Pancakes and Giving Thanks

My oncologist said the next four treatments would not be as rough as the first four. I am almost one week from the last treatment, and I would have to agree with him. Though I have had some hours of total wipe out when I don't want to get out of bed, I am gradually getting my strength and taking advantage of the moments when I feel good. Yesterday I woke up at 4:30AM thinking about pancakes.

That might not seem like a big deal but it is. It signifies I am getting my appetite back and what's more I told Jeff I wanted to go OUT for breakfast. He was so happy that I wanted to leave the house. Can I say again that my husband has been the ultimate trooper through all this ordeal. He encourages me, points out small victories and reminds me how much better I am relative to the last treatment.

We even get in a few laughs now and then. For example, if a side effect is listed and I get it then it is OK because it is something to be expected. This round one of the side effects has been muscle aches. When that started, my body felt like a pin ball machine. I kept getting strange pings in my joints from my ankles to my wrists that lasted a few seconds. But this was on the list...so we didn't freak out. Thankfully a few Advil seems to help this one.I'm also no longer suffering from the canker sore that took more than two weeks to heal. That was difficult.

Yesterday besides having breakfast out, one oatmeal pancake with blueberry sauce at Lu and Lil's,we also walked at Lake Merritt for twenty minutes. It was a gorgeous, crisp fall day, and it was great to be outside. My oncology nurse tells me that walking is crucial for me and sometimes I drag myself out of bed and walk from my kitchen through the living room back and forth and up and down the stairs if I can't get out.

This is Thanksgiving week (and my birthday Wednesday) I always love this time of the year. I think one of the reasons is that for my mom, an immigrant from Hitler's Germany, Thanksgiving was the one holiday that our family totally embraced  as Jewish Americans. My mom decorated the table with little Pilgrim tchotchkes and prepared a sumptuous meal, everything from scratch.When we were young, visiting east coast cousins would join us, especially my cousin Uri who was studying at Cal Tech.

After Jeff and I met, we joined our two families and celebrated together. Our first Thanksgiving together I turned twenty We had just gotten engaged.. One of my favorite photos (though Jeff does not like it) is me with longish blonde hair and him with big black glasses wearing a pink shirt. We were so young, smiling broadly.Where have the years gone?

I love doing the holiday as well researching recipes, decorating with my box of Thanksgiving goodies and enjoying the holiday bustle just like my mom did. This year however I will be grateful just to show up and bring a few side dishes. My wonderful sister has taken over my usual job of preparing the meal but we are all contributing so she does not have to do it all.

I am so appreciative  for the steady stream of calls, cards, emails, goodies, and  support I continue to receive from all of you. I wish everyone a wonderful holiday. Treasure the good times.I realized the other day that this ordeal will make me stronger. I will be a different person and pray to be a better one with a renewed chance to do good.

Alive and Well...sort of

In case you have been wondering if I have been  to Maui watching gold and purple sunsets  and drinking frothy pina coladas with Jeff next to me lazing on recliner you are wrong. I can only wish that some day soon that is where we will be.

For those of you following along my bumpy detour, this segment is difficult  so thanks for hanging in.

My fourth chemo treatment which was two weeks ago coincided with the Giant's trouncing by Kansas City royals. I was trounced too, as I was hit extremely hard by this round. Unfortunately I landed up in the hospital for two day at the end of the week for some hydration but thankfully there was nothing else seriously wrong with me. I went to Summit Hospital in Oakland which has been completely re-done. Everyone gets a private room which is nice. The nurses were kind and competent.

I hope I never have to go back because the hospital is the worst place to rest and feel better. It is kind of a vicious circle. I have to be on an IV for fluids, then have to keep waking up to go to the bathroom and shlep my IV pole into the bathroom with me. Then an hour later my very sweet nurse, Caroline, with a Caribbean lilt to her voice apologetically wakes me up to take my vitals. Then I fall back asleep only to wake up to go to the bathroom again. You get the picture?

One of the worst parts of this round was that my appetite went kaput. I'm slowly getting back to eating. This is not my idea of losing weight believe me.The highlight of my hospital diet was a red popsicle.


This time I did not need blood though at first they put me on an antibiotic for a possible stomach thing which I ended up not having. I was glad to throw away those bitter and difficult to swallow pills.

I  came home on Tuesday very weak and have been trying to re-coup day by day. The other new complication was developing a whopper canker sore on my tongue which unfortunately is a rather typical side effect of chemo.

I have developed a whole litany of ways to alleviate the pain and rinse frequently with warm water and salt and baking soda, sometimes with hydrogen peroxide. I have tried honey, milk of magnesia, and have a special magic thick pink rinse prescribed by the oncologist's office which has some xylocane in it. I was on pain pills for a day which I hate because they mess up my stomach. I have been taking Advil regularly.

In short, you could say I was a mess. Jeff catered to any whim I thought might help including Odwalla Protein drinks which are not bad. We have had to turn down invitations to parties, dinners, baby showers.

My sister who is my steady cheerleader yesterday came armed with two shopping bags full of soft foods; chocolate pudding, sherbet ice cream. rice pudding and jello. I have been living on chicken soup, some I had made, some my sister brought.

This has been a difficult two weeks. It is unbelievable how painful these sores can be.Anyone who has suffered with them will know what I am talking about.

But today I am feeling better and the good news is that my oncologist postponed my next treatment for a week to give me a chance to get my strength back.

Thanks for friends who have brought food, who call to check on me, who send emails and cards. This support sustains me. My long time housekeeper Vilma told me she prayed for me. I was so touched I cried.

I am hoping the next four treatments won't be as rough. That is what I keep hearing. I will cling to that hope but won't believe it until I experience it myself.  My daughter Devora arrives early December for the first time without her kids. I look forward to having her TLC.

So things are looking up again; I will get through this. I will be on that beach in Maui someday soon.

Sitting on the Sidewalk Monday morning

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!