Going to Chemo

          Today was the first time I went with my mom to chemo.  I wasn’t sure what to expect but nothing surprised me. All we did was sit in a room and wait for the process to be completed. Even though there wasn’t much to do, I pictured in my mind that the red liquid being put into my mom’s body, changing into the strong brown rope lassoing the untamed cells. This thought came to me as I remembered the picture my mom drew.

          We were stationed in window seat in the chemo room. The panorama of the rolling hills, and the sunny sky was a reminder that my life would sometimes be one of those hills with one steep up hill side, and one sloping side. But which side was which, sloping, or up hill. This depended on our thoughts, if we just thought that this situation was stupid and then, poof, it would be gone is definitely the wrong idea. But we could also think that, yes, it is stupid but being prepared and aware is the most important thing to do. I choose the down hill : being aware and prepared.

          The chemo suite was a huge part of the building. I think there were about 25 stations where people were being treated. I looked around and saw young people, and elderly people. I thought, why is there so many people here? Why should anyone have cancer at any age? Why should there even be a word, cancer? The last person I ever would have thought to get cancer, was my mom. And somehow she feels in the best shape physically than any other time in her life. I think that it isn’t just physical health. Mental health is, I believe more important that physical health. I think that since my mom is being very confident in herself, that her mental health is the biggest of the two.

            Whenever my mom’s friends and even our family, ask me what I think of this situation, I am at a loss for words. Somehow I don’t think I have any thoughts but as I go to empty them with drawing and writing, I realize that I haven’t done much of it. Should I be more focused on thinking about this, instead of trying to make it seem as though our lives are normal? What I try to do is to not let it eat me up by thinking about it too much. I don’t let it thrive on my thoughts and basically suffocate me. If I do have thoughts I sometimes communicate with my friends. I think I communicate well with my friends because I guess we understand each other well, and also that we may have something in common. By telling my friends, I have realized that some of their loved ones also have had or have cancer. I think by telling them, I feel more confident to share my thoughts with others, not just friends.

            This does suck, but that’s not going to change anything by complaining. The down hill is much easier to walk on than the up hill. Also telling myself that it sucks over and over again is a part of mental suffering. Having mental health is more important than physical health so that I stay healthier than ever before. But having physical health is important too, because walking up a hill is sometimes a lot of work.

Giddyup Cowgirl (Day 1 Cycle 2).

Bald-cowgirl-150x150We did it!

There’s nothing like friends who would shave your head if you asked them to on short notice.   This includes those friends who would try like hell to change their impossible schedule…and alas, have to decline.  Today was the  day.

The infusion went without a hitch.  K drove, E came, S visited with treats.  It was wonderful…the love, company and support I mean.

I could pull pinches of hair out as of 2 days ago, but this morning it was a little easier to do.   I think it creeped some of my family out, actually.    I’m surprised it didn’t all come off in the shower.    As we drove from the cancer center, I knew it was the day.  K  had a bit more time, D was between gigs and accepted the invitation willingly.  E went on his bike and made trails in our woods…  Once it was over, I felt nothing but relief.  I walked to D’s house with some Baldy Pesto, and felt strong.  Anticipation gets me every time.   Now I get to adorn and wrap with beautiful colors.  I also think it feels cool when I rub my head.  AND I can finally look at the scar that’s been on top of my head since I was 8.   Simple pleasures.  Whodathunk?

It’s about 3 hours post infusion now, and I have a  headache.  I think the katz and I will take little a  nap under E’s loving and watchful guard.

9/23, Cowgirls, magic, and biblical ironies

Day 1, cycle 2, I think if we were to ask P if she were nervous, or something like it, she would deny it.  But, after these few years, I can detect a layer of subtle anxiety.  I think it is kind of like when sparring and somebody demonstrates that they can land a solid blow on you – at will.  There is a wariness that one develops from that experience.  It doesn’t mean you won’t spar with that partner, but, you have a healthy fear.  I think that is where we are at.  I’m not sure how to create a CowGirl analogy here other than to say that you have to get back on the horse that bucked you off.

