This post chemo #3 has been difficult. I have not been able to get back my energy as I had the other times. Monday I was determined to get off my butt and go for a walk with Jeff. My oncology nurse has encouraged walking, even two short walks a day are important.
As we headed up the hill I knew I did not feel well. Jeff was immediately ready to turn me around and go back home but before that I started to go down, I was feeling faint. He managed to get me across the street and sit me down on a curb. I blacked out for a new seconds. It was a strange sensation. He was talking to me and told me he was gently slapping my face. I remember feeling like I was sleeping and hearing his voice at the same time. It all happened very fast.
A neighbor driving by saw us in distress and immediately stopped her car. I had never met her. She asked if I needed a ride home and I got in her van. I told her I was reacting to the effects of chemo. She said her husband was under chemo now too. I couldn't believe it.
As soon as I got home, Jeff had me lay on our sofa. I called my oncology nurse and she did a quick assessment over the phone. I was not short of breath and was lucid though shaken. She spoke to my doctor and advised us to go to the UCSF emergency room on Parnassus Ave. in San Francisco for a complete workup.
We did not leave in a huge rush though I didn't even bring a toothbrush not expecting to stay overnight. Poor Jeff, I felt terrible to put him through all this drama. I laid down in the backseat with pillows under my knees. It had just rained so I was smelling that special earthy first rain on the sidewalk smell and watching the freeway go by from a strange backseat perspective. Jeff kept telling me to talk to him. He wanted to be sure I was alert.I don't even remember the silly conversation I tried to keep up.
We knew it was better to stick with UCSF since all my data and medical records are in their system. My oncology doctor had told them what kinds of tests I needed. I didn't have to wait to long in the emergency to get seen. I was lucky. I had my own private cubicle, room 9. As the day wore on, patients were left on gurneys for hours because there were not rooms for them. The doctors and nurses administered to them in the halls.
My nurse, Thomas, was extremely competent. I had many tests checking for infection, my heart, and g-d only knows what else. The good news was that nothing was showing up. My blood pressure was low and out of caution it looked like I would be spending one night.
I keep wondering how a previously healthy person can get messed up by chemotherapy in so many ways.
They had decided to keep me already by 4pm but I was not moved to my room until almost 8pm. This is the system at UCSF, great care but you have to be PATIENT. It is so interesting how UCSF, as a teaching hospital approaches everything. A team of doctors decided I would stay over night. Several doctors of the team came to speak to us.
The doctors look SO young. I can see I am getting older. They were very kind but the annoying part is one doctor might ask you the whole megillah story and the second doctor might do the same thing.
Jeff asked them the most important question. What made me pass out? They really did not have a pat answer. I think dehydration played a part and the fact that my hemoglobin count is quite low, a typical effect of chemotherapy. It was going to be a long wait until I would be moved to my room. Elana arrived to be with me and brought me a goodie bag with toiletries and magazines. I told Jeff to go home as he had been with me for hours. After Elana stayed with me for a while, I told her to go home too.
I was finally moved to my room around 8PM. Tuesday morning when the doctors came by they had decided that I should have a blood transfusion but could go home later in the day.The blood transfusion would give me a boost.
My nurses were caring and knowledgeable. I ordered food from a menu trying to eat though my appetite is iffy at best. The variety of food one can order varies greatly from Mexican to Asian to standard American fare. I drink constantly and had IV fluids going as well.
My sister Linda came around 9:30 to stay with me She is always encouraging and with her medical background asked the medical staff some questions. . I told Jeff to come in later since it would take a while until I got my transfusion. He arrived around around 12:30pm.
At around 2:30 I sent Jeff out to get some air and to locate me a chocolate ice cream bar. By the time he returned, I was hooked up at last for the blood.. At 5PM we entertained ourselves with the Giant's game and finally by around 6:00PM I was discharged.
I wish I could say, instant recovery from the blood, but I'm still taking it easy today. As hard as it might be to believe, at around 2:50 PM, almost 24 hours exactly from the start of my transfusion, I started to feel like myself.
The good news that my next treatment, #4 will take place next Tuesday as scheduled (hopefully barring any more surprises.) Number 4 means two things...I will be half way done and that is the end of the AC phase of the treatment.
Though this was an expected setback, just like the old Yiddish folktales things could have been worse. I could have been alone, fallen and hit my head, blah blah blah.
So I'm here, OK, determined to get though this and on with my life. I'm sustained by my little grandsons. Elijah just starting eating solids. Saul sent me a picture of him chowing down on carrots. They were everywhere...in his hair, in his feet, all over his face. I said he needs a HAZMAT suit. Little Yeshaya grows by the minute and has pinchable cheeks. He can't stop smiling and laughing.
From what I have heard, the last four treatments are different and somewhat easier. I can only hope and pray.
Go Giants.
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Monday, October 13, 2014
My Writing Life and Getting Ready for Number 3
Some of my blog followers have asked about how I started writing. When I "retired" in 2009, I knew I wanted to do something different. I had already put in years of volunteer leadership in the Jewish world and though I immediately found some new volunteer gigs (teaching English as a second language to Chinese Seniors, and volunteering as a tutor in an Oakland grade school) I needed to find something else that would be meaningful and stimulating.
I thought I might like to try creative writing and searched on the internet for classes. By chance I found a writing workshop which met on Thursday mornings near Lake Merritt, Lakeshore Writers They had an opening and I signed up. I was nervous.
What was I even thinking that me, a 59 year old, could start creative writing at my age. Though I had written endless term papers as a history major, I had done almost no creative writing. However I had a vivid imagination. As a child, my sister and I put on elaborate plays for our parents on Saturday afternoons. I was the ringleader of great backyard adventures; playing pirates, stagecoach and whatever else I could cook up.
