I Thought It Would be More Like Going to the Spa...

I thought (let's be honest, HOPED) going through chemo would be more like going to the spa...and since I've only been to one I had high expectations. On my 50th birthday my sibilings sent me to the Four Seasons Hotel Spa. While some nice spa person attended to my "situation" I would lay back and read a book, flip lesiurely through a magazine, or watch all my favorite movies while I grazed lightly on whatever food tickled my fancy. At the least I hoped it would be a respite from my daily routine so that all those minor, but annoying, home projects and activities got caught up on...sigh...sigh...Well here's to dashed hopes and chemo reality. Today I decided to not follow my now established post chemo morning rituals and found myself crumpled in a lump in bed. The Chief Researcher offered help but I knew what needed doing. He asked what sounded good to eat (nothing sounded good.) Too tired to read, fell asleep during a movie (twice, but what's new), and NOTHING sounds good to eat (ridiculous.) Whah, whah...ate anyway, took some aleve, finished watching the movie (thanks Mar and Carl) and took number two nap of the day all before 10 am. Food has a different meaning when you're counting grams of protein (need to eat 60-90 grams per day.) Gross - but I always feel better when I get protein in the system. Couldn't face eggs this morning so I opted for a PBJ (2 pieces of bread 8 grams, 2 tablespoons peanut butter 9 grams) and milk (1&1/2 cups of milk 12 grams.) And just think, there's a protein shake to look forward to later...ewwwww...

A False Sense of Energy

Twice in as many days I blew my top...in a big fireworks way.  There were circumstances (aren't there always??) but the facts are irrelevant to the explosions in some ways.  Besides the obvious reasons (oh let me count the ways) I wondered what was really going on with me.  Thought if I would just sit still for awhile the answers would come to me.  They usually do if you let them.  Trust the Oprah show to provide the answers...seriously.  I've never watched an Oprah show until I moved to Katie's place in January.  Now I secretly hope I get home from work in time to catch the afternoon's repeat of the broadcast.  Good thing this is the last season.  Michael Douglas was being interviewed yesterday by Oprah about his recent bout with throat cancer.  Oprah asked him about how he had used anger in the past throughout his life.  His response?  "Anger is a false sense of energy...it fades away."  So there it is.  Just like that.  The anger doesn't equal energy - trust me on this.  It simply makes me feel, for a very brief spell, that I do have my old surge.  Immediately afterwards I was wasted of course.   Both times. Looks like I depleted my energy bank reserves a bit and may be bouncing checks for a few days.  Now that I've laid out my confessional I hope to be a better person today.  Katie hopes so too - she had to call Camie in on Monday to steady the boat.   Slept better last night and I'm not so shaky this morning so the chances are good that I'll start afresh today.  Once again, the future hasn't been written.  Isn't that nice.
Hugs,
Mary    

Five Strawberrrrry Shortcakes....(crashing noise to follow the announcement)

