Casey the Christmas Dog

Here's Casey in his reindeer antlers. He is not amused, but I am. Cracks me up. He's had a great time while Claire was here for Christmas. He got long, exhausting runs every day; slept in Claire's bed; had turkey leftovers; and received a visit from his best friend Henry, who promptly took his toys away. And . . . And . . . he almost got to eat a pecan bourbon ball! But he got caught.

Hope everyone had a great Christmas and is ready for a wonderful 2008. I predict no crises and smooth sailing; so let's be careful out there.

Where's Waldo?

I'm right here. My sister said, "Hey, there's mom in the middle of a bunch of guys!" This is our group in the Tulsa process and treating facility. We were celebrating a YEAR of accident free work, an impressive record. These Exterran people are great folks, and I am happy to be one of them.

What a Difference a Year Makes!

One year ago, just about this time, I was diagnosed with Stage 1 breast cancer. What a year it's been! But I'm fine now. This morning I had my one-year mammogram and it came back nicely negative. It's also handy, I must say, to have to mammogram only ONE. Saves time.

Anyway, here I am! Not sure where this very dark CURLY hair came from, but I'm happy that it's Christmastime and things are good. Thanks to Kerry for finding these stunning earrings.

Casey has a new second cousin

The Norlanders got a new dog. His name is Shilo.

Churchill, a very noble and loving animal, has moved on to doggy heaven after a wonderful and happy life. This new guy looks very much like Casey, and we are pleased to welcome him to the family!

She's BACK! And She's New and Improved!

Upgraded chest, splendid attitude, AND a new gig! I am the new Director of Communications for Exterran, a global company providing compression services and products to the natural gas industry. We're headquartered in Houston and have 11,000 employees in 30 countries, nearly half of those employees outside the US. I am calling in all of my favors to find out everything I can about communicating internationally and interculturally. I'll take all ideas, stories, etc.

But most important, I am so happy to have a new career. The support of my friends and family has gotten me here.

Oh. The photo? Me (note new chest and cat face; cat face is not permanent but chest is) and Beth and Rocky at the Origin Design party. With a real live angel. Honest.

I PROMISE TO UPDATE THE DAMN BLOG WEEKLY.

More than a Dollar's Worth of Entertainment -- MUCH More!

I rode the Westheimer-82 bus home on Wednesday afternoon. My car was at the dealership-spa and the floor mats were still being shampooed, so I decided to leave it and go public transit. Truly, the one-hour ride eastbound on Westheimer from the Beltway into the Montrose was at once entertaining (damnedest looking people), edifying (small Central American-looking women speaking a language that was NOT Spanish), and fragrant (I kept thinking I was in the Paris subway!). I am reminded how diverse the Houston population is, how one's idea of personal space has to shift on public transit, and how fortunate I am to have a nice car to drive around in on most days.

Like Finding Yourself Suddenly Trapped in the Back of an Abandoned Moving Van. In the Sahara. At Noon.

In case you were wondering what chemically-induced hot flashes feel like, the description above is as close as I can get. I seem also to suffer from a heat-induced variation on Tourette's Syndrome, which causes me to swear uncontrollably, but with great feeling and creativity, for the duration of the event. I usually end with uttering the word, "Nasty!"

Forbidden Love

Maybe it's not so good that I've learned to post photos. But do click on it to get the full effect.

Another startling resemblance. Especially nude.

A special shout-out to Amy Mata for pointing out (GET IT? POINTing out?) that my hairdo makes me look like a kewpie doll. The body isn't quite right -- a couple of bandaids across a purplish chest would do it, though.

The girls and I are fine

Hi, Punks. No problems today. I must be made of naughahyde or something sturdy like that. I wish I had more drama to report, but I've had dental surgery with more pain and complications. This was just no big wup. My friend Amy from Shreveport is on her way to take care of me. We'll probably end up at High Fashion Fabrics to pick out upholstery material for the guest room.

I guess I'm back at work on Monday.

Anyone else see the resemblance?

I think Ann Taylor may be right!

There are THREE Grand Tetons!

So thank goodness I didn't ask for those*. Happily, I have TWO. They are situated in a standard position; they match, from what I can tell given than I'm kind of gauzed-up; and they are of reasonable dimensions. I will refrain from further description since this is a public blog.

Surgery started about 8:30 or so, and we were home at four, I think, although the trip home was fuzzy. I'm pretty sure I didn't drive. It's 7:30 pm now and anesthesia is wearing off nicely. I have pain meds to pop as needed, and I'm starting to get hungry. All is well. I'm home and accepting phone calls and e-mails and all that. Nurse McCabe is doing an excellent job of running up and down the stairs, taking and returning phone calls, providing updates, finding my phone, my blackberry, my glasses, my ice water.

Thank you to everyone for thoughts and prayers and worries. As we learned in January, all of those things have weight and mass, and they HELP.

More later. Oh, for those of you outside the area, a tropical storm is on the way to Houston. EXCITING!!


*Carole Corder was the Grand Teton expert. Her e-mail asked where the third one might be . . .

Give Me a C, a Bouncy C!

Reconstruction tomorrow! Seems like I'm early in the batting order so we'll drag in about 6 am or so. Surgery at 8:30 and I'll be home in the late afternoon if all goes well. Insurance stuff came through THANK GOD so we are calm. All is well. According to the surgeon, I will be sore for a few days but should be back in the office by Monday unless I'm too stoned on pain killers. We'll see.

For those of you who want details, we are replacing the tissue expander that went in after the mastectomy with another permanent implant. Then we are also "redecorating" the other one to match. The surgeon drew all over me this morning; I even have his initials on my chest. He insists that's hospital procedure, but I think he's just tagging me.

To amuse you, here is a photo of me with my new hair -- note the "fauxhawk" on top. That is NATURAL; I have done nothing to get this clever little hair-do. It is very dark brown, almost black, with grey (or, as I prefer to say, "silver") highlights. So much for blonde and curly.

Wish me luck! I'll post an update Wednesday evening for all.

A Story from My Brother, Tommy

I called Tommy on my way to work this morning. He said he was shaving and thinking he would call me once he got in the truck. Then his phone rang. We do that a lot.

He said he was out fixing someone's DSL line the other day, an older couple out in Helotes, and the man invited him in to cool off after he was done. He talked with both of them for a few minutes and learned that the man had retired from the Fort Sam Houston fire department, and the wife said she'd retired from USAA.

He said his mom had worked at USAA and the woman asked what her name was. Tom said, "Well she retired a long time ago, in the late 80s. Her last name was Wente."

The woman got an odd look on her face and said, "Ruth?" You're Ruth Wente's son? I LOVED Ruth!"

He stayed another half hour while she told him what a wonderful person Mom was and how great she was to work with. When he got ready to leave, she said, "I need to hug you," and he said he was kind of sweaty, and she said, "I don't care. I can't let Ruth Wente's son leave without hugging him."

Tom said it made his day to meet that woman and hear about Mom. Mine, too.

Situation Normal: All F.... Up

Is that where the SNAFU acronym comes from? Someone told me that once. The good news is that I'm now six weeks out of chemo, feeling GREAT, getting serious about the gym again, and even have a little hair growing out. (I do look like Grandpa Charlie coming out of the mines, though. My head just looks dirty at this point.)

The bad news is that it looks like things are going south at Aegis very quickly, so I am getting serious about job hunting. I need 1) lots of money; 2) a good insurance plan; 3) a pleasant work environment, close to my house; 4) generous bonus and vacation programs. I will TAKE any two, although #2 is not negotiable.