At the first session, the facilitator, Teresa Burns, explained that during the two and half hour class, we would write three times using the Amherst method. This meant we would write to prompts then read what we we had written and the participants would discuss the positive aspects of what they liked in the writing. There were eight of us and I was the oldest. I remember the first prompt... we were supposed to write about hair. At first I panicked, then I settled in. I could write a piece based on my daughter Elana's mane of wild hair which had a life of its own.
I was hooked.from the first class. I knew this was what I meant to do. I loved the workshop and repeated it many times. My fellow writers, some of whom I wrote with repeatedly, were amazing, and I still remember their writing voices. I learned that every writer has a distinct voice layered with personal experience and their history that infuses their fictional writing.
I have taken other writing classes in San Francisco and Berkeley through OLLI, Osher Lifelong Learning in memoir, poetry and screenwriting.
I began writing intensively in my free time and discovered the world of writing contests and on-line publishing and started sending my short stories, poetry and non-fiction all over. I have had a number of pieces published and to be sure have received my share of rejection notices as well. I have had to learn to just get over the rejections and keep at it.
What I have realized is that since becoming a "writer", and you should know it is not easy to call myself a writer, is that I have developed a sixth sense. I have become an observer of people and mannerisms. I tune in to random conversations at the market or on a BART train.
I often go back in my memory and conjure up the images of my childhood ... our beloved neighbor handing me poppies over our splintery fence,.my mother's old O'Keefe and Merritt stove in our sunny kitchen, the beauty of the magenta rhododendrons at Golden Gate Park, lazy summer afternoons in Calistoga. These kaleidoscope images pop up in my stories and poetry.
Ironically my current health situation will give me much to write about. I have already sent away two new poems to a literary magazine.
OK...so I've been stalling. My number 3 chemo is coming up this Tuesday. The only thing I know for sure is that receiving chemo is like being on a runaway roller coaster with constant ups and downs . Because my resistance is lower, I am very susceptible to little viruses and this round I had a slight cold and a mild stomach thing. Because I'm constantly thirsty, our Indian summer hot weather was not pleasant. Basically I figured out that chemo leaves one delicate and vulnerable.
When I have a good day, as I have said in previous blogs, I am truly grateful. What a lesson I am learning... to treasure life day by and good health. My two local grandsons, Elijah and Shaya are still my biggest cheerleaders and no matter how crappy I feel they make me feel better.
Thanks to all of you for sticking with me as I navigate this bumpy road. I treasure your cards, emails and messages.
I thought I might like to try creative writing and searched on the internet for classes. By chance I found a writing workshop which met on Thursday mornings near Lake Merritt, Lakeshore Writers They had an opening and I signed up. I was nervous.
What was I even thinking that me, a 59 year old, could start creative writing at my age. Though I had written endless term papers as a history major, I had done almost no creative writing. However I had a vivid imagination. As a child, my sister and I put on elaborate plays for our parents on Saturday afternoons. I was the ringleader of great backyard adventures; playing pirates, stagecoach and whatever else I could cook up.
At the first session, the facilitator, Teresa Burns, explained that during the two and half hour class, we would write three times using the Amherst method. This meant we would write to prompts then read what we we had written and the participants would discuss the positive aspects of what they liked in the writing. There were eight of us and I was the oldest. I remember the first prompt... we were supposed to write about hair. At first I panicked, then I settled in. I could write a piece based on my daughter Elana's mane of wild hair which had a life of its own.
I was hooked.from the first class. I knew this was what I meant to do. I loved the workshop and repeated it many times. My fellow writers, some of whom I wrote with repeatedly, were amazing, and I still remember their writing voices. I learned that every writer has a distinct voice layered with personal experience and their history that infuses their fictional writing.
I have taken other writing classes in San Francisco and Berkeley through OLLI, Osher Lifelong Learning in memoir, poetry and screenwriting.
I began writing intensively in my free time and discovered the world of writing contests and on-line publishing and started sending my short stories, poetry and non-fiction all over. I have had a number of pieces published and to be sure have received my share of rejection notices as well. I have had to learn to just get over the rejections and keep at it.
What I have realized is that since becoming a "writer", and you should know it is not easy to call myself a writer, is that I have developed a sixth sense. I have become an observer of people and mannerisms. I tune in to random conversations at the market or on a BART train.
I often go back in my memory and conjure up the images of my childhood ... our beloved neighbor handing me poppies over our splintery fence,.my mother's old O'Keefe and Merritt stove in our sunny kitchen, the beauty of the magenta rhododendrons at Golden Gate Park, lazy summer afternoons in Calistoga. These kaleidoscope images pop up in my stories and poetry.
Ironically my current health situation will give me much to write about. I have already sent away two new poems to a literary magazine.
OK...so I've been stalling. My number 3 chemo is coming up this Tuesday. The only thing I know for sure is that receiving chemo is like being on a runaway roller coaster with constant ups and downs . Because my resistance is lower, I am very susceptible to little viruses and this round I had a slight cold and a mild stomach thing. Because I'm constantly thirsty, our Indian summer hot weather was not pleasant. Basically I figured out that chemo leaves one delicate and vulnerable.
When I have a good day, as I have said in previous blogs, I am truly grateful. What a lesson I am learning... to treasure life day by and good health. My two local grandsons, Elijah and Shaya are still my biggest cheerleaders and no matter how crappy I feel they make me feel better.
Thanks to all of you for sticking with me as I navigate this bumpy road. I treasure your cards, emails and messages.
Monday, October 6, 2014
When I Grow Up
When you have cancer you do think about time, longevity and the quality
of life. Two of the most remarkable women I know are in their nineties.
