I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday if you celebrate one. We had a nice, relaxing Christmas spent doing a little family stuff and a little alone stuff. We got to see cousins, aunts, grandma, siblings, sisters-in-law, brother-in-law, nieces, and nephews on Stein's side. Next week, we'll get together with some of my family, too.
The holidays always make me pause and think about the people in my life. This year, especially, I've been thinking about all the people who have been such an integral part of our lives. We are truly blessed to have the support of you all. We feel humbled by your generosity, good thoughts, and prayers that you send our way.
Along the way on this crazy-cancer adventure, there have been people who have made me stop and think how lucky I am to know such compassionate people.
I can't begin to tell you how much time and energy Stein has put in to make my life easier and more manageable throughout this ordeal. From wrapping Christmas gifts, to bringing more water to me at chemo, to scheduling and keeping appointments in the calendar on the iPad, to making dinner most nights when all I want to do is lie on the couch. He's been upbeat and caring, concerned and humorous, thoughtful and realistic. I keep saying to people, "I don't know how I'm going to repay him." He's truly taking "in sickness and in health" to heart. I'm lucky.
My sister-in-law and Chris have been rock stars on the Ann Arbor and Chicago fronts. They both have arranged meals to be delivered to us via folks from Chicago (we've had pizzas flown in - thanks, Patty! And take-out delivered - thanks, Shark and Jane!) and by folks in Ann Arbor. On the Ann Arbor front, people have been bringing us homemade meals on days when we can't possibly think about making dinner. Chris and Anne have also coordinated a cleaning person to come on the days I have chemo. It is so wonderful to come home to a clean house and not have to worry about dusting or vacuuming. What a luxury. And I can't forget to thank Anne for her bi-weekly delivery of Cheez-Its! Sometimes it's the only thing that sounds good to eat.
A great group of long-time girlfriends from Chicago have organized themselves to deliver a package to me every week before my chemo day. These boxes have been filled with useful goodies and treats that have made me laugh. Magazines, books, pens, cards, homemade kids' pictures, candies, and other useful items have been waiting for me on my doorstep. Meg, Kathryn, Jane, Patty, and Chris, you all rock.
My friend Amy keeps me supplied with movies, TV shows, and magazines to make the chemo time shorter. Every so often I find a package in school mail, or a bag hanging on my classroom door. So thoughtful.
Stein, my mom, Mickey, and Chris have sat with me at chemo. It's a pretty boring thing to sit and watch nurses change IV bags and watch me wheel a cart to the bathroom, but it's great to have the company. They've taken a lot of their own time to come and do this. I'm lucky.
So many of you have sent cards, texts, prayers, emails, books, and gifts our way. It's been great getting these surprises. Please know that these all go a long way. I stay positive because I know I'm going to be alright, I know that my prognosis is good, and I continue to hear good news from my doctor. I'm getting there (almost 1/2 done!). What has helped me keep my positive attitude has been all that you've done or said. I'm speechless.
I'm lucky. And grateful.
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Friday, December 14, 2012
Chestnuts
Yesterday morning, I sat in my classroom office (yes, I have an office in my classroom. It's a rarity, and I love it). My morning routine usually involves only turning on one small light in the classroom, and the light in my office. I don't want to be shocked in the day. I just want to ease into it.
Anyway, as I sat at my desk doing various pre-school activities, a woman came into my office. She's a T.A. at our school, and I've come to know her well. She was the T.A. two years ago in my friend Jan's classroom, and last year in my friend Allie's classroom (Hi, Allie!). Both of those years, my class teamed up to be reading buddies with the class where she was a T.A.
It's pretty unusual to see her on our wing of the school. We're kind of isolated on a fourth and fifth grade island, and she works on the second and third grade island.
She softly said, "Good morning. Do have a few minutes?" I always feel like that second sentence is loaded. I use it myself, so I know how it is to be on the other end delivering it. Sometimes it's a serious matter, oftentimes it ends up being an emotional matter.
"Sure," I said hesitantly. As I said that, she held out a fisted hand like she wanted me to open my hand to receive something. But she pulled her hand back when she started her story. "I don't know if I ever told you this story, but I've always liked Chestnut trees," she shyly explained. "Growing up, there was a Chestnut tree on the way to my school. When I would walk to school, my friends and I would always pick up the chestnuts. That tree evokes such great memories for me."
"But now," she further explained, "The neighborhood has really changed. The Chestnut tree is gone, and a lot of the houses have changed or have been torn down and rebuilt."
