Monday, December 31, 2012

"Fare Thee Well" 2012

Sunset over the creek.  Adios 2012!
Monday - December 31, 2012

Well, here's hoping that 2013 is less eventful (and harrowing) than 2012!  Perhaps in the future, this rollercoaster of a year will be a mere blip - a brief aberration - in a long continuum of family contentment and work fulfillment.  With that cheery vision in mind, I am looking forward to 2013 being a year when Joe and I effect our summer transfer to San Francisco, I get back to teaching, the children continue their studies without the heavy stress and distraction of a sick parent, and we all travel ~ visit ~ explore ~ discover ~ learn ~ share ~ cuddle ~ laugh ~ love with family and friends.  Now that would be a wonderful year!

Sunday, December 30, 2012

Joy in Mudville!

Sunday - December 30, 2012



A cozy, comfortable week morphed into a relaxed, happy weekend marked by multiple games of Settlers of Catan (once with Sally playing during her Saturday afternoon visit!), many baked treats, good food both at home and around town, and just spending time with each other and Megan's boyfriend, Chris, who is visiting from California.

Our leisure time peaked with tonight's Washington football win over archrival Dallas :)  Yes, cliche but BIG fun (and perhaps some anxiousness) for this family of Washington football fans.  Chris was extremely game in indulging our Sunday night focus so we had an even larger viewing party / celebration!  As for the dogs, they snoozed away on the couch with occasional barkfests to join in interception and touchdown jubilation. All in all, it has been an extremely entertaining time!

Friday, December 28, 2012

One Year

Friday - December 28, 2012

Given that I have always seemed to note and mark time (counting down as well as counting back), today is certainly a red-letter day.  It's definitely not a celebration but more of a commemoration ...  ONE YEAR since I was "struck down" by a migraine on Grand Cayman.  The pain was truly a bit mythic in origin, strength, and ultimately in scope since it heralded a life-changing health odyssey and eviscerated any trust I once had in my body.  So I have been watching December 28 on the calendar and thinking ONE YEAR -  more in the Pearl Harbor Day sense than in an anniversary slant.  Perhaps we will mark today with a Dec. 28 Italian dinner similar to last year's fabulous meal notable for the delicious food as well as my introduction of the posture I would have for months, pressing hard upon the left side of my head looking for relief; the rubbing and the scratching would come later....  This year we are happily all together once more, joined by Megan's boyfriend, Chris.  The Caribbean venue will be recreated next week (see, I'm counting down again - just part of my make-up) withOUT last year's pain - that harbinger of cancer ....

Tuesday, December 25, 2012

A Christmas Wish Come True

Tuesday - December 25, 2012

A happy Christmas at home with Joe, Megan, and Jonathan!  Yes, we indulged our long traditions of fake-out wrappings (including Chinese dictionaries), slow unwrapping (perfected by Joe), jerseys-jewelry-and-J.Crew, board games, and cozy meals but this year my dearest Christmas treat was simply to be hereNot in a Bone Marrow Transplant Unit in Richmond and not in a Bone Marrow Transplant Unit in Baltimore.  (NOTE:  Jonathan gifted the hounds with a bone marrow treat! Ha ha!) Not in an ICU or ER undergoing treatment for neutropenia.  Not facing imminent mortality due to partial response or no response to chemotherapy.  To be here with my husband and my children is my Christmas wish come true.  Laughing about our shared memories from Christmas past, enjoying our Christmas present, and - perhaps just a bit - considering Christmas future (next year in Yellowstone with Carolyn et al?). 

My Christmas wish has been building slowly over the last few months as I steadily creep back from the brink ... regaining health, regathering strength, reevaluating assumptions, reviving plans, and revisiting priorities and relationships.  Every Christmas, I am reminded of the tremendous gift of my fabulous friends and incredible family - children, spouse, father, sisters, nieces, nephews, in-laws, loved ones all....  This year, after being ambushed by cancer, my appreciation and thanks are profound.  My prayers have been answered; it's Christmas Day 2012 and I am here

Sunday, December 23, 2012

All Set for the Holidays (with one Exception)

Sunday - December 23, 2012
Dusk, our cantankerous cat of 10 1/2 years, in 2009

After a low-key and happy visit with Maureen in Pennsylvania, we are back in Williamsburg enjoying our holiday preparations (and - to Megan's chagrin - a full slate of Sunday football).  The Christmas decorations and tree are UP, the menus are SET for the next few days, and we are all settled in for a relaxing holiday together.