I recently said to my sister's mother in law, Marian, who just turned ninety three, that I wanted to be like her when I grow up. She is an amazing woman. During her working years, she was an Egyptologist teaching at San Francisco State. She led numerous tour groups to visit the pyramids. Marian has many interests. She is an avid Giants and 49'er's fan and never misses the opera, ballet or symphony. She continues to take classes at the Fromm Institute and is about to leave for a trip to China with one of her sons. If you want to reach her, you better call really early in the morning because she might very well be out.
Every summer she hosts a full house of family and guests at the family home on idyllic private lake in Stratford, Connecticut. Jeff and I were part of the gang there one summer.
What I most admire about her is her spirit and attitude. Having lost her dear son, Peter, my sister's husband, this year from a difficult illness, she doesn't wallow or feel sorry for herself. The other day she said to me, "you have to look forward, not back." Over the years we have enjoyed many wonderful meals and family celebrations in her Twin Peaks home taking in breathtaking views of San Francisco. "Mimi" as she is known to her flock of grandchildren and great grandchildren is one of my role models.
Another nonagenarian whom I admire is in many ways is completely different from Marian,. She is my mother's cousin Trude who turned ninety this past August. She is a force of nature though she is barely five feet tall. Trude is the one remaining cousin of my mother's family, the last link to my mom in many ways.
Trude has an amazing spirit like Marian. Her nickname is "Butterfly" and she lives up to the name flitting about, spreading her little bits of family news as she stays in touch and shares her affection with her extended family. She loves hearing about my grandchildren and adores when the Israeli crew came to visit her in San Francisco.
Trude was born in Fronhausen, a small town in Central Germany, near my mother's home town. Her story of survival in brutal ghettos and concentration camps as a young girl, later being reunited with her beloved sister Jenni is a book of its own. Her dear mother and two older brothers did not survive.
Trude and her family were beloved in their small town and known for their generosity. On a trip to Germany, I visited my mother's picturesque village and Trude's home, spending time with people who remembered her family and heard the stories firsthand.
In the last twenty years, several determined young Germans, not even alive during the war, have dedicated themselves to establishing an organization to insure that the Jews of this region are not forgotten. Trude is like a celebrity to them. She receives many phone calls, visits,letters and emails. The group they have established have re-dedicated a synagogue that was destroyed and maintain the Jewish cemetery. They commemorate Krystalnacht. They give lectures and hold symposiums. Trude is their beloved poster girl..Sometimes it is too much for her to keep up her relationship with the group because painful memories get rekindled.
So...now about me. Chemo #2 was somewhat easier than #1. Jeff keeps telling me I did much better. I want to believe him and I think he is right.Every day brings new challenges but I know I can get through this.
And I did get my hair buzzed. Yeah, I'm over it already. I shed a few tears but I'm done with that. I now alternate between two wigs and a lot of head coverings
My biggest complaint right now is some days I feel draggy, but when I feel good I try to do things.
I continue to receive surprises, emails and cards. I had a lovely collection of goodies left at my door by an old friend and a whole box of treats which arrived by Priority Mail. Sometimes I feel spoiled by the love and good wishes.
My former Thursday morning writing group just found out about my situation and have sent me some wonderful and encouraging messages.
Thank you again to family and friends for helping me get through these days. And thank you to Marian and Trude for being my inspiration of how you can live to a good long age and be vital and alive. When I grow up I want to be like you.
I recently said to my sister's mother in law, Marian, who just turned ninety three, that I wanted to be like her when I grow up. She is an amazing woman. During her working years, she was an Egyptologist teaching at San Francisco State. She led numerous tour groups to visit the pyramids. Marian has many interests. She is an avid Giants and 49'er's fan and never misses the opera, ballet or symphony. She continues to take classes at the Fromm Institute and is about to leave for a trip to China with one of her sons. If you want to reach her, you better call really early in the morning because she might very well be out.
Every summer she hosts a full house of family and guests at the family home on idyllic private lake in Stratford, Connecticut. Jeff and I were part of the gang there one summer.
What I most admire about her is her spirit and attitude. Having lost her dear son, Peter, my sister's husband, this year from a difficult illness, she doesn't wallow or feel sorry for herself. The other day she said to me, "you have to look forward, not back." Over the years we have enjoyed many wonderful meals and family celebrations in her Twin Peaks home taking in breathtaking views of San Francisco. "Mimi" as she is known to her flock of grandchildren and great grandchildren is one of my role models.
Another nonagenarian whom I admire is in many ways is completely different from Marian,. She is my mother's cousin Trude who turned ninety this past August. She is a force of nature though she is barely five feet tall. Trude is the one remaining cousin of my mother's family, the last link to my mom in many ways.
Trude has an amazing spirit like Marian. Her nickname is "Butterfly" and she lives up to the name flitting about, spreading her little bits of family news as she stays in touch and shares her affection with her extended family. She loves hearing about my grandchildren and adores when the Israeli crew came to visit her in San Francisco.
Trude was born in Fronhausen, a small town in Central Germany, near my mother's home town. Her story of survival in brutal ghettos and concentration camps as a young girl, later being reunited with her beloved sister Jenni is a book of its own. Her dear mother and two older brothers did not survive.
Trude and her family were beloved in their small town and known for their generosity. On a trip to Germany, I visited my mother's picturesque village and Trude's home, spending time with people who remembered her family and heard the stories firsthand.
In the last twenty years, several determined young Germans, not even alive during the war, have dedicated themselves to establishing an organization to insure that the Jews of this region are not forgotten. Trude is like a celebrity to them. She receives many phone calls, visits,letters and emails. The group they have established have re-dedicated a synagogue that was destroyed and maintain the Jewish cemetery. They commemorate Krystalnacht. They give lectures and hold symposiums. Trude is their beloved poster girl..Sometimes it is too much for her to keep up her relationship with the group because painful memories get rekindled.