She went on to tell me that recently she went back to her hometown to visit her mother's and father's graves. "But before I went to the cemetery, I took a drive around the neighborhood. The house next door to the one I grew up in was having a garage sale [she LOVES garage sales] so I stopped by. As I got to talking with the people who were having the garage sale, they convinced me to go next door to see my old house."
So she did. She told me that the people were really generous and invited her into the house to look around. The house was the only one that had "Cemetery Road" as its address. She described to me the backyard and how it butted up to a cemetery. She said that she went into the backyard and walked toward the cemetery. "As I walked toward the cemetery, I felt something crunching beneath my feet. I looked down, and there were chestnuts. I looked up, and I saw that there was a chestnut tree there that hadn't been there before. I felt right at home. For one, I WAS home. For two, the chestnuts spurred so many good memories of home, my neighborhood, and my friends."
"So I think chestnuts are magical," she said while putting out her fisted hand again. "And I wanted to give this to you." I held out my hand, and she dropped a little chestnut into my palm. "I don't know if you'll think it's hokey, but I wanted to give this to you."
With tears in my eyes after giving her a big hug, I told her about the house I grew up in, and that at the end of the street there was a small park with a huge Chestnut tree. My friends and I would spend a lot of time in that park, picking up chestnuts, cutting our hands on the thorny husks, and collecting the nuts inside. A lot of memories flooded back to me. It was all bittersweet as I told her about my house and neighborhood. My brother and sister-in-law bought the house I grew up in from my parents. I was able to get back to see the house and the neighborhood on a regular basis until recently. They sold the house in August. I'm lucky that I had a more extended time than most people to see the house take shape under another family and watch the neighborhood do the same under new neighbors.
I kept the chestnut in my pocket the whole day. It was still in my pocket when I went to get blood drawn and to see my doctor. My doctor delivered some great news. The CT scan I had taken last weekend showed major shrinking of the tumors. He was really pleased.
Chestnuts. Memories. Family. Friends. Good news. Love.
Anyway, as I sat at my desk doing various pre-school activities, a woman came into my office. She's a T.A. at our school, and I've come to know her well. She was the T.A. two years ago in my friend Jan's classroom, and last year in my friend Allie's classroom (Hi, Allie!). Both of those years, my class teamed up to be reading buddies with the class where she was a T.A.
It's pretty unusual to see her on our wing of the school. We're kind of isolated on a fourth and fifth grade island, and she works on the second and third grade island.
She softly said, "Good morning. Do have a few minutes?" I always feel like that second sentence is loaded. I use it myself, so I know how it is to be on the other end delivering it. Sometimes it's a serious matter, oftentimes it ends up being an emotional matter.
"Sure," I said hesitantly. As I said that, she held out a fisted hand like she wanted me to open my hand to receive something. But she pulled her hand back when she started her story. "I don't know if I ever told you this story, but I've always liked Chestnut trees," she shyly explained. "Growing up, there was a Chestnut tree on the way to my school. When I would walk to school, my friends and I would always pick up the chestnuts. That tree evokes such great memories for me."
"But now," she further explained, "The neighborhood has really changed. The Chestnut tree is gone, and a lot of the houses have changed or have been torn down and rebuilt."
She went on to tell me that recently she went back to her hometown to visit her mother's and father's graves. "But before I went to the cemetery, I took a drive around the neighborhood. The house next door to the one I grew up in was having a garage sale [she LOVES garage sales] so I stopped by. As I got to talking with the people who were having the garage sale, they convinced me to go next door to see my old house."
So she did. She told me that the people were really generous and invited her into the house to look around. The house was the only one that had "Cemetery Road" as its address. She described to me the backyard and how it butted up to a cemetery. She said that she went into the backyard and walked toward the cemetery. "As I walked toward the cemetery, I felt something crunching beneath my feet. I looked down, and there were chestnuts. I looked up, and I saw that there was a chestnut tree there that hadn't been there before. I felt right at home. For one, I WAS home. For two, the chestnuts spurred so many good memories of home, my neighborhood, and my friends."
"So I think chestnuts are magical," she said while putting out her fisted hand again. "And I wanted to give this to you." I held out my hand, and she dropped a little chestnut into my palm. "I don't know if you'll think it's hokey, but I wanted to give this to you."