The whole hair thing is becoming an interesting issue as well.  It is complex.  I think there are issues of gender identity — many women are their hair in a way like many men are their baldness.  Perhaps it  is a way to obsess over something that doesn’t really matter and so wrangle with the neurosis inherent in poisoning yourself to heal – a distraction.  I think keeping the hair around as long as possible is also a denial – “I’m not really fighting a disease and this isn’t really happening to me.”  Denial and rationalizations are the two sides of the same coin – I think.

From “The Big Chill”:

Michael: “I don’t know anyone who could get through the day without two or three juicy rationalizations. They’re more important than sex.”

Sam Weber: “Ah, come on. Nothing’s more important than sex.”

Michael: “Oh yeah? Ever gone a week without a rationalization?”

P wanted as she does, to turn the head shaving into this big ritual – a circle of family, drumming, probably chanting.  Alas, neither A nor I were really able to accommodate that, E was still in bed, but, he might have been more sensitive.  A dear friend, K,  is taking P and E to Chemo today and another friend, S,  is meeting them there as well.  Full house, therefore, I’m at work.  I suggested to P that she shave when she got home, before the drugs kick her butt – perhaps K and E can help here with that.  I wonder what I will find when I get home?

I have little patience for the Bible, but two stories I like, and they are related, are that of Samson and of the Parable of the Talents – wisdom is where you find it and if you are smart enough to pick it up.

Samson and Delilah Judges xvi, 4-20.

And it came to pass afterward, that he loved a woman in the valley of Sorek, whose name was Delilah.  And the lords of the Philistines came up unto her, and said unto her, Entice him, and see wherein his great strength lieth, and by what means we may prevail against him, that we may bind him to afflict him; and we will give thee every one of us eleven hundred pieces of silver.  And Delilah said to Samson, Tell me, I pray thee, wherein thy great strength lieth, and wherewith thou mightest be bound to afflict thee. And Samson said unto her, If they bind me with seven green withs that were never dried, then shall I be weak, and be as another man. Then the lords of the Philistines brought up to her seven green withs which had not been dried, and she bound him with them. Now there were men lying in wait, abiding with her in the chamber. And she said unto him, The Philistines be upon thee, Samson. And he brake the withs, as a thread of tow is broken when it toucheth the fire. So his strength was not known.  And Delilah said unto Samson, Behold, thou hast mocked me, and told me lies: now tell me,… And it came to pass, when she pressed him daily with her words, and urged him, so that his soul was vexed unto death; that he told her all his heart, and said unto her, There hath not come a razor upon mine head; for I have been a Nazarite unto God from my mother’s womb if I be shaven, then my strength will go from me, and I shall become weak, and be like any other man.  And when Delilah saw that he had told her all his heart, she sent and called for the lords of the Philistines, saying, Come up this once, for he hath showed me all his heart. Then the lords of the Philistines came up unto her, and brought money in their hand. And she made him sleep upon her knees; and she called for a man, and she caused him to shave off the seven locks of his head; and she began to afflict him, and his strength went from him. And she said, The Philistines be upon thee, Samson. And he awoke out of his sleep, and said, I will go out as at other times before, and shake myself.  And he wist not that the Lord was departed from him.

Those of you who know me, know well, that strength is an attribute I celebrate and admire.  But strength for most of us is not magical or a gift of god, but, something we work for everyday.  Strength comes with a high price, exhaustion, pain, workouts with intensity that leaves you near black out, or, vomiting.  Samson it seems not only had great personal strength, but, he was a great martial artist, and a guerrilla leader.  Talents that he took for granted and perhaps even resented.  His Nazerite vow was imposed upon him by his parents as an infant.  In a way this story of Samson and Delilah reminds of the goofy movie cliché where the bad guy has the ultimate weapon of doom and it has weirdly a self-destruct mechanism.  We see this with our Sports hero’s too, they have pre-game rituals and superstitions.  Magic as it were.   Magic, perhaps, to explain extraordinary talent, and magic to explain extraordinary weakness.