Those that remember the early days of Sesame Street will recall a baker that would announce a number and then tumble down the stairs with the same number of baked goods he was carrying being tossed everywhere. Well here are the five strawberry shortcakes that tumbled my way yesterday during Chemo #5:
1. My sister Denise (better known as the "Pixie Packer")and my wild and crazy Cuban brother-in-law Emilio came to visit and to tour the chemo bar with me. After a prednisone inspired breakfast of delish pancakes (and Denise making me a lunch including a tuna sandwich that did not have too much mayo and did have pickles chopped up in it) we headed over to the scene of the crime. The Packer gave me a lovely hand rub while the poisons were starting to flow and Em took on the other hand (tho he rubbed it like he was sanding a piece of wood...good try Em.) Just as I went into benedryl la-la land they took off - but only after Em whispered in my ear that he had ordered a book for me that we had been discussing and I wanted to read. They were off to their beautiful daughter Mimi's college graduation. I was jeal to not be a part of it but was happy that I had enjoyed the pleasure of their company since Wednesday afternoon. And yes, the visit did include me jumping into bed with my sissy and Em tolerating the tradition.
2. Canoe Schaefer rearranged her school schedule and gave her students at the UofU a day off so she could dote on her mother at the chemo bar. She handed me bits of lunch to stave off the nausea, gave me a foot rub, rubbed my shoulders and even put my shoes on for me when it was time to go. Everyone at the chemo bar (that were still awake) looked on longingly for some of the same treatment for themselves.
3. Since it was not my regular chemo day (usually Friday not Thursday) there were two new chemo nurses. Paula, the mighty force on Fridays, was there doing her usual greatness. Tammy who I didn't know deftly placed the needle in my port and when it came time to have my after chemo shot to boost my immune system she wisely suggested having it in my belly versus my arm. It's always stingy in the arm, and I now know that there is a purpose for belly fat...not a bit of ouch occurred. Also had the kind service of Joan who turns out is in the Masters Degree Program that my darling Ryan Rasmussen (chemo counseling texting muse)attends. Great peeps - Joan says "doctors cure and nurses care" although I think the nurses do both.
4. The Chief Researcher in Residence held the fort at chemo as well, only leaving to run errands for me. After chemo he suggested a soft ice cream cone, which is the preferred snack by most chemo patients following treatment (yep, the research showed this). It hit the spot. When we got home I shared my tumbling array of side effects about every five minutes with him, and he told me one of the side effects of chemo was patients telling people their issues every five minutes and wearing people out...and I laughed really hard. Then he made me a cup of the most wonderful tea that I have ever tasted.
5. Em and Packer watched a bit of the movie called 500 days of Summer after we dined with kids Wednesday night (thank you Em and Packer for the divine fruit custard tart from The Bakery). My favorite scene from the movie is when the guy gets the girl and the next day as he is walking to work everyone smiles at him, bursts into dance, fountains spray, and a blue bird of happiness comes and lands on his shoulder. Em said that is what he witnessed when he was at the City building with me, people shouting greetings, high fives, and hugs from all I met. That is why the bluebird of happiness followed me to chemo even when I felt crappy. The bad stuff passes but the bird stays perched on my shoulder.
ANNNNDDD...as a bonus to the Five Strawberrrry Shortcakes, Allyce (my once upon a time weight lifting pal, exercise partner, and now treasured friend) sent this ode to five via email after chemo:
"I was thinking about you today and rrrround 5. I strangely thought of the number 5 and here's what I got...high 5...$5 footlong Subway's...5 little monkeys...a hello wave...talk to the hand...and come closer so that I can slap you. Good-bye round 5...and rest well Mary.
P.S...I met you in YOUR 5TH decade, and this is the last one. I STILL can't do 5 of Jill's 'perfect form' push-ups...) Now I'm done thinking about the number 5." (And in case you can't tell Allyce is a Preschool teacher - so she really knows her numbers!)
Five down three to go,
Mary

Draft: Craig's List Ad

Bald entertaining city government employee seeking good natured person to make a trade.  Will clean bathrooms for one entire year in exchange for body double to attend chemo treatment on Thursday 10 am.  Also willing to throw in an entire (extensive) hat collection to willing participant. Exclusive offer will reward participant with an unparalleled  life altering experience. Outcome guaranteed.

Tradition, Tradition, TRADITION (please sing out loud Fiddler on a Roof Style)

With Glo and Ernie in town there were some traditions that had to be followed.  It's the law.  First, jumping into bed with them to poke and tickle and prod the "toddlers" (my new name for the dynamic duo of Harold and Carolyn.)  Does everyone still climb into bed in the morning with the parental units??? My sisters and I always have and always will...not sure if my bro does, will have to check.  Second, jelly orange slices.  When you send Ernie into the drug store for an item or two you can be guaranteed he'll emerge with jelly orange slices and a variety of other candy goodies.  He did not disappoint.  Third, Glo will always say that she's had too much good food and doesn't need another bite...until the next meal appears.  Good work Glo - I'm with you all the way.  Fourth, we had to swing by the Motherland Country of Tooele and review the old homestead that my Pops left over 70 years ago.  We gave a shout out to Edna and Theo (beloved grandparents) and Aunt Lil and Uncle Byron up at the Tooele cemetery.  They were all enjoying the scenery. Fifth, inevitably Ernie will share with some unsuspecting friend that he is celebrating the 49th anniversary of his 39th birthday - you do the math.  Sixth, before the trip is over Glo and Ernie review the wonderfulness of the events that have transpired and how blessed they are in this life.  Aren't they just the cutest little bunny-wunnies you ever met?  What a great send off to chemo number 5 on Thursday.