So...now about me. Chemo #2 was somewhat easier than #1. Jeff keeps telling me I did much better. I want to believe him and I think he is right.Every day brings new challenges but I know I can get through this.
And I did get my hair buzzed. Yeah, I'm over it already. I shed a few tears but I'm done with that. I now alternate between two wigs and a lot of head coverings
My biggest complaint right now is some days I feel draggy, but when I feel good I try to do things.
I continue to receive surprises, emails and cards. I had a lovely collection of goodies left at my door by an old friend and a whole box of treats which arrived by Priority Mail. Sometimes I feel spoiled by the love and good wishes.
My former Thursday morning writing group just found out about my situation and have sent me some wonderful and encouraging messages.
Thank you again to family and friends for helping me get through these days. And thank you to Marian and Trude for being my inspiration of how you can live to a good long age and be vital and alive. When I grow up I want to be like you.
Sunday, September 28, 2014
Me and Joan; Gratitude and Unintended Consequences
I was shocked to see the cover of People magazine adorned with
beautiful Joan Lunden's bald head. She bravely shared her own breast
cancer journey which she has just begun. Joan Lunden with her famous
presence as a longtime former Good Morning America host has put the subject of breast cancer once again front and center in America's
consciousness. I read her article twice and though our experiences are
different, there are certain things that we share. We are now in the same sisterhood.
Every visit to the clinic at UCSF I am overwhelmed at the parade of women of all ages and ethnicities bewildered, clutching loved ones and holding files and papers. Jeff and I already feel somewhat like seasoned veterans having passed through the initial diagnosis stage. It is difficult to even see them.
The other day I saw a beautiful young women, maybe early forties, Her bald head had henna tatoos. She looked like an exotic warrior until she started to cry and was comforted by a woman who must have been her mother.Even exotic warriors have their bad days.I observed another young woman with hair starting to sprout on her bald head. She was holding a bottle of scotch no doubt meant for her doctor. Ahhh....I mused. I wish was at the point when I could deluge my practitioners with thank you gifts.
This past few days I celebrated Rosh Hashanah with family and friends. I felt good. For one thing I could eat. Eating has never been a problem for me....In fact, just the opposite. I have been fighting my weight forever and am a world class nosher so it is a new experience to not be able to eat because of having no appetite or feeling lousy. Chemo has the ability to mess up your appetite in many ways through nausea or indigestion and other possible side effects. I can't drink my beloved morning coffee any more because of the weird, bitter taste.
With every good day I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I realize these good days are precious. I think about the old me BC, before cancer. I took so much for granted. I suppose that is human nature. I also think about people I know who suffer with chronic pain. My heart goes out to them.
I am also filled with gratitude from the kind words, emails phone calls, being put on healing lists and special gifts I have been receiving. The other day I got a surprise basket from my sister in law Judy and brother Nate and their children from LA. Every item was handpicked just for me like a tall cup perfect for holding the ice water I drink constantly and yummy bath salts. Elana, my youngest daughter, sent me the latest Barbra Streisand album. Devora in Israel sent a whole care package with everything from a journal to special mud to soak my feet. My son in laws have me hooked up with pot and a state of the art vaporizer in case I want to go that route!
Laurie created Team Savta and ordered special red teeshirts. I have been getting emails from my son in law Andy's incredible family posing in the red Team Savta teeshirts.
My sister in law Maurine in Ashland tells me she thinks of me every day. My sister Linda and cousin Roz keep me laughing and call me more than once a day.
So yes, it is gratitude and it fills me up way more than the chemo. I'm ready for treatment #2. Bring it on!
Today I got an email from a friend in Israel who said, my blog about losing my wallet may have had unintended consequences." It made me think. What a perfect phrase. This whole cancer experience is a series of "unintended consequences."
Gamar hatima Tovah, may you be listed in the Book of Life.
Every visit to the clinic at UCSF I am overwhelmed at the parade of women of all ages and ethnicities bewildered, clutching loved ones and holding files and papers. Jeff and I already feel somewhat like seasoned veterans having passed through the initial diagnosis stage. It is difficult to even see them.
The other day I saw a beautiful young women, maybe early forties, Her bald head had henna tatoos. She looked like an exotic warrior until she started to cry and was comforted by a woman who must have been her mother.Even exotic warriors have their bad days.I observed another young woman with hair starting to sprout on her bald head. She was holding a bottle of scotch no doubt meant for her doctor. Ahhh....I mused. I wish was at the point when I could deluge my practitioners with thank you gifts.
This past few days I celebrated Rosh Hashanah with family and friends. I felt good. For one thing I could eat. Eating has never been a problem for me....In fact, just the opposite. I have been fighting my weight forever and am a world class nosher so it is a new experience to not be able to eat because of having no appetite or feeling lousy. Chemo has the ability to mess up your appetite in many ways through nausea or indigestion and other possible side effects. I can't drink my beloved morning coffee any more because of the weird, bitter taste.
With every good day I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I realize these good days are precious. I think about the old me BC, before cancer. I took so much for granted. I suppose that is human nature. I also think about people I know who suffer with chronic pain. My heart goes out to them.
I am also filled with gratitude from the kind words, emails phone calls, being put on healing lists and special gifts I have been receiving. The other day I got a surprise basket from my sister in law Judy and brother Nate and their children from LA. Every item was handpicked just for me like a tall cup perfect for holding the ice water I drink constantly and yummy bath salts. Elana, my youngest daughter, sent me the latest Barbra Streisand album. Devora in Israel sent a whole care package with everything from a journal to special mud to soak my feet. My son in laws have me hooked up with pot and a state of the art vaporizer in case I want to go that route!
Laurie created Team Savta and ordered special red teeshirts. I have been getting emails from my son in law Andy's incredible family posing in the red Team Savta teeshirts.
