Hope and Gratitude
In my week at home I’ve already passed several tests. Well, one really, but it amounted to three appointments with various members of my medical team so I’m giving myself credit three times.
4.15.2021
In my week at home I’ve already passed several tests. Well, one really, but it amounted to three appointments with various members of my medical team so I’m giving myself credit three times. It was all hospital follow-up. My heart is looking good. Our first look at the pericardium post-hospital showed no new fluid. I got to hear words like, “...expected after we’ve been in the pericardium,” “normal,” and, “perfect.” I loved hearing those words. I’ve been waiting more than a year to hear words like that about my heart!
Since there was cancer in all that pesky pericardial fluid we made a new treatment plan. The new medications arrived. I started the easy one yesterday. It’ll help control the cancer from a hormone standpoint and ensure I have lots of nice hot flashes. When my cheeks turn rosy from the heat, Paul often - unknowingly - tells me I’m pretty. I’m not usually in the mood to hear about it in those moments but I resolve to embrace it from now on.
The second medication is the big deal, heavy-hitter. Think: chemotherapy symptoms + do it to yourself. It just arrived by special delivery. I’ll only be able to get one dose in today so I can delay the inevitable a few hours. Chemotherapy is not fun, but my two experiences with it were short-lived. All I had to do was get through a few months and the hardest part was over. Plus, I didn’t have to infuse myself; someone else put it into my body. This time, I have to do it. I have to physically put it in my mouth two times a day, every day. Then, hope nothing happens. Well, hope for all the benefits with no side effects. I’m looking for easy because this has been one crazy, rocky road.
I took a big step forward this morning. I said, thank you for this medication and the help it may offer me. I’m pretty good at staying positive (most of the time). I choose to be grateful despite all I could (and sometimes do) complain about, but there is always room for improvement. There is room for more joy and I know gratitude is the path there.
So today, I open myself to this new treatment and the help it may provide. I allow my body to accept this help and healing. I move forward with hope and gratitude.
Catching Up
I wasn’t sleeping well my last few nights at home before going to the hospital so I started out at a deficit. Sleep is a precious thing. Take a nap? I didn’t really have time.
4.7.2021
I wasn’t sleeping well my last few nights at home before going to the hospital so I started out at a deficit. Sleep is a precious thing. Take a nap? I didn’t really have time.
Things moved along slowly but steadily over the weekend. I was bracing myself to be at the hospital much of the week. Sunday night, I got ready for bed. Medication, vitals - everything was done. All that remained was one trip to the bathroom and then, sleep. I stood up from the side of the bed. PLOP! My drain fell on the floor! Stunned, I just stood there. Staring. At least 8 inches of tubing that had been in my chest a moment ago were suddenly on the floor! How could it bypass stitches, bandages and tape so effortlessly?
Apparently I wasn’t the only one stunned because everyone that came in stared at it. Like a crime scene, no one moved a thing. Finally, the spell was broken. They checked me over. Everything was fine until morning. It was after 11:00 p.m. My door latched shut. I looked at the floor. It was still there, untouched. Laughing to myself, I picked up the drain and moved it aside. All was quiet. Bandaged up, I slept for the second night in a row.
I was expecting the worst. Would they place a new drain? More surgery? I really need this to work! It ended up being better than I could imagine. After much checking it became clear there was no reason for me to stay. I came home late Monday afternoon.
Until now, I didn’t know how luxurious it is to be home. I can hug and hug and hug my family. I get to take showers - showers! (Amazing.) Best of all, I can sleep in my own bed. I relax into my own pillow at night. I sleep all night long and take naps, too. I’m catching up one day at a time.
On my feet
We have a trampoline. The enormous bouncing contraption that takes up nearly half our backyard allows us laughter, exercise and fun nearly every day of the year. I make a habit of climbing in there most days and bouncing with the kids. While they fly, twist and double-flip, I wait for my turn.
4.2.2021
We have a trampoline. The enormous bouncing contraption that takes up nearly half our backyard allows us laughter, exercise and fun nearly every day of the year. I make a habit of climbing in there most days and bouncing with the kids. While they fly, twist and double-flip, I wait for my turn.
