Barium for Breakfast

Monday - December 30, 2013
The quest continues to determine exactly what is causing my GI distress, continued out-of-whack liver tests, and whether the former is caused by the latter.  Today I returned to the exact same UCSF waiting room I had visited on Friday for my port removal.  This time I had a GI x-ray complete with stomach distending concoctions, multiple densities of barium, and acrobatic positions from both myself and the amazing system of x ray machines with which I am now more familiar than I would like.  The good news is that my "GI structure" is unremarkable and functioning normally!  No visible obstructions or abnormalities.  The not-so-great news is that apparently the mystery continues.

I confess that I am always quite appreciative (?) / reflective (?) / mindful (?) of these real-time peeks into my functioning body.  Rousing me from my anesthesia for some instructions, the neurosurgeon gave me the chance to watch the blood vessels of my brain flood with black contrast during my April 2012 catheter angiogram.  In my May 2012 Muga scan, I was treated to a full color view of my beating heart.  Today, I watched the barium drain into (and out of) my Cyprus-shaped stomach.  (Yes, my geography-nerdiness pops up even when I am squeezed into an x-ray machine, sipping barium from a straw, with my head lower than my feet.)  What a wonder our bodies are.  I find these peeks to be very spiritual experiences.

Farewell Port!

Saturday - December 28, 2013

Yes, it's a milestone day in more than one sense.  First, today marks the second year anniversary of "when all hell broke loose" on the Cayman Islands.  On Dec. 28, 2011, the lymphoma aggregating behind my left eye set off an epic migraine headache that would last until chemo eradicated it in mid May 2012.  The meaning of the phrase "struck down" became clear;  one moment I was fine, the next I was bowled over by a crippling pain of unknown origin.  "Stricken."  And yet, the SUV level of that particular lymphoma activity turned out to be relatively low - hardly more than scar tissue.  I am grateful for this canary in the coal mine that signaled a problem even when I had no lumps, no bulges, no palpable lymph nodes that would have surfaced my underlining cancer.  That crushing headache was my saving grace.

Second, in perhaps a more positive spin, today I am port-free!  My life-saving and pain-relieving chemo was delivered via a power port that is no longer nested south of my right collar bone. Yesterday, the port was removed in what turned out to be a longer and more uncomfortable outing than we had originally anticipated.  A long wait before getting started was probably a result of holiday scheduling and staffing but the post-procedure discomfort shouldn't have been such a surprise; the incision isn't small and movement of my dominant right arm impacts my port site.  It will be at least five days until I am back up to normal movement, the wads of bandages come off, and the butterfly strips disengage.

After 19 months, it was rather gratifying to actually see my port.  The UCSF radiologist and staff had not before seen such a "high profile" (= visible and bumpy) port and assured me that their titanium double ports sit much flatter under the skin.  Whatever.  I do enjoy that they are promoting their hardware but I do NOT want to use it!  After all, I do have a superstitious streak thinking that removal of the port may jinx my recovery.  I know it's utter nonsense but I have been consistently worried that port removal will tempt fate.  Watchful waiting ... and worrying!  For now, I mindfully focus on the "Congratulations!" offered by the surgeon, the tech, the RN, and my beloved family.  Cancer-free and now PORT-free in the midst of completely obligation-free weeks with the children.  All together for the holidays.  Life is grand.

A Medical Day

Wednesday - December 18, 2013

As it happens, I am weathering California cough / cold #2 on a day where I had already scheduled a sick day for my first group of liver tests at UCSF.  Somewhat energized after last night's 13 hours of deep sickly sleep, I was functional for the UCSF outing and happily backstopped by Megan's company.  The liver ultrasound was long and involved;  I won't know any results until ... hmmm... well I guess I'm not actually sure when the liver specialist will get back to me.  She felt that this test would not surface any explanations and only the yet-to-be-scheduled liver biopsy might shed light. Perhaps she will call in the interim.

Ironically, today's more comprehensive blood tests showed that my pesky AST and ALT enzyme levels have finally turned downward.  While still above normal, they are only slightly elevated (about + 10% versus +100%).  Other liver markers are high.  Methotrexate successfully eradicated my lymphoma but its impact on my liver is clear.  How this impact will affect me going forward is UNclear....  More tests next week!