My sister in law Maurine in Ashland tells me she thinks of me every day. My sister Linda and cousin Roz keep me laughing and call me more than once a day.
So yes, it is gratitude and it fills me up way more than the chemo. I'm ready for treatment #2. Bring it on!
Today I got an email from a friend in Israel who said, my blog about losing my wallet may have had unintended consequences." It made me think. What a perfect phrase. This whole cancer experience is a series of "unintended consequences."
Gamar hatima Tovah, may you be listed in the Book of Life.
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Adding Insult to Injury...
I thought I had it figured out...strong will, good health, family support. I could sail through the chemo treatments. It's much more difficult than I thought.
The week started out with my port implanted on Monday, Sept. 15. It was a small surgery and went fine. At first it pulled a bit but now I don't even notice it at all. The port will be used both to draw blood and for the administration of the chemo drugs.
Tuesday, Sept. 16 was my first infusion day. I met with my oncologist. The usual pattern will be to check my blood, meet with the oncologist then have the infusion. My white count has to be a certain level for the infusion to take place. The oncologist was optimistic that I'm strong and should do well through the treatments.
The actual infusion was on the fifth floor of the breast cancer center. I didn't know what to expect and was apprehensive. Jeff was right there with me though I sent him out after a while. The room was not large and I wanted him to have some fresh air. The nurse who worked with me was calm, confident and competent. I was in the corner of a room with three other patients of different ages, some much younger than me having their own infusions.
I was sitting in a chair with my feet up. The first medicines administered were solely to prevent nausea. They are meant to last the first few days when you are home with backup meds that I also had ready to take as needed. They really don't want you to feel bad and prepare you with an arsenal of meds.
After the first hour of the anti nausea medicines, she started the chemo drugs. My chemo is a three part cocktail. The first two parts are given for the first four infusions. The last part is given for the last four infusions. I felt OK during the infusion and when it was all over, Jeff and I left the hospital and headed home.
The day after the infusion I need to have very expensive shot which can be administered at home. This is to raise the white cell count. Jeff was a medic in the army and thought he could do it. The first time though we went to our friend's home as he is a doctor and he showed Jeff.
All in all I'm doing OK now having weathered the first tough days. I'm trying to go for short walks eat small meals and do everything they tell me. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't and I just feel like crap. I'm also emotional and cry easily. Jeff is my cheerleader as are my family and friends who call and check up on me or send emails.
Yesterday, six days from chemo I decided to go to Safeway on my own. I felt OK, got in the car and was proud of myself cruising through Safeway buying this and that. In some ways going through chemo is like being pregnant. You don't know what you want to eat or what might taste good at the moment. One day I liked Frito's corn chips... I guess it was the.salt and crunch. I had made some nutritious soups for myself in advance and they all seem yucky to me right now.
Back to my shopping...I noticed a girl in her twenties, as we kept running into each other in the same aisle and space. It struck me as a little odd but I wasn't completely on my game. I had my purse on the top of the cart and left it unzipped. The girl and I met again in front of the spaghetti sauce. She reached in front of me for Alfredo sauce. I even made a friendly remark like "I'm always in your way." That was when she stole my new leather wallet.
I realized it was missing when I went to pay. I rushed home and looked around. I thought I might have forgotten it but didn't find it anywhere. I returned to the store and paid with my checkbook. I have to say that the Safeway staff was not very caring of my situation and my very flustered state.
My cousin Roz called when I just got home and told me to look at some of my credit cards. I still couldn't confirm whether I misplaced my wallet or it was stolen. However after checking my bank card I saw that my card had been used already at Target, Ross and McDonald's.
Ouch I realized that this was a professional team who knew how to move fast.
Jeff had come home after I had called him. He pointed out that as long as I was OK, everything could be replaced. He was just concerned about me. Laurie also came to help and brought my little adorable grandson, Shaya. You can't stay mad when you hold him and he smiles at you.
I cancelled everything and was pretty crazed until I got it all done. Jeff kept saying, "that's my wife. She's back!" However, yesterday evening after all the upset I was spent and realized I had not taken care of myself at all.When you are undergoing chemo, you need to drink and eat and rest.
Today is another day and I'm feeling good. I have a brisket marinating and a chicken soup on the stove. I answered a half dozen phone calls from family and dear friends. Your caring means so much I can't even tell you. Wishing everyone a sweet and healthy new year. And ladies, be careful with your purses and wallets!
The week started out with my port implanted on Monday, Sept. 15. It was a small surgery and went fine. At first it pulled a bit but now I don't even notice it at all. The port will be used both to draw blood and for the administration of the chemo drugs.
Tuesday, Sept. 16 was my first infusion day. I met with my oncologist. The usual pattern will be to check my blood, meet with the oncologist then have the infusion. My white count has to be a certain level for the infusion to take place. The oncologist was optimistic that I'm strong and should do well through the treatments.
The actual infusion was on the fifth floor of the breast cancer center. I didn't know what to expect and was apprehensive. Jeff was right there with me though I sent him out after a while. The room was not large and I wanted him to have some fresh air. The nurse who worked with me was calm, confident and competent. I was in the corner of a room with three other patients of different ages, some much younger than me having their own infusions.
I was sitting in a chair with my feet up. The first medicines administered were solely to prevent nausea. They are meant to last the first few days when you are home with backup meds that I also had ready to take as needed. They really don't want you to feel bad and prepare you with an arsenal of meds.
After the first hour of the anti nausea medicines, she started the chemo drugs. My chemo is a three part cocktail. The first two parts are given for the first four infusions. The last part is given for the last four infusions. I felt OK during the infusion and when it was all over, Jeff and I left the hospital and headed home.