On a very sad note, Dusk has gone missing and we now fear the worst.  He has loved prowling about the periphery of the house and into the nearby woods since we moved south and we think that he may have finally met a predator that he couldn't best.  Perhaps Dusk will appear on our doorstep as a Christmas surprise? 

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

4 out of 4 = Vacation (and a New Schedule) Begins!

Jonathan is back safe-and-sound from Blacksburg and our winter break is therefore officially underway!  Our first highlight is a long-anticipated visit to see Joe's mother tomorrow.  With today's report of a clear PET scan and lower liver enzymes, I am ready to rest and relax with children, spouse, hounds, and my "A number 1" best-ever mother-in-law!  I haven't see Maureen in a long 18 months - far too much time ....

This trip into a no-internet zone is an opportune moment to shift gears on my blogging schedule.  This blog has been wonderful in helping me keep straight the details of my treatment and side effects and in coordinating my communications. In fact, I have begun to fill in the back story to clear up the muddle in my head.  But it started as a daily update to loop in the children (who are now home) about changes in my medical condition (which is now - thankfully - static)!   I am going to step back from my daily entries and go to a less frequent routine, perhaps updating once a week unless (and let's hope NOT) my health takes another turn.  After all, as of now, I don't have much to report any more ... and isn't that fact an amazing and beautiful gift?  Oh, yes! 

A Clear Scan is the Greatest Salve

Tuesday - December 18, 2012

You gotta love an oncologist who delivers good news before closing the consultation room door!  My PET scan is completely clear: only half a page long because there was so little to report.  No abnormalities.  No uptakes.  All clear.  Next appointments on Feb. 13 ....  Yeehaw!

Dalton is packed today and Joe and I are more than three hours from departure - at least! 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I had a long Rituxan infusion in the shared treatment room.  As a rare treat, the television was OFF and a modicum of peace was at hand.  Many familiar faces were around me - familiar RNs, familiar patients.  The woman next to me had a severe reaction to her chemo and was vomiting non-stop for over an hour; no medication relieved the nausea.  She remained upbeat and focused on working through the possible medication cocktails with the team.  Again, perspective, prayers, and good wishes.

Monday, December 17, 2012

Last Day in Limbo (for now)

Monday - December 17, 2012

I am so ready for tomorrow's meeting at VCU with the oncologist.  Let's just hear those PET scan results and move on.  On ... to 3 months (or 3 weeks? or 3 days?) of peace of mind or on ... to salvage therapy but moving on nonetheless.  This nervousness, this state of anxiety, is the gift of my current "complete response" and a condition I hope to repeat come March and then at regular three month intervals.  Continued anxiety is a small price to pay for continued health.  Sounds good to me!

Sunday, December 16, 2012

3 out of 4

Sunday - December 16, 2012

It has been a grey wet day with much reflection and thought about Newtown and the quiet life in small town Connecticut, the cheery rhythms of first grade classrooms everywhere, and the terrible challenges faced by families dealing with profound mental health issues.

Focused reading time, a Washington football win, and page-protecting progress were all distractions.  But Megan's arrival for her 3 month visit is instantly transformative.  It has now become a totally excellent day  :)  Jonathan will be home in the next few days and then our group, our unit, our family will be complete.

Saturday, December 15, 2012

Preparing - with Gratitude - for Family

Saturday - December 15, 2012

Megan arrives in 24 hours :)  Originally planned as a caretaking journey to see me through the Bone Marrow Transplant, she will now be researching and preparing for her PhD oral exams and keeping me company as I heal.  Jonathan will be home on Tuesday!  He is still toiling away in Blacksburg, studying for a slew of finals while fighting off a long-term cold and heavy fatigue.  I cannot wait until they are both here, resting and relaxing and letting us give them a momentary respite from some of their adult responsibilities and concerns.  A return to the nest.  I am mindfully grateful for the gift of my family.

Around Us
by Marvin Bell

Tonight's twilight walk prompts "a little sound of thanks"
We need some pines to assuage the darkness
when it blankets the mind,
we need a silvery stream that banks as smoothly
as a plane’s wing, and a worn bed of
needles to pad the rumble that fills the mind,
and a blur or two of a wild thing
that sees and is not seen. We need these things
between appointments, after work,
and, if we keep them, then someone someday,
lying down after a walk
and supper, with the fire hole wet down,
the whole night sky set at a particular
time, without numbers or hours, will cause
a little sound of thanks–a zipper or a snap–
to close round the moment and the thought
of whatever good we did.