My expectation is that I'll have a small Aegis severance package, and I can elect COBRA coverage, which is expensive but well worth it in my case, until I land somewhere else. Luckily Chuck has turned 65 and so he can go Medicare, although we are still not sure how one does that. We'll take advice from anyone who understands it.

We have gone on a new austerity program since returning from our Florida trip, business related of course, where we saw alligators, petted a giraffe, went kayaking, ate and drank like royalty, etc. My favorite part was my spa visit, where I had a cocoa-sugar body scrub: First the lady scrubbed me, then put me in the shower. Then she buttered me. I was SOFT.

But the best news, as I say, is that I feel great, and I'm very grateful for that. Having dodged the cancer bullet (well, only grazed), I have an appreciation for what's important, so I'm less panicked about the job thing than I might otherwise be. Funny how that happens.

Going forward, I have a herceptin treatment every four weeks through February. The reconstructive surgery is scheduled for September 12th. (Hooters party to be announced.) Most important, my sure-fire weight loss program works. It has three simple elements: 1) get in the gym six days per week; 2) stop eating like each meal is my last; 3) stay out of the wine. I can drop a half pound a day if I just do those three things. Wonder why they're so hard?

I've received several complaints about lack of regular posting, and I apologize to my audience. I will get back on it. I have some new funny stories which I'll post over the weekend.

Love to all.

Big Shout-Out to Chuck! Happy Birthday!!

This gorgeous set of photos was taken at Mitchell Lake, in the Indian Peaks section of Roosevelt National Forest. Chuck and Terrell are fly-fishing in this incredibly beautiful lake at 10,700 ft. Casey is an intrepid hiker, as you can see. I spent most of my time on the ground next to the dogs.




Yesterday was Chuck's 65th birthday! He is dog-sitting in Colorado, so send him an e-mail at cmccabe@sbcglobal.net and tell him Happy Birthday! He is looking good and feeling good and is redefining 65, you know? On the trek up to the lake last week, he carried my pack, TOO, when I got too tired! Whatta guy!

Claire and Casey

Posing for the camera!

It's a Wrap!

CHEMO CAN KISS IT!! (Thanks to Beth Rutherford for his fantastic photo of my own personal a**. Honest. This is mine. Really.

Last chemo session yesterday! All done with that crap. I still have six months of another infusion therapy (something every three-ish weeks), but it doesn't take all day and I don't get sick or anything. AND MY HAIR WILL GROW BACK!!

Reconstructive surgery is tentatively scheduled for the end of August. The good news is I'm going to have a great new set. The bad news is that I start on an anti-estrogen oral med in three weeks, so you may not be able to see the cha-chas for the beard. Oh, well. Hooters' parties will be announced.

Yesterday WAS a great day, all in all. Claire was my co-pilot and chemo buddy ALL DAY. We left the house at 7:30 and got home about a quarter to six. She also served as pack mule and gopher and did an outstanding job. I think she was also good luck -- the day went very smoothly, no untoward delays or anything. Chemo was running late but they usually are. But the orders were in and they were right and I got the nurse I like best.

How wonderful it was to have Claire with me, and I'm very grateful to have such a fabulous young woman as my part-time daughter. I always have considered myself lucky that her mother was so generous to share with me, and she continues to be a very bright star in my very full life. Her dad likes her, too.

And today of course I feel ok. A little tired but nothing dreadful yet. That's scheduled for Friday through Sunday, if things run true to form.

Thanks to all of my chemo buddies and cheerleaders for getting me this far. When I think about the possessions I treasure most, #1 on the list is the love of my family and friends.

More later!!

Doggie Porn

How do ya like me now?

My friend Patricia came to visit!

We had a really good time. This photo was taken after Casey had snatched the bandanna off my head while I was wrestling on the floor with him. He was very proud of himself and wouldn't give it back to me. While I was upstairs finding another one for me, Chuck tied Casey's trophy around his neck. Then Trisha put one on so we'd all match.

Other People Are Stupid Over Their Dogs Too

My friend Greg Mader and his wife Arlene are goofy about Frances, their Rhodesian ridgeback. She simply would NOT stop peeing on the carpeting, so THEY REPLACED THE DOWNSTAIRS CARPETING WITH TILE, and even chose a special, more expensive grout that wouldn't show dog-pee stains. Frances has now taken to going upstairs to pee; and even though they have BOUGHT HER SPECIAL RUGS TO PEE ON, she continues to move them around and pee wherever she wants. Now they are considering REMODELING options that might keep Frances downstairs.



Therefore, I don't feel so bad about posting these photos of Casey. We took him and the camera down to the bayou to let him romp in the big post-rain puddles a couple of weeks ago. (Be sure and click on these so you can see them full size. I just love his face in these action shots.)
He played with a dog named Beau, and they had a terrific time. When we got back from the bayou, we took him out on the patio and gave him a bath. It was only after we'd finished that we realized we'd locked ourselves out. We had no shoes, no keys, no way to get out of the gate -- just a dog and some shampoo. We also had a rock, which Chuck used to break the kitchen window. Sigh.

Pharmacology Roulette or, Three Days on Diuretics

Chemo #5 came and went on Thursday, May 24. I waited for the inevitable slump and it happened on schedule, the evening of day two following chemo. Unfortunately it hit when we were sitting at Cafe Express Saturday evening with Linda and Terrell after having seen Avenue Montaigne. A darling movie it was, but I was longing to get horizontal all of a sudden and said grumpily, "We have to go walk the dog."

So, we scrambled out of our booth and T&L took us home. I headed to bed and Chuck took Casey out.

I felt like hell, predictably, on Sunday, and on Monday, too, the Memorial Day holiday. But late that evening, I knew I would start to feel better. I didn't. At all.

Tuesday morning was awwwwwwfullll. Previous chemos hadn't felt like this. Lying down was exhausting, and I couldn't stand up for more than a few minutes. Sitting was no help. I was supposed to be back at work, but I was too tired to cry. I even threw up once, and I was really depressed and worried that I was having chemo symptoms from hell.

Then I called the nurses, because Chuck had pointed out that the difference between this chemo and the last one was the diuretic I'd been put on by Dr. Fighter Pilot. I had complained mightily about my puffy feet and ankles and the astonishing weight gain over the previous couple of weeks, so he wrote a scrip for the diuretic. I had started taking it on Friday night.

The good news was that nearly 9 lbs had fallen off of me, but I still felt like I was going to have to get better in order to die.

Long story short: the diuretic had been "parting the Red Sea" strength and had sucked all of the potassium out of me. My blood urea nitrogen levels were elevated, which is what happens when your kidneys aren't working right. Man. That was nasty.

I stopped taking the diuretic and got better in 24 hours. Made it to work for part of the day Friday and was pretty ok by Saturday afternoon.

So, make a note. If you get prescribed a diuretic and you suddenly start feeling like you're having the worst flu ever, CALL THE DOCTOR.

Five down. One to go.

Hello, all. I finished my fifth chemo last night about 8 pm. Only one more, scheduled for June 19th, the Tuesday after Ann's and Mark's wedding. Dr. Fighter Pilot (Valero) said he really didn't like moving dates like that; I pointed out to him that we'd done it before, when he'd had jury duty. He said O.

Yesterday's schedule was done by a person that MD Anderson obviously hired from the airlines. Blood work at 7. Heart scan at 8. Heart scan takes a while, but I had 45 minutes before the third appointment, which should have been enough, but of course the heart scan machine had a broken heart or something. So I had to go climb onto another one and was running behind by the time they were through. I raced to the third appointment. Valero was running only about an hour late. I was out of there by 11:30. My next appointment -- the chemo -- was scheduled for 5 PM!!

