So I have heard that it is a tease seeing only one or two of the panels to this drawing and not the whole piece.  Ah, a little temptation on my part.  Tune in next time!   It is a work in process.  My art has always been very personal, and not really much for public consumption, so sharing it in this venue is really new for me.  Yea, you’ll have to wait to see the whole thing.

Infusion day angel story #3. It’s interesting, as the panels on my drawing became more fluid, I began observing the angels.  Today I met someone during treatment who I’d spoken to briefly a few visits ago. She said that she tried to find me last week, but I was in and out like a flash.  This week she came.  “I just wanted to say that you inspired me.  By seeing you drawing here, I’ve taken out my artwork and have made a commitment to make the time for myself this year.   It’s not easy to take that time.  I would love to bring it in for some consultation next week.  I’m doing a portrait for a friend and the shadows are giving me trouble…”

We had a long conversation about art and other common interests.  Part of what makes her an angel is the fact that she has a young downs syndrome child who has battled cancer.  She also has 3 other children and a husband among other things.  We both agreed that we needed wives.  I hardly felt that I needed one as much as she, but if she was ordering one I wanted one too.  She’s so right.  Carving the time is what it takes.  I’d not drawn for several years before my diagnosis last summer.  Taking the time to read that book on Sunday is another example.  If I blink I’ll miss it.  Who cares about the bedroom walls.  Meeting her and talking about art and the things that make us who we are was inspiring to me.  Another gift on infusion day.  It seems that for all these angels in my life they are considering me one in theirs. How sweet is that.

I’m not sure why these past two infusions have seemed to fly by.  I bring  my ipod and that’s a great thing. One ear plugged in to music I love and some music my loved ones have shared with me, and one ear ready for conversation from the really caring staff.  I just make a point of unplugging if I find someone talking to me.  I also love doing the panel of the day in my drawing.  I do some work-work before the benadryl hits.  I’ve got plenty of stuff to keep me engaged.  That and a nice cup of tea and I’m really all set. The 3 hours or so passes very quickly.  If any of the readers of this blog are interested in seeing the center or what the infusion is like, you are welcome to contact me and we might be able to set something up for one of my remaining infusions.  I’m not finding that I NEED company (obviously) this round, but if you’re curious, seize the moment!  Don’t blink or you might miss it.

I did meet with our oncologist today, more of a recorded meeting than our casual conversations, however it was casual as well.  I asked about cancer markers in blood.  Someone had mentioned them to me, but I never heard any of my providers talking about them.  She said that for breast cancer, the cancer markers are definitely not the best thing to go by as an early indicator of cancer.  (For prostate cancer, liver cancer and others the cancer markers are DEFINITELY helpful.)  She used my early labs for an example.  At the start of all this when the cancer was growing inside me the “CA 27 2”  result was a 26.1 and the expected value is <=38.   The “CA 19-9” result was 4 and the expected value is <55.  Because of this, my cancer markers “were not specific for malignancy” but there was a very malignant tumor quite alive and thriving inside me.  This, apparently, is typical for some breast cancer, and thus would not give us a sense that there was a problem.  We will check them out again sometime for comparison.

We spoke about the trajectory from here on.  I guess I’m half way through. At infusion 10 there will be a PA visit and at 12 I will meet with our oncologist again.  We spoke about how we will keep track of me, and how too many scans mean too much radiation, and this is not good either, so she will most likely use CT scans of my chest, not whole body scans.  She indicated that if there is a reoccurrence the best place would be in my chest wall or my other breast because it would be breast cancer (more managable than some other areas and cancers). She said something that caused me to pause, about my cancer, the size of the legion and the node activity that puts me in a “not necessarily cured” catagory like some.  So she wants to watch me carefully.  She said there’s just not enough evidence that says more scans are helpful.  I appreciate her caution.  She did suggest scans every 6 months for 1 or 2 years and then maybe yearly and did indicate that right now the marker is still 5 years out for decreasing observation from oncology.  I would still work with our surgeon who is a breast specialist for follow up after that.

I have put a link to the song Landslide by Stevie Nicks here.  It has always been a favorite song of mine.  It felt particularly pertinent to me today because when she wrote it in the early 70’s she was at a decision making point in her life and I think I recall her saying something about knocking her ego down a peg.  I can get so wrapped up in the shiny stuff, in the G.O., to the point where I will NOT give the reality of a life threatening disease more than a minute of thought.  I can have “tallitude” as my brother calls it, and this feels great. I feel great in my cowgirl boots.  But I like the idea of coming down a peg or two just so that I don’t miss the moment. Lindsey Buckingham’s acoustic guitar is such a support to Stevie’s voice.  I looked at a bunch of recordings, some with slide shows of Stevie as a very young woman and others like this one, later in her life.  I chose this one because I can just relate to the humility I see in her, I suppose.  I think about my relationship with B and how he has stuck by me as several landslides have brought me down during our 20+ years. I know why he has stuck with me out here on the east coast.  It’s really just a love story.

I know one minute I’m saying I don’t dwell on this too much. I think I mean I don’t let it get me down.  Every once in a while I do think about not being around.  But when I think about my own death, it has never been something I have felt that is in my control.  Oh, other than the fact that I can drive carefully, take care of my body and make low risk choices to help this body endure life.  It is weird thinking about not existing any more, but I won’t exist so it won’t be my problem.  I just wish that we all could go when we have fully lived our lives and feel in agreement with our tired bodies that it’s time to go. Like Pop and Uncle Charlie seemed to do.  I don’t think either of them WANTED to go, but they were ready to go.  When my sweet friend Scott died at 42 of a brain tumor, I was certainly not ready to let him go, but he went with grace, never the less.  Any one who wants to engage in this topic, PLEASE chime in any time.  I’m DYING to talk about it with someone. (pun entirely intended)  Maybe Morticia Adams is out there somewhere. She’d love to talk about it.

I just want to say that my life long friend M called to tell me that her biopsy was negative.  I had encouraged her to get a specialist involved as she was feeling concerned about something.  I was SO happy to hear the results, the joy went deep.  The relief in her voice was a pleasure to hear.   Thanks, M, for calling me with the results so soon!  You are part of my foundation after 40+ years of love.

Thank you for your endurance, readers.  It is so comforting to know you are there.