The Parable of the Talents Matt 25:14-30

The parable tells of a master who was leaving his home to travel, and before going gave his three servants different amounts of money. On returning from his travels, the master asked his servants for an account of the money given to them. The first servant reported that he was given five talents, and he had made five talents more. The master praised the servant as being good and faithful, gave him more responsibility because of his faithfulness, and invited the servant to be joyful together with him.

The second servant said that he had received two talents, and he had made two talents more. The master praised this servant in the same way as being good and faithful, giving him more responsibility and inviting the servant to be joyful together with him.

The last servant who had received one talent reported that knowing his master was a hard man, he buried his talent in the ground for safekeeping, and therefore returned the original amount to his master. The master called him a wicked and lazy servant, saying that he should have placed the money in the bank to generate interest. The master commanded that the one talent be taken away from that servant, and given to the servant with ten talents, because everyone that has much will be given more, and whoever that has a little, even the little that he has will be taken away. And the master ordered the servant to be thrown outside.

It is ironic perhaps that Samson’s fall is seen rather like the 3rd servant.   I say ironic because the Old Testament “G”od , a wrathful and jealous one, seemed to love him in spite of his weaknesses, arrogances, and appetites.  And the New Testement “G”od one allegedly of love and forgiveness would seem to cast a person like Samson into darkness and suffering.  Certainly that is the human justice we love to see in our celebrities and reality TV.  The rest of us who have to work hard for strength or insight like to associate ourselves with the hard working servants and imagine fairness and justice in the universe.  Although this story of Samson’s fall fills our minds, we should not forget his success as a leader, a martial artist and a strong man – he led his people for 20 years after all.  Perhaps, he like the first servant doubled his masters’ investment – in spite, and perhaps because of, his human frailties.  Cancer is neither fair nor just and everything about it is ironic –our own bodies run amok against ourselves.

Perhaps it is extreme situations and how we play to our strengths, our unique geniuses, our talents as it were, that we will be remembered for?

So the question becomes how we manage our magic so that it gives us confidence, but, does not replace the thing it is meant to invoke?

If we shave P’s head, what remains?

In truth, I think we are left with a Winnie-the-Pooh, just bald, and for it perhaps all the more Winnie-the-Pooh.  The hair, no more than the disease, describes P – and yet, both are her as well.  I think the beauty of Samson’s story is that there are no lessons to learn, just a life to observe.   A life to reflect mine against an imperfect mirror as it were.

Cycle 1 Day 14

Today is the end of cycle 1.   We have made it around this course once, in really good shape.  I must say that days 5-14 were very nice indeed.  I’ve got a ride and lots of company for tomorrow’s infusion.  I’ve got an idea what meds, ginger concoctions, massage and breathing might be helpful this time.  I don’t feel like I’m so much in the dark.  It doesn’t mean I won’t be uncomfortable.  I just have some idea what to expect.   We’ll see if this cycle is like the last one at all.  I do not feel dread as some have asked.  I’m very much in the moment and still full of G.O. energy.  I’m on the horse and she and I are acquainted.  GIDDYUP Girl.

“Rooted “ was inspired by my walks this morning.  The trees are getting Rooted-150x150ready for colder weather.  As they loose their leaves,  I will loose my hair.  Not that you need to know this, but my cycles are often on with the moon.  I mention it here because I feel strength in my connection with nature, and so it is with the trees as well.  If my calculations are accurate, I may be sprouting in the spring.  That works for me.

Thanks to all of you who made this first cycle so comfortable for us.  People continue to blow us away with thoughtfulness.  My big brother commented on the previous entry about the giving that touches me so.  Even just writing about THAT gets me started.  Jeepers.   I love kindness.

Off to yoga now, but I wanted to give you a couple updates:

KITCHEN UPDATE:  On Monday I was able to make a whole BUNCH of caponata, I got the peppers pressed with salt for pickled peppers (which were just processed today), made a great pot o sauce with sausages and meatballs AND a killer eggplant parm.  Am I in heaven?