As for my GI distress, last week's new prescription is doing the trick and I am feeling MUCH better!  How wonderful to be able to eat without fear of an evening of distress, disrupted sleep, and vomiting.

A New Path?

Wednesday - December 11, 2013

Another hospital clinic with another glorious UCSF view takes some of the sting out of the realization that I seem to be embarking on a new path ... investigating liver damage.  Underlying cause(s) and treatment options are amorphous.  At this point, we need to nail down what exactly is going on.  My pair of doctors (LOVE teaching hospitals!  Can't imagine going anywhere else!) laid out a number of possible causes for my continued abnormally high liver enzymes and their clear red flag indication of liver issues.  They don't feel that next Wednesday's liver ultrasound will surface the answer so now I am also scheduled for more targeted blood work and a GI x-ray on Wednesday.  These tests will almost certainly followed by a liver biopsy.  The attending physician gave a detailed description of the biopsy and my reaction is basically [shrug].  After a catheter angiogram into my brain, innumerable lumbar punctures, and a bone marrow biopsy complete with an oncology fellow narrating the procedure within earshot  to a medical student?  Sounds like a liver biopsy is nothing to get torqued up about.  The biopsy will probably happen before Christmas and perhaps then this new path may solidify.

As for my nightly battle with food and digestion, my team has given me a prescription :)  While I am very VERY wary about eating anything but bread in the evening, I am feeling emboldened so we are having pasta and sauce.  We'll see ....

Another Incident

Saturday - December 7, 2013

So, here's a puzzlement:  2 identical take-out orders of delectable pizza 2 weeks apart. Same order.  Same restaurant. A routine from a lovely (clean) restaurant that has been repeated on more than these 2 occasions.  Our previous takeouts = a settled stomach and sweet dreams.  Last night = immediate gastro discomfort followed by stomach emptying upheaval 4 hours later and an exhausting night of chills and complete exhaustion.  I truly wish I knew what was going on.    My first consult with the liver specialist is Wednesday.  Perhaps light will be shed!  Wouldn't that be nice?  At this point, evening meals seem like roulette.  Eating earlier in the day has never caused a reaction.  Eating after 5 pm now makes me wary.  Seriously considering bread and fruit tonight.  I need to sleep deeply and without incident.

Speaking of which ... last night's drama was heightened by Sadie licking and rupturing the hemangioma on her front leg.  In my gastro self-focus, I had forgotten to put on her protective collar and she managed to open up the hemangioma.  Blood everywhere ... on the sheets, through to the mattress pad, on her, on me ....  I awoke this morning to my hands rusty with blood and a heavy laundry agenda.  Happily, our ever-cheery Sadie is now necklaced, comfortable, and scheduled for what should be routine surgery on Tuesday morning.  Equally happily, I was distracted from the drama (and the laundry) by a lovely "Breakfast with Santa" event up at school where I enjoyed the company of many second graders and their families.

Thankful for our 4some :)

Our Thanksgiving hike up the hill behind the house.  What a VIEW!

Saturday - November 30, 2013

So thankful for Thanksgiving hanging on through the beginning of the weekend!  First we enjoyed our laid back Thursday with our first Thanksgiving meal together since Megan's last year at William and Mary in 2009.  Add some collaborative cooking with Megan, a hike up the Headlands behind the house, and a round of Catan, and you end up with the perfect family day.  Then, our holiday was extended by United Airlines' poor communication about Jonathan's change in Friday's flight schedule.  The error caused a flood of adrenalized panic but eventually gifted us with an additional two days together - free of charge.  We'll take it!  Thanks very much!  The gift of time was shared with our Arlington friend and petsitter extraordinaire, Elizabeth, who joined us on an outing to Tony's in North Beach;  Jonathan ended up getting his sought-after meatball when he could have been sitting on an airplane.  Sounds like a fine trade-off, all in all.