Of course all beds are booked all day long. I went on up to infusion and asked to be put on standby. I got in at 4:15. By then my blood pressure was reading a little high (!), so we had to find me a blood pressure med before we could start infusing. I called Chuck at 7:30, and he and Casey picked me up just before 8 pm. Not so bad.

Honestly there must be 50 beds in that unit and they were ALL full, all day. Folks are dying to get in there. ahee. Sorry.

I do sometimes feel like kind of a fraud because I'm not sick, exactly. So many of those people look just awful and you know they feel like hell, too. I'm just annoyed and retaining fluid.

We're coming up to the holiday weekend, and I'll be down and whining by Sunday morning but hopefully bouncing back by Tuesday. Busy days ahead.

Hope all are well. We are fine. Soon there will be hair!!

Ok. Really. Do I have to help the cause of medical science too?

I am planning to back out of the study I said I'd be a part of. Why? Well, because I'm a bad and selfish person. Also, if the study is as loopy as the steps and missteps I've witnessed to get into the damned thing, they'll probably kill me. So here's how it went.

When I first met with the oncologist Dr. Valero back in February, he asked me if I would be part of a study about bone health and cancer drugs and all that. He said it would be a heckuva deal. I'd be put on one or another clinical trial drugs and I wouldn't have to pay for my Actonel the whole time. That appealed to me. Free meds! I says ok, and he says someone will contact me.

Someone called me at work and then mailed me a form. I read the form and called her and asked if she wanted me to mail it back. She said no, that they'd meet with me the next time I was in. So, I stopped taking the Actonel thinking that that drug would be given when I had chemo. But Dr. V didn't mention it at my chemo appointment, and honestly I was so nervous about my first chemo I had forgotten to ask.

When the second chemo came up, three weeks later, I mentioned to Dr. V that I thought I was supposed to be part of a study, and he said, "Yes, they will contact you." But no one did. DITTO at the third appointment.

When I got my appointment schedule in the mail for the fourth chemo, there was a visit to a dental oncologist scheduled for mid-morning. When I got into see Valero, I asked, "Why am I going to a dentist?" He replied, "The study people should have explained that to you," and he went ahead to explain that they'd be checking my teeth to make certain that my teeth-bones (whatever) were in good shape for one of the protocols I'd be on. I said I hadn't heard from anyone and he said he'd find her.

Then a nice person named Kimberly came in and had me sign a bunch of papers. She said I'd be in one of three protocols -- two drugs are administered by mouth, one by infusion. I said fine. I figured if I drew infusion, I'm already having that done every three weeks anyway.

THEN, I get through chemo 4 last Thursday. And then YESTERDAY, when I'm home feeling like someone should have gotten the license number on the garbage truck that ran me down, Kimberly calls to tell me that I've been randomized to the infusion group and that I have an 8 am this morning. I said, "Uh, no. I don't think I'm going to feel like dragging myself in for yet another infusion, given that I'm five days out from chemo. Also, I'm not supposed to get stuck with a needle, even a clean one, this close to chemo, am I?" (I mean, it's in ALL the paperwork. It's why I can't get a pedicure, for God's sake.)

Kimberly says, "Oh, that's ok for this." By which she means, WE can stick you and risk your getting an infection for our study, but your toes have to look like they've been done by a three year old for six months. So I say I can't make it, and she says brightly, "Fine. We can postpone it. I can set you up for Friday." I said I'd call her back.

And when I do call her back, I'm going to tell her I'm not playing unless the infusions can take place during the chemo. First, a "30 minute infusion at MD Anderson" involves driving there, remembering to apply the lidocaine to that the needle doesn't hurt, paying $11 to park the car, having them weigh me, applying more lidocaine, taking my blood pressure, making "oooo" noises about the blood pressure, putting me in a bed, and dripping me with stuff. Oh yes. And remember that NO ONE IS EVER ON TIME at MD Anderson. Each of my chemo sessions has been at least an hour late, if not more. My 10 am appt with the dental oncologist the other day happened at NOON. I'm thinking half a day each time. Good grief. I got a job, people.

So, whattya think? Am I justified here in denying them my body and my time for research? I need an amen.

Exotic patient complement at MD Anderson

They say people from all over the world come to MD Anderson. However, a large complement seems to be from Gulf Coast and deep East Texas, and many of those seem to be unclear on the concept of "indoor voice." There is a big-voiced man sitting too close to me (about half the length of a football field away) who makes Larry Murphy and David Ross sound positively upper class British. And he's chatty.

He bought him a 72 Chevelle and paid only 8 hunnert dollers for it, cause the woe-man who owned that thang had the same bank as him and we just done the deal right thar.

The best car I ever bought for her (her is sitting next to him) was a Ford EEEE-lite. No, wait. They bought that off the showroom floor but she didn't lak it so we tuk it back and got a two yar old Mercurry off the used lot there at Lone Store Ford (say MERcurry out loud to approximate the pronunciation) that had been owned by a doctor and that thang drove perfect for yars. 38 malls to the gallon.

He just said they might be interested in a Hyundai, once they get back home, They're real popaler and they look nass, those hon-dees.

Other interesting sightings: There was a woman in full chador (is the the right word?) in the breast center waiting room earlier. She was quiet. Draped completely in black from head to foot, she revealed only her dark pretty eyes. I was thinking, "I bet it's easy for YOU to get dressed in the morning . . ."

Chemo #4 starts about 1 pm or whenever I get over there. Right now I'm waiting in dental oncology, with Mr. Mercurry Chevelle and "her." This appt is to get me started in some kind of study. Whatever. Pat Caver is bringing lunch and magazines for the duration.

Possibly more effective than brandishing a firearm

The guy in the Taurus who cut me off on 59 yesterday seemed really amused watching me rant at his face in his rear view mirror. It was clear he could understand my mouthing the words "dumb-ass" (among others) and had full view of all my graphic gestures, but when I could bear his smarmy grin no longer, I snatched my wig off and threw it at my own windshield while calling him even more hideous names.

His smile disappeared at once. His face went pale.

He exited the freeway, most likely to head to the nearest confessional. "Bless me, Father, for I have changed lanes without signalling, and caused some lady in a Honda to tear her hair off."

We can only hope.

Amen.

Springtime in Southeast Texas

We're having a beautiful April here in Houston, which means it isn't stinking hot yet. Here's our blooming patio roof, very bower-like. It was cool enough last night to open windows (if you have THREE fans on you, which I do, that is, but I am a little warm these days).

All is well with me. I seem to have recovered more quickly from Chemo #3 than from the two previous. Perhaps I'm becoming accustomed to hideous chemicals being dripped into my body, but after staying very still for a few days, I was operating at nearly normal speed.

Work is good. We have ANOTHER new CEO, and we in Corporate Communications are pretty excited about this one because he seems to understand and appreciate what we do. His arrival also has lightened my mood and dampened some of my paranoia. We'll see how it goes.

Chuck and Casey are fine. They had a big day yesterday down on the bayou throwing sticks and jumping into puddles (Chuck was the thrower and Casey was the puddle-jumper-innner). After all of the activity, Casey was one mellow dog last night. He does need a tug-o'-war fix about 9 am every night, and he can easily be enticed into a game of keep-away on the staircase before bedtime. Yes, we are silly over this dog.

Lovely weekend coming, and we're looking forward to it. My nephew Jerry Corder is in town for Offshore Technology Conference, so we're hoping to link up with him this evening for dinner. He was a beautiful baby and is a nice grown-up, so it will be fun.

Hope all of you are well.

I wish I'd thought of this

Check out The Onion's story on how having a friend with cancer is good for your health. It's a SCREAM.
http://www.theonion.com/content/video/a_friends_cancer_good_for_your?utm_source=videomrss

This dog is smiling because he just HEARD THE NEWS!

