The last day of an interesting year

I'm big on closure. I like wrapping it up, saying something profound at the finish, having a stirring conclusion to a story, a tidy ending, a resolution. Life isn't like that and this year won't be like that, despite the calendar changing and a new year beginning.

Eight weeks out from the mastectomy and six weeks since my last surgery, I'm starting to feel human again. I have function and some flexibility in my arms, and energy to last the day (usually without a nap). I can get deep, restful sleep for an hour or two on my sides at night before waking and having to turn onto my back again. I can breathe deeply and hike up the hills below and behind the house without collapsing. It isn't the end of the story, but it's a good beginning.

I spent most of 2007 in blissful ignorance of what was to come. I saw my children in January in TN, and again in their new home in Seattle in the summer. Friends came to visit in the spring. In the summer, I travelled almost 9,000 miles of our amazing country with faithful dog Echo, and later added husband Bill on the return journey home. I found old friends that I hadn't seen in many years and had a month in my childhood home, just being with my Mom. I had time with my brother and his family, and visited treasured family friends. I got to see Yellowstone with my husband for his first visit, and found it remarkably unchanged from my time there, almost 30 years ago.

It never occurred to me--EVER--that I would come home to find our lives changed forever in September, with a diagnosis of breast cancer. I flowed through my days thinking that everything would be the same, that we were somehow immune to the challenges and crises that others have faced or will be confronted with? My life was set, I had all the pieces in place at last. Children grown, gone, and independent, over the adjustment of the move to TN, learning the skills I needed to repair and renovate the house, getting ready to develop the acreage, and learning how to be a "just a couple" with my husband. I'm thinking now that life has a way of smacking us around when we are that complacent!

I've been deeply shaken by this awfulness, and feel rather fragile right now. I put on a good show of bluster and confidence, but some days I still just can't believe how quickly and profoundly my former life got smashed to pieces. The feelings of loss for that simple happy ignorance and the rage at my body betraying me at this point in my life are still there, and probably always will be there in the background.

The only resolution is this: None of us gets to choose what happens to us. All we get is the decision on how we are going to deal with whatever gets handed to us.

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Things are going to start happening again next week. Test results will start coming in again, and decisions will have to be made about what comes next. I have posted the Schedule box up top again so you will know where I am and what is happening. No tidy conclusions, just a continuation of the process. That's what life is about, for now, and I'll just keep marching onward.

A voice from beyond...

Jean and I were having a late, light dinner last night when the phone rang.

Bill's voice from half-way around the world! He finally has possession of his long-lost seabag, which means he now has comfortable, Western-style underwear and his essential Swiss Army knife that I gave him for our anniversary. Earl finally made it to the ship (he missed his flights two weeks ago due to the same weather that delayed Bill), which means Bill won't be doing two jobs and only be paid for one.

Although we email every day, it still was great to hear his voice, now finally rid of that blasted cold that felled us all. Mom is home safely too, after a grueling 12 hours of delayed travel back to the West Coast. Ah, everyone in their appointed place!

Another quiet, cloudy day at what Bill calls "La Casa Redondo." It occured to me that many friends and relatives have heard about our round house, but not seen it. Thanks to MaryAnn and her excellent photography skills, I will post pictures, though I cringe at the dilapidated appearance of our abode. All of our efforts have thus far been concentrated on making it liveable, not yet on making it attractive with that all-important "curb-appeal." (As if we even had a curb). The new roof a year ago was one of those essential improvements (now I can use my pots and pans for cooking instead of catching drips when it rains), but I can see in the pictures how desperately it needs paint (and how about cleaning up that yard-trash too, Pam?) Maybe when Bill gets home in the spring I can tear him away from the History Channel and slap a paint brush in his hand?

Old Friends, New Friends, & New Insights

It seems strange in a way, to think of my mother as one of my best friends. When we got over just being mother and daughter and I started looking at her as a real person with a real life (other than just being my mother), we were able to become friends starting about 30 years ago.