Forever in the clan,
Mary

Calamity (Mary)Jane Meets Kindness and Good Fortune...AGAIN

Thursday afternoon Gloria and Ernie rolled in from Houstonland...and after a nutritious snack of locally made Gelato I deposited them at their hotel for a couple hours. My right eye seemed to have a big floater in it - which happens to us near sided folks from time to time. The next morning the floater was still there along with a gelatin looking something in my eye and little gray specks. Katie and Kelley had been to an eye doctor in Salt Lake this fall so I gave his office a call and explained my circumstance (including, of course, the chemo routine.) They graciously offered me an appointment an hour and a half later...nice peeps for sure. When I met the doc he told me to call him Bob. After a nice long review of my eye he advised me that I had a tear in my retina that needed laser surgery. He even included Glo and Ernie in on the review and they were ready to adopt him before we were done.  He called a retina surgeon who generously offered to see my at 5:30 that evening to fix it up. He assured me I would be ok but that we needed to fix things up as soon as possible. Bob, now my friendly eye doc for life, said he would show me where the retina doc's office was located. Looking out the window he said,"See that building with the 2 on it?" Me,"Yes." Bob,"That's not the office...but it's my favorite joke." From down the hallway his staff shouted out,"It's not funny." Bob was cracking himself up over the non-joke joke...Anyway at 5:30 pm the retina doc and his able assistant de-germed their office for me and then lasered the tear closed after numbing my eyeball. He said that it might be uncomfortable during the laser procedure - but when I asked if it would be like a bone marrow sample he laughed and said no. I sure know a lot about the anatomy of my eyeball now. The floater was blood from the tear. Apparently the blood thinner I'm on aided in this episode - maybe the chemo as well. A little strange to be blind in the eye for a few minutes after the laser but a great feeling to have sight restored. All I can say is  who are these wonderful people???  They whisked me into their offices and without a hitch fixed me up according to what I needed, not according to their schedules...so cool. In addition, they were just plain kind and you can't over rate kindness on any count.  I did coin a new phrase for Bob -I said I had a sblob in my eye. He figured that was a combination of a splat and a blob. I told him he could use the phrase in the future. Anything to help the human race further the world of medicine. Anywho - enough fun for me for awhile. Robyn told me to show some sign of weakness so the Universe will quit piling it on...I ain't saying "uncle", no how no way (but if you're listening Universe enough already.)
Yours with an eye to the future,
Mary

Too blessed to be Stressed

This morning on Good Morning America, Robin (yeah, we're on first name basis - I mean I hadn't watched TV for 18 months and now I watch it every day so we're like tight me and R.!!) said when she was in the Bahamas she saw a bumper sticker that said "Too blessed to be stressed."  Have been thinking about "stress" and the waste of energy that can be.  I mean when you get in a place like I am you really gotta start thinking about when and where you are going to use your limited resources of energy.  The one big stress that I have experienced during this adventure is when my dearest Maggie Lou told me that she had a mass and was going to have some serious surgery (really, do we really have to do EVERYTHING together...sheesh).  That was a lesson in understanding how others that love me felt when they got my news.  That was a biggie, that and the ridiculous flip out I had when I thought I had lost my contact.  Fortunately that was short lived (Annie as my witness as she was on the phone).  How silly to waste my precious life tickets on a contact...even if I am freakin blind and would need to get a new prescription and multiple visits to the eye doc...and blah, blah , blah.  The funny thing is the night before I remember trying to be sooooo careful when I put my contacts in the case.  The contact wasn't lost - I just put two lenses in one side of the case.  Oh boy - I'm a little off kilter.  Seriously, stress is a self imposed handcuff.  It's like turning on a vacuum and hooking it up to your energy port.  Ridiculous when you think about it.  Choose not to stress - that's my new mantra.  This weekend, while trying to come off the chemo drugs, I got shakey (blood sugar dropping from dying blood cells) and it made me feel nervous, jittery and YES physical stress.  Decided to let it go...just like that .  Deep breathe and let it go and face it for what it is (drug reaction, not my choice.)  So, when my tooth fell out I decided to just let it be...do need some glue tho.  Good thing my dentist is a number one pal and friend and will no doubt bring some cement to his house and meet me there and fix it up (like he did just before chemo - same tooth, same problem.)  And, of course, the sequel to the stress issue is that the blessings FAR out way the need or drive or desire to take on any stress.  In addition to the many, many blessings from last week alone I've been graced with lunch visits from some darling ladies and gents (you know who you are) that took me to the moon and back on a single day. Hence the title of this rambling...too blessed to be stressed and ain't that the real deal truth.
Love and peace,
Mary

And I Know You're Reading This Camie!