Chuck and I have thought, all along, that I had eight chemos total. We don't know why we thought that, except our notes show that the oncologist told us that. HOWEVER,I have only SIX!! So, as of last Wednesday, I'm HALFWAY THROUGH! Is that great or what? This means I can schedule the last one just after Ann Taylor's wedding and then I'm DONE with the big mess.

Of course there will be smaller hellishness to deal with, but the big chemo is over by mid June and I am a person again shortly thereafter!!!!! We can do a 65th for Chuck after all!!!!!!!!!!

Conversations Overheard in Waiting Room Yesterday

Here are excerpts of conversations I heard and simultaneously e-mailed to Amy yesterday while I was waiting FOR AN HOUR AND A HALF in the plastic surgeon's waiting room. The appointment was just to say hi. Took TWO HOURS to say hi to me. On the other hand, I collected these marvelous conversations, below.

I'm in the waiting room sitting next to Jed, Granny, and Jethro. They have strong opinions on medicine, Don Imus, and numerous other topics. As you might imagine, they can't figure why it is ok to make fun of old white guys, "and old white WOMEN," chimes in Granny, but not anyone else.

And surely no one in here is getting a facelift, they ponder. This place is just for serious surgeries. It is taking everything I've got not to tell them that I'm here to discuss my upcoming boob job.

Now they are talking about how easy it is to tell the front leg of the deer from its back leg, given that someone of their acquaintance actually has a deer leg caught in a screen door. Through the magic of cell phones, they are considering calling the acquaintance to advise her of which leg it might be, based on the description.

"Tell her that a rake is the best thing to move it with," says Jed. And Granny says, "Even if it's a hind leg, tell her she she doesn't need to save it."

And Jethro, who has apparently been charged with making the call, bursts out, "Heck! I want to see it before she gets rid of it!"

I pick up the conversation again when Jethro says he once went to Mexico and paid $25 for a hamburger. He doesn't remember what town it was in, but Granny remembers it was the same place where Elizabeth Taylor went with her eighth husband.

Speaking of food, they are concerned about the buffet being closed by the time they get back to their motel. They may have to go to Olive Garden again.

Jed is complaining right now how brief the anesthesia meeting was. "He didn't even tell me his name," grumbles Jed. "Well," says Granny, "did you get his business card?"

"I didn't want his business card. I didn't want to know him at all," snaps Jed, effectively ending that topic of conversation.

I tune back in when they are trying to remember the character who played "the warsherwoman" on some TV show who was always getting hit with a purse by some old guy who was trying to get a date with her.

"Was it Carol Burnett?"

"No, but the old guy was definitely Tim Conway."

"Maybe it was Saturday Night Live." [And right here let me add, parenthetically, if these overall-ed folks ever watched SNL, it was one of the seaons in which the show had totally jumped the shark.]

"No."

"The woman wasn't all that ugly when she was cleaned up though. I remember that."

I'm enjoying the exchange too much to say "Ruth Buzzi" and "Laugh-in." And if I'd tried to explain that it was she who had hit Arte Johnson with HER purse, then we'd be at it all day.

As it was, this conversation, like the others, just trailed off. While I waited for next GRNF (group random neural firing), they were called in for their appointment. I think Jed was the actual patient. Granny was there for moral support. Jethro obviously had driven the truck.

Be Alert! America Needs More Lerts!

Yes, I stole the title from an old t-shirt, but this is important. This story is further proof that you need to understand that YOU are a KEY member of your healthcare team. Read, stay focused, pay attention to what people are saying and doing to you. Case in point: went in for chemo yesterday. Number 3. I take three drugs. We all know this.

The nurse came in to check the meds she had against my name and patient number, which I always deeply appreciate. She said, "You have two drugs and then the other stuff." I said, "No, I have three," and I named the third drug. She looked at her orders, apparently written by Chad the pharmacist, the OTHER busiest person at MD Anderson, and said, "Nope. You just have two today."

I asked her to call the doctor. "I do NOT want to have to come back tomorrow when he figures out we skipped the third drug."

She very kindly called him and found out there was indeed a third drug to be administered and we got that one, too.

I am NOT overly concerned about any of this for my own purposes. I am lucid, capable of rationale thought and reading diretions, not afraid to speak up, and eager and able to advocate for myself. What worries me is all of those other people -- I am ALWAYS the least dreadful looking person in the infusion center; some of these folks are really, really sick. They're in wheelchairs or on walkers, they look like they feel awful, and family members with them also look confused and desperate, which I imagine they are. What happens when THEIR nurse gets the wrong orders?

So, be a lert! And if you're not, take someone with you who is a lert, or at least take someone who is in a bad mood and asks a lot of questions.

On another note, this session's chemo buddy, the ever-popular Peg Newman, taught me to play cribbage. AND, she let me win! (Linda, are you paying attention?)

And guess what else: membership DOES have its privileges. If you want to take the little golf cart trolley from the Mays Clinic to the Main Building, say, if you want Chik-Fil-A for lunch but don't want to make that 12 minute trek through the buildings with a laptop on your shoulder, there are little golf carts with drivers that will take you. HOWEVER, if you're wearing a lab coat or scrubs or an MD Anderson badge or you otherwise look healthy, you have to WAIT. Patients get first priority. Last time I did this, I was dressed in a suit, wearing hair, and apparently looked like a pharm salesman. I had to wait for a second trolley. Yesterday, casually dressed and wearing a bandanna to cover my pate, I was moved to the front of the line. Sweet.

Favorite part of chemo? the food. Excellent ham sandwiches and yogurt and anything else you want. No wine list, though.

Next chemo scheduled for May 3, which is a Thursday. Photos of Casey and other bulletins as they occur.

Did everybody have a happy Easter?

We did. Very nice. Had a group over for a light lunch that turned out not to be so light. I recount the menu here so that I'll remember it for next time. Rapee morvandelle (a quiche-like thingy); smoked salmon; steamed asparagus with Hollandaise; sour cream coffee cake (courtesy of Peg); pickled eggs (also courtesy of Peg); beautiful fruit plate made by Chuck; and strawberry shortcakes for dessert, also made by Chuck. AND mimosas and sparkling cherry juice (ditto that Peg-thing). Everybody brought flowers and our downstairs is a riot of tulips! So pretty. Guests included Terrell and Linda; Ann and Mark; Peg, of course; and Linda's young cousin Anita, aged 11, from California. GREAT crowd and Chuck and I had a very nice time.

Casey and Henry played outside. Actually Casey ran around trying to instigate something with Henry while Henry alternated between looking at his watch and begging to come in the house so he could get away from that lunatic. Casey actually knocked over the birdbath, WHILE Chuck was saying, "I don't think he can knock it over. It's pretty heavy." Casey tried to jump ON TOP OF IT. Anita and I SAW him.

Here's our Easter table. That's Peg talking to Anita.

Today I am exhausted from too much activity, I guess. Gotta get ready for Chemo #3 on Wednesday. Oh joy.

I just read about Kiva.org

I just love this idea.

You know what's cute? Casey.

Here he is sleeping on the bookcases in Chuck's office. I used to study for tests like this, certain that the information in the books would leak into my brain. No wonder I crammed four years of college into six.

Claire has an avatar

Let's let HER explain it.

Becoming More Chemo-Savvy

Tuesday was a long day. Many clusterf***s at MD Anderson. Liz was right. The medicine part is good but the administration is BROKEN. They had to draw blood twice. Let's see. I'm a chemo patient. I'm in a cancer hospital. Wonder if I need the CBCs checked. Nope. Yes? Ok. Stick her again.