BLOG UPDATE:  Obviously,  B is playing with the format, something he loves to do.  Please let us know what you think.  The spot that looks like a small paper tacked to the post at the top right is the comment link.  Please feel free to comment, we actually love it when you do.  It goes directly to our email, and it gives us a sense that someone is out there.

WALK FOR HOPE UPDATE:  Our goal was 15 team members, and as soon as I fugure out how to put B, A and E on the team, we’ll be up to, I think, 17 members!  We started with a $500 fundraising goal and kept upping it.  Our goal is now $2,000 and we have already collected $1570.  This is so COOL!

9/20 Green Tomatoes and Hair Energy

Of course I cannot just keep this blog about cancer.  Life goes on and anyone who knows me knows that I’ve been steeped in the kitchen, and vow to keep my grandmothers’ italian kitchens alive.  This morning is chilly.  I love this weather.  Those of you in the northeast know the delay to our growing season which was caused by rain and more rain in June and July.  So now we have beautiful tomatoes, most of them green.  While the katz and I were rolling around in the morning light, I decided to make some fried green tomatoes for breakfast.   We did the usual flour, egg and and seasoned breadcrumb covering and fried them in olive oil.  They were a bed for the over easy eggs topped with grated Parmesan, fresh RED cherry and sun-gold tomatoes and some fresh basil.  It was really tasty.  I saw Julie and Julia last night.  Loved it.

The hair thing is interesting.  As many of you know I’ve chopped all my hair off.  This has been a great thing for me.  Not only is it fun to have short hair, I loved it when my friend S told me that with my baseball cap on I look young enough to be a boy.  She said it with such endearment in her voice, I wore it like a proud pony.   I feel like it’s given me strength to surrender something that has, in part, defined me on the physical plain.  You know that I don’t usually fuss with my hair…like not at all.  I am happy to say that I have come to love its color and texture (that took some time).  The messier the better.

My hair is still holding on.  Even before all of this, I had thought with great compassion about what it must be like deal with hair loss.  Whether it be related to aging, allopecia or other medical reasons.  I never imagined that I’d have to deal with it…my family is hairy.  Honestly, it is the thing I look forward to the least.  Give me nausea.  Hair loss?  I don’t think so.   I suspect that once it happens,  I’ll be able to get on to bigger and better things and that will be that.  UUUUGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH.  Admitting this to myself and YOU is important for me.

While at the Jr. High picking up E the other day, I saw children frolicking about on the beautiful green grass behind the school.  A group of girls was running and laughing and one of them had no hair.  E said something about her having cancer and how he admired her for the courage to just go on with life as a baldy (my term).   I watched her for a while.  She taught me a lot about what is important just in the 3 minutes I sat there.

When I was probably 9, I did the 70’s thing and got my long hair cut into a groovy shag.  Mr. Marconi  had the male pattern baldness thing going on big time, and we used to talk at the neighborhood lake about his hair and my hair and he told me if I ever cut it off that he’d love to glue it on his crown.  So I brought the bag of locks to him after my back to school hair cut.  He cried.  Mind you, this was not a sacrifice but an offering on my part.  I HAD to have a shag.  No sweat off my brow.

My colleague, a cancer survivor, sent me this 1 minute clip before I left work.  I cry every time I see it.

A’s sacrifice still chokes me up and probably will indefinitely.  On Friday at the soccer game, her good friend who clearly loves me,  ran up to me, her once long blonde hair now shoulder length.  When she hugged me she tapped my shoulder and whispered in my ear that she did it for me.  Why does this bring tears to my eyes every time?

hair-energy-150x150I drew Hair Energy before chemo started.  I was not going to put it here because it’s kinda creepy with no face and all, but it’s part of what I’ve been visualizing.  I have learned that hair loss is common with the chemo drugs I am given because they go after fast growing cells, like cancer, cells in my intestines, blood cells and hair cells, to name a few.  This is why getting a shot to inspire my bone marrow to produce white cells 24 hours after the infusion is important.  This is why there is such gastric distress.  This is why I have thought a lot about losing my hair.   I’ve got the clippers ready and some days I just want to get it over with instead of waiting.

