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.