We slip into old parent-child patterns still, but the friendship continues to grow. I am amazed at her abilities and skills, and encouraged by her outlook on life. She is the most open person I know. She actively seeks adventure and new experiences and has the unique ability to constantly challenge her own assumptions, even when it's uncomfortable. She has zest, and she is interesting and interested in everything around her. It was great just being around her.

Mom introduced me to Mary (whom she met on the plane coming to TN), who introduced me to Val Donna and Gail. We spent a wonderful afternoon just chatting and sharing experiences. Once again, I am reminded that there will be an end to the immediacy of dealing with Breast Cancer. There is life after, life beyond, and this experience will fade, just as the pains and inconveniences and scars do with time. Whatever our place or time, we are all warriors, but we do get to go home after our battles and resume something that resembles a full and normal life.

Younger or older, unique yet somehow connected, all of us get touched and tested by this experience, either ourselves or through our friends. Our partners, our children and our parents go through it too, each in his or her own way. We are changed, and we are still here, picking our way through a minefield of emotions, finding a path and living well, despite the uncertainties of the future.

"You're going to be just fine," Mom and these lovely ladies told me. I am so proud to call them my friends and I believe them.

Another busy day

We had a fun visit with Jean last night and then this morning, MaryAnn came for coffee too! Jean decided to continue on to the Outer Banks for an exploration. Autumn and Echo managed to find some accommodation with each other. I'm just thankful my big dog didn't eat Jean's little dog! She will stop by on her way back to Kentucky, so we will have another chance to visit in a few days. MaryAnn and my mom have become fast friends as well.

Mom and I are off to Kingsport this afternoon for a look-see foray into wig shopping and a visit with Mary, whom Mom met on the plane coming out. She's a 6-year survivor with information and a circle of friends to share with me. We somehow manage to find each other and connect. Despite the shock and trauma of this stupid, senseless disease, something good comes out of all of it. I cling to that.

I can't believe that Mom must return to her life tomorrow. It's been so great to spend time together, and it will be hard to say goodbye. I know I must deal with the "living alone" thing again, but it will be weird after having constant companionship and support close at hand for the past 5 months. I'll probably end up talking to the dog to ease the silence, and then everyone will be concerned about my mental health as well!

Boxing Day

I don't know why its called "Boxing Day," I will have to look it up. I suppose it doesn't matter, we're not British, but these bits and snatches of arcane information float around in my brain, taking up space, just waiting to be shared. So Happy Boxing Day, whatever it means!

Another cold, clear day with lots of sunshine. How happy I am to be here to enjoy it.

Cousin Jean is coming for a one-day visit. Always a good time. Mom and I will do some errands this morning (laundry always looms), we will take a walk in the afternoon with the dogs, and plan for a rousing Scrabble game tonight.

Quiet day, peaceful day. A little work, a little physical exercise, a little fun.

God Bless Us, Everyone

I'm not a big fan of Dickens, but here I've chosen him for today's quote and title. Maybe I'll read him again this year and try to like him better. It's a beautiful Christmas Day, and I've vowed to spend today in a state of gratitude.

I've spent more time in churches this week than I have in the past year. Not a bad way to spend the week preceding Christmas, listening and singing to music and reflecting on what I have to be thankful for. So here's a partial "thankful" list:

Invigorating weather, without having to shovel snow!
Being together with Mom, to share laughter, stories & fun!
A faithful, ever-loyal, and working husband!
Independent & interesting children, who make me proud everyday!
Loving, caring friends (who are sometimes relatives too)!
Competent doctors & nurses who have gotten me through the hard parts of this year!
Increasing physical strength and mental toughness!

So here's hoping you have a wonderful day, and have as much to be grateful for in your life!

Christmas Eve Day

Christmas Eve Day dawned cold and clear here in Northeast TN, with brilliant sunshine, streaming in the windows, and 25 degrees at 8 AM.