With tears in my eyes after giving her a big hug, I told her about the house I grew up in, and that at the end of the street there was a small park with a huge Chestnut tree. My friends and I would spend a lot of time in that park, picking up chestnuts, cutting our hands on the thorny husks, and collecting the nuts inside. A lot of memories flooded back to me. It was all bittersweet as I told her about my house and neighborhood. My brother and sister-in-law bought the house I grew up in from my parents. I was able to get back to see the house and the neighborhood on a regular basis until recently. They sold the house in August. I'm lucky that I had a more extended time than most people to see the house take shape under another family and watch the neighborhood do the same under new neighbors.
I kept the chestnut in my pocket the whole day. It was still in my pocket when I went to get blood drawn and to see my doctor. My doctor delivered some great news. The CT scan I had taken last weekend showed major shrinking of the tumors. He was really pleased.
Chestnuts. Memories. Family. Friends. Good news. Love.
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Chemo 9 to 5, What a Way to Make a Living
Chemo #4. 1/3 of the way done! I think about countdowns this way. I think in fractional terms (although I was never good at fractions), and then I think about how many of those fractions I still need to do. So, two more thirds, and I'll be done. I can do it, not that I really have a choice.
So back to yesterday. Well, actually, I have to go back to Thursday. I was at school, standing on a chair so I could reach some stuff on a shelf. As I was sorting through the stuff, a grey shadow came over the side of my right eye. I blinked a couple times to try to clear it, but it didn't go away. Two thoughts ran through my head: Am I going to faint? and Am I going blind? I decided it was best to get down from the chair. I sat down and realized that I wasn't going to faint. Eventually the shadow got smaller, so I also realized I wasn't going blind. What was left was a small shadow/spot of black at the top left part of my eye.
So of course I consulted Dr. Google. Everything from migraines to detached retinas came up as search results. I decided to call my oncologist. Maybe it was chemo related. After waiting a while for the call back, I called again. This time, they called back pretty quickly. The nurse from the office said, "Are you calling from work? Because the doctor thinks that you just need to go home and rest. You're working too hard." Little did she know my student teacher had his first solo week, so I wasn't working that hard. But, I heeded her advice and went home. I rested all afternoon, but still had the spot when I got up.
My sister Mickey (Hi, Mick!) came that night so she could go to chemo with Stein and me the next day. We caught up a little and then went to bed. The next morning, I woke up and the spot was still there. I was told by the nurse the day before that I should inform the clinic if it was still there the next day. I got my blood drawn as planned, then went up to the clinic and talked to the nurse. She said it was probably ok to go ahead with chemo, but she would consult one of the doctors (mine was on vacation).
I got called into chemo (same room, same nurse!) and sat down in the chair. As we were just getting settled, the nurse from the clinic came in and said they got me a STAT appointment at the Eye Center (add another building to the list!) and I was to go right over there. We got over there around 9:15 and was told that my appointment was at 10:45. So much for STAT! I wasn't called in until 11:15, and then endured a battery of eye tests, including dilation of my pupils. At the end of the 3 1/2 hours, they said they couldn't find anything abnormal, but wanted me to go to a neuro-opthamologist on Friday. Can't have a week go by without seeing a doctor, I guess.
Needless to say, we got back to the Cancer Center late. I told the nurse at the clinic that they couldn't find anything, so I could go on with the chemo, right? She had to consult the doctor again, and then came out and said my blood numbers were low, so I couldn't have the chemo. I know it sounds crazy, but I almost started crying. I didn't want to have to postpone the treatment. I didn't want to have to delay my whole schedule. I'm supposed to be done at the end of March, and by golly, I will be done at the end of March. (Remember losing that control thing? Ahem.) Anyway, the doctor came out and said my white blood cell count was the same as the last time, and the time before that. He asked how I was feeling (just like last time except for the eye issue) and said that it was okay to go ahead with the chemo.
So in to the room I went (same room, different nurse) and Mickey and I settled in. Stein brought us some lunch (Thanks, Stein) and we kept ourselves busy for the next 3 hours. We were out of there at 5:30, and home by 5:45. Mickey dropped me off at home and went to the store to buy stuff to cook for dinner (Thanks again, Mick!). I slept a little on the couch, and then moved up to bed where I had a dinner of Cheez-Its (Thanks, Anne!) and went to bed for the night. I slept pretty well, but still had the small spot in my eye when I woke up. It hasn't gotten worse, just annoying.
