Is that Darlene?”

Lately, like since I lost my hair, I am convinced that I no longer resemble the person formerly known as me, so I introduce myself to people all the time. And yes, they tend to look at me like I am nuts, smile and say .. “I know who you are!” So I was relieved (and grateful!) that right off the bat, hair or no hair, crazy hat or not, my friend recognized me. We’ve known each other since we were six but we looked really, really different then.

Giant, smooshy hugs ensued. He was there with his beautiful wife and sweet mama, also a patient at MDA. We lunched together and shared memories and our cancer treatment routines and before I knew it, nearly two hours had passed. I was recharged. And grateful for my second gift of the day. I figured this was God’s way of saying, “I know you have had a really bad week and you probably don’t think I am even paying attention, so here ya go. You’re welcome.”

Life is so strange. Just when you think you finally know who you are, where you’re headed, what your life is all about God throws a few detours, obstacles and mountain ranges in your path. It’s all good though sometimes hard to swallow. Having cancer is nothing like I thought it might be. My reaction to having cancer is nothing like I thought it would be. Chemo and M D Anderson are not at all like I imagined they would be.

God thought I needed a scenery change. He also decided maybe I needed a “makeover”. And whatever illusions I had about myself and mortality, He decided to rewrite and edit those as well. But, He also made sure that all the groundwork was in place for me to be treated at the best possible place on Planet Earth. He lined up all the dots and dashes, laid a big ole yellow brick road and set me on it with my own personal Tin Man (who happens to have the biggest heart I’ve ever seen.) There have been no wicked witches or flying monkeys. Only beautiful, beautiful munkins and lovely fairy godmothers all along the way.

I have no idea what’s coming next but I’m not afraid. And I know that if God wants me tired .. who I am to argue? Maybe it’s His way of making me stop and think and be in awe of how He works. Like when I was five. Is He something, or what?

My MDA good fairies

This was week seven of twelve. More than halfway through the first round of chemo, I am experiencing some new side effects. My mouth feels a little scorched. Not really burned, like maybe I've eaten too much salt? And additionally, I've cut out all added salt to my diet because I am so sensitive to it. I find myself eating more (and brushing my teeth more) just to get rid of the bad taste in my mouth. I'll talk to the oncologist about it next week.

I thought the nose bleeds were subsiding a bit but they seem to have escalated a bit this week. I'm sure that this is all just 'chemo territory'. All the cells that multiply rapidly are affected whether they are cancerous or not. So mucous linings (nose, mouth) are susceptible to the power of chemo just like the Herschel cancer cells are.

My energy seems to be at an all time low. I didn't think it could get worse but I'm actually napping a little during the day. I'm not really sleepy, just so tired I need to lie down and then sleep comes. And I tell you all this not to complain (it could all be so much worse, couldn't it?), but just to let you know what's happening with my treatment.

The 4.9 lbs I supposedly gained last week lost 3.4 of their hold on me this week. I think it was a fluke. I'd been holding steady so a nearly five pound weight gain was an unpleasant surprise. Still, all this inactivity has to come into play at some point. I'm going to ask the doc if I can start Weight Watchers just to keep the extra pounds at bay. I think I know what she'll say. I think she'll tell me to quit worrying about it and go on Weight Watchers when I'm done and healthy. But it never hurts to ask.

Now. About these photos ... Dave refuses to take photos where I am not smiling. He does all these goofy faces in an effort to make me smile. I resist as long as possible just to see how far he'll go. Eventually, I am silly putty and he gets the photo he's after.

I'm grateful for his presence, always. And I'm especially grateful for his lovable support now. The only time we butt heads is when his protective nature goes into overdrive and I resist being 'taken care of'. Fortunately, it doesn't happen often. I think we laugh more than the average couple .. of course we are both infinitely entertaining .. (at least to each other.)

There are some other folks I am grateful for as well. One of the first people we see on our weekly trips to MDA is a lady attendant in the parking garage. She always tells me how pretty I am, asks how I am feeling and wishes God's blessings on me. I've come to look forward to her smiles. She starts my MDA day off on a sunshiney note .. and when she's not there I miss her.

My first stop every MDA visit is to have blood work to make sure all my counts are within line to continue my therapy. I've learned to ask for Miss Tori. She's the fastest, most painless needle in the west. The girl knows how to stick me perfectly each and every time.

And in chemo there a nurses aide named Miss Carol who always makes my visit pleasant. She's warm and friendly and welcoming. The really bad day when I had my port installed I didn't see her until it was time to go and I let her know that I had missed her! It's so nice to have these familiar faces to look forward to. And I know that I am not the only one they shower their sunshine on.

Dave and I talk a lot about when we win the lottery what we will do with all those countless millions. Since my cancer diagnosis, some of the things on that list have changed. And there are new recipients on the list, including these three ladies. I would love nothing more than to hand them a big check someday and thank them for the comfort, smiles and love that they shared with me weekly during my cancer journey. In the meantime, last week I took them all a dozen Dirt Road Heaven eggs. As eggs go, they're pretty priceless, you know?

Girl's Day Out!

Darlene & Bert, 2.9.11

Last week's chemo was a girl's day out. I can't remember the last time my sister-in-law and I had a day out together but clearly it's been far too long. Even a chemo day was fun with her along! I was anxious to share with her that this is 'no big deal' and we had a perfect day together.

Bert (aka "Roberta") has been in my life since I was eight years old. She and my brother started dating when they were 16 and married when I was 12. I can't remember a time when I couldn't depend on her for support, a laugh or a kick in the pants when I needed one. She was the second person I called when my mammogram clearly indicated I had a big problem.