I had no appt with the oncologist scheduled, despite attempting to leave messages into the full voice mailbox of the busiest person at MD Anderson -- his scheduler. When I finally got in front of her and kicked a chair, she told me it was the doctor's fault. I told her we should have him fired -- how could I have blood work and chemo scheduled without the oncologist? Then she blamed the nurses. I said we should have them fired too. So when I got in to see Valero and his nurse, I told them that the scheduler and I had decided they were both fired, since they're not doing their jobs.

Chemo started an hour late. Still not sure why. I was there, but my orders weren't. I like the port; that is a pretty carefree way to be hooked up to something. Slick. Doesn't hurt.

Then I reacted to one of the drugs about an hour into things. Woooooeeeee. It was kind of like what happens when Carole eats strawberries, times three or five.

They got benadryl and more steroids into me and started over. So dear Linda's three hours at chemo with Pat turned into SIX. Long day. We didn't get home until after 10, I think. We played two games of Scrabble and then watched TV. The benadryl knocked me out.

The double dose of steroids might have cost me my career yesterday when I went all postal on a conference call. Fred smoothed things over, but there are more eruptions today over my telling a bunch of salespeople that they are WRONG and don't know CRAP about branding a company. I am pretty sure I even pointed out that NO Coca-Cola distributor gets to paint his truck blue, and did they know why that was? Anyway, rough day. And I am not too popular.

Went to the gym this morning. Shana "stretched" me for a while and then we did light weights. I'm blonde today. Already feeling dumber!

I know I'm going to feel like death on a cracker starting tonight or tomorrow. At least I know there's a light at the end of that short tunnel. And as Kelly Coyner says, the SECOND one is now behind me. Only six to go!!

Hair today. Gone tomorrow.

Friday morning, after I'd washed and dried my hair, I finished it in the usual way -- running styling "mud" through it with my fingers. Handsful of hair came out. So, this afternoon, my dear husband sat me in the bathroom and shaved it off for me with his barber clippers. Now there's an intimate moment.

My hair is now about 1/16th of an inch long, except where there isn't any. I am experimenting with numerous do-rags, turbans, and scarves. Charmy sent me several that may be helpful. I'll wear wigs to work and in public so as not to frighten co-workers and children. The pirate look may be my best bet for casual wear and the gym. With a very short burr haircut, though, I look a lot like Danny Skaggs. Note to Tommy: my head is NOT shaped like yours after all. But my unadorned face is perfectly round; if it were yellow and I had black dots for eyes, I could model for Wal-Mart.

Other than that, a nice weekend. Amy Mata came from Shreveport and we talked and talked and shopped and talked and ate. Douglas, her 21 year old Rice senior, met us for dinner on Friday night and he is so, so cool. She's proud of both of her boys, for good reason.

Our big event happened when she was helping me dog-wrangle Casey home from a walk yesterday afternoon. She tripped over the very uneven sidewalks in the Montrose and went sprawling. She probably could have caught herself if she hadn't had a 55 lb dog pulling on her as she went down. She tore her slacks and skinned both knees, bunged up her hand and wrist, and landed ever-so-not-softly on her cheek on a concrete step. We are lucky her face wasn't broken, but she may have sprained a wrist. I was just sick. After dinner, as she sat on the sofa with an icepack on her face, Casey jumped up beside her and put his head in her lap. Still didn't help her bruised and scraped face, though. She was meeting old friends for brunch this morning; we sent along a photo of Casey so she could show how the thing happened. Otherwise, they might have believed something worse . . . "No, my husband and I DO get along."

Chemo #2 on Tuesday. Batten down the hatches!

Casey had a problem with the thunderstorms

Casey was worried all night about the thunderstorms. He wouldn't stay in his crate downstairs without barking, and so he slept on the big dog bed in our bedroom. But about 5 am, he woke up and just couldn't calm down. So here's where he ended up. And yes, he's asleep in that position. I love you all very much to let you see me like this. Please be charitable and cover your mouths politely when you guffaw.

Having a big day: sewing up dog toys. How about U?

Lovely warm -- low 80s -- day in Houston today. Remind me, when I start to complain about summer, how COLD I was in February. I dragged out the sewing machine and the sewing basket and have been sewing up dog toys today, but I fear they won't hold once you-know-who decides to do that death-rattle thing with them. You can almost hear his thoughts: "I'll break its neck! I'll break its neck!" At least I tried. I also cut up a comforter into dog-bed sized rectangles and sewed around the edges, so we have extra dog binkies.

But I am no Mama Lela or Auntie Myrtle. My sewing is pretty primitive. If anyone asks, I'll say Casey did it and I helped him.

I hope I'm not jinxing things, but Chuck may have found the recipe for success for wearing out the dog. He took Casey out yesterday to the vacant lot across the street, took him off the leash, and threw a stick for him for a while. He reported that Casey was much better and less kwazy on his walk after that and calmer the rest of the day. We just can't let him off the leash generally speaking, except out onto the patio, where he usually stands at the back door and complains to get back in. TODAY, Chuck took him out for stick throwing TWICE, and then I took him a third time while Chuck planted basils. Chuck and I are both upstairs now and the dog is downstairs under the kitchen table, close to unconsciousness. He usually needs to be wherever Chuck is, or if Chuck isn't home, he wants to be where I am. This is very good news. We may have a normal dog -- but again, do whatever it is you do to unjinx something.

Other good news is that this is day 11 after chemo 1, and I feel really pretty good. I'd give myself an 85% on energy/normal-feeling, maybe an 88 or a 90. My bosses have very graciously allowed me to use a couple of mornings a week to meet my trainer at the gym, and we believe doing this early in the day as opposed to trying to last until 6 pm will help with my energy levels. One annoying side effect is I think from the steroids used in the chemo. My complexion, not known for its peaches and cream tendencies anyway, is just wrecked. I look like The Last Days of Lyle Alzedo (extra points if you get the reference).

I went to the gym Thursday morning with no makeup on -- must have been frightening for everyone there -- but when I came out of the locker room, showered, made-up, wigged-up, and business-suited, dear Luis who works behind the counter said, "You look beautiful." That just made my day.

We have bartending duties at Linda Walsh's photo exhibition this afternoon at Te over on Fairview and Woodhead. After that I think we're headed to dinner with Anna and Lucy. Love to everyone. All is well.

And hi, Aunt Evelyn. You're right! A real letter is a super treat! There's one coming your way in return!

How Chemo Works, So Far . . .

Here's what I know so far. This is how I described it to Richard in an e-mail last night.

I had a wacky first week of chemo. Wednesday evening (the 28th) was drip day, and I think I may know a tiny bit what it feels like to be in Huntsville, getting poison dripped into your veins. Ick. I didn't have any adverse reactions onsite except boredom, and my friend Linda will come next time to play Scrabble with me, which should make things less dull. One thing I've learned, though: No matter how quick your step when you go into chemo (or into any other procedure where you're hooked up on IVs and stuff), you can only, ONLY shuffle when it's time to get up and go to the bathroom and you have to drag that IV post along with you. There's just no cool move in that situation. Scootch, scootch, scootch. The feet simply cannot leave the floor. Very unattractive.

And the new thing at MD Anderson, after hand-washing, which they seem to have invented and are true nazis about, is falling. I was instructed NOT to get up from the potty without calling the nurse. Apparently she loses her good parking place or something if I fall on her watch. Or else she has to continue working the night shift and to deal with people like me who ask random neural firing questions. Where are you from? Who else is here? What do you guys watch on TV? Didn't you think Lenny was much better on Law & Order than any of the replacements who've come after him? Did you remember that you have to drip in the zofran before you start the third poison drip? What about SVU? Do you know why Mariska Hargitay is famous? Who her mother was? And that she was in the car when her mother died? Important stuff like that to pass the time. And the whole deal took FOUR hours.

