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An Addendum! My daughter Sonia, who is an editor and publishing consultant, has a new website. Please visit it and forward the link to anyone you know who might need her expertise! www.soniafulop.com .

In other matters. I am still getting herceptin every three weeks intravenously. I'm taking a multitude of supplements to fight the neuropathy in my feet. I ran a marathon a month ago. And I will be on my way to Hawaii next Wednesday if an incoming storm doesn't delay our flight.

Happy Holidays everyone!

happy trails

It is said that a good artist knows when to stop painting. I hope I am a good writer. I have loved doing these blogs but I'm sure you have noticed that the postings have been fewer and farther between. I wish I could say that I have so much more to say, but the truth is I don't. My radiation treatment is coming to an end sometime next week. The treatments themselves have been uneventful and predictable. The only thing that changes is that once in a while I go in at a different time than the normal 4:15. Andy, Becca and Mary have driven me to the appointments and I am very grateful for that. It is good to have a companion to share these (dare I say boring) experiences. Today I nodded off when they took a little extra time with their measurements.
So, I think this is a wise thing for me to do now. Perhaps I will add another post or two when Mardie's Walnut Creek Marathon draws near, but for now dear friends I will just say au revoir.

And we are off!

After much procrastination on my part Mardie's Marathon website, www.mardiesmarathon.com is updated and looking good. My thanks go to my sister Kathy, who spent much of two or three days this week posting and tweeking things. I can't thank her enough for doing this for us. It is a major undertaking, just making the website work for us and she did it without a single complaint. I have also printed out a bunch of letters of solicitation that are directed at vendors and merchants, in the hope that someone or some "many" will offer to pay for the lovely medals that are awarded to the people who participate in Mardie's Marathon. Last year, a group of teachers from Buena Vista School, my old school, paid for the medals. It was such a wonderful thing for them to do. I'm just hoping that someone, somewhere will take it up this year. I am pretty sure we are going to have more participants and I don't want anyone to be disappointed. If they do the run/walk, they should get a medal.
So now, be prepared. I have my Dear Friend letter ready to go and I will be emailing it to most of you. Some people will get them by snail mail but they probably won't be people reading this, come to think of it! If you can read this, I've probably got your email address somewhere!
Last night we attended a lovely Midsummer Night's Party at Mary's. It was wonderful with interesting people, delicious barbequed beef prepared by Chef Scott. Mary and her piano teacher seranaded us. I sat in the music room and listened to them playing four hands on two pianos and was I suddenly transported to Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. It was magical. I expected wigged servants to come in bearing sherry laden trays. Except that the music was so delightful there was no wicked and witty conversation going on. We were all entranced.
So, tomorrow I go back to work. I hope I can remember how to do everything. If not, I'll just call Liz and she can retrain me! I've read about a bunch of books this week and more over the course of the summer so I feel prepared for class visits. Fortunately, school doesn't start for another week and a half. I'll have another bunch of books read by then. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone, students and teachers. It should be a good year!

Radiation

While I have gone over the routine of the radiation therapy, I don't think I have talked about the really nice people over at the cancer center at John Muir in Concord. I just want to mention this because I see them every day and routine is just that. Routine. They always thank me for my patience and I always express my gratitude for their being there. And we never miss an opportunity to joke with one another. The seriousness of their task demands a bit of levity from time to time and I enjoy it. As they draw on the spot that is to receive the radiation they talk about their frustrated creative energies. As they leave the room to start the treatment I tell them to go on out but I'll just stay there. They are just short silly comments but we enjoy the repartee. And then there is the guy I see every day who has his treatment just before me. We always smile, nod and sometimes we make smart remarks. I don't even know his name but I feel like we are treatment friends. I'm two weeks into the treatments and what I feared hasn't happened yet. I'm not tired of this. I look forward to it. It gives me comfort knowing that the battle is still being waged on my behalf. Only three more weeks and all I'll have to look forward to are my chemo light treatments every 21 days. I guess I shouldn't complain. That is the goal after all. Wellness and no treatments. I think I have become accustomed to this little cocoon of cancer therapy. I like people fussing over me and making me feel comfortable. Once I'm over the radiation I'll be pretty much back in the real world. Chemo light is like getting a prolonged backwards blood test. Not much to it and you aren't there long enough to really talk to anyone. But I won't complain. I'm hoping it will mean I can get back to the things I really love doing. Like running. And Mardie's Walnut Creek Marathon is coming up soon!