I can't quite believe that we're here already, at the end of the year that I thought would never end. One day at a time, and now it is almost gone. This is a year I'm sure I will never forget, and I'm looking forward to writing a new kind of story next year. A movin'-on tale. A "what's next?" missive. I'm ready to roll up 2007, put it in a box and store it in the back of the closet, never to be dragged out again!

Happy Christmas to all, and looking forward to a GREAT 2008! (Hey, it even rhymes)!

Sometimes even normal?

Just the past few days, it has occurred to me that I am getting to the point that these "things" on my chest aren't making themselves known every minute of every day. Almost real and normal, like being able to go through the day not thinking about my bust at all.

It helps that the stabbing pains, the burning chafes, the achy twinges and the sharp pulling and pressure are lessening each day. The swelling is down, the stitches don't itch. I can actually "forget-about-it," at least in the mornings. Amazing. I can now see that there might be a time when these become part of me to the point where I don't have to think about which way to move, what I can or cannot do, where I don't feel "OW!" or anticipate an "OUCH!" That would be terrific and go a long way towards feeling whole again.

Our days are quiet here in the woods, but we're having some fun too. Lots of books and movies and music. A little bit of exercise too, with Echo to walk daily, and the treks up and down the stairs in our daily chores. I hope Mom doesn't find it too boring--I find it refreshingly peaceful and stress-less. Not a bad way to spend Christmas...Peace & Joy and all that.

Solstice

Is today the Solstice? Anyone? It must be, the nights are so long, the days so short. It's amazing that I get anything done at all. With my love of sleep, I think I could just snooze the whole winter through, if life's details didn't beckon.

Walking in the woods yesterday, I heard a sound I had forgotten in our drought--Devil's Nose Creek, babbling over stones for the first time since last April! One of the exposed stumps in the pond is now submerged, giving a visual measurement that we are finally getting water back in the well, back in the pond. Rainy days are gloomy and sleepy, but I'll put up with them if I can replenish our water supply.

Bill is settling in on his ship, destination undisclosed--it's classified, and I'm fine with that. We can still email each other everyday, and I read his brief messages each morning while drinking my coffee. What a boon! All those years before email, we were lucky to exchange one or two letters, and perhaps a crackly phone call (made from a post office, where you pay your money and wait for 4 hours to be connected) in 3 months time. Technology certainly changed our lives for the better. I suppose he could get an international-type cell phone if we wanted to bear the expense, but email seems to suffice for our communication needs.

Today, Mom and I will shower (still a joyful event to look forward to, after our trials of last week!) and go to the movies this afternoon and a music concert tonight with MaryAnn, at the Methodist church.

Moving through the days, one by one. Stopping to breathe in the small amount of light that Winter's shortest days allow. Thankful for all the small things that bring a measure of contentment and happiness. This is what life is made of.

Getting Organized

Mom is helping me get organized. The paperwork was getting unmanageable, piles of bills to be sorted and filed, receipts for gas & meals from our trips to Virginia, papers from the insurance company, medical monographs for information and notes of things to ask Dr. DaSilva. All of it in a big pile of "To be Filed."

We put together a binder, organized by date, pages for each trip with mileage and receipts stapled to the page. Bills and Explanation of Benefits all together, so now I can see if the insurance has paid, and what is still owed. Now I can FIND stuff!

It's a full-time job, keeping all of this straight. How do people do this and still manage to work, raise families, keep things semi-normal? I am so lucky that all I have to do is concentrate on getting well! I don't think I could do this and handle anything else right now, it's so overwhelming. Yet, so many women go through this alone, or do it and manage to keep all the balls juggling in the air at the same time. I just shake my head in admiration.

Mom has also been helping me get items organized and ready to sell on eBay, light things that are easy to package and mail. She catalogs them and alphabetizes them, and each morning I type up a master list with her additions. We work well in coordination with each other, if not actually "together."

