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June 5, 2007 It's been pretty hectic around here the past few days, with two trips to the ER (John has got to stop scaring me like this!) and more doctor's appointments. Lots of visitors, too, which we love.
It's sometimes tricky for me to get a handle on what's going on in a given moment, like the surreal one when Steve and Ann came to visit Sunday afternoon after John and I got back from the second trip to the ER. That morning, John had been struggling to breathe, both of us feeling very frightened about what was going on. We had 4 or 5 intense hours at the hospital, waiting and waiting, wanting to run out of there, but not wanting to leave without some kind of assurance that John would be safe at home. When John got to thinking that the situation was the beginning of the end, my belief in him kicked in and I reflected it back to him, resolutely telling him not to think he was going anywhere. I seem to just "know" it's going to be all right, when we're in the middle of something like that. Then, when the crisis is resolved and the adrenalin has subsided, I find myself preparing lunch with Ann Smith and suddenly feeling shaky and teary. Between John's Prednisone-induced emotions and my own, we're a pair to draw to!
This morning, though, all was back to normal, emotions correctly paired with the corresponding circumstances, and we enjoyed the paper and coffee in bed before John took another chance on that shad fishing trip and I left for a day of meetings in Portland. Watching the day dawn and listening to our morning chorus of birds always reminds us that life is good.
June 8, 2007 John and I have been on a roller coaster ride to beat them all this week. (I was planning to take him to the Giant Dipper Coaster in Santa Cruz, CA, when we visit my family, but it's nothing to the ride we've just taken!) The final bit was the climb to the top of the big hill while we awaited the PET/CT results. At Dr. S's office today, they told us he'd canceled the order for a blood test (always a prerequisite for chemo to start), so we both immediately began wondering why? Did he remember we had a trip planned and he would start the chemo when we got back? Was this a signal that the cancer had spread so far that there was no point doing any more treatments? (. . . This accompanied by a big stomach-drop and gripping of the chair arms to keep the tears back. Remember, there's nothing to be afraid of yet, we haven't heard anything yet. Don't get ahead of yourself here. Just wait till the doctor tells you something concrete. Stay in the moment. John's looking and feeling very well today. He had no pain last night and awoke breathing better today. Stay with that until you are forced to face a different reality and . . . Breathe!)
Well, as you read in John's update, the reason was that the PET/CT results hadn't been delivered to the doctor yet and he couldn't access them because they don't have the clinic and hospital computers communicating with each other yet. He examined John and said he'd call later with the results, if he could get them today. When he did call, we both got on the phone and felt that huge, heavy spring wound around our stomachs begin to relax with each piece of the report:
Original media-stinal mass, some activity, though he needs more information from the radiologist; nothing immediately threatening, as far as he can tell
Masses in John's left flank and on 12th rib, significantly less active since radiation
Masses on 7th rib and near head of pancreas, not much changed from last time
New mass in lower lumbar region of spine, small
Overall impression: nothing is radically threatening John's life at the moment; nothing necessitates immediate chemo treatment (with its attendant risks and collateral damaging effects), so it's advisable to wait and watch and check in after we see how John's breathing progresses. We'll see him again as soon as we return from California and he's had a chance to compare this PET/CT with the one taken in April. At that time, we'll come up with some kind of plan.
So, we're all smiles tonight (Who'd have thought we would be, with a new tumor present, but we've learned to adjust our expectations and take what we can get!) and looking forward to a fun trip to see my family, relieved that John's lungs will have time to continue their improvement.
June 22, 2007
I can't believe it's been two weeks since I've had time to
write here. Wait a minute, yes I can. The pace of running around started to pick
up awhile ago, kind of like a snowball
rolling down a gentle slope, but lately it's become a full-on avalanche. John
and I are going to make a little plan to make one day a week sacred for me to
spend in my studio. I think, if I have that to look forward to, I can keep the
rest of the balls in the air without wearing down.
John and I spent nearly three hours at the OMSI Body Worlds exhibit. As a sculptor, I found it particularly interesting. I had to keep reminding myself that the bodies had belonged to real people because they really reminded me more of the Invisible Man and Woman toys we played with as kids. Seeing the complicated web of musculature that holds the limbs to the torso, no wonder the sculptor of the Venus de Milo famously remarked, "I can't do arms!"
John agreed to use the wheelchair for the OMSI excursion, somewhat reluctantly, but realizing that the walk would have been too much and would have forced us to cut the visit short. We had a great time and enjoyed going out to lunch together before the appointment with Dr S. I even got to go to a meeting of my sculptors' group that evening and had a great time!
I'm so thankful that John's improving a little each day and can enjoy visits from friends and the kids. Yesterday, I finally took his advice and did no cleaning prior to their arrival. John made the spaghetti sauce, Michael and Mo brought a salad and vanilla ice cream, Lynn and Phil supplied the bread and Jeff and Vanessa served up delicious strawberry-rhubarb pie to go with the ice cream for dessert. I took my mother's advice, letting them all take care of everything, for once, and this time actually had time to visit with everyone. What a delight! If I were John, I'd be bursting with pride to have such great children! They all give us so much care and support and, by "us," I really mean both of us. Considering how recently I entered this family, it touches me that they check in on me as often as they do their dad.
June 27, 2007 John's out fishing with Steve Smith today, giving me some time to catch up on sculpture. There are some show possibilities coming up in the fall, with August deadlines, and I would like to be able to participate in one or two. It seems like a long while since I've had a chance to finish or show anything new . . . Sunday is my official "sacred art day," now (great radio on NPR!) but I like to squeeze in as many other hours as I can, so HI HO, HI HO, off to the studio I go!
Speaking of art, look what our neighbor found right over our house the other day! -------------------------------->>>>
June 29, 2007 John's napping for awhile, resting up after three or four days of doing too much and tiring himself out. We are back to doctors' appointments and lab tests today.
When Dr. B called the other night, John was already exhausted and experiencing some pain. Night time is a hard time to get any kind of news that requires decision-making. He was a bit overwhelmed with the options, but things looked more manageable in the light of day. We'll see Dr. B this afternoon and find out what he's thinking. I didn't get the feeling that there's any huge rush to do a bronchoscopy. We'll have plenty of time to party on the 4th, meet with Dr. S, the oncologist, next week and think it over so that John can make an informed decision about what he wants to do. We all want him to be weaned off the Prednisone as soon as possible, but not at the risk of causing more damage somewhere else. So we'll do what we always do: face it together, one step at a time.
On a less scary note, last night, my sculpture, Anillos, was dedicated as a part of the permanent collection in Lake Oswego's Gallery Without Walls. I had to make a little speech, which I did with surprisingly rattled nerves. Anyone who has ever heard me hold forth will be amazed to learn that my mind went blank and I actually had to refer to my notes . . . several times! (Maybe this wasn't a "less scary note," after all!) The audience was great, though! They listened to every word, they laughed, they cried, they clapped at the end. What more could a speaker ask for!? All in all, it was a wonderful experience for me, only made more wonderful by sharing it with John, family and friends. Click here to see some photos from the event.