I told Stein and Mickey that someone is again telling me to let go and slow down. This stuff is out of my control, and I need to learn to just take it as it is and go with it. A lesson to be learned for sure. Another lesson I learned yesterday as I was getting so annoyed with the circus the day became: I'm lucky. As I've said before, this sucks that I have this and have to go through it, but it could be worse. There was a woman in the chair next to me who was in her chair before I got there, and still there when I left. She was also packing up medicines to take home because she will have to be on a pump for 48 more hours once she got home. The nurse who administered my chemo told me about a friend she was going to visit whose husband just died of lung cancer.
I need to be thankful and accept that my lesson will have ups and downs and maybe a little waiting along the way, but I'm going to be okay at the end.
So back to yesterday. Well, actually, I have to go back to Thursday. I was at school, standing on a chair so I could reach some stuff on a shelf. As I was sorting through the stuff, a grey shadow came over the side of my right eye. I blinked a couple times to try to clear it, but it didn't go away. Two thoughts ran through my head: Am I going to faint? and Am I going blind? I decided it was best to get down from the chair. I sat down and realized that I wasn't going to faint. Eventually the shadow got smaller, so I also realized I wasn't going blind. What was left was a small shadow/spot of black at the top left part of my eye.
So of course I consulted Dr. Google. Everything from migraines to detached retinas came up as search results. I decided to call my oncologist. Maybe it was chemo related. After waiting a while for the call back, I called again. This time, they called back pretty quickly. The nurse from the office said, "Are you calling from work? Because the doctor thinks that you just need to go home and rest. You're working too hard." Little did she know my student teacher had his first solo week, so I wasn't working that hard. But, I heeded her advice and went home. I rested all afternoon, but still had the spot when I got up.
My sister Mickey (Hi, Mick!) came that night so she could go to chemo with Stein and me the next day. We caught up a little and then went to bed. The next morning, I woke up and the spot was still there. I was told by the nurse the day before that I should inform the clinic if it was still there the next day. I got my blood drawn as planned, then went up to the clinic and talked to the nurse. She said it was probably ok to go ahead with chemo, but she would consult one of the doctors (mine was on vacation).
I got called into chemo (same room, same nurse!) and sat down in the chair. As we were just getting settled, the nurse from the clinic came in and said they got me a STAT appointment at the Eye Center (add another building to the list!) and I was to go right over there. We got over there around 9:15 and was told that my appointment was at 10:45. So much for STAT! I wasn't called in until 11:15, and then endured a battery of eye tests, including dilation of my pupils. At the end of the 3 1/2 hours, they said they couldn't find anything abnormal, but wanted me to go to a neuro-opthamologist on Friday. Can't have a week go by without seeing a doctor, I guess.
Needless to say, we got back to the Cancer Center late. I told the nurse at the clinic that they couldn't find anything, so I could go on with the chemo, right? She had to consult the doctor again, and then came out and said my blood numbers were low, so I couldn't have the chemo. I know it sounds crazy, but I almost started crying. I didn't want to have to postpone the treatment. I didn't want to have to delay my whole schedule. I'm supposed to be done at the end of March, and by golly, I will be done at the end of March. (Remember losing that control thing? Ahem.) Anyway, the doctor came out and said my white blood cell count was the same as the last time, and the time before that. He asked how I was feeling (just like last time except for the eye issue) and said that it was okay to go ahead with the chemo.
So in to the room I went (same room, different nurse) and Mickey and I settled in. Stein brought us some lunch (Thanks, Stein) and we kept ourselves busy for the next 3 hours. We were out of there at 5:30, and home by 5:45. Mickey dropped me off at home and went to the store to buy stuff to cook for dinner (Thanks again, Mick!). I slept a little on the couch, and then moved up to bed where I had a dinner of Cheez-Its (Thanks, Anne!) and went to bed for the night. I slept pretty well, but still had the small spot in my eye when I woke up. It hasn't gotten worse, just annoying.
I told Stein and Mickey that someone is again telling me to let go and slow down. This stuff is out of my control, and I need to learn to just take it as it is and go with it. A lesson to be learned for sure. Another lesson I learned yesterday as I was getting so annoyed with the circus the day became: I'm lucky. As I've said before, this sucks that I have this and have to go through it, but it could be worse. There was a woman in the chair next to me who was in her chair before I got there, and still there when I left. She was also packing up medicines to take home because she will have to be on a pump for 48 more hours once she got home. The nurse who administered my chemo told me about a friend she was going to visit whose husband just died of lung cancer.
I need to be thankful and accept that my lesson will have ups and downs and maybe a little waiting along the way, but I'm going to be okay at the end.
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