Today, I feel the need to get festive for Christmas. We will trek off to the grocery for baking supplies (I've misplaced my powdered sugar) and bake cookies for friends. With carols playing in the background, 3 Netflix movies waiting to be watched, and the smell of holiday spices baking--that should be just about right!

Things To Do During & After Cancer

The busy-ness of the last few days has convinced me that I need to be doing something besides just sitting around, waiting to recover strength and define my new normalcy. Don't get me wrong--my days are full and long--I bathe, I exercise, I cook & eat, do household chores and daily clean-up. I read, I write, I shop for provisions. But at the end of the day, I can't say I've really accomplished anything productive or of lasting consequence.

When I was sitting in countless waiting rooms at UVA, I started a list: Things to Do After Cancer. It was an exercise in positive thinking, hoping really, that there would be an "after" in which to do all the things I want to do with my life from now stretching far off into a long future.

Now I'm thinking I need a different kind of list: Things To Do During Cancer So As Not To Be Dwelling Constantly On Cancer. I need a project, a goal, an occupation, an avocation.

Maybe the trick is to forget about making lists and just get going on the "Doing."



Postscript: For those who have inquired, Bill finally made it to Japan and his ship after 3 days of travel by planes and hired cars. His luggage is still lost in the maw of airline travel, but he bought some clothes at the Navy base and sailed anyway. Perhaps the shipping agent will get it for him and to him when the ship returns to port. In any case, my sailor is now on the briny deep, and doing the work he does so well.

Attitude

It occurs to me (duh!) that in the throes of plumbing hell, I haven't spent much time at all in the past 4 days ruminating about myself or my disease. I have not had time or inclination to deal with "how I feel" or "what the future will bring" or anything but getting the right people out here to fix my septic system.

Keeping busy with the details of life has a salubrious effect on attitude. Yes, it's been stressful, but it sure beats dwelling on oneself ad nauseum to the point of self-pity and despair. And to be honest, those times have been mercifully brief, and lessen with each day passing.

My default position is optimism--it just makes life so much more fun! While complaining creates better copy and funnier jokes, it colors outlook and promotes a spiral of negative thoughts. I just don't want to go there, now or in the future. I feel stronger each day, and the small things I have to put up with are no big deal in the long run.

I have so much to be thankful for, and that's where I want to concentrate my energy. I look at it as a matter of choice--I don't have any control over what happens to me, but I do get to choose how I will feel about it. I want to be thankful everyday for what I have, and move through the world with confidence and verve and zest!

YES!

Plumbing all fixed. Future problems prevented. $225. Priceless!

Plumbing relief within reach...

I know, I know. I said I was moving out if the plumbing wasn't fixed yesterday, but there were mitigating circumstances. The septic guys came. They pumped. They even put a ladder inside and went down into the [pardon] bowels of the tank. There's a job we can all be grateful that someone else does for us.

There was a collapsed inlet pipe that needs to be replaced. I called the plumber who was at the town jail, dealing with frozen pipes. He said he could be here first thing in the morning. Whew.
Then last night, he called back saying he couldn't make it, I'd have to find someone else because his biggest commercial account, TRW, had burst pipes that would take all day. At least he called. He recommended a friend who is an excavator, and that fellow said that he could come out, depending on whether it was warm enough for his 'quipment to start.

Mom and I got up early, packed some stuff and went off to Ray's rental house (still being readied to rent) for running toilets and copious hot water showers. Wow. That feels good! We stopped at the laundromat for a quick load of wash and zipped home to walk the dog and dry the wash. And wait for Mr. Excavator, "Bo."

Bo came at noon and excavated. He fixed the collapsed inlet pipe. In the meantime, I went down to the basement and found water all over the floor, backed up again! Apparently the water softener did its programmed regurgitation thing last night and filled the pipes with water again, and it was still not draining right. I showed the guys, and they had no snake, but wait! Bill bought one on Saturday (but didn't tell me where he put it), maybe I could find it? Amazingly, I did spot it, and they snaked out 50 feet from the floor drains. No luck. They snaked it from the septic end and ran into a solid clog about 2 feet from the end. "Am I going to have to call someone else?" I asked. "Maybe..." Bo said.