When I had my pericardium drained in January I had a mid-procedure daydream. I had been working on my front flip for nearly a year. I was close but I couldn’t land it. As I laid on the table in the cath lab (very lightly sedated), I thought, Once this fluid is out, I’ll be able to land my front flip. Maybe it was the sedation but I was certain about it.
The time since passed quickly and has been a burden on my heart. My follow-up echocardiogram showed fluid re-accumulating just five weeks after being drained. Rats! Just when I was feeling good and starting to trust my body again, the rug was pulled out from under me.
Last week things changed rapidly. One evening Paul and I went for a walk. As we went along, Paul marvelled at how I could go so fast. By Saturday I could barely get around the block. I was terribly out of breath.
First thing Monday morning we called the cancer center. Even though we didn’t think it was an emergency, the most efficient way to get all the tests I needed would be at the ER. Paul and the kids dropped me off. Blood work, CT scan, imaging of my heart. It was an emergency afterall. I was admitted and went upstairs for another pericardiocentesis. It would make it safe enough for me to make it through the night.
Overnight, my pericardium filled up again. Tuesday came. We made plans. There was a cancellation in the operating room that made space for me. They whisked me away, sobbing, for surgery. I knew this heart surgery would come eventually but I still didn’t want it. I was scared. I was alone. It was happening anyway. It had to.
The surgery went fine. We cut a “window” (hole) in the bottom of my pericardium. Now, two drains hang out just below my breastbone allowing fluid to flow away. Our hope is that the pericardium will get dry enough to seal up against the heart so there’s no more room for troublesome fluid. I’ve got a lot of living left to do so I hope it fuses perfectly.
It’ll be a while before I get to go home. I am waiting for the fluid to stop. I soak up every good bit of the hospital staff. I laugh as much as I can and cry when I can’t laugh. I’m making good use of my old chemo dancing skills in my hospital room.
Once I’m recovered enough to get back on the trampoline there’ll be no holding me back and no more almost or bottom landings. I’ll keep bouncing. I’ll keep flipping. My heart will heal for good this time. I can't quite get there yet but one of these days I'll land solidly - on my feet.
Shiny
The procedure went well last week. It wasn’t a super fun party time but it’s done. That’s all that really matters.
2.3.2021
The procedure went well last week. It wasn’t a super fun party time but it’s done. That’s all that really matters.
Initially, my recovery was a bit of a disappointment. I expected to feel overwhelmed with energy after having nearly a liter of fluid drained from around my heart. I was fine. I was cheerful. I could move around. I just felt mostly...the same.
Since then, more energy and more Heidi have crept out every day. Sunday, I took the trash out. On the short walk from house to trash bin I found myself swinging the bag of trash. It was fun. Next, I twirled it up over my shoulder, making big circles in the air. It felt good. Without even trying, I was lighthearted. Taking out the trash had never been so nice!
Suddenly, nearly everything is fun! I smile at myself in the mirror for no reason. Paul’s jokes are funnier. The boys are more adorable and wonderful than ever. I am better! It turns out that hauling around an extra liter of fluid in my chest was putting a damper on things. Without it, I feel lighter, brighter, happier and healthier. Suddenly, life is shiny and beautiful again.
Into The Wilderness
I like to think of the time when the weather was warm. Our days were spent outside and everything was golden - at least that’s how I remember it. It was July or August. One evening, I explained my heart situation to the kids at dinner. I told them how fluid was built up in the sac around my heart. It meant we couldn’t make a triumphant post-chemo trip into the Boundary Waters. The fluid had to go before we could go.
1.23.2021
I like to think of the time when the weather was warm. Our days were spent outside and everything was golden - at least that’s how I remember it. It was July or August. One evening, I explained my heart situation to the kids at dinner. I told them how fluid was built up in the sac around my heart. It meant we couldn’t make a triumphant post-chemo trip into the Boundary Waters. The fluid had to go before we could go.
Even though the cancer seems to be under control, the fluid around my heart has increased to a breaking point. It’s time to drain it. It feels like defeat but I know that it isn't. If I'm completely honest, I'm a little relieved. It feels kind of good. And strange. This is definitely not what I wanted. I wanted my body to do it alone. I wanted to move on. No more IVs, no more needles. No more big emotions because I have been away at the hospital. Again. I hoped for something a little cleaner, more efficient, less….hospital.
