Last Round is the Best Round!

First things first—Happy Birthday Dad! We will celebrate in-person when you come into town this week (be prepared for a big cake!) but until then enjoy your day. We appreciate you so much!! And I would not say this to just anyone, but “GO DUCKS”!!!

I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I had so much fun in chemo yesterday. It all started with Patty walking in shortly after I sat down in the lounger, followed by Christine and her lovely daughter Claire (who drove up on Sunday from LA), and soon after that Toni came in. With all the chit-chat, and laughing, and Uno-playing, and cupcake eating, I did not have a moment to think about that needle stuck in my arm. I love my friends!!!

Claire, who is one of the sweetest girls I know, made a huge impression on Chris and I, not to mention Elsa and Alice. I suspect that there are few 11-year girls that would willingly sit in a chemo room with their mom’s friends. Claire is one of them—she was right in the mix with us, unphased by what was going on around us—truly a brave and compassionate soul. And after school, Elsa and Alice were glued to her side. The first thing Alice said this morning, was “I wish Claire was still here”! I know the feeling--I miss you Tine!!

Glass > 50% Full

While talking with a friend this week that I hadn’t seen in awhile, I told her how lucky I was. She laughed a little at the word lucky. I can’t say I blame her-from the outside my situation may be viewed as quite unlucky.

But I do feel lucky pretty much every hour of every day. My very aggressive cancer was caught early, I am cared for by some of the best doctors in the country, and my tumor is all but gone. I am surrounded by family and friends that do not let me out of their sight for a minute, and continue to support me in more ways than I can count. So,  yes, I have breast cancer, and yes chemo is really hard, and yes I have to have surgery pretty soon, likely to be followed by radiation, and I will probably have to think about cancer for the rest of my life. But weighed against the other things I have, I’m one lucky, and thankful, woman this year.

Here is our day yesterday—started with a walk with the girls and Josie in the morning, ended with a fabulous dinner at Susie and John’s in the evening. Thanksgiving indeed.

Going Nomad

Chris and I are in the middle of Season Two of Sons of Anarchy. The Sons’ motorcycle club is in trouble, and to preserve the club, and himself, the main character decides to go nomad—to leave the group and strike out on his own until things go back to normal.

These next 19 days I’m doing my own version of going nomad. Before anyone gets alarmed, this does not involve me leaving on a Harley. What it does require though is a complete focus on staying healthy so that I can get my last round of chemo at full-dose.

For the first five rounds I’ve been able to hold it together within the framework of how our family works—bed-times, meals, even hanging out with the family have all felt pretty close to normal. Now, my sole purpose is remaining as strong as possible until December 8. If I’m tired, I lay down, if I’m hungry (or not) I eat (or not), I stay away from anyone with even the slightest sniffle, and I check off my days one at a time until this is done. My family is extraordinarily understanding. And we all know as soon as these 19 days are done I’m back in the club.

Here’s Josie in her new raincoat. After eight years of walking our last dog Mizque in the rain, and dealing with an unhappy dog and very muddy house, we decided to try a new approach. Josie is not pleased.

Zipping into Week Off

The girls went to Alice’s end-of-season soccer party a couple of weeks ago, and spent a lot of time on the zip-line. Each turn involved a long wait, sometimes some annoying complications (Whose turn is it? It’s getting too dark! No Mom, I don’t need my jacket! etc.), but that brief but exhilarating descent was worth it—pure joy.

Today I wrapped up Round 5 of chemo, and I’m facing a week off before the final round starts. The next week is my ride on the zip-line. Bombs away!

And here is Tiernan with his new seven-week old Australian Shepherd puppy. Tiernan is a classmate of Alice’s, and he and his parents, Leonard and Dierdre, already own a nine-year old Aussie. As fellow Aussie owners we’ve had a lot to say to each other over the past few years about our dogs. Tiernan told his parents that he wanted a girl puppy, and that he wanted to choose her name.  The name he chose for his puppy: Alice. I knew I liked that kid.

Thanks Leonard for bringing your Alice to school—you made my day!

Chemo Confidential

One more bad Monday out of the way—oh yeah baby! I decided today, or maybe it was this weekend, that I’m officially over chemo. I want it done, I’m sick of it, I hate it. Fortunately the chemo room is full of nurses and patients that know how I feel, and they sensitively gave me a wide berth today.

Given how I’ve been feeling about chemo, I knew I’d need something special in my toolbox to get me through the day. So I brought my favorite movie with me—LA Confidential—and watched it in the lounger. Best idea yet. I will not go into detail about Russell Crowe in this post as there is some disagreement in our house about just how awesome he is. We’ll leave it at that.