Anyhow, Thursday I was ok. Made it to work and was strangely buoyant, sort of. Friday went well enough and I even went to the gym for a fast turn on the treadmill. Saturday morning I woke up and felt like everyone I knew, including myself, was dead or dying. I was sad, heartbroken, and very, very, very tired. Sunday wasn't much better, although I did manage to drag myself out of bed to meet Terrell and Linda for dinner. We went as far as Te the tea shop and getting through my panini was brutal. We went back to T&L's for a gorgeous homemade chocolate cake and I cratered in the middle of it. Made it to work for three hours only on Monday, four hours on Tuesday, and SIX Wednesday. Left at 4 and went to the gym -- wore my F*ck Cancer t-shirt and made 45 minutes on the treadmill. I feel very proud. and tired. I have not been nauseated at all, but I have some heavy drugs handy to prevent that. I didn't have to take any of them yesterday, which was good, since a side effect of compazine is blurry vision. Makes the trip to work on the Southwest Freeway more interesting and a bit of a challenge, but probably not the smartest thing to do.

Tonight for dinner we had two adorable chicken pot pies that my sister Carole had made and frozen for us when she was here. Oh yum yum yum. That was food of the gods. And pretty to look at. Also easy to clean up. I refer here both to the pot pies and Carole.

I'm hoping that chemo runs at that sort of shedule: two not-so-crappy days, followed by two or two-and-a-half really crappy days, and then energy starts to return. I've learned that breakfast is a very important meal. Don't miss it or bad things happen. Next chemo is scheduled for the 20th. Bulletins as they occur.

Casey likes to look out of the window

Casey likes to drape himself over the weight bench that sits near the windowseat in Chuck's office. Then he can check out the goings-on in the street. Cars going by, people walking. He's interested in everything. Still very little in the way of discipline, though. Still thinks I'm a chew toy and that we deserve to be barked at if we are not actively petting him.

Eric and Brittany are honoring ME.

Me AND Brittany's grandmother, by participating in the Susan B. Komen run in San Antonio. Eric is my brother Tommy's baby, except now he has a wife and two children.

The whole family is listed as the team, Eric, Brittany, Hallie, AND Bear. Anyway, if you want to support them, as they support me, here's the link. http://sakomen.org/ Click on find a participant, and sponsor a Wente!!

Me as a brunette

Ok. What do you think of this hair-do? Sort of Paul McCartney, n'est-ce pas?

I've decided to return to suits. Easier to get dressed in the morning. This is a new Ann Klein, very navy and serious. The shawl Claire gave me for Christmas brightens it up and matches the purple suede pumps (also Ann Klein) that you cannot see. I did not, however, remember to shake the dog hair out of the shawl (which I had worn a lot at home during reovery) and so there was a serious problem with the suit once I got to work. Beth de-haired me, bless her.

One down; seven to go.

Long day yesterday. Had the port placement done in the morning, but they were running behind in the OR so I waited and waited. Then went over to chemo and the orders weren't in place. Finally started about 4 o'clock. Finished by 8:30, including tuna salad, a couple of episodes of "Without a Trace" and Law & Order SVU.

I'm feeling ok thus far, somewhere between loopy and jazzed. Come to think of it, that's how I usually feel. But all is well. I'm at work today and glad to be here. I miss my gang when I'm at home.

We have a new thing at home: when Chuck puts his arms around me to tell me everything is going to be ok, Casey gets in on the act. Jumps up and puts his paws on my back or Chuck's. I know if he could talk, he'd be saying, "Group Hug!"

Chemo Starts Tomorrow -- 2/28

Ok. Here we go. I go in tomorrow morning for a port-a-cath installation (different than a port-a-potty) and then chemo sometime later in the day. The first chemo session will take about four hours, they say. Then I go every three weeks, for eight sessions total. Not so bad. It's do-able, I surmise, because there are SO many ##@$&%*## people wandering around MDA doing it.

I will be more susceptible to infection, so guess what? I am not allowed to handle dog waste (!). Sorry, Chuck. Maybe in six months. Also need to be careful about being around sick people and need to wash my hands a lot. Other than that, no big problems. Everything they want me to do (eat several small, sensible meals daily, exercise, drink a lot of non-caffeinated and non-alcoholic beverages) are things I should be doing anyway.

Wish me luck!!

My new favorite t-shirt

Ok. Let's vote on the blonde one.

I'm liking this blonde look. Really different. Chuck calls it my karaoke hair, and Fred says it is so, "These Boots are Made for Walkin'." Whattya think?

I got my drain out!

I got my drain out! I got my drain out! I got my drain out!I got my drain out!I got my drain out!I got my drain out!I got my drain out!I got my drain out!I got my drain out!I got my drain out!I got my drain out!I got my drain out!I got my drain out!I got my drain out!

Drain's out! Have hole in side, and things are still achy. But anything beats that stupid drain. The intake nurse this morning looked at my numbers and said, "Let me see if they want to take it out today." I replied, "I'm not leaving with it. You guys decide how long you want me here." They took it out.

I'm going to work tomorrow -- about a half day. Can't decide which wig to wear. I don't need them yet, but it still might be fun.

Also went to the gym this afternoon for a ride on the treadmill. Ahhh. Nice. (Good God! I really typed that!) And, you know, when you're sweating on the treadmill and you have hot flashes, it's less of a big deal. "I'm sweating." "Whoo! I'm really sweating." "Now I'm just sweating." "Whoo! I'm really sweating." and etc.

My sister Carole went home this morning. For those of you who don't have loving, cheerful "I can do that for you" sisters, I recommend you get some. But you can't have mine. I wouldn't trade them for anything. In my freezer are five gorgeous little chicken pot pies and a meat loaf. She also brought jams for Chuck. AND, she let me beat her in our best of seven national Farkle series, Central vs West.

Oh. And here's the big news: Linda Walsh beat the "Wente Girls" in Scrabble on Sunday night. She danced around the living room until Casey barked.

I've changed my mind. I don't want to do this anymore.

I will start chemo on or around the 27th. HOWEVER, before that, I have to have a port (a portable catheter) installed. I was thinking it would work like "snap-on tools," or tupperware or something, but apparently I need to undergo anesthesia for this. Amy, did I spell that right?

Anyway, I'm bummed today. I'm achy and itchy. I still have a stupid surgical drain, and I gotta tell you, the novelty has worn off on that device as well.

It's noon. Chuck made a great waffle and sausage breakfast, and while perusing the morning paper, we read about Dole recalling canteloupes. We had just finished ours and are hopeful it was salmonella-free. Time will tell.

Carole and I are trying to find a reason to get dressed; we haven't come up with any really good ones yet. I am in pjs, with my hair sticking straight up, and a drain hanging from my waist. Carole is wearing her minkee caftan and slippers. We're still more formally attired, however, than most of the people who shop at TJ Maxx or Marshall's, so we could go over there WITHOUT having to change.

We have met the oncologist and he is . . . Ok.

Actually, he's the head-knocker breast oncologist (sorry for the pun) for MD Anderson, and I'm guessing he knows his stuff. His name is Vicente Valero, and if you google him, you get about as many hits as if you'd typed Anna + Nicole + dead. He's kinda famous, and I am very glad to have him driving my bus.

So, here's the drill. I start a round of chemo at the end of Feb. Every three weeks, about eight times, if I understood Dr. Valero correctly. I am trying to decide what my every-three-week reward to myself will be and I think it's a place setting of that Lynn Chase Monkey Business china that I have the hots for.