Anyway, it is scheduled for Tuesday. I cannot focus on what I wanted, only on what is. This is the right thing. This is happening. I am grateful that it can be done. Grateful for feeling relieved. Grateful for kind, compassionate doctors who are looking out for my highest good. Grateful for knowing this is a step forward. Grateful we can dream about a trip into the wilderness again.
Results
Spring is coming! In Minneapolis we are gaining around two minutes of light each day. With lengthening days, plants get the signal to grow. Last year’s kale plants still stand tall and brave in my garden. Even with sloppy snow from the driveway shoveled on top, they’ve gotten the message and started growing again.
1.18.2021
Spring is coming! In Minneapolis we are gaining around two minutes of light each day. With lengthening days, plants get the signal to grow. Last year’s kale plants still stand tall and brave in my garden. Even with sloppy snow from the driveway shoveled on top, they’ve gotten the message and started growing again.
I got my first taste of test results last Monday evening. Just as I arrived home from acupuncture, CT scan results popped up on my phone. Good news! I thought. If results are unremarkable they usually come to me. If it’s bad news, I don’t hear until I’m at the cancer center. I studied the report.
Now. Let's be real. There is nothing that report could say that would be positive enough for me. Nothing. Unless it was something like,
“Absolutely nothing interesting found here! We can't believe this lady was ever diagnosed with cancer because her insides are absolutely perfect! Wowee! No cancer here, folks!”
Something tells me that has never been written about a cancer patient’s scan before. I guess it gives me something to aspire to.
The report was nearly the same as the last one. I was nervous but I didn’t need to be. The cancer is not spreading! My bones look the same as before. My lungs look fine. It is overwhelmingly good news.
This is a new year. Tiny, fresh leaves are sprouting in the cold days of January. Light is increasing and I’m a little better than I was before.
We’ll see!
Jackson is five. He is a wonder! He changes so quickly! Not long ago, he went through a phase where he would ask for something, and no matter the answer to his request, he’d close the conversation with a bright, “We’ll see!”
1.8.2021
Jackson is five. He is a wonder! He changes so quickly! Not long ago, he went through a phase where he would ask for something, and no matter the answer to his request, he’d close the conversation with a bright, “We’ll see!”
“Can we go to a skatepark?”
“Not today.”
“We’ll see!”
“Can we have cake for breakfast?” (after his birthday)
“No, we’re having oatmeal.”
“We’ll see!”
So, I’ve only written once since September. What has been going on? Well, regular life has been going on with a whole lot of “Heidi’s Heavy Heart” wedged into nearly every day. That fluid surrounding my heart has been a nuisance indeed! The amount of fluid decreased and we went longer between echocardiograms. It increased and we checked my heart more frequently. It’s been a rollercoaster and I am not a fan of that amusement park ride.
My physical heart has been heavy with fluid and my emotional and spiritual heart has felt heavy with fluid. It’s been a bummer. Despite the fluid, I’ve mostly been feeling really good. In fact, I didn’t know it could get much better until it did. I hope this is a sign of things to come.
Next week is a big week. I’ll have a CT scan of my whole body to look for cancer. I’ll have an echocardiogram of my heart to measure that pesky fluid. And, I’ll meet with my oncologist and cardiologist to hear all about it.
Blech.
Even though I love my people at the clinic, I often find myself not wanting to go. Although, at least for today, this time feels a tiny bit different. Maybe this time the images will show what I’ve had a sense of all along: perfect, beautiful healing. Fluid? Gone! Cancer? Disappeared. That’s what I’d like.
We’ll see!
More
I woke up at 5:00 this morning. No one woke me. It wasn’t because I had to go to the bathroom or heard a noise. It wasn’t even because of a cancer treatment-induced hot flash. I think I woke up because I wasn’t tired.
1.5.2021
I woke up at 5:00 this morning. No one woke me. It wasn’t because I had to go to the bathroom or heard a noise. It wasn’t even because of a cancer treatment-induced hot flash. I think I woke up because I wasn’t tired.