The day after the infusion I need to have very expensive shot which can be administered at home. This is to raise the white cell count. Jeff was a medic in the army and thought he could do it. The first time though we went to our friend's home as he is a doctor and he showed Jeff.
All in all I'm doing OK now having weathered the first tough days. I'm trying to go for short walks eat small meals and do everything they tell me. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't and I just feel like crap. I'm also emotional and cry easily. Jeff is my cheerleader as are my family and friends who call and check up on me or send emails.
Yesterday, six days from chemo I decided to go to Safeway on my own. I felt OK, got in the car and was proud of myself cruising through Safeway buying this and that. In some ways going through chemo is like being pregnant. You don't know what you want to eat or what might taste good at the moment. One day I liked Frito's corn chips... I guess it was the.salt and crunch. I had made some nutritious soups for myself in advance and they all seem yucky to me right now.
Back to my shopping...I noticed a girl in her twenties, as we kept running into each other in the same aisle and space. It struck me as a little odd but I wasn't completely on my game. I had my purse on the top of the cart and left it unzipped. The girl and I met again in front of the spaghetti sauce. She reached in front of me for Alfredo sauce. I even made a friendly remark like "I'm always in your way." That was when she stole my new leather wallet.
I realized it was missing when I went to pay. I rushed home and looked around. I thought I might have forgotten it but didn't find it anywhere. I returned to the store and paid with my checkbook. I have to say that the Safeway staff was not very caring of my situation and my very flustered state.
My cousin Roz called when I just got home and told me to look at some of my credit cards. I still couldn't confirm whether I misplaced my wallet or it was stolen. However after checking my bank card I saw that my card had been used already at Target, Ross and McDonald's.
Ouch I realized that this was a professional team who knew how to move fast.
Jeff had come home after I had called him. He pointed out that as long as I was OK, everything could be replaced. He was just concerned about me. Laurie also came to help and brought my little adorable grandson, Shaya. You can't stay mad when you hold him and he smiles at you.
I cancelled everything and was pretty crazed until I got it all done. Jeff kept saying, "that's my wife. She's back!" However, yesterday evening after all the upset I was spent and realized I had not taken care of myself at all.When you are undergoing chemo, you need to drink and eat and rest.
Today is another day and I'm feeling good. I have a brisket marinating and a chicken soup on the stove. I answered a half dozen phone calls from family and dear friends. Your caring means so much I can't even tell you. Wishing everyone a sweet and healthy new year. And ladies, be careful with your purses and wallets!
Friday, September 12, 2014
Hair and stuff
I keep thinking about the words from the song, Hair.
Give me a head with hair, long beautiful hair
Shining,gleaming, screaming, flaxen waxen
We were children of the 60's and liked our hair, the longer the better. My college roommates had hair half way down their backs. Mine went past my shoulders.I have always had good thick hair, straight and easy to manage. I didn't have to sleep in soup can rollers or iron my hair to have it be straight. My natural color was a "dirty blonde." When I was a teen, some summers I liberally applied lemon juice. As I got older and my hair got darker, I added highlights or whatever it took to keep my same color more or less.
Over the years my hair went through many incarnations according to what was au courant. I've been permed, had a cut like Dorothy Hamill, the ice skater; Lady Di, or whomever was trendy.Having stylish hair was important to me.
One of the things I dread most when thinking about chemotherapy is the thought of losing my hair. It is one of the expected side effects of chemo because the chemicals that kill fast growing potential cancer cells also decimate hair follicles. That is why I decided to cheat the cancer and get my hair cut short on my own terms. Even though there is some potential prevention of hair loss now with cold caps my oncologist said they wouldn't work for me.
My short cut is an interim stage before I go completely bald. My hairdresser, Rebecca, who is a master cutter, knew just what to do with me. She also understood the emotional aspect of this haircut especially because she went through the cancer treatment roller coaster recently with her teenage son. Laurie and my grandson Shaya come along as cheerleaders. You can't be sad when you see Shaya smile. He is the sweetest little guy, and his hair is spiked. I wanted to look like him!
I also decided to purchase a wig as well as a variety of colorful hair coverings including paisley scarves and a burgundy turban thing. My sister Linda and my cousin Roz, who is like my older sister and our family fashion consultant, joined me. We went to the gift shop at Mt. Zion which has a wig section as well as sells stylish head coverings for women undergoing chemo.
Now I will be one of them, joining this army of bald warriors. The three of us had a few good laughs when I tried on wigs that were awful on me, either the wrong color for my skin or not the right look. We settled on a wig that was similar to my hair color and was very natural for me.
What is it about hair, especially for women? We fuss over our hair and if we are having a "bad hair day" it can effect our mood. I don't know how I'm going to feel when that morning comes in a few weeks and my cute short cut starts to shed on my pillow. Jeff says he is going to like me bald. He thinks bald is sexy. That's my Jeff. He is incredibly supportive and devoted and with me every step of the way, hair or no hair.
I just had a major orientation session with a nurse from the oncology department who gave me an overview of what to expect during my eight chemo treatments. It was overwhelming and thankfully my sister was with me. Linda took detailed notes and since she is a Doctor of Pharmacy, her presence was invaluable. I think I mostly listened, shell shocked at this whole process about to unfold. Even if I do everything right, there might be side effects. Once again I am learning that I have no control. The nurse told me how important it will be to keep up exercise, even walking every day for a half hour and other important things I must do.
Monday I will have a port put in which will make the delivery of the chemo easier. Tuesday is my first infusion. I've got great music in my i-Phone. I'm not sure what the best music is for chemo...mellow or rock. I've got both. My Kindle is loaded with good books. I will bring my book of Tehilim, psalms.They are very comforting.