The mystery of my epic stomach discomfort continues.  In fact, it might have accelerated this week.  Joe and I ponder the possibilities and we just can't nail down an instigating event.  Mozzarella or burrata?  Up until last month that had been the theory but not anymore.  Restaurant food?  Nope.  I was sick on my standard homemade pesto last week.  Rich food?  Well, I was up at 3:30 this morning battling my belly when I had only eaten plain rolls and a bit of salad for dinner; our North Beach meal had been 15 hours prior to my  turmoil.  Funnily enough, I was absolutely fine on Thanksgiving.  The methotrexate definitely did a job on my liver.  My AST and ALT liver enzyme levels remain double what they should be.  Next steps:  a consult with a liver specialist and an ultrasound.  If she can't link my increasingly frequent nuclear, jaw-jarring stomach-emptying to my liver levels then ... I am back in "medical mystery land" and I ... LOATHE ... MEDICAL ... MYSTERIES.  As I repeat to myself in the black of night, reviewing my meals, feeling a bit clammy (is it a NIGHT SWEAT?!) and pondering my stomach options, "the scans are clear.  The scans are clear."  That mantra is my Thanksgiving.

Together for First Anniversary of "Ambinder Day"

Sunday - November 24, 2013

Yup, commemorating another milestone; it's been a year since that amazing / shocking trip to Baltimore where Hopkins' Dr. Ambinder rebooted my treatment plan.  An imminent Bone Marrow Transplant was shelved,  "watchful waiting" was endorsed, and we were to resume our interrupted lives.  All of a sudden, we were breathing again.  Hospital incanceration was no longer on the schedule.  Was I cured?  No way.  But "Complete Response" was tattooed on my virtual medical chart and I was free to carry on as usual....

I remember coming home and Joe beginning to plan a Christmas get-away, seizing the opportunity to travel as a family now that I was safe to face the germs and immune challenges of planes, crowds, and life in contact with human beings.  We talked about when I would be strong enough to return to work, how quickly we could travel north to see Joe's mom, and whether we might now resume our plans to move to California.  And now here we are a year later in Sausalito, happily working, enjoying our view from our perch on the hill, and relishing our week of hosting the kids for Thanksgiving after 14 weeks apart....

Blessings.  Gratitude.  Happiness.  Life is oh so good. 

At Rodeo Beach - 10 minutes from the house!

Entering a New Phase

Celebrating with a quick meal at Cavallo Point

Thursday - November 14, 2013

Today's oncology consultation was a wonderful affirmation of all those warm fuzzies that come from discussing no-drama, completely clear, lymphoma-free scans.  YAY!!  Big sigh of relief.  Joe visited UCSF oncology for the first time, participated in the opaque routine of where to put what (in unmarked trays and envelopes) for blood work and vitals, and met my very approachable and reflective oncologist.  In our meeting, we cleaned up a passel of loose ends:

• my scans are now down from every 3 to every 6 months (next scan in April 2014),
• my port is coming OUT (sometime in the next few weeks, date TBD),
• my liver enzymes remain curiously elevated so I am scheduled for a liver ultrasound in the next month, and
• my episodes of nuclear nighttime vomiting are probably NOT a symptom of mozzarella-induced lactose intolerance but are also certainly not a symptom of lymphoma (read: who the hell knows what is going on but maybe it's linked to my liver enzymes; next stop = hepatology).

All reassuring good news. Any (teeny tiny) grains of sand in the vaseline are linked to the repetition of UCSF's view that a Bone Marrow Transplant would NOT have been an appropriate next step in my Stage 4 Large Cell lymphoma treatment plan and that any relapse means an autologous BMT (with its 5% mortality rate) rather than an allogeneic BMT (with its 25% mortality rate).  Say what?  Auto not allo?  Isn't this the conundrum that we faced in July 2012?  I am truly unnerved by how close we came to that allo BMT from VCU.  If I had matched anyone from the registry, I would have ceded my bone marrow to chemo and just rolled right into that high-risk procedure with God knows what outcome....  And mind you we had a second opinion from another esteemed cancer center that allo was the way to go!  Thank you, thank you, thank you Dr. Ambinder at Johns Hopkins! 