I’ve been waiting for this day for years. Back in 2018-19 before I knew I had cancer again, I sometimes wondered if I’d ever wake up refreshed. I tried to remember when it was that I didn’t feel tired and I didn’t know.
Any time you may have seen me since then I was probably smiling but also, I was deeply tired. I likely said I felt good but didn’t confess that I was also tired because I didn’t really know. Where is the line between “cancer-tired” and “I’m a mom” tired? How do I differentiate between regular “I need to rest at the end of the day” and “cancer may be eating me alive” rest? Which tears are for “I had a (normal) hard day” and which are “I’m exhausted to tears because of cancer”?
Anyway, I’ve been waiting for this day for years. I woke up because I wasn’t tired. I was just energized and happy. I didn’t drag myself out of bed, I was excited to get out of bed. I was excited to start my day and then to live the whole day. All the parts, all the average happenings were extra shiny today. Everything was great because I felt great.
Even if I subtract cancer from the equation, every day is not like this one. I’ve played this game before. I bet you have, too. I want to keep this bliss-train rolling, but I know every day will not be like this. Still, I find myself hoping for more of these days.
More bliss. More joy. More laughter. More ease.
More.
Please?
Back
Maybe you noticed that I disappeared. I haven't responded to messages since July. Not really. I couldn't. I was curled deeply into myself, nestled close with my little household. Every day my focus was to be as peaceful as possible, heal, eat and exercise. Even those tasks seem challenging on some days.
Last week was a big one. It felt like the first test of my new treatment plan. Chemo ended in June. It's been awhile. Is the cancer growing again?
9.22.2020
Maybe you noticed that I disappeared. I haven't responded to messages since July. Not really. I couldn't. I was curled deeply into myself, nestled close with my little household. Every day my focus was to be as peaceful as possible, heal, eat and exercise. Even those tasks seemed challenging on some days.
Last week was a big one. It felt like the first test of my new treatment plan. Chemo ended in June. It's been awhile. Is the cancer growing again?
It's not easy to approach tests with perfect faith. Even when I feel great, even when I know I am healthy, doubts well up when I'm faced with proof of my internal state.
I had a CT scan and an echocardiogram last week. The CT was looking for cancer. The echo was measuring the fluid around my heart. Even though I knew a bit of the results last week, I got the full assessment when I went to the cancer center this morning.
Take a deep breath. Are you ready?
It looks great! For a lady who has been dealing with cancer around her lungs, heart and in her bones, it couldn't get much better. There's still a large effusion around my heart - lots of fluid that doesn't belong there. But, there's a tiny bit less than last time and amazingly, it's not bothering me. There aren't problems with my heart function so I can be as active as I want. I'd be happier if the fluid left but it's fine in there as long as it's not increasing. My bones have healed. Oh, and remember last summer when I spent weeks in the hospital for lung surgery? Even the fluid that was stuck around my right lung after surgery has improved!
I am healing. This is what I wanted. It is here. Thank you for loving, supporting and offering me grace in the process. You are a blessing.
I'm back!
Abundance
One of the things I love most about gardening is the abundance of nature. This year we enjoyed more dill and cilantro than we knew what to do with. We munched snap peas, harvested turnips and thinned beets but all the glory is happening right now with raspberries.
7.2.2020
One of the things I love most about gardening is the abundance of nature. This year we enjoyed more dill and cilantro than we knew what to do with. We munched snap peas, harvested turnips and thinned beets but all the glory is happening right now with raspberries. This season is different from others. Leaves grow thicker, blossoms on perennial plants are more prolific and as a result, fruit is more abundant. Our canes are dripping with berries!
It has been a big week. I had a scan on Monday. Overall, it's good news. The cancer in my bones - including a particularly large spot on my spine - is GONE. The cancer around my heart is GONE. There are still a few tiny spots that look like cancer at the top of my right lung and behind my right collarbone. They are, indeed, small spots but they had me in tears. It was not the perfect scan I expected. I feel better than that! There's no more room for cancer here.
In addition, the scan brought what my oncologist called "nuisance news." There's no longer cancerous fluid in the sac around my heart but there is still fluid. I spent today in tests, taking pictures and in conversation about my heart. There is at least as much or slightly more fluid than the amount we removed in March. It is impeding my heart's ability to function properly. I'll try some medications for a week to see if my body can get rid of it. If not, we'll have to do something more invasive. It's not cancer! Yay! Still, it feels kind of big.