Friday, December 14, 2012

Connecticut and Schools: 2 Happy Places

Friday - December 14, 2012

A '70s glimpse of a little corner of Connecticut
Perspective can slam you into the wall, taking your breath away with the icy realization that while circumstances might be daunting inside one's own microcosm of living, sorrow abounds around us.  It's often just hiding, sheltered from the buffeting of public exposure, safe from public explanation, held close within the confines of our private heart and thoughts.  As Megan recently wrote: "People don't deal with grief and deal with life separately; it's all integrated together. Sad people don't flee to an isolation chamber before standing behind you in line at the supermarket or talking to you on the phone."  In my first presentation to new parents at Rock Spring's Fall Membership Meeting, I always tried to reflect on the fact that we only ever know one "slice of the pie" in our fellow parents' lives, only the persona that has been chosen to be presented to the outside world.  We never know the private concerns that are shielded from our view and understanding.  Tragedy comes in myriad forms.  Chronic illness withers.  Constant pain wears and tears.  Death springs upon us unsuspecting.  Brain cyst.  Aortic aneurysm.  Cancer.  Suicide.  Premature birth.  Random mass shooting.  In sleepy Connecticut.  In the safe hallways of an elementary school.  Our hearts are full.  Our prayers are plentiful and strong.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

The Benefits of a Fully Occupied Mind

Thursday - December 13, 2012

Math center group work from last year
In hindsight, I can better appreciate why working last spring was so vitally important to me.  Well, of course, my motivation was firmly grounded in the fact that I was finally fulfilling my long-sought desire and hope to return to the classroom and I did NOT want to give it up.  Also, how could anyone not be boosted by the absolute, pure joy I found in those splendid, spunky, and sweet first graders. I may have been one-eyed and absently rubbing my excruciatingly painful head but laughs, happiness, discovery, and group work were an everyday gift and I relished them.  In hindsight I am decidedly more aware that working through / with / in the midst of / mired in that wrenching pain was instrumental in maintaining my sanity and containing my terror.  If I had been at home - without the focus of mind necessitated by the demands of engaging and extending a cadre of active seven year olds - I surely would have driven myself into pure panic with all of that time to contemplate the horrible mystery of what was happening inside my head

Now in my "watchful waiting" mode, I am equally grateful to be able to get out of my own (now pain free!) head and WORK.  Today and tomorrow I am happily substituting back in third grade at Matoaka, leaving those gnawing omnipresent undercurrents of concern behind and becoming immersed in the needs of the classroom.  Working is a way to contribute while fully focusing my mind outwards, moving forward, ignoring those mortality statistics and temporarily forgetting that "relapse / cure coin flip" metaphor that is the bottom line for my life these days.  Better to be with third graders, enjoying some fractions and friendly letter writing  :)  As long as we don't have to discuss probability, I'll be juusssttt fine ....

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Cancer is a Thief!

Wednesday - December 12, 2012

Sometimes I am simply enraged by the roster of people impacted by this fell, dread, bodily invasion.  Sometimes I simply have to stake a spot in the house, claim a moment, and cry.  In the seven months since stage 4 lymphoma was branded onto my essence / my identity, Megan's circle of youthful, just-starting-out-in-life friends has twice been visited by cancer - TWICE!  Two wonderfully vibrant, talented, energetic, and intellectually gifted recent college graduates have been robbed of their gift of health and peace of mind and been kidnapped into infusion rooms and oncology suites ... by cancer.  Thankfully both have come through the inferno with their spirits intact and their cancers beaten solidly / squarely / fully into remission.  "Life, Interrupted" is how the eloquent and fierce Suleika Jaouad (two weeks older than our Megan) describes the impact of cancer in young adults. Cancer has assaulted these youth, skulking away with their ability to take health for granted, thieving off with their sense of endless, easy "no worries" shrugs when a cough or an ache or a bruise or a lump may arise.  An outrageous siege on carefree days.... 

