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.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, April 27, 2007
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.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
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
http://www.theonion.com/content/video/a_friends_cancer_good_for_your?utm_source=videomrss
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
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!!!!!!!!!!
Friday, April 13, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, April 09, 2007
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.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
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.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
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!!
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!!
Sunday, March 18, 2007
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!
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!
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
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.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
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!
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!
Thursday, March 08, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
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.
Monday, March 05, 2007
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.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
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!"
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!"
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