When the information and decisions press in on me I return my attention to abundance. Love, positivity, and beliefs are stronger than nuisance fluid, stronger than uncertainty, stronger than most anything. I pop a raspberry in my mouth, gaze across the garden, and smile at abundance all around.
Love
I had chemotherapy infusion #4 a week and a half ago. I tried to update you but I couldn't put the words together.
6.20.2020
I had chemotherapy infusion #4 a week and a half ago. I tried to update you but I couldn't put the words together. It was longer and harder than the other times.
Now, I'm doing quite well. The side effects are still with me but I try to ignore them most of the time.
I have missed hearing from you. Every bright story about your lives and every bit of encouragement matters to me. You matter to me. I already know it but I need to hear that I matter too. In the moments when all that I’m doing overwhelms me I need positive fuel for my heart and mind so I can keep my body going. Basically, what I need is love.
It’s Time
I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while. I’ve been taking care of myself, playing with the kids, gardening and more. There’s been so much more, hasn’t there?
6.9.2020
I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while. I’ve been taking care of myself, playing with the kids, gardening and more. There’s been so much more, hasn’t there?
I was signed up for chemotherapy last week but it didn’t work out. My counts were too low. Apparently it’s pretty common for people taking chemotherapy a 2nd time to need a longer recovery between infusions. Fine. Another week has already passed.
My counts were good this morning so I have infusion #4 floating around inside me. My body feels different. My stomach is a tiny bit uneasy tonight. I don’t remember it feeling this way. I’m still thinking, it gets easier every time. It can be hard to believe but I’m still trying.
I’ll have a PET/CT scan in three and a half weeks so we can see the impact of the chemotherapy. Because I’m a wild woman hellbent on healing, I’ve been asking for additional infusions. I’d like to do more than knock the cancer down. I want to get rid of it.
I don't know what it takes to get someone to say I’m in remission but I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m intent on full blast healing that goes beyond all reason. I’m looking toward a lifetime of health, joy, peace and ease. It’s time.
Well Again
For the last year I’ve been reading about the brain and how beliefs affect our biology. I put what I learned to the test, too. Before I knew there was cancer in the sac around my heart I was super tired. I woke up exhausted in the morning and went to bed completely spent at night.
5.15.2020
For the last year I’ve been reading about the brain and how beliefs affect our biology. I put what I learned to the test, too. Before I knew there was cancer in the sac around my heart I was super tired. I woke up exhausted in the morning and went to bed completely spent at night. In an effort to out-think my own body I wrote a few paragraphs to convince myself. I started with, “I always have plenty of energy,” and went on to detail the positive, wonderful way I wanted to experience life. I read it to myself before getting out of bed each morning. I recited as much as I could from memory throughout the day. I read it over and over again just before sleeping at night. Amazingly, it started to work. I had more energy and the daily rhythms of my life became gentler and more joyful.
I decided to take the same approach with chemotherapy. It had to be simpler, though. I kept to a single line. I started saying to myself, “It gets easier every time.” To be honest, I didn’t really believe myself but I had to do something. A chemotherapy fact has been haunting me since March: it’s cumulative. Blech! Last week I realized I’d been planning my life around the cumulative effects of chemo. I pushed myself to get the garden planted. It’s cumulative, I’d say to myself. I better get this done now. I planned how to get the children’s lessons done as early as possible. Who knows what kind of a mess I’ll be by early June? That kind of thinking couldn’t be helpful!
So, here I am after infusion #3. According to my old way of thinking I should be a miserable mess. While I am sometimes a mess I’m not entirely miserable. In fact, I’m more and more convinced that my beliefs become my biology with every passing minute. According to the pain pattern of my previous infusions today should have been my worst day. However, it was better than all the previous “worst days.” Instead of sleeping the entire day away, I only spent two hours in bed. That is significant improvement and surely a reason to believe I will be well again.
Enough
In Healing Touch the color associated with the heart is green. How fitting. Green grass, green trees, green vegetables. If green is love, love is all around.