Today my tears are flowing for an older individual who has just embarked on her own cancer struggle, who has been mugged by this unheralded scourge.  I am comforted that she will be able to rely on the stalwart support and unequivocal love of my sister Carolyn.  I am baying at the moon in fury that the precious relationship she and Carolyn share - that rare genuine gift of deep found love and friendship - is being redirected from cheerfully mundane life outings into fraught cancer clinic visits.  I am infuriated and terribly terribly terribly sad.  My heart is full and my prayers are urgent.  I hold close this lovely woman who has opened her heart to my sister.  I remember and cry for Sylvia, my own surrogate mother, who parented me and loved me without reservation or the need for familial ties.  Remarkable Sylvia, who was also burgled by cancer, robbed of time, embezzled of experiences.  Cancer is a THIEF!  I pray that we can steal back our time, our years of experiences, our decades of opportunity to deepen and enhance our love....

Tuesday, December 11, 2012

PET Scan Day

Tuesday - December 11, 2012

PET scans require a LOT of time lost in your own mind - not the ideal situation for someone dealing with cancer even when recent news is good!  After being injected with radioactivity, you need to absorb / distribute the nuclear tracer evenly throughout your body and this means remaining still, in the dark, on your back, in a bed, covered by a warm cozy blanket  :)  At VCU (and perhaps elsewhere) books are obviously out and so are iPads and radios.  No stimulation at all ... just rest ... no movement ... in order to not create false "activity" readings.  After an hour, you move to the scanner where you are once again prone, still, eyes closed and eyeballs unmoving, flat on your back as the machine moves you forward and back taking 3D images that reveal "activity" in the form of cancers as well as scar tissue and heart ailments.

For whatever reason, today I was completely awake during this ideal naptime and ended up musing over the last seven months since I was diagnosed on May 11.  Seven months to the day.  I spent my hours of enforced inertia reviewing all 12 of the hospitalizations, trying to order my RNs and attendings - match them up to the chronology of those dozen hospital stays -  as well as family visitors, any side effects, highlights, lowlights....  It's been a whirlwind.  Now with this 3rd PET we are hoping for confirmation of the Aug. scan that showed "no evidence of disease" - complete response.  The scan and the wait are always a bit unnerving.  I'll find out the results next Tuesday.  Then I can breathe more easily.

Monday, December 10, 2012

Oops! Overdid It ....

Monday - December 10, 2012

Well, perhaps I am feeling so good that I forget that I am still building up strength, fighting back to health, restoring my energy.  Dr. Perkins was very clear on Friday that my blood counts are good "considering" ... but not normal.  "Considering" carries great weight and I may be too quick to shrug off that "considering."  Today those low blood counts caught up to me as I walked with the hounds to the river.  Boom - I hit the wall; no more energy AT ALL.  My pulse was fine but I had little strength to continue the long walk home.  That long simmering fear of public stumbling / falling / explicit weakness was smack in front of me.  I considered phoning Joe but knowing that he had biked to work as usual, I wasn't quite sure what we would do.  So I waited it out, sitting on a bench overlooking the wide expanse of the gorgeous York, trying to figure out when I could make the effort to walk home without completely giving out.  Our usual 40 minute walk took more than twice that time.  The dogs were thrilled with their license to sniff every leaf at will; I was in no rush.  Getting home, I crashed on the couch and slept away the fatigue.  Lesson learned?  A morning of baking and housework didn't seem that onerous but I confess that I was utterly wrong.  At least for today :)

Sunday, December 9, 2012

Imperialism, Football, and Soup

Sunday - December 9, 2012

A full comforting Sunday of small satisfactions....  I feel that I am building energy every week, slowly getting back to my old self....  These last few nights I have been burrowing into the covers early with a book in hand and getting up in the morning feeling fully refreshed.  Today was defined by writing a Coursera paper on Imperialism, reveling in a Washington football win (wow!), and now a hearty soup dinner with Joe.  Perhaps not the most riveting diversions for everyone ... but for me?  I'm happy!

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Immersed in a Bleak History

Saturday - December 8, 2012

I have regained my reading focus in the last few days.  Is a case of "chemo brain" waning?  Am I feeling more settled and therefore more focused?  Whatever the impetus, I have rediscovered an activity that had been lost to me these last many months.  "New Yorker"  articles kept me stimulated in this interval but I really was only focused enough to dip into books briefly, to cull out a nugget before I found my mind drifting.  Now I have torn through two novels in the last few days and have completely lost myself in "The Emperor of All Maladies" today.  No more bouncing between the index and the text, no more sifting out some paragraphs before finding diversion elsewhere; I found that I could finally read linearly, page following page, absorbing information as the author intended.  This amazing book's message is even more pointed when the text is read properly:  cancer treatment remains in a nascent stage.  Causation and efficacy of treatment options continue to be mysteries.  So many unknowns, so much professional disagreement, balanced against the tremendous commitment and passion among researchers and clinicians.  Oncology has come leaps and bounds over the course of my lifetime but clearly it is a field that is still at the threshold of understanding and progress. I am greatly relieved to be facing lymphoma now rather than prior to 1997 when Rituxan's game-changing attributes were approved for NHL but still - I have to wonder - what advances will provide the next breakthrough in this still-evolving, still-fresh "war" over the next decade? 