And once again, the support and love of family, extended family and friends everywhere is overwhelming. The editor I work with in Adelaide Australia is sending me a special book he ordered for me. I got a call from Israel this week from an old friend, just to say "hi" and check in. My niece and nephew in Los Angeles are so sweet and caring. I feel very blessed.
Thanks for coming along with me. Hold on to your hats, the road could start to get bumpy.
I just had a major orientation session with a nurse from the oncology department who gave me an overview of what to expect during my eight chemo treatments. It was overwhelming and thankfully my sister was with me. Linda took detailed notes and since she is a Doctor of Pharmacy, her presence was invaluable. I think I mostly listened, shell shocked at this whole process about to unfold. Even if I do everything right, there might be side effects. Once again I am learning that I have no control. The nurse told me how important it will be to keep up exercise, even walking every day for a half hour and other important things I must do.
Monday I will have a port put in which will make the delivery of the chemo easier. Tuesday is my first infusion. I've got great music in my i-Phone. I'm not sure what the best music is for chemo...mellow or rock. I've got both. My Kindle is loaded with good books. I will bring my book of Tehilim, psalms.They are very comforting.
And once again, the support and love of family, extended family and friends everywhere is overwhelming. The editor I work with in Adelaide Australia is sending me a special book he ordered for me. I got a call from Israel this week from an old friend, just to say "hi" and check in. My niece and nephew in Los Angeles are so sweet and caring. I feel very blessed.
Thanks for coming along with me. Hold on to your hats, the road could start to get bumpy.
Saturday, September 6, 2014
Dancing at Fisherman's Wharf in the Afternoon Sun
We waited for our appointment with the surgeon with trepidation. The first bit of news he told us was good. The surgery was successful and the margins were clear. I was healing well. The second part of the news was a blow. The surgeon reported that there was some lymph node involvement. The little waiting examination room was closing in.
What now? The surgeon told us the next step was to get a pet/ct scan which would tell us if the cancer had spread beyond the lymph nodes. I tried to make the appointment before I left the building. We wanted this as soon as possible. It was Thursday afternoon and too late to reach the office to get my appointment scheduled.
The receptionist with long sculpted nails and false eyelashes advised me, "don't eat because you have to fast before the test. I will call you by 8:30AM and let you know if we got you in."
We went home shell shocked. As luck would have it I had forgotten my cell phone to call the immediate family. When I thought about it, it was probably meant to be. We had to digest this a bit. I had called my sister who was waiting to hear from us borrowing and phone and told her to tell my girls. I would email Devora and Andy in Israel later.
We got home and could barely function Somehow we managed waffles later in the evening. Waffles are a good thing when you are half crazy with worry. I called my sister in law Judy in Los Angeles. Judy is a breast cancer surgeon herself. Throughout all this she has been a steadfast source of information; calm, giving me her quiet advice and reassurance and checking in on me often.
She told me that even though there was lymph involvement, it did not mean it had spread. We clung to those words.
I was also making myself crazy going to the internet. I learned that is a huge no-no. There is way too much information on there and I felt my body practically going into a wave of shock with everything I read.
The next morning I waited by the phone to hear about my appointment. 8:30 came and went and no phone call from the receptionist with the long nails and lashes. At 8:40 I called UCSF myself and got bounced around finally finding out she was out for the day and did not leave any message about my appointment for the pet scan.
Now I'm angry. This was the first time I felt let down by UCSF. The operator suggested I leave a message but I demanded to speak to a real, live body which turned out to be my surgeon's practice assistant. I explained the situation and that I was fasting. She said she would get back to me soon.
Within ten minutes I got a call and was told that I had the appointment for Saturday morning at the UCSF radiology department in China Basin, new UCSF facilities. I was incredibly relieved to get that appointment. I also got a call from the oncologist's office.
Initially I was told I would be seen the following Monday. Then there was second call we would have to wait for two weeks. I could not accept that information. There was no way Jeff and I could delay finding out what was happening with me. I called and emailed the nurse practitioner and we managed to confirm my appointment for Monday with the oncologist. Sometimes you have to be relentless.
It was a huge relief to have that appointment as well. The waiting was so difficult. We wanted to know what was going on. We wanted a plan of action.
We prayed a lot. Devora in Israel is my five star general when it comes to faith and prayer. She was making special mishaberach's (blessings) for me as were other people.
A good friend had brought us Shabbat dinner. It was difficult to eat. And it was our forty third anniversary. We put our anniversary celebration on hold.
Not my idea of how I would ever spend Shabbat morning, but we headed to UCSF early. To say we were nervous doesn't describe our feelings. Both of us could cry at the drop of a hat. Any song on the radio would set me off. We were hovering on a precipice.
It was tricky finding the modern facilities even with our GPS. It turned out to be near the Giants ballpark. I might have put in the wrong address in the GPS. We did find the place finally after asking someone on the street, and I went in the very modern building. Two guards at a desk directed me to where I needed to go.
Jeff went to find the parking facility which was an adventure in itself. I was getting nervous because I was afraid they would call me before he found me in this maze of offices.
He came in just as they were calling me. The procedure involved first getting an IV with a glucose solution. This is what shows up any hot spots. After waiting for an hour for the glucose to take effect, they took me to the machine, a big white oval tube. Fortunately I don't get claustrophobia so it didn't bother me.
I had to lay still with my arms overhead while the machine scanned me from head to toe for around a half hour. I tried to be calm. I sang as much of the Shabbat morning service as I knew by heart, over and over. The technician would come in to tell me how much longer.
At last it was done, and we headed across the city to be with Elana and Saul and to see baby Elijah with his delicious cheeks and big smiles. Laurie and Ari were coming with baby Shaya, our little blonde bundle with his spiked hair. The best medicine for me is seeing my little guys.