So, I embrace my good fortune! I drill down on my gratitude and relief!  I reflect on my amazing great luck.  Friends, community, work, and FAMILY.  That dangerous allo bullet was dodged.  I am healthy, happy, relishing the gift of this BMT-free year, and excited about launching this next stage of health. 

And the Milestones Keep Coming!

Friday - November 1, 2013

Joe and I have been parsing the lingo of this milestone and I will defer to his language:  today marks 1 year since my last in-patient hospitalization, the end of my chemo, my last departure from the kind supervision and attentive care of the staff on CCH2, VCU's Acute Care Oncology ward.  So - by UCSF standards - today I am officially one year clear :)  I do so enjoy racking up these milestones - bring 'em on!

12 hospitalizations in 6 months.  Priceless.

"All Clear" and Swooning with Relief

Monday - October 28, 2013

"Your scans are all clear" and "everything is perfectly normal" infuse true energy.  My relief is completely tangible - I tingled from toes to ears as my body relaxed? released adrenalin? celebrated with an electrical outburst? Happily, I was sitting down in the car having just emerged from the market on my way home from school.  If I had been driving, I would have had to pull over ....

Well, it is truly one year now, even by UCSF's measurement.  One year since my last treatment without a relapse of this stage 4 scourge.  One year and 3 months since active lymphoma was extinguished from visibility on current-technology scans.  Seventeen months since "the particularly nasty chemo protocol" of Hyper-CVAD gifted me with migraine relief and restored vision.  One year without allogeneic Bone Marrow Transplant and its risks.  One year of feeling grateful and strengthening and enjoying my days.

Thank you everyone for your words of support and acts of kindness.

Next steps will be decided when I consult with my oncologist on Nov. 14.  As for my port?  Well, if that proverbial green light is lit, then "Bye-bye!"

Muddy Distraction

Megan is a (muddy) fundraising warrior in gorgeous Yolo County!

Sunday - October 27, 2013

As an optimist, silver linings can be found everywhere - even in cancer....  I suppose that one of the most obvious positives in our initiation into the cancer club is our heightened awareness and support of cancer research.  Relay for Life and St. Jude resonate much more personally these days.  Last April, I visited Jonathan at Tech for a profoundly moving Relay for Life that seemed to mark an affirmation of my return to work and readiness for our move to California.  Yesterday, Megan's Warrior Dash Fundraiser not only provided a welcome distraction from this long wait for my latest scan results but also marked Megan's passing the $2000 mark in her fundraising efforts this year.  Thank you, THANK YOU to everyone who donated!  Megan ran up hills, hoisted herself over walls, and slogged through mud to raise funds for pediatric cancer research.  Her proud mom soaked up the ambiance if not the sun (I staked a spot in a scarce corner of shade) until I went on camera duty when Megan emerged from the fire pit jump and dove into the mud pit.  As a top fundraiser, St. Jude gifted Megan with a public hose down followed by a private portable shower :) 

Reading the (Lack of) Tea Leaves?

Waiting (for dinnertime or for test results) can create anxiety

Friday - October 25, 2013

Waiting ... waiting...  waiting ....  But NO news.  What does this lack of news mean? 
Is the oncologist not in the office? 
Have the results not been read? 
Or is it bad news and ....
Well, my oncologist said he would phone me one way or the other
so ... therefore ... I may infer ... I can guess ...
that there is no news yet
or no one to deliver it. 
But I'm not freaking out or overthinking ... yet.
Am I?

Thank God I am working in a happy job where I am "in the moment" for the vast majority of the day.  Otherwise I would go absolutely ... CRAZY!

A Familiar Routine

Monday - October 21, 2013

Details may be different but the routine remains the same....  Hands above my head or strapped to my waist straight-jacket style, the PET scan always proves irresistible for a nap underneath a warm (sometimes hot blanket)....  And either in my own carefully selected metal-free outfit or the UCSF mandated multi-part green gowns, the MRI remains a loud raucous hour where I find myself counting the beats and wondering about the reasons for the different rhythms, pitches, and decibals.

Details, details ....