Today is a big, big day (think Grand Canyon big)...Camie turns 27 years old.  I wanted her to be born on my birthday - mostly because she was overdue and I was sick to death of being huge pregnant.  She insisted on her own day just out of sight of mine.  For 27 years she has graced my life with her wit, wisdom and charm.  From day one she has been a word devour-er.  A letter eating monster - ravenous for the offerings of a page.  She would sneak books to the dinner table to not lose any ground reading...and always had a book with her on any occasion just in case she ran out of print.  Spare books were tucked into the crannies of the van - her 72 hour emergency kit to ward against the loss of alphabet goodies.  She wore out a set of Anne of Green Gables books.  She lapped up words like slurps of delicious soup and topped them off with a big whipped cream splat of more...always...Now she is an author "C.A. Schaefer" - better known to us in the inner circle of her life as "Canoe Schaefer" (thank you spell check.)  I was 27 years old when she was born.  She seems a whole lot smarter today than I was then - and not just because she is past the midpoint on receiving her Phd.  She is the peanut butter to my jelly - she is the cherry on top of the ice cream sundae of life...she is life in technicolor fanatastic goodness.  Thanks Camielitta bobbitta...love you gobs and gobs.  You make my heart sing.

Mind Matters: how I was pathetic yesterday morning...but not all day

The week following chemo is crappy...I know that it is and I can count on a downhill slide through the first 10 or 12 days.  The weekend following the treatment is usually the worst of it.  Yesterday I sat on Katie's poisonous couch thinking over and over and over:
I don't feel good
I don't feel good
I don't feel good
I don't feel good...
Something on the morning news provided the opportunity for a single tear to drip down my face.
Katie, on her way out to an early morning class, said,"Well Mom, the one advice I have for you is get dressed and get to work as soon as you can."  Of course Genius was right.  I had to straighten my self out:
I'm ok
I'm ok
I'm ok
I'm ok...
Got showered and dressed and off to work and low and behold:
I WAS OK.
If you wonder if all the baloney and haloohey about self talk works I'm telling you IT DOES.  What you tell yours MATTERS...seriously, no kidding, yes indeed.  I always hear about the power of the mind and I'm here to witness (holy moley revival tent intensity) that it really, truly matters.  I personally think that you have to acknowledge where you're at and then decide where you want to go with that big ole powerful brain.  My very wise friend Barbara use to tell me that every morning she would say "how am I feeling and what do I need."  If you think that is easy to do it isn't.  Being clear about where you are at and what you need is an interesting exercise - like yoga stretches for the noggin.  And please note, this post is a self lecture as I type.  Trying to locate where I am on the mental map this am so I can self direct my morning.  Fortunately, yesterday's pity party was time limited cause I had other things to do.  Will probably be back reading this post to myself again soon.
Hugs,
Mary

Dear ole Body of Mine...

Dear Body,
I've been meaning to write to you for a awhile now but you know how things get away from you when you are involved with the day to day stuff.  I have a few things that I need to tell you - you know, get off my chest (I know you understand what I mean.)  I haven't always paid attention to you like I should have.  And still, I know that you've always been there for me.  I won't even go there about all the crap I've eaten over the years and how you just stood by me...but you have to admit I've also done some really good organic, healthy chowing for a good long while as well.  Especially in the not to distant past.  I admit, the last few years I've really put you through the paces...zumba an awful lotta times a week and weight lifting and turbo jam...well we all know that that's behind us for right now.  I didn't know that you had lymphoma - I mean I feel really bad about not knowing that was going on for the last few years.  You really came through for me and you got everything all built up and strong so that I could just turn around and battle what you knew you already had.  (Ok, this is getting a little weird, but stay with me here.)  I have a whole new world view of you now - not like the magazines that talk about fitness, and strength, and a good core, and being your best body now, and 10 ways to lean down before the holidays...well, you get the picture.  I think about the sweetness of breathing, and the loveliness of walking, and the kindness of arms and legs that carry their own weight and the way you can think and sing and listen and learn and dance and basically enjoy every moment.  I just want you to know I really appreciate you hanging in with me even though I'm dosing you with chemicals and asking you to buck up and stand tall and just "deal" with things.  It means a lot to me.
Yours in the flesh,
Mary