Finally Monday arrived. We got to Divisadero St. in a silent daze. When the young doctor came in he had a piece of paper with notes first confirming some information with me, Then he told us that my pet/ct scan was negative, clear, no spread.
We almost kissed him. We cried and laughed. At that moment I no longer cared what the rest of the treatment would be. I would face it, welcome it, get through with it. I would kick this cancer in the butt.
The oncologist was blessedly matter of fact. He said the "gold standard" was a course of chemo, then radiation then ongoing drug therapy. I had dreaded the thought of "chemo." Now I said, "bring it on." We got what we prayed for, a clear course of action.
We stumbled out of the building quickly making phone calls. We knew we couldn't go home and headed to Fisherman's Wharf. It was a beautiful afternoon. Tourists strolled, seagulls squawked. We got something to eat, and for the first time in days feeling some appetite.
There was a great street performer playing danceable music. We sat on a bench in the afternoon sun holding hands, kissing and listening to him. I got up and danced.
What now? The surgeon told us the next step was to get a pet/ct scan which would tell us if the cancer had spread beyond the lymph nodes. I tried to make the appointment before I left the building. We wanted this as soon as possible. It was Thursday afternoon and too late to reach the office to get my appointment scheduled.
The receptionist with long sculpted nails and false eyelashes advised me, "don't eat because you have to fast before the test. I will call you by 8:30AM and let you know if we got you in."
We went home shell shocked. As luck would have it I had forgotten my cell phone to call the immediate family. When I thought about it, it was probably meant to be. We had to digest this a bit. I had called my sister who was waiting to hear from us borrowing and phone and told her to tell my girls. I would email Devora and Andy in Israel later.
We got home and could barely function Somehow we managed waffles later in the evening. Waffles are a good thing when you are half crazy with worry. I called my sister in law Judy in Los Angeles. Judy is a breast cancer surgeon herself. Throughout all this she has been a steadfast source of information; calm, giving me her quiet advice and reassurance and checking in on me often.
She told me that even though there was lymph involvement, it did not mean it had spread. We clung to those words.
I was also making myself crazy going to the internet. I learned that is a huge no-no. There is way too much information on there and I felt my body practically going into a wave of shock with everything I read.
The next morning I waited by the phone to hear about my appointment. 8:30 came and went and no phone call from the receptionist with the long nails and lashes. At 8:40 I called UCSF myself and got bounced around finally finding out she was out for the day and did not leave any message about my appointment for the pet scan.
Now I'm angry. This was the first time I felt let down by UCSF. The operator suggested I leave a message but I demanded to speak to a real, live body which turned out to be my surgeon's practice assistant. I explained the situation and that I was fasting. She said she would get back to me soon.
Within ten minutes I got a call and was told that I had the appointment for Saturday morning at the UCSF radiology department in China Basin, new UCSF facilities. I was incredibly relieved to get that appointment. I also got a call from the oncologist's office.
Initially I was told I would be seen the following Monday. Then there was second call we would have to wait for two weeks. I could not accept that information. There was no way Jeff and I could delay finding out what was happening with me. I called and emailed the nurse practitioner and we managed to confirm my appointment for Monday with the oncologist. Sometimes you have to be relentless.
It was a huge relief to have that appointment as well. The waiting was so difficult. We wanted to know what was going on. We wanted a plan of action.
We prayed a lot. Devora in Israel is my five star general when it comes to faith and prayer. She was making special mishaberach's (blessings) for me as were other people.
A good friend had brought us Shabbat dinner. It was difficult to eat. And it was our forty third anniversary. We put our anniversary celebration on hold.
Not my idea of how I would ever spend Shabbat morning, but we headed to UCSF early. To say we were nervous doesn't describe our feelings. Both of us could cry at the drop of a hat. Any song on the radio would set me off. We were hovering on a precipice.
It was tricky finding the modern facilities even with our GPS. It turned out to be near the Giants ballpark. I might have put in the wrong address in the GPS. We did find the place finally after asking someone on the street, and I went in the very modern building. Two guards at a desk directed me to where I needed to go.
Jeff went to find the parking facility which was an adventure in itself. I was getting nervous because I was afraid they would call me before he found me in this maze of offices.
He came in just as they were calling me. The procedure involved first getting an IV with a glucose solution. This is what shows up any hot spots. After waiting for an hour for the glucose to take effect, they took me to the machine, a big white oval tube. Fortunately I don't get claustrophobia so it didn't bother me.
I had to lay still with my arms overhead while the machine scanned me from head to toe for around a half hour. I tried to be calm. I sang as much of the Shabbat morning service as I knew by heart, over and over. The technician would come in to tell me how much longer.
At last it was done, and we headed across the city to be with Elana and Saul and to see baby Elijah with his delicious cheeks and big smiles. Laurie and Ari were coming with baby Shaya, our little blonde bundle with his spiked hair. The best medicine for me is seeing my little guys.
Finally Monday arrived. We got to Divisadero St. in a silent daze. When the young doctor came in he had a piece of paper with notes first confirming some information with me, Then he told us that my pet/ct scan was negative, clear, no spread.
We almost kissed him. We cried and laughed. At that moment I no longer cared what the rest of the treatment would be. I would face it, welcome it, get through with it. I would kick this cancer in the butt.
The oncologist was blessedly matter of fact. He said the "gold standard" was a course of chemo, then radiation then ongoing drug therapy. I had dreaded the thought of "chemo." Now I said, "bring it on." We got what we prayed for, a clear course of action.
We stumbled out of the building quickly making phone calls. We knew we couldn't go home and headed to Fisherman's Wharf. It was a beautiful afternoon. Tourists strolled, seagulls squawked. We got something to eat, and for the first time in days feeling some appetite.
There was a great street performer playing danceable music. We sat on a bench in the afternoon sun holding hands, kissing and listening to him. I got up and danced.
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