My plan is to get back to work by the 21st and get my desk cleared. After I've done some chemo I'll know how it affects me and how I can tailor my work schedule. I'm glad I have an indoor job with no heavy lifting involved.

About mid-summer we'll start the pool on "Pat's New Hair." Will it come back in curly? straight? brown? grey? red? blonde? thick? coarse? fine? sparse? Number of cowlicks? Get ready to place your bets.

Wonder Woman Trips Over Cape: Blames Dog

I had a nice visit to the emergency center at MD Anderson yesterday morning after my healthcare team (two sisters, Chuck, confused dog) decided that I was indeed swelling rather a bit. We read all of the information we'd been given and "swelling" was one of the things we were supposed to be concerned about. So, off we went.

Four hours later, I'd had lunch, visits from John and Amy Mata, and a cute, cute Brit surgery fellow who sounded a lot like Tony Blair to tell me that I was doing ok.

This morning we are in Nuclear Medicine. Chuck and I have comandeered the two computers in this waiting room. We are doing some more tests in advance of the meeting with the oncologist at 1:30 today.

Final pathology is in. All cancer taken care of. Lymph nodes clean. It was indeed garden-variety breast cancer with nothing tricky. The oncologist will discuss treatment options with us. Most likely some chemo. More later.

You all can't know how much I appreciate the visits to my blog and the posts. I feel like I have a fan club!

So Much for Invincibility

Well, Dr. McCabe cut the party short last night. I appeared to be bleeding heavier through the drain and we didn't get to go to Spanish Village or anything fun like that. We called the on-call drs and they said I might want to come in, but they were wrong. I didn't.

So I just settled down. Chuck thinks I was doing too much, trying to keep up with the Big Girls. But I also got jumped on by the dog yesterday afternoon. Then after that, I said something funny (below), and laughed quite heartily at my marvelous joke. Could have dislodged something then. Whatever. I'm fine, but have dialed back the activity.

Ok, here's the funny line: I walked into the guest room and Amy was asking Carole, "Have you watched the knitting TV show?" Carole replied, "I've watched a few times but it's kind of boring." I burst out laughing, "Imagine that!"

Perhaps you had to be there, but it was a real howler.

Still tethered

Drs appt went well but I'm still attached to a surgical drain. Ick. BUT, I am cleared for gym! Probably will go in Saturday!!! Oh my goodness -- did I just type that??

Both Sisters!

As of last night, I now have BOTH of my big sisters here. This is pretty wonderful. Their first project is to get some fabric to make me a "minkee" robe. I LOVE being taken care of by my big sisters.

Chuck is working away in his office -- oblivious to the chatter and the shouting up and down the hall. Casey shows off for Amy and does everything she tells him to do.

We are fine. And the flowers keep coming!

Update. All is well, thus far.

I'm having experiences I never thought I'd have: 1) Going to those shops down by the med center that are for people who have had this kind of surgery, looking at weird, weird undergarments. 2) BUYING weird, weird undergarments. 3) Chatting with strangers about surgical drains and where the pocket looks best (answer: it doesn't look good anywhere). 4) Trying on wigs!

That was FUN! I'm going for the Uma Thurman look in those violent Travolta movies that I've never watched. Perhaps I should watch before adopting the look.

Amy and I are enjoying ourselves, and Chuck is doing well, too. I go to the plastic surgeon tomorrow to see about the drain, but I bet I'm not able to ditch it yet. A consolation is that Anna has brought me Law & Order Season 1, and if I have to stay on the sofa a few more days, then at least I am thoroughly entertained.

I am fine. Hope everyone is ok, too.

Hello, everyone! Pat's on the blog!

I can hardly WAIT until my next major surgery! This blog thing is FUN! But I'm at home now, and the party continues. At least on my end. LOTS of lovely flowers from people and cards and phone calls, etc. Chuck and Claire and now Tim Wilson, Claire's boyfriend, are here taking care of me. Tim has extended the airport range in the house, so I can now sit here in my bedroom, Mac on my lap, watch some trashy murder movie on TNT, and blog away.

They are downstairs vacuuming dog hair, an endless task, but I salute them for it just the same. Casey is kind of wild right now, with all of the changes in his schedule, extra people in the house, and whatever other excuse I can come up with to explain away his horrid behavior. He's developed a serious crush on one of the special pillows that Ann Taylor's mom made and sent to me. He takes any opportunity to remove it from its intended place and take it to his own lair. Weird dog. Weird dog.

I slept well last night, and I'm doing ok today, but I continue to be surprised that I don't feel perfect already. I can get dressed and go downstairs and then just a little while later, I feel like it's time for a nap. I know that my body is healing itself, and that's going to take some time. I guess I was a little premature in thinking that we'd be able to hit Spanish Village tonight.

The next few days will go like this, I think: I'll loll around. My sister Amy is on her way today; Carole arrives Wednesday. I have my first appt with the plastic surgeon on Thursday to hopefully remove the surgical drain. That will be a great improvement and will assist mobility. We meet with the other surgeon on the 12th I think to learn how the surgery went and what the next steps are.

I am so happy to have such a marvelous family and such caring friends.

Home safe

Hi, it's Claire,

Mission accomplished - she's home, she's home! Trying to put herself to sleep with a crossword puzzle in bed..ok, just checked, and it worked!

Anna did such a great job taking care of everything at the hospital, so now Dad and I have to keep up the good service. Dad made some nice meatballs for dinner. Casey is totally behaving himself and guarding her bed. I'm picking up my boyfriend Tim at the airport in a couple hours, and Amy should be arriving tomorrow.

Pam, she loves the flowers and note from you.

Thanks everyone for all the well wishes on the blog!

It's good to have her home.

It's alive!

Hi, folks. It's me. All is well. Loving the morphine, but difficult to type -- or maybe it's the IV in my hand. Thank you for the good wishes, fun stuff, and love. More later.

Love, pwent

Oh yeah, don't forget to ask her about the inflatable leg warmers.

I'm kinda sleepy, but she's been wide awake...

Hi, everyone. Claire and Chuck just left to visit Casey for a few minutes. Patty is finally napping after a big of dose of morphine at 3:30 (no visible result...was still making phone calls) then an even bigger dose of vicodin (finally seemed to do the job). Apparently too many wine popsicles creates a high tolerance for pain meds.

She's in room 1126. We keep getting calls for some guy named David. I just yelled at the poor woman who called a few minutes ago (call #4 in 4 minutes) and told her that there's NO DAVID ANYWHERE NEAR HERE, SO DON'T CALL BACK PLEASE, YOU'RE WAKING UP PAT. Then I unplugged the phone. So needless to say, if you call the room, we probably won't answer.

If Pat's feeling good enough, she gets to go home tomorrow. The way the docs are talking, it sounds like that's going to be pretty much up to her. (If you have to spend time in a hospital, this is the place. They're pretty amazing.)

It's all good, and I'm in full nurse/mom/sister/niece mode, ready to fight for justice and pain meds. Oops, I got the order wrong...

Love from Anna and sleepy Pat in room 1126!

More from the waiting room...

Guess what? I just had a Pat-sighting! I was standing in the hall near the elevators, talking on my phone, and I heard a voice say, "hey, there's Annuh..." as a gurney rolled by! Her eyes were focused and everything! She even smiled (sort of). I had enough time to tell her that we love her before the doors closed and she rolled out of my sight.

She looks really, really good.

Love,
Anna

Dr Oates, the plastic surgeon came out - the surgeries are complete, and he said they could not have gone better. We get to see her in a couple hours, and if she's feeling good enough, she may come home tomorrow. There will be some more tests/consultations and diagnoses next week.