About half-way through the movie, I got a visitor. Now while I do have good manners and would turn this movie off for anyone that came to see me, there are very few that I would do so with a grin on my face. Patty is one of them. Patty is pretty much one of the most incredible people I know. She starts every day rallying the 5:15 class at TJ’s Gym, then leads the charge over at at Miller Creek Middle School where she is principal, on top of that she is part of an incredible family at home with Gene and Ella. How she finds time to come to chemo three Mondays in a row I don’t know. All I know is I LOVE PATTY and am so lucky she is my friend.

After Patty left, I finished my movie and came home to a happy puppy. Here’s Josie giving me some love (she rested her chin right on top of the bandage covering the spot where they tapped me today).  She’s showing a lot of empathy for me here I think—she just got spayed last week, so can relate to feeling less than 100%. Thanks for the encouragement Josie--we're both on the mend!

At Altitude

Halfway through round 5 of chemo. At this point in treatment, a full week of chemo really knocks me out. I’m tired, draggy, and feel like I’m moving in slow motion compared to everyone around me. As I slogged through yesterday, I was reminded of how it feels to move at high altitude.

In 2001, Chris and I cycle-toured through the Bolivian Altiplano. Chris left for the trip first, spending some time in Chile where he had lived for a time—then riding his bike up to La Paz where he met up with me. We spent the first week traveling around  by train, partly so I could adjust to the altitude before starting our ride.

It was a spectacular trip that we will never forget—I also will never forget my first attempt to climb the Altiplano on a modified mountain bike weighted down by fully loaded panniers.  Let’s just say the “adjustment period” really didn’t accomplish what I had hoped. Moving up that mountain, I felt completely betrayed by my body—I was weak, unable to get enough air into my lungs, and my pedals seemed to be circling at a snail’s pace.

Chris was continuously checking on me, and trying to find a way to make the ride easier for me, but after riding an absurdly small distance I had to get off my bike, and seriously question whether I could get up that first hill. I know Chris was worried about me, and that he knew how defeated I felt. He also wanted me to get up this first hill so that I could experience what promised to be an amazing trip. Without hesitation, he got off his bike, lashed my bike to his with some compression straps, and began to tow both bikes up the hill. I remember watching with amazement as he pushed two heavy mountain bikes up a 12,000 foot mountain, all with a smile on his face, talking me up that hill next to him, one step at a time. When I’d recovered some strength (and a little bit of dignity) I started to ride again.

And so, the last few months Chris has done the same for me, and for the girls. Carried the weight of what this treatment does to our family with strength, calm and class, all so that we can get through to the other side and resume our lives again as a healthy family. We are so lucky to have him.

One More Round & One More Cake

Started my fifth round of chemo yesterday--it was a long day. An appointment with my surgeon, Leah Kelley, followed by an appointment with Bobbie Head, then a full day in the lounger. My veins are starting to rebel, which makes finding a good vein for the tap really tricky. The nurses in the chemo room work very hard at finding spots that work—I’m learning that they are not only kind, but creative.

 

The good news is that cell counts are holding steady, and my tumor is MIA. Also, surgery plans are underway-first surgery date is January 6, followed by radiation (if deemed necessary), followed by second surgery with plastic surgeon to put in implants. When I explained to Dr. Kelley that I wanted to get implants that were a bit of an upgrade from my current size, she gave me an understanding smile and said, “This is what we call the silver lining”.  I love my doctors.

I had so much support from friends and family yesterday—Patty, Lisa and Toni visited me in chemo, my lunch was courtesy of my friend Christina, Hilary brought dinner, and then, there was cake.

Our friends Laura and Darren have been generous and supportive in so many ways it is hard to count them all. One of the best things they have done is introduce us to the Almond Cake from Klappcakes—run by a local guy in Fairfax, who also happens to be one of the Sir Francis Drake High School football team coaches. On Sunday, we got a late night surprise delivery of Almond Cake from Laura. Nothing could have tasted better after a long day of chemo.

Here's the best thing Laura and Darren and their daughter Kate have done--opened their home to Elsa, given her free access to the knitting room and let these two go crazy with the needles and yarn. Is this a couple of happy girls or what? Thank you friends!

An Angel & A Goddess

Nearing the end of my chemo-free week, and I feel about as normal as I’m going to feel during the cycle. It feels great! My surgery date has been set for January 9, 2012. I’m trying not to think about it until I have to. Is January 8 too late?

Girls had a great Halloween—we had an angel and a goddess this year. And saw a very cool Jimi Hendrix pumpkin while trick or treating.