5.12.2020
In Healing Touch the color associated with the heart is green. How fitting. Green grass, green trees, green vegetables. If green is love, love is all around.
I had chemotherapy #3 today. It went fine. After an extra week of break I had energy to burn. Walking, marching, and dancing wasn’t enough. I had to do some jogging. I have mastered dancing for hours at a time but it’s challenging to keep jogging for even 20 minutes when you’re not going anywhere! Wanting to shut out the four walls that kept me in, I jogged with my eyes closed. It felt like I was staying perfectly in place but I wasn’t. Often, I would bump into something or open my eyes to see I had moved across the room. I guess even in challenging times there’s still a need to move forward.
I’m feeling pretty good. Tomorrow morning I’ll break my fast. I can hardly wait! I’ve been planning tomorrow’s food for days. I’ll mark the occasion with the first spinach harvest from our garden. Loading up an omelet with fresh, dark spinach and onions, I’ll fill myself with green veggies. Love is all around. There’s always more than enough. What delight there is in eating, being nourished and living!
Too Low
I was tired but ready. I didn't see this coming.
5.6.2020
I was tired but ready. I didn't see this coming. My counts are too low for chemo. I wait another week. Tears. Frustration. I'm surprised at how disappointed I am. I want to do this now. I want to know what to expect from something. A schedule is something.
I see the silver linings. I won't feel like garbage for the next week. I get extra recovery time. I'm home. It's a beautiful day. Our apple tree is blossoming.
Deep breaths. Warm sunshine. I choose to let the disappointment fade. I'll try to shine light and love on my family instead.
Secrets
One of the surprising, life-giving things that has happened since I started chemotherapy is laundry. Yep. Laundry.
5.5.2020
One of the surprising, life-giving things that has happened since I started chemotherapy is laundry. Yep. Laundry. I am slowly and steadily catching up on laundry. The piles of laundry in my basement have been there at least a year. The essentials were washed but non-essentials were pushed to the bottom of the pile, shoved into baskets to wait for another time and never emptied. Until now. Somehow I’ve been getting through chemotherapy, homeschooling three children and cleaning up the laundry excess in my basement. Outgrown, old winter bundles? Washed and ready for the next kid. Extra bedding from a February sleepover? Fresh, folded and put away. It’s amazing!
Speaking of amazing-and since I’m sharing all my dirty little secrets-let’s talk about how I’m rocking chemotherapy. When I started cancer treatment nine and a half years ago I also started Healing Touch and acupuncture regularly. With both therapies every week I was able to do away with nausea medications, a drug that boosted my white blood count and feel better too. Fast forward to this spring and I’m being even more extreme.
As soon as I knew chemotherapy was coming I was scared and desperately wanted to make it less bad than it should be. I had an intuition about fasting. I read summaries, medical research, anything I could find. With my doctors’ approval, I resolved to fast. Now, I’ve got quite a routine going: 60 hour water-only fasts. Acupuncture. Chemo day exercise. More exercise. Healing Touch. Rest. Repeat.
I start fasting two nights before chemotherapy. I have acupuncture one day before. On infusion day, I get moving as soon as they hook me up to the IV. What started out as marching in place has transformed into dancing. With headphones on and an IV line dragging about I aim to move at least 2 hours and 15 minutes of the four hour infusion. I have been amazed at how exercise destroys waves of nausea. The day after chemo I exercise and break my fast according to how my stomach feels. Two days after chemotherapy I relax into Healing Touch and prepare to ride out the worst of things. Exercise is off the table on these days but I add it back in as soon as I can. From day four and beyond, I take a slow ride toward feeling like myself again.
There you have it! All my secrets have been revealed. Fasting for Wednesday’s infusion has already begun. I try not to dread it. I’ll just do like I did the other times. I’ll not eat, throw in another load of laundry and keep dancing.
Rising Up
Do you recognize these beauties? They are the first big harvest from our food garden. We’ve been sprinkling chives and chopping green onions for a while but hostas are the first food that will fill bellies.
4.21.2020
Do you recognize these beauties? They are the first big harvest from our food garden. We’ve been sprinkling chives and chopping green onions for a while but hostas are the first food that will fill bellies. Widely grown but little known to be edible, hostas seem to be in almost every shade garden. As pictured here they are in the perfect state for harvest.