9/17 Sit

Sit-150x150I took time to sit this morning.  I’ve felt  good this week and have been so fortunate to have had some wonderful company.  I’m  interested in hearing about life and talking about other things besides intestinal discomfort and when the next infusion is.  Another one of my recipies for nourishment is quiet.   Our katz agree because they get a softwarmlap to nestle in and we purr together.

After completing this drawing my attention was captured by reds, oranges and yellows.  This drawing below is one I did many moons ago and it was precisely what was in my mind.  The archetypal ‘dragon fight’ as it were, of hot Come-back-150x150and cool, reds and blues.   Today, however I’m calling it Come Back as I feel better and better each day and my colors become more balanced.

As I look at the artwork I’ve shared in this blog, one might think that the artist is just a happy, joyous and free individual, full of bright rainbows.   G.O. as it were (see “about this blog” at the top if you don’t know what G.O. is).

Have any of you have ever looked back at journals from the past ?  I have Port-150x150recently and couldn’t get the pages into the shredder fast enough.  It served a purpose at the time, sure.  Looking back at this blog,  I’m starting to get that feeling at the idea of the port-o-love now that I’ve experienced what it allowed into my body.  I suppose thinking of it that way helped me stay positive.   I know its purpose and I’m grateful that I don’t have to get poked a million times in my arm.  It is helping me heal.  (that’s me flattened at the bottom right) 

My true port-o-love will not be surgically removed at the end of all of this.  I have been touched by all of you in ways  you can’t even imagine.

9/16 Nourish

By supplementing the chemo with herbs and accupuncture, I feel like I’m putting really good compost into a barron soil.  I am aware that the balance within my system is seriously being disrupted with chemo.  I drew “nourish” today, after drinking my astragalus root tea which tastes nutty and sweet.  Perhaps I’ll have to do a drawing another day after taking my herbs.  We call it the jar of dirt, and I’m grateful for the suggestion to use grape juice to help with the ingestion.Nourish-150x150I love working the soil.  My garden looks better today than it has all summer because I have been able to spend time out there.  Better than how it looks is how I feel when I’m elbow deep in nice dark earth, and the transformation that occurs within me when I eat garden candy al fresco.  It’s better than calgon.  Well, I imagine it would be if I ever tried calgon.

I’ve been making my Nonni’s chicken cacciatore today.  Speaking of nourishment.  The fresh rosemary I picked this morning simmering in the olive oil and garlic, tomatoes and chicken are just making me YEARN for supper time.  In case your mouth isn’t watering from that description, know that I attempted a picture of  it, but A and I both agreed, it didn’t do it justice, so you’ll have to use your imagination or fix some in your kitchen to get the true impact!

I feel terrific today.  Thanks to all of you following along.  Your presence, support and love is felt very strongly.  We’ll be eating around 5:30 if you’re interested.

9/15

I have been avoiding doing an entry because I didn’t want “A’s sacrifice” to get bumped out of first position.  It’s such a profound thing to me.  She’d say “Mom, it’s ok, just keep going.” or something like that.   

So I’m basically describing my life in terms of the 14 day cycle (how chemo-esque), I’m on day 7.  Since about day 5 I’ve felt really good, like I’m doing normal things, I’m back in the kitchen and looking forward to the soccer game tonight under the lights if it stops raining.  I’m getting ready to tear the last of the shag carpets out of this house,  one of the only remaining signs of the 70’s on the main level,  (if you completely overlook the orange countertops and parkay floor in the kitchen).   I’m walking a good distance every day and feel less fatigued, thankfully.  One day at a time.

I was walking around the house yesterday saying “ok, so who can come out to play today???”  and remembered that on Mondays some people do things.  I’m sure as the week progresses I may be leaving messages for people to go bungy jumping or something.

I have not been to my art pad in several days,  and I think something has to be done about THAT.