This was No. 6 of 12 sessions in round one. It was effortless. My blood draws are getting easier now that I know who to ask for and the insertion of my port needle is painless. Chemo then merely becomes a plumbing issue when they hook up the bags of meds to the tubing inserted by the nurses at infusion therapy. We've got this thing DOWN.

Apart from the formidable fatigue (I've never felt this tired in my life!), the only side effects from chemo this week are joint aches that make me feel like I'm coming down with the flu, a little bit of insomnia and some change in taste with regard to food. Sometimes nothing tastes good. Despite that fact, the mean old scale says I gained a whooping 4.5 lbs. last week. THAT is just so wrong ..

It's been three weeks since Dave shaved my head. And since then, the only time I've left the house was to go to my weekly MDA appointments. But this week, me and my bald, hatted self went to the grocery store. And it was fine. I didn't see anyone run screaming from the produce section as I approached and frankly, I wasn't really paying any attention to how people looked at me. Maybe I have achieved some level of acceptance, finally.

Tomorrow is one of my all time favorite holidays. I love Valentine's Day and ordinarily I’d have bought or made cards and gifts weeks ago in preparation for this day when we share our love with those closest to us. I have two precious little girls and one precious little boy that I (were I myself) would have showered with silly heart shaped trinkets, toys and candies proclaiming to each how dear and special and loved they each are.

Not one for moderation, I’d also shower heart-shaped greetings on my big kids, Jared and his beloved Mikey and Ashley and her adored Prince Charming, Hooch. Dave would get the lion’s share of my red crepe-paper love fest and, if there were money enough, a special dinner or trip to some place where we could enjoy each other, remember how we came to be and express our gratitude for this love that came in mid-life.

But the truth is I’ve been so doggedly focused on myself the last three months that I almost forgot it was coming. There are no Valentines bought, no sugar cookies in the oven, no foil wrapped candies, no red plush toys … no nothing.

I’ve dropped the big Valentine’s Day ball big time.

Or have I?

Maybe (and this is a hard pill to swallow) I have just decided to shower myself with love. A nap. Another big glass of juice. A book and bed. The permission to be bald and not feel rotten about it.

So to all my loved ones please forgive this time of self absorption. Please don’t think that my obsession with my healing is any indication that my love for you is diminished or that my lack of thoughtfulness is proof of anything except that I desperately want to be well for you and for me .. So here’s to next year and 365 days of love until then.

Happy Valentine's Day Peeps!

The Good, The Bad & The Ugly

I have lost my hair but I still have my sense of humor - mostly.

The Good (Or The Really, Really, Really Good):

I saw my oncologist on Wednesday for the first time since I started chemo. I like her so much. She's so warm and friendly and spends as much time with us as we need. I tell her each time I see her that I am glad she's there.

She asked me if I felt any difference in the tumor's size. It hadn't even occurred to me to check. My girls and I have had a tiff. We're not speaking. So I was really surprised, when Dr. M. couldn't "find" Herschel and I had to point him out to her, that he was considerably smaller, ill defined and not nearly as dense. WOW! Only five treatments in and we're seeing significant response to chemo. Thank you, God! Thank you, Dr. M.!

We're still on track for the remaining seven treatments of this round and the additional twelve week session to follow this one. I have a consult with a breast surgeon in March so surgery is still part of this equation but clearly we're talking (hopefully!) about less of a surgery.

The Bad (but it could always be worse):

I left my jacket (one I love) in my chemo room but it wasn't found by anyone so I guess it's gone. I just hate losing things. But I realized I had that jacket for more than fifteen years and I got it on sale at the end of the season for $40. so I really can't grieve for it except it was black suede and crochet and I really, really liked it.

(Really Darlene? Is this newsworthy? No .. but I needed a "bad" .. so .. shup.)

The Ugly (or I Can't Believe She Did It!):

So there she was, sitting across from me on the sofa. Her husband was the patient but he looked healthy so it took me a while to figure it out. They were fortyish, affluent, professional yuppie-types. She was about a size two (ugh.) with boots to die for. She had an Apple laptop and an emerald wedding band. (I suppose I was staring.)

I couldn't hear their conversation but she was clearly exasperated by something on her computer screen (later I learned it was a flight issue) but her husband didn't seem to share her angst. When he was called back for chemo, she was dragging up the rear and putting away her computer. Then she carefully stacked her four (yes FOUR!) empty styrofoam coffee cups (silly me, I reuse one), her empty cookie package and left them on the sofa!

She walked right past a trash can on the way into chemo. I was appalled. I got up, picked up her pile and walked them to the trash can, shaking my head at the gall of those kind of people.

About half an hour later (I was two hours late getting in for chemo), she came out, walked to the reception area, got a 'sign in' sheet to use for notepaper, whipped out her iphone and proceeded to be very unhappy with someone on the other end of that phone. She jotted notes, got angry and wadded up her paper and I thought "Oh no .. she's not .."

A Chinese lady (who was napping) had finished her coffee and the cup was sitting on the table beside her. Miss Snotty Trash Maker looked around, spotted the cup and put her wadded up paper in the lady's coffee cup! Then, again, she walked right past the trash can to stomp off into her husband's treatment room.

I looked at Dave, Dave looked at me with a big "No .. you don't!" look in his eye. Honestly, I'd have humilated her in that room full of people if only I could hear. Not hearing keeps me meek. But look out! When I get new hearing aids, I will be toting some new brass balls. And I will be prepared for Miss Snotty Trash Maker. What is wrong with people like that? If you know, please tell me? Meanwhile, I harbor a secret desire to see her again and give her a big ole piece of my mind ...

Chemo makes me feisty! Thankfully, I can only go for short bursts before I need a nap.