Yesterday I was Floating on a Big Fat Cloud

Yesterday was my birthday and when I think about it today I feel like I was floating on a big fat cloud. It was like being in a movie - you know when they they have a party scene only they show freeze frames of the event?  Click, click, click  - you see these happy things happening one shot at a time.  That is how my brain is trying to process what happened to me.  I got led out to a balcony on the third floor of the City County building (think Evita) to look down on a crowd (big, like a movie, like who are those people??)  Then I realize that I know all these peeps and they are singing to moi - and there are flowers and balloons and rose petals and birds singing and pieces of confetti and bands playing and fireworks and....okay I made up a lot of that stuff but I'm just saying that's how it FELT to have that kind of thing happen.  Inside my head and my body I was feeling chemo wibbly and fuzzy and even now I'm wondering how much of this I might have made up (HEE) but realizing that it was a really terrific and amazing day.  And that doesn't even count all the individual greetings from the darlings that surround me.

Whoooowee...fantastic over and over and over.

P.S.  But I gotta admit, I kinda wished that it was my "end of treatment" party but it's not.  It's my launch into Phase 2 of chemo - four down four to go.  What a send off.

Welcome Back Baby Phoma...7 lbs. 3 ounces

Gotta spread the joy that Baby Phoma is back on the scene thanks to chemo 4.  After each chemo round I awaken to a swollen belly, thanks to the many bags of saline and drugs that get pumped into my port (I have a very cool port in my chest so that I don't have needles in my arms- hooorah!!) during my four hours of drug dosing at the chemo bar.  I look pregnant the next day...seriously...Baby Phoma weighed 7 lbs. 3 oz. this week. It is certainly the love child of Ms. Chemo and Mr. Prednisone...After the first chemo I couldn't believe it and sent some very unsavory photos of this wonder to some select family members and very close allies.  Sorry, lymphoma has removed all my filters (did they exist before??)  I'll hold back this one time.  Hopefully, Baby Phoma will be down today thanks to my excessive water drinking.  

I met some new chemo friends at the bar on Friday...you meet the nicest people in the strangest places.  And the drug dealers at the bar are so kind.  They really know how to hook up a port in a blink without any fuss.

(Not so) Secret Millionaires

To calm my jitters prior to chemo round 4 on Friday I decided to jump online and watch a little junk tv - an episode of the Secret Millionaires.  Have you seen it?  A millionaire gets sent to somewhere in the country to live and do volunteer work for a week in an impoverished place (subsisting on the same amount of food money as someone would have on welfare that week.)  At the end of the week they give away a gob of money to the folks that they have met that are doing good.  Don't know if it was the prednisone coursing through my veins or just life in general but that dang show had me crying all the way to chemo - in a good way that is...I mean who wouldn't want to give away fistfuls of money to people who are feeding the poor, training young people to build houses, or sweet people who endure dialysis everyday for years on end? And listen, the surprised gift receivers are bawling, the millionaire is weeping, it's a whole give-alot-get-alot fest!!  I've been thinking how part of my reaction has a whole lot to do with my life right now.  I have so many not so secret millionaires surrounding me at  home, work, through email, text, the phone and mail...people giving, giving, giving to me all the time.  I got jazillions in love and support coming my way.  People ask me how can I be so strong on this quest and I think how can I NOT be strong with the super net of folks behind me all the time.  Why if I leaned back just a little there are all kinds of hands holding me up.  If you think things don't matter that you do, even little things, they matter.  Prayers, candles lit, a shout out down the hall at work (can you imagine working at a place where people yell down the hall that they have a cold and can't come close but they love you and think of you???), an arm around my shoulders or a squeeze, a text, an email, a card, a pot of soup, a hat, a poem, a special treat in the mail, a good thought my way, an errand run, research done on my behalf, a meal shared, a hand with a project, flowers on my desk...the list seems endless.  How can I possibly give back all that is being given to me???  I got a lot of doing to do to fling back to the universe all this glorious bounty...I better get cracking.
Endless love,
Mary
P.S.  The Chief Lymphoma Researcher in Residence found online that if I take my prednisone in two doses throughout the day that it lessens the emotional and physical impacts on me...awwww, now that's how you spell r-e-l-i-e-f...much better...