Gosh, I hate to complain, but here I go. I talked to an acquaintance on the phone today. I haven't spoken to her in at least a year. She went on and on about how she knew exactly how I was feeling because she went through the same thing a few years ago. I beg to differ: she had a biopsy and it was negative. I had a biopsy and it was positive. She had fits of crying and despair. I didn't. The similarity of our experiences went from almost, to not at all. And then she went on to tell me about what happened to other friends of hers. You know what? I think I've said this before but I'll say it again. I'm not interested. If they had happy outcomes, great! If they didn't I don't want to know about it. It just seems like people delight in the, Oh my gosh, how terrible, how horrible, isn't that awful, of people's lives. Frankly, I am more interested in the how wonderful, how exciting, how delightful of life. This doesn't mean I don't acknowledge that there is a lot of grief, despair and unhappiness out there. And poverty and crime and all those awful things. But I don't see how the tragedy of one person's life is going to help me get over my adventure. And I will continue to call it my adventure. Nothing awful has happened. I've met a lot of very nice, very kind, very caring people. And I've become a correspondent with many other kind and compassionate people. But please spare me the sad stories about someone else's cancer that ended in their dying. Don't go there. I'm not listening.

Old friends and a new routine

Last week I went over to old Mt. Diablo Hospital to the John Muir Cancer Center. I got tattooed and photographed and x-rayed. Tuesday I returned to have more measurements on the big KDS machine. It is a mobile radiation machine (mobile in the sense that it can move its focal point in many directions) that is attacking any residual cancer cells. The technicians who run the machine are very nice, very friendly and always have the nicest things to say to me. Today one of them thanked me because he said I am so easy to work with. I responded it was really no big deal to lie on my back with my arms stretched out above my head and my knees gently flexed and not move. He said they were grateful anyway. At that point I felt it necessary to say that I was extremely grateful to them. It was a draw.
So anyway, this is the way it will be from now for about 24 more treatments. 5 days a week I will go in, change into a gown, wait to be called from the waiting room, sit in a chair outside the radiation chamber, wait to be called and then climb onto the gurney that I will lie on to be irradiated. The whole procedure takes maybe 10 minutes once I'm on the gurney. They still mark me with a marking pen and take a few minutes to position the beam but the radiation itself takes no more than two or three minutes. I can't see a clock or camera and I'm not actually sure when it starts and ends so I'm not sure exactly how long it takes. Once I'm done I'm out and dressed and on the road in 5 minutes. Or at least that is the idea. Yesterday I stayed to talk to a nurse about what is going on. She showed me pictures of a breast with red and green lines across it showing where the radiation goes. I was thinking it was a standard picture they show everyone and then I realized that it was my folder and the photos were of me. The nurse explained that I might get tired around the third week and that my skin may get dry. She suggested aloe vera and a cream called Miaderm which is specifically for radiation dermatitis. Since one of the problems that can come up with radiation is that the skin gets so dry radiation has to be delayed for a few days, and since the company that makes Miaderm guarantees with this cream that won't happen, I decided to spring for the cream. Right now I'm using the aloe vera three times a day but I'll switch over to the cream when it arrives.
So far I'm enjoying (!?!) this new treatment but I'm thinking in a week or so I might get tired of driving over to Concord every day for a 15 minute visit. Until then though, it is kind of like the people in chemotherapy. Everyone is so kind and friendly.
Last week I got an email through facebook from someone whose name I didn't recognize. I almost deleted it thinking it was one of those responses to a comment made by a friend but not really something that I needed to look at. But for some reason I decided to click on it and lo and behold it was a friend from my old intermediate school. We've been emailing like crazy ever since, trying to catch up on what each of us has been doing for the last 47 years. And a lot can happen! I'm so thrilled that she found me and that I didn't delete that email! What a joy to have an old friend come back into one's life!

Chemo Light!

Today I had my first chemo light. I wasn't sure what to anticipate. It seemed like it was too good to be true. Just one drip? Just the herceptin? Can't be. There must be a catch. And yet, after seeing the doctor and having a few questions answered like can I really get rid of those awful pills that I have to take before chemo? (yes) and can anything be done about the neuropathy (yes), I strolled over to the chemo side of the offices and had the chemo. It was administered by a nurse I had before. A very pleasant lady who remembered having graham crackers with her milk in kindergarten, just like I remembered. Anyway. She put the saline line into the port and then the herceptin and little more than 45 minutes later I was off to Starbucks! Yippee skippy! I can do this with my eyes closed. Actually, like Pavlov's dog salivating at the sound of the bell, after she put in the IV, I started to nod off as I did with the super chemo. But there was no reason to do that. I didn't have benadryl or compasine to make me sleepy. But because I was used to feeling sleepy after the saline and other drips started, I dozed off. Silly me! The nicest part was being able to drive home and being able to do stuff afterwards, not like before when I was out for the day. And tomorrow I'm sure my digestive processes will be just fine. I think I am on the road to normal. Whoo hoo!