He made a hook on the flat end of the snake and managed to pull out the clog, and leapt out of the way as about 50 gallons of effluvia gushed out of the pipe. This has been clogged and broken for longer than we've lived here, he said. I'm convinced that all it took to make it quit completely was Bill getting on a ship.

Now my plumbing "heroes" are out getting the parts they need to finish the job, and it looks like we'll have a working system again (crossed fingers) by tonight. If indeed this is the end of this plumbing nightmare, whatever he wants to charge me is just fine. I will write the check and wish him a Merry Christmas.

Toilets. Running water, hot and cold. Yes, it's the little (and believe me, they are not so little anymore!) things in life I am so grateful for!

Day 3 of No Plumbing

Today is the day I either get this fixed or move out. I don't mind "camping" that much, but it's below freezing, and this is a major problem for Mom. Now we're talking about cutting back on our food and fluid intake to avoid having to "go outback."

Bill's flight was delayed in Tri-Cities because of snow in Detroit, but I saw online that the flight finally left at noon, and a later flight to Tokyo was delayed there to give those passengers time to make it. Last I saw, he left Detroit around 4 PM for the Orient. I trust he was already exhausted enough to sleep the whole way across and will arrive sometime tonight (which will be tomorrow night for him).

I finally have THE COLD that he and Mom had last week. Merry Christmas, everyone. I fought it valiantly for as long as I could, but the intestinal bug wiped out whatever resistance I had, leaving me open for the rhinovirus. Swell.

Just got a call from the septic service and they are warming up the truck now. All together now, "Hallelujah!"

Winter Comes, Bill Leaves

"Baaaaad" weather was predicted for this AM, and it was raining fairly hard when we left at 4:45. Ten miles out of town, the driver's side windshield wiper did a flip in midair and came down like a goose shot out of the air--flap, flap, flap. Bill shut off the wipers, rolled down the window and tried to steer down the highway with the rain pelting in his face. Hasn't FATE had enough FUN with us this year?????

We made it to a gas station with many lights outside, and a sheriff idling in the lot jawing with the attendant. Alas! The days of the "service station" are past us. The cop drove away, the employee went inside out of the rain, and Bill managed to snap the wiper back together again by himself. Back on the road, for whatever more adventure awaited us on the way to the airport.

We made it to the airport on time, just as the rain stopped. All of a sudden, a huge blast of cold wind whipped through the area. All the lights in the parking lot went out, and all the electronic parking meters when down. Yeah! Free Parking!

Bill is now on his way to Japan, a torturous trip that will last 26 hours and deposit him across the globe two days and an afternoon from now. I drove back to Rogersville, went to mom's motel and had a hot bath AND a shower. We also had "complimentary" breakfast there until someone came in shouting "It's SNOWING outside!"

I looked. It was melting as soon as it hit the ground, but I suppose it had come down as snow at some point. These good people in TN have forgotten what snowing really is, but there was a bitter, chill wind brewing, so we came home to the warm, round house (the one with the non-working bathrooms and sinks).

Mom and I will figure out what to do for tonight (I'm thinking of getting out the entrenching tools and pocket TP packs, we weren't Girl Scouts for nothing...) and hopefully we will resolve our plumbing problems tomorrow.

In the meantime, the sky clears, then clouds, then spits cold wet stuff, then clears again. Winter.

Bill Leaves, Plumbing Goes on Strike...

It had to be. Every time Bill leaves on a ship, something dire or inconvenient happens with the house. In NY, it was the appliances that quit working 6 hours after his plane took off. I remember one winter (thankfully) that the refrigerator quit--I kept things cold in the snow for a week or two until I could deal with repair or replacement. We had two washers and two dryers, and just kept switching off--each time Bill would come home, he'd repair the broken one and we'd have two again until he left, and one would quit again.