Yes, it was scan day once again.  "Watchful waiting" means that every 3 months I load up with contrast via IV and enter into the multimillion dollar machines that peer inside me looking for masses, tumors, and any other harbingers of lymphoma activity.  I'm not sure if it's angst, hunger, contrast-reaction, or a general undercurrent of fatigue but I always get home ready to snuggle the hounds and grab a late afternoon snooze.... Tired.

The oncologist should be in contact this week with the PET and MRI results.  Then it's decision time.  Either we're back in chemo action against a relapsed disease OR -- let's hope -- we're retrenching a bit by removing my port and lengthening the time between scans to 6 months.  Tick tock.  Can't wait for the call.  I just can't stand the waiting....

All Seems Well (... but let's check that liver)

Thursday - October 3, 2013

Today's check-in with my oncologist meant a noon visit to the UCSF clinic in the city.  Having juggled my schedule with very supportive colleagues, I left my students with familiar teachers rather than a substitute and got in the car at 11 to head south down the 101.  Many positives came to mind as I headed in for this let's-hope-it's-banal visit:

• I am feeling just fine.  No symptoms  prompted this trip.
• This commute is even closer than that familiar trek to VCU - and of course - I reap the happiness that comes from traversing the Golden Gate, viewing the crystal clear city from the Marin Headlands, and taking in the great architecture as I head up to Parnassus Heights.
• Every month ... week ... day! ... that passes without relapse brings me a bit more hope that this dread lymphoma might have proven defeatable or might be banished once again if it does indeed recur.

So, my port is now newly flushed on both sides, my vitals are confirmed as normal, no lymph nodes are palpable and worrisome, and my blood work shows... - RATS!  Again, a small blip on the health radar screen.  Those pesky liver enzymes continue their downward trend but remain elevated.  Yes they are on the decline but they have not returned to normal after last autumn's 2 rounds of high-dose methotrexate.  Just to be sure that my liver inflammation is methotrexate-induced and not a symptom of anything else, my oncologist is referring me for a liver ultrasound and follow-up with a specialist. This procedure will be scheduled for my next scan day:  on Oct. 21, I will be getting my next PET and MRI scans as well as this liver ultrasound.  It will be a full medical day :)

In anticipation of those scans, we discussed possible options IF the scans continue to be clear.  At that point, I may go to scans every 6 months and will have the option of having my port removed.  Hmmmm.... my love / hate relationship with the port continues. Yes, I want it OUT.  Who wants a foreign object in their body with a direct link to your aorta?  However, once it's out, I cannot imagine how devastating it would be to have to get it reimplanted for treatment in case of a relapse.  Relapse made real.  I need to think this option through carefully.... but let's get another clean scan first.

27 years on the 27th

Saturday - September 28, 2013

Taking a lesson planning break to enjoy a crisp glorious day and to remember our wonderful anniversary celebration last night:  27 years.  I walked down to Sausalito and met Joe as he came off the ferry from work.  We celebrated at Scoma's, sitting outside in the perfect weather, looking at Angel Island and the city in the day's golden last light, watching the seals and that perky, red-nosed Margaret Wise Brown-esque dinner cruise pass by, just soaking in a laid back delicious meal ...  Then we walked back up to our perch on the hill.  Life is good :)

... AND I'm sleeping better!

Sunrises over the Bay

Sunday - September 22, 2013

Another glorious early morning in Sausalito.  Reds and oranges herald the first sunrise of autumn, the bay is glassy calm, the superyachts are lit up just below our perch on Hurricane Gulch, and that full fabulous fall moon is bathing our bed in bright moonlight.  But how did I become an early riser?  Jonathan has said that I am still functioning on East Coast time and that comment may contain a grain of truth.  Even on the weekends, I am generally up before dawn and my weekday work schedule and commute mean that I have the chance to enjoy a spectacular sun rise as I travel north up the 101.  Waking to the alarm is a rare treat.