Friday, December 7, 2012

Good Numbers, Better Words!

Friday - December 7, 2012

Down a garden path?
And ... [drum roll please!] ... we now have a confirmed path to negotiate through the "watchful waiting" garden of the next six months!  So it was indeed a very good day at VCU --  I always enjoy a good plan.  Dr. Perkins had talked with Dr. Ambinder on the day of my visit to Hopkins 2 weeks ago.  Today, he and I reviewed and discussed the bottom line of this conversation:
  • The Hyper CVAD and Rituxan protocol was an aggressive response to my aggressive stage 4 lymphoma.
  • The reversal of Hyper CVAD cycles (starting with an even cycle) and two additional rounds of high-dose methotrexate targeted the lymphoma's presence in my central nervous system.
  • I had responded quickly and completely to the chemotherapy.  In fact, my headaches had begun to dissipate while I was hospitalized during round #1 and I was in CR (Complete Response) by the end of my fourth round of treatment.
  • Relapse is a 50% possibility.  However, the flip side of that coin is that there is a 50% chance that I could continue to be cancer-free --  that we "may have cured this."  (I do love his use of the word "cure" even if it is in a speculative sentence.)
  • If I relapse, salvage therapy will probably be the RICE protocol followed by a mini-haplo BMT at Hopkins.
  • Given my lymphoma's previous presence in my skeletal system, we will proceed with regular PET scans rather than Dr. Ambinder's suggested CT scans.  My next PET is scheduled for Tuesday and future MRIs and PETs will be synced up beginning in about March.
  • I will continue with periodic Rituxan infusions as "insurance" against relapse and have my port flushed and my blood levels checked during these visits.
  • Given my heightened liver enzymes (an indication of liver "inflammation") as well as blood counts that are viable but nonetheless indicate that my bone marrow is still straining to overcome the onslaught of six months of aggressive chemo, no more high-dose methotrexate is scheduled.  No more hospitalizations are on the horizon.
  • Fevers and lumps need to be called in asap.  Common colds are probably in the future especially now that I'm back in classrooms.  Hot flashes are not unexpected for a 51 year old woman and actually should be increasing now that my body is recovering from chemo and its hormone-skewing effects; not to panic, not to panic....  Just hot flashes .... 
  • I will stay off fluconozale for the foreseeable future.  My liver enzymes have now turned the corner and begun to decline.  They remain well above their already-elevated levels from Thanksgiving week but at least they are headed in the correct direction - DOWN!
  • We did not discuss any timetable for removal of my port.
So, to summarize:  no more hospitalizations, specific monitoring scheduled, better liver numbers, and the use of the word "cure" by my naturally-cautious oncologist.  And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is what defines a calming visit to Dalton  :)

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Back in Third Grade

Thursday - December 6, 2012

I am generally someone who reflects and reevaluates again and again and again - perhaps a strong suit, perhaps a character flaw, it's just the way I work.  With my cancer diagnosis spurring even more reflection, I have found incredible calm and positivity in how content I am, how happy our choices have been, how fortunate our circumstances have proven to be.  Our time in Williamsburg was spurred in part by my desire to return to school and to get that long-desired teaching license, my entree to a return to a classroom.  And so I reflect on that stimulating and expansive William & Mary education complemented by my phenomenal student teaching experience at Matoaka ... and I feel incredibly lucky.  Lucky in the people, lucky in these two communities of professionals, lucky to have Joe supporting me as I took time out of the workforce and retrained.  This afternoon I was so very excited to get back into the happy environs of my student teaching classroom - and they were tackling European Exploration - one of my favorite topics!  Another opportunity for me to reflect and to feel happy and content.  I am very fortunate.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Dalton Postponed

Wednesday - December 5, 2012

An auto-call late last night first alerted me to a change in today's scheduled Dalton appointment.  Of course, given that it was an auto-call, I awoke early to prep for a trip to Richmond just.in.case.  In calling in and talking to a live scheduler, it turns out that I have indeed been pushed back two days in order to meet with my oncologist and to - finally - get the scoop on the conversation with Hopkins and next steps (I really would like that next CT on the calendar).  So an additional two days to turn the corner on my liver enzymes.  More healing and restorative water to reverse this troubling (to me) trend.