I find myself feeling much like these hosta sprouts the past few days. I’m emerging from a winter that has been far longer than this COVID crisis or even my most recent cancer excitement. I’m feeling really good. It’s wonderful and I have a sense of this being a deeper good than I’ve felt in a long time. Like hardy plants emerging from the cold dirt I’m rising to the surface after more than a year of feeling the effects of this metastatic breast cancer. Each time I feel well, it is relative to how I felt before which-despite my best efforts-has not been perfect for a long time. I’m talking years here.
Depending on our relationship, you may have seen me retreat inside myself. I don’t call, we don’t get together, message responses take longer and longer. It’s a cocooning that has been necessary. It’s not over but there is a tiny hole in the cocoon. I’m peeking out of it and there is light. Excitement is bubbling up and I enjoy knowing that this time is just this time. There will be other times full of activity and social calls and hand shaking and hugs.
For now, I’m focusing on the wonders that are happening all around me. There are children laughing. The sun is shining and life is rising up from dark places.
Sweet Relief
Today was a roller coaster day. I had a slow morning followed by an even slower afternoon. One thing that was not slow: my heart.
4.21.2020
Today was a roller coaster day. I had a slow morning followed by an even slower afternoon. One thing was not slow: my heart.
I started noticing late Monday that when I walked up a flight of stairs my heart was pounding. When I exercised this morning-a particularly short, easy regime-I had to stop several times because it was pounding so hard. As the day wore on my heart kept on. It was only when I was moving around but it was a change.
My mind began leaping to unpleasant places. I didn’t want to call my doctor because I might have to go to the hospital for testing. I did not want to be at the hospital during a pandemic! I called anyway.
Thankfully, there’s no cause for panic. Sometimes this happens. I get to relax at home. No extra tests, no hospital, no worries. Whew!
Now, I can bask in the sweet relief of staying home. Quite suddenly, I feel better than I’ve felt in weeks! I cut Paul’s hair. The shingles and their side effects are 100% gone. My spirits are high and I’m getting a little more energy each day. Life is good.
Still Here
One thing that keeps me going is being so unbelievably determined. I don’t even know where it comes from but I’m glad it comes.
4.20.2020
One thing that keeps me going is being so unbelievably determined. I don’t even know where it comes from but I’m glad it comes. At about noon today I was laying in bed feeling a bit yuck. Paul had just arrived to check on me. As I looked over at him all I could think was, I really want to cut his hair! Now, this is no COVID haircut situation. I’ve been cutting his hair-and the kids’-for years. I didn’t feel up to giving haircuts but I could fantasize about feeling up to it. It seemed like a good idea. I laughed out loud at myself. I really wanted to do it. I guess that was the first clue that I was coming back.
For a few glorious hours this afternoon I was myself. Animated, honestly cheerful and full of joy. I joined the kids for their outside time. They played. I watched their tricks, gardened, danced and sang. Feeling good is super good! It faded but that’s okay. Now I know, I’m still here.
Uninspired
Each day I wake and each night I go to sleep wanting to update you. I am writing but it is uninspired. It is the writing of a woman on chemotherapy, I guess.
4.19.2020
Each day I wake and each night I go to sleep wanting to update you. I am writing but it is uninspired. It is the writing of a woman on chemotherapy, I guess. Even though I am not doing well at replying, I treasure every comment and word of encouragement you send. Thank you.
I am rocking chemotherapy. All things considered, my side effects are minimal and I’m feeling better than expected. I can eat. Indeed, I have an enormous appetite most of the time! I can stand up. I can move. I can smile. Sometime soon I’ll share the secrets to my success.
In these days of discomfort I forget that everyone doesn’t feel the same as me. I marvel at how Paul and the boys spring about with their bodies and expend so much energy in animated conversation. I fooled everyone yesterday by just plain pretending. I pretended that I had energy and interest in normal activities and it worked. Everyone cheered up considerably when I was engaged and eventually a bit of energy came to me, too. Still, it is hard to remember that I will have a zest for life again. It will feel good to move, work, play and laugh another time. Maybe this afternoon. Maybe tomorrow.