I don't think I ever re-established my deep-slumber, truly Olympian sleeping ability after being stricken by that lymphoma-induced migraine on 12/28/11.  Slicing horrible pain (I can never forget how bad it was) robbed me of sleep, then steroids first stole away my deep REMs, followed by the thieving chemo, mucositis, and hospital interruptions.  But what about those early mornings and brief slumbers when I was healthy and back at work in Williamsburg?  What about these consistently early starts here on the west coast?  Perhaps I am simply in a new pattern - anxious to not miss a perfect sunrise, grateful to have those found moments of calm in bed (without an alarm) where I can listen to Joe and the hounds slumbering away alongside me and I can take a deep breath and reflect on my great good fortune.  In the calm of this silent start to the day, I can embody my morning prayers of gratitude and thanks ... for family, friends, opportunities, experiences, and health.

Have I mentioned that I am happy?  SO happy to be working and engaged and present in the world.  Life is indeed fine (but still incredibly busy).  Work is engaging and satisfying; learning and fun are going hand in hand.  I love it, I love it, I love it, I love it!  Being in the classroom is energizing and inspiring.  How lucky I am to work in a job where I am utterly content and constantly challenged!  When I pause and consider why this work is so completely satisfying, I believe it comes down to  interacting with the broad array of young, developing personalities.  At Rock Spring, I loved meeting the children as babies, watching them discover their strengths and preferences, and seeing them develop their talents and follow their instincts over their four years at our school.  In third, first and now second grade, I enjoy that same rush of discovery as students stretch and grow, become comfortable, stock their intellectual and skill arsenals, and seek further challenges.  What a GIFT to be able to support their journey, to help guide them through any bumps in the road, and to witness their thrill and joy as they move forward.  I'm where I am meant to be, in the classroom ... and all is well :)

Best of all, I have no cancer updates to report  :)  My next oncology consult is 10/3 with scans to follow in mid-October.  Work is the ultimate salve.  Work in the rush of a classroom and with the demands of full student engagement means that I can sometimes forget that we are still "watchfully waiting."  I do have those moments of realization that "lymphoma may be lurking" but they are rare and only a blip in the course of my happy, full days with Joe, Megan, Jonathan, and supportive circle.

What a Difference a Year Makes

Friday - August 23, 2013

I can't imagine ever tiring of our glorious view

Although my energy is flagging in the midst of this final full-focus push to Monday's start of the school year, I need to pause and blog, to memorialize my awareness and gratitude for the stark difference between August 23, 2013's inclusion in life and participation in community and August 23, 2012's (rare) episode of tears on a generally frustrating day.  I was aware that a long-anticipated school year was starting without me and physically feeling the symptoms that would morph into an unexpected (and ninth!) hospitalization the following day.  And today?  Well, personally I am enjoying some comfort from yesterday's procedural lets-just-check-in oncology visit and professionally, I am enjoying the sweetest treat of all:  making connections with my new students and parents visiting the classroom for the first time.  What a difference a year makes :) 

A Better Kind of Summer

Saturday - August 17, 2013

Well, THAT was an improvement!  Summer 2013 was a definite upgrade from the neutropenic, chemo-filled, no-hair, collapsed-on-the-couch, hospital-centric, mucositis-afflicted summer of 2012.  Not that last summer harbors all bad associations.  After all, here I am. Under the care and love of Joe, Jonathan, Megan, and Carolyn.  With the hands-on support and emotional boost of my family, colleagues, and friends.  I survived.

Yet, it isn't saying too much to say that I prefer life as it is this summer.  Our children have regained weight and peace of mind, Joe and I are feeling more settled into California living (after a year's delay), I am embarking on a new classroom adventure in a fabulous community, and Andy Murray even won Wimbledon.  Yup.  Summer 2013 beat Summer 2012 hands down!  I continue to REJOICE in my migraine-free, single-vision life.  No constant crushing pain, no eye patch, no dizziness.  No uncertainty about an imminent Bone Marrow Transplant.  Am I still walking on broken glass every time I feel a speck of sweat?  Of course.  Does my stomach plummet if I think I might have the slightest twinge of a headache?  You betcha.  But another season has passed with my lymphoma still purged from my strengthening body.  Every clear month breathes more hope into my prognosis.  I am inching away from that Summer 2012 brink.