Once again, I'm sitting here waitng for you while you are lolly-gaggin' around flat on your back. It's 11:40 and I'm in the surgical waiting room. You could have just called and cancelled your workout tonight -- this tactic is even a bit extreme for you. I'm going to try and stick around until you are out, because I know that in addition to your plastic surgery team, you also have your hair and make-up posse waiting to beautify you before you greet your adoring public. Enjoy your week off next week -- because that's all you get. There's gonna be hell to pay!

With the utmost love and affection,
Shana

It's 10:06, and we just got the first update. They started the surgery at 8:50, and everything is fine. Next update around Noon...

Hi, it's Claire in the waiting room..sitting here with Dad and Anna. The hospital is really nice. We've been told the surgery could take 3.5 to 5 hours, and we will be getting updates at some point, probably in a couple hours. I will report back with any news.

Details about Surgery

Ok. Here we go.

I go in tomorrow morning at 6 a.m., which means that I'll probably go into the OR at 8 or so. Surgery should run about 3-1/2 hours, after which I go to recovery, then to a room later in the day.

Chuck and Claire are taking me, and Anna Garrett is meeting us there. We will be going to the Main Building at MD Anderson Cancer Center. The address, if you need it, is 1515 Holcombe Boulevard, Houston, 77030. The parking garage that's closest to that building is at Entrance 2 off of Holcombe, at an intersection also named MD Anderson Blvd. (No, I didn't think it was a very creative street name either.)

The pre-op sheet says I can eat until midnight. (YAY!) Actually, it says don't eat anything AFTER midnight, but you interpret it your way, and I'll interpret it my way. The sheet also says that I cannot wear any make-up tomorrow morning, but they may want to re-think that in my case. If I'm out cold and not wearing ANY makeup under those lights, they may perform an autopsy instead of a mastectomy.

Claire will have my cell phone -- 713 819 0334 -- for those who want updates, but we'll also post here. She'll have her laptop and can log on, so that you can find out where I am and how fabulously I'm doing. Chuck and Claire will be in the waiting room on Floor 5 near Elevator E during the surgery, at least that's where the sheet says they're supposed to be.

I'm already sick of pink ribbons, offered to me over and over by well-meaning volunteers who also insist on giving me chocolate. Please. Have they SEEN my butt? Why would anyone do that?

Gifts? Any extra vycodin would be GREAT.

Today -- Surgery minus 2 days

Over the weekend I changed my mind about the surgery--decided not to have it, you know. But apparently nobody paid any attention.

Went in this morning for pre-surgery appointments with the breast surgeon, then on to the anesthesiology consultation, then to have blood drawn and chest x-rays taken. Verrry uneventful. Lots of sitting around.

Tomorrow morning I meet the plastic surgeon at 8 and then go to lymphocyntigraphy to be injected with blue dye. Who thought of all this?

I will also find out tomorrow where I am in the batting order. I have to call between three and five to find out when I'm scheduled on Wednesday. The anesthesiologist--not mine but some other guy--says the surgeries will take about eight hours. Yeeeesh! What am I going to DO for all that time?

My Village Grows

It takes a village to navigate through breast cancer, and as Shana Ross says, mine is populated by a bunch of pissed off, menopausal women. So watch out!

My village continues to grow. Claire (neither menopausal or pissed off, but certainly a standard bearer) arrives Tuesday.

Shana will accompany me to the plastic surgery appointment, and I cannot say how grateful I am for that without getting all misty. Her goal is to get me back into the gym as quickly and as safely as possible. Note to self: My party is finally over.

Anna Garrett will be my in-hospital person, and she can be the Queen of Mean, should that be necessary. She has a lot of experience in that field, and I treasure her friendship and her time.

I should be home on Friday, and Tim Wilson, Claire's beau, arrives Friday, along with my sister Amy. That will be a great weekend. They'll all have a good time while I zone out on pain killers.

Hopefully Amy will stay until Carole arrives from downtown Kettle Falls. She gets to stay a WHILE!

New Direction on Upcoming Surgery

DAMN! No free tummy tuck after all. Guess I'll have to do it the old-fashioned way. After reading about the recovery from TRAM flap reconstructive surgery, I thought, "Hmmm. That procedure will most certainly totally f*** up my stomach muscles. Wonder what that will do to my crooked back?" And having learned from Shana Ross over the last year-and-a-half, in spades, that abdominal muscles have everything to do with back strength, I thought I'd ask.

When I told the surgeon I have scoliosis, he said, "Hmmm. We could probably do it, but we also don't know exactly how you are put together until we get in there. We might do something that could make your back pain worse, and we couldn't fix it." At that point, all of us (the surgeon, Chuck, the surgeon's fellow, and I) gave out with another collective, "Hmmm," and agreed that we'll do it a more straightforward way: simple mastectomy followed by tissue conservation procedure and reconstruction later on.

This also means less time in the hospital and a faster recovery time, hopefully. Chuck and I are pretty comfortable with this option, so we've decided to quit reading stuff. Some of it can give you the willies! But if you want to read about it, a great source is www.mdanderson.org

My surgeons are Dr. Rosario Hwang for oncology and Dr. Scott Oates for reconstruction. If you've seen either of them on wanted posters let me know, but I think if they're on faculty at MD Anderson, they're probably not total losers.

Bulletins as they occur. I'm still wanting more medical jokes. Come on, folks. You're not trying.

Tip of the Hat to Kerry!

Many thanks to Kerry Malone! She has helped name the blog!!

You know, Kerry, you should do something with words or writing or communication for a living. You could earn hundreds of dollars a year!

Also, thank you for the great stamps and stamp-pad for my birthday. I have used the ones that say "Shit"and "When Hell Freezes Over" twice each TODAY! Very handy.

Claire and Tim

Here's gorgeous Claire and her gorgeous boyfriend Tim Wilson. He is as nice and as smart as he is handsome, so that's a plus. Also, he can fix computers. Over the PHONE.

Call for Medical Jokes

Here's one from Tommy. Always a winner.

A guy takes his parrot to the vet because he couldn't wake him up. The vet checks out the bird and tells the man his pet is dead. Guy asks him if he is absolutely sure, that he may like a second opinion. The vet brings a cat in and the cat sniffs up and down the bird and walks off. Vet says yep he's dead. Guy says, you call that a second opinion? I'm still not satisfied. Vet brings in a labrador retriever, the dog sniffs up and down the bird and walks away. The vet tells the guy, look I'm really sorry, but your parrot is definitely dead. Guy finally accepts his bird is gone and ask how much he owes the vet. Vet tells him $250. "Just to tell me that my bird is dead?" Vet says, "Well you're the one who wanted a cat scan and a lab report!"

Thoughts about Heaven

Tommy says he's figured out how he and Cheryl can be together in the afterlife, given that she's a very good person and will go to her reward while he will be punished for his many sins. He says that God should give Cheryl the job of taking care of the small children who are in heaven. That's her favorite thing; she is happiest when she is surrounded by them, feeding them, entertaining them, and watching them play. So that will be her happy enternity in Heaven, and Tommy will be right beside her, since that same scenario is his idea of Hell.

Stacy says that taking on her stepdaughter's two baby boys should put her right in the HOV lane for heaven, with no slowing down or paying tolls. "And," she says, "when I get there, I want a management position."

You know it was a good party if you wake up the next morning on a sofa, covered with coats, and there's a chihuahua asleep on your chest

We had a great time at Tommy's in San Antonio for New Year's Eve. We'll post photos when he sends some over. I just love my family. So fortunate to have them. Here's to a wonderful year for all of us.