I'm back to feeling somewhat worn out - very sleepy.  I've managed to bake for the children but am pretty well knackered.  The Italian Greyhounds are dealing with the stress of a drizzly overcast day by zonking out in front of the fire and I feel that I am going to have to take a cue, listen to my body, and join them.  A very cozy sleepy day ....

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Happy, Happy, Happy!

Tuesday - December 4, 2012

  • Happy to have taken another step back to normal today!  No (anticipated) upcoming hospitalizations means that I can bust out of my bubble, risk germs, and get back to teaching.  At this point, substituting is the answer.  And I am so SO SO HAPPY to have ventured out of my quarantine and into school as a substitute today :)  Hurrah!
  • Happy to get back to WORK! To a school!  To a sense of contribution!
  • Happy to return to familiar halls, familiar faces, and a familiar routine at Matoaka!  So many people who have impacted me over the last few years!  So many folks who have helped me weather the tremendous health challenge of this last long year....  And today I had the lovely chance to see them for a bit....
  • Happy to interact with elementary schoolers!  Connecting with children is truly a blessing.  I can honestly say that I have never taken this opportunity and pleasure for granted over so many years, roles, countries, and educational settings.  I love being with students.  I love exploring, discovering, and creating experience and knowledge with them.  I love it!  I love them!  How lucky to have a chance to participate in a classroom again!  How splendid to be with so many students from my student teaching year!  How AMAZING to see some of my first graders, six months older and wiser and just as cheery as can be! 
  • Happy to have Joe at home, to share our days, to mull possibilities, to simply sit alongside and be myself....
  • Happy to know our children are busy and fulfilled and will be home soon!
  • Happy to have a respite from health concerns. 
Happy, happy, happy!  I'm just ... HAPPY!  Can you tell?

Monday, December 3, 2012

Sometimes Sleepiness is Just That

Monday - December 3, 2012

I've shaken off my weekend sleepiness and perhaps a bit of sleep-focused concern.
Me:  "Why am I sleepy?  What does it mean?  Is it a symptom?  Should I be worried and call it in?"
Joe:  "Maybe you're just tired."
Umm ... I guess that settled my undercurrent of nerves ... to a certain extent  :)  I expect that I will be nervy at anything that could hint of a re-emergence of lymphoma for the foreseeable future ....  Once you lose trust in your body, it is hard to build it back up.  The recent MRI provided some relief.  Now I would like a CT scan please.


Sunday, December 2, 2012

Looking Forward ...

Sunday - December 2, 2012

... a little bit forward .... Joe booked our family New Year's travel.  We'll be off to St. Thomas for a week in early January without the hounds!  Happily, our stalwart dogsitter will be available and we are therefore able to go to a dog-free location  :)  Joe found a quiet house on Magens Bay with a fabulous view and its own private beach.  Sounds absolutely blissful! 

Saturday, December 1, 2012

New Month, New Rhythm

Saturday - December 1, 2012

Keeping busy ....
Life feels settled these days.  Perhaps not yet normal  - after all I am not working and am still more focused on "now" than "later" - but settled.  Aside from the recent mysteries posed by my liver enzymes, my body seems to be responding and reacting in a recognizable pre-cancer, pre-chemo manner.  I can walk up stairs without risking a 150 bpm heart rate, trust my legs not to fatigue (or give out) when I walk the hounds, and know that migraines and double vision have been exorcised by the poisoned wonders of chemotherapy.  The third set of tree rings in my nails have almost grown out.  My eye dryness has receded to the extent that I am contemplating discarding my glasses and returning to contacts.  My eyebrows are practically back to normal and my eyelashes are in.  And most markedly, my fuzzy head gets hairier every day - keeping me warm, partially disguising the stamp of illness that is currently kicked to the curb, hinting at the dreaded menace that may still return.

Joe is working all day today and into tonight.  The hounds are keeping me company and are on full alert for the deer who are venturing even closer than normal to the house (read:  lots of barking and indignation).  They are currently collapsed in exhaustion in front of the fire.  Guarding us against deer is a full time responsibility.