We were lucky today. The drains clogged the day before he left. Poor Bill spent his last day wading in water, renting a snake, then buying a longer snake. He gave up about the time he needed to pack his seabag (he leaves at 4:30 am) and I took Mom over to the Comfort Inn and got a room for her to stay in tonight. At least we'll all be able to use her bathroom and shower over there until I can get a plumber out on Monday. Apparently, all Tennessee plumbers went Christmas shopping today and weren't answering their phones.

What a day! Just goes to show, the fun never stops!

Better today...

I just felt awful yesterday. Some intestinal bug that laid me down and smacked me around for about 24 hours. I'm weak but better this morning.

Bill is packing and getting ready to leave early Sunday morning. It is sad, but as we've said for 20+ years, "The sooner you go, the sooner you can come back." I refuse to speculate on what life is going to be like over the next 4 months without his presence, strength and support. We'll just take it one day at a time, as we have been doing for the past 4 months, and have faith that it will all work out.

Taking the day off...

Another gloomy rainy one. I think I'll sleep today and let the pond fill up.

Catch you tomorrow...

Busy Day, Scary Thoughts

I am running errands today. Fedex for sending boxes (Bill will load them in the car, the clerks will remove them from my car), and lunch with Melanie, and maybe even a short trip to the mall for some Christmas shopping time? I'll have to see what my energy level is after lunch.

Bill and Mom are on the mend, having made it to the "Hacking and Coughing Incessantly" stage. Bill will be leaving on Sunday to start his working life again, halfway around the globe.

I spent yesterday resting, and doing research on the Oncotype DX Breast Cancer Assay Test that Dr. DaSilva ordered. From there, I was able to link to reading monographs on chemotherapy drugs and side effects in medical journals. I am trying to get educated enough to eventually make a decision about my future treatment and also decide how I want to live the rest of my life with the "shadow" of breast cancer always in the background.

This is what we "bosom buddies" all think about, and rarely voice: "If it comes back..."

If it comes back, the options get more and more limited, your life becomes less your own and really all about the cancer, because now you know that this disease is what will kill you. From that point on, you go from treatment to treatment, trying everything, trying to eek out somewhat of a normal life, in between treatments. The drugs eventually stop working, you switch to other drugs, which also stop working. The only defense is to make the right decision at the point where I am, and hope for the best. And just how does one do that?

The temptation is to err on the side of overkill. Do everything, as aggressively as possible, even if it only means a 1 or 2 percent improvement in your statistical chances. The emotional side is that already, I want this to be over and done with! The objective truth is that no one can predict who will never have another problem (with or without further post-surgical treatment), and who will have a recurrence, despite the most aggressive chemo and/or hormonal regimen. The Oncotype DX test is very encouraging, because statistically, it appears to be able to predict just that--within a 5% margin of error, of course, because no one really knows. But it's all just numbers--they can't really tell YOU what is going to happen with YOU.

It occurs to me that every woman I know who is going through this or has gone through this, lives with this knowledge all the time. Friends who are on the far side (beyond 5 years, even 10 years) tell me that eventually, they forget about it, or at least don't think about it everyday. That's hard for me to imagine at this point, but I trust their experiences. What courage it must take to live like that, courage that I don't have right now. I'm just slogging through the process, doing what I'm told to do--getting stronger, keeping positive, trying to make the right choices, trying to live life normally without cancer suffusing EVERYTHING.

My niece, Bonnie said to me a few nights ago, "How come you're so brave, Auntie Pam?" I told her, "I don't feel brave at all. I'm just doing what I have to do because I really don't have any other choices." It's the truth. I'm just a passenger riding the bus to wherever it goes.

I suspect the hard part comes later, in the dead of night, when you have to live with the unthinkable thoughts trying to push their way into your head, and consciously make the effort to stuff them back down again, lest they turn your life into a constant worry over "what if it comes back?"