Welcome home

I got back from Hawaii a week ago today, and now I'm at work for the sixth day--how depressing is that. What a contrast the last couple of weeks are! From island time (try wait. . . ) to rushing every morning to get to work on time--not an easy task for me; from hangin' outside every day to sittin' inside this control room, seems like most of the time. I'm pretty sure I prefer Hawaii and will be moving there as soon as possible, and if you can't find me at home or at work, I'll be at the beach. That's the best way to get your vitamin D, you know, from the sun. Gotta get those nutrients.
I've got a lot to write about, and if I ever finish unpacking, I'll sit down and blog longer. But I still feel good, and I've noticed the better I feel, the less I write.
I see a new doctor this week, since my oncologist Dr. Lewis retired. I'm a little nervous, as I'd come to trust Dr. Lewis, and really feel he was a positive force on my journey, both medically and emotionally. He's the first person who told me, after my initial diagnosis, that I was "not cooked," and that's what gave me the first nudge in the right direction, towards hope despite uncertainty, and courage despite fear, and strength despite pain. But life is change, and change is life, and on my passage through, I've learned that the only person I can be sure will travel my entire life with me, from start to finish--is me. People--friends, family, doctors--come and go, or maybe come and stay, and that's not cynicism, I don't think. I've just learned that you have to appreciate the intersections and not waste time wishing for the past. Learn lessons, remember, grow, and keep moving forward. The only thing that's permanent is impermanence. True dat?
Well, I guess I had a little more to say today than I originally thought. OK. Next time, I'll either write about entropy or my new tattoo. Or both. Or something else entirely. Maybe quantum physics, cosmology, and how God is a Higgs boson.
Happy Saturday and Aloha.

some days. . .

not so much organized. just chaos.

A little something for a Monday

More good news. . .the marker is down again. I had blood work done this weekend, and it's down from 181 to 161. We're doing something right! I heard something the other day (can't remember where), but someone said, Don't live like a sick person trying to get well, live like a well person fighting off sickness. I think that's what I do--most of the time, anyway--but it's gratifying to hear somebody else put it into words. I am fighting it off! It may eventually catch up to me, I accept that, but not if I can help it. I will never give in to this cancer. Never.
Oh, and 30 days from now, I'll be in Hawaii!

Now and then I wonder . . .

How to balance planning for the future and living in the moment? That's what I've been trying to figure out. When I was in high school I knew a kid with cancer, and I remember someone reading from her journal at her funeral. "Live each day as though it were your last." I know a lot of people try to live that way, but it seems kind of hopeless to me. Maybe we should live each day as though it were the most important. I don't know how long my future is--maybe two years, maybe 20. None of us knows. So I can't just put my head down and push forward, making plans for five or ten years out, with no regard for today. I do know I feel more aware of each moment now--time somehow seems to move more slowly. What time is wasted time?

Even better than I thought

Sometimes life throws you curveballs, and you get to hit 'em out of the park!

I got good news from my doctor earlier this week. I had bone and CT scans, and he called to tell me they showed the cancer is either stable or responding. I guess I didn't listen closely enough, because it's better than it sounds. But let me start near the beginning. . .

When the bone scan was complete and I was still laying on the very uncomfortable machine, the tech asked me, "Are you in any pain?" No, I told him.
So he left the room for a minute, came back and asked, "Have you had any falls or accidents lately?" No, I said again, knowing he wouldn't tell me--lab techs never do--but I asked anyway, Why?
"Oh, the doctor just wants to get a history," he said evasively. All he really did was make me very nervous because I've had this done 5 or 6 times now and never had these questions. What does he see, I wondered. I knew he wouldn't tell me--lab techs never will. And I couldn't look at the scan myself because the inconsiderate guy closed it on his computer screen!

So when Dr. Lewis called, basically all I heard was "The bone scan is negative. They saw a contusion on your right hip. They concluded it's a bruise, not cancer that's spread to the bone, la la la. La la la la la. Good news"

Today, I got the actual lab write-ups from both scans. The bone scan is just as Dr. Lewis described--negative! Now the CT scan, on the other hand. . . woo-hoo!!!! There's a small mass in my left chest wall that's shrunk by about a third. I have some liver lesions that have not shrunk in size, but appear to be dying off from the inside ("necrosis"--a lovely medical term), and no new ones. There were nodules in my lungs that have "almost completely resolved." That's "near complete resolution." Again, that's "ALMOST GONE." And no new ones.

This is the best news I've had since last August. The therapy is working, I'm feeling good, and I'm on the right path. I have too many items on my To-Do list that are not yet crossed off, too many big questions still unanswered. I got a lot of work to do. . . BelieDat!

Word for the day:
floordrobe: n. A form of storage for clothing which requires no hangers, drawers, doors or effort. Simply drop on the floor and you have a floordrobe

I currently have one of these. Actually it's more of a top-of-dresserdrobe or still-in-laundry-bagdrobe. . .but you get the idea. Just one form of organized chaos.

A (New) Starting Point

My old blog Click here
Start from the last page on the bottom and work your way up to get caught up, if you're interested!