Summer 2013 is now officially over.  Jonathan and Megan have returned to their studies after a week of play, hanging out, and eating here in Marin and San Francisco.  Cancer was not hanging over us.  The fatigue and hair loss that branded cancer into our lives has receded.  I can hike and am not as visibly marked as I was even a few months ago.  We can push our concerns back into our minds and just focus on finding the best pizza in the area, watching the America's Cup qualifier, going to a baseball game, laughing at the hounds as they shake off the wind, and appreciate the vista from our perch above Sausalito.  Is there ever enough time to be with your children?  As they establish their independent lives and schedules, our time together assumes even more importance, truly precious time.  Only 14 more weeks until we see Jonathan (but who's counting?).... 

Summer's end is also measured by a full return to work.  In truth, I have been back at work, readying my classroom and lessons since we arrived in California.  17 days in the classroom and it is just about fully cleaned out and set up.  I have also been forging a cheerful and satisfying collaboration with a teaching partner with whom I share similar energies, passions, and point of view.  I am SO SO mindful of this gift of connection, opportunity, and community.  As Joe points out, I have always enjoyed great good fortune in finding a collegial community - ISG and ISB in Beijing, PPA in Hong Kong, PS 183 in Manhattan, Rock Spring in Arlington, and Matoaka and DJ  in Williamsburg.  I am excited to see what's next.

(Calmly) Resetting the Clock

Saturday - August 3, 2013

Thursday's visit to UCSF brought the comforting confirmation of last week's phone call from the oncologist:  the scans are clear; nothing has changed; no lymphoma is visible.  And THAT's a true relief!  Hurrah!  Normalcy is not just an illusion.  It's confirmed. 

What a nice ride home!

When Megan and I asked about port removal, continued anti-shingles medication, and - most importantly - how have the odds of relapse shifted from the 50/50 of last autumn, we learned that dates are all relative.  That is, my new oncologist is dating my current status from the end of my last treatment (Halloween) rather than VCU's dating protocol of from my "all clear" PET scan of early August.  Joe has his own dating standard of late May/early June when my migraines abated and my double vision vanished.  But dates are just dates and who really knows when I transitioned from cancer-afflicted to cancer-free?  It's a mystery at the molecular level and I'm just riding this welcome wave of restored good health and function.  So the port?  Well, the goal is to get it out when it is clear that it will NOT have to be surgically re-implanted.  The oncologist wants us to hold off until Halloween?  Fine by me  :)  

And, as for those odds ... every month of health and each round of clear scans improve the likelihood that my lymphoma is either beaten into remission OR upon relapse CAN be beaten into remission through salvage therapy.  My oncologist kept citing "presumed CNS involvement" in my medical records rather than definitive CNS complications so that's also very good news.  While I have always had some doubts about CNS involvement (dictated by the presence of lymphoma in my left eye socket  and trace lymphocytes in my initial spinal tap), I am grateful that we attacked my disease with CNS in mind, slamming it with methotrexate in reversed Hyper-CVAD rounds and then piling on two extra-intense methotrexate cycles after the initial protocol of six chemo rounds.  Whatever it took.  That being said, I do like the word "presumed" - it makes everything seem rosier. 

Last - but certainly not least - I do so enjoy when an oncologist uses the word "cure."  This lymphoma can be cured.  I like hearing that.  Say it as much as you like, doctors.  "Cure."  And that's the goal ladies and gentlemen.  Cure.  Health.  Many more years.

GOOD News by Phone

Phone call from my oncologist?! UH oh .... BUT GOOD NEWS! The MRI is definitely clear and although the radiologist has not yet written a PET report, the oncologist says it looks all clear to his eyes: "nothing lighting up, looks completely unremarkable." Oh, UCSF thank you for not making me fret for a week! Oh, new Dr., thanks for a phone call that brings GOOD NEWS! Oh, universe, thanks for my restored health. Oh, family and friends, THANKS FOR YOUR SUPPORT! I LOVE GOOD NEWS!!! Time to celebrate at the DMV  :)

Scanning By The Bay

Thursday - July 25, 2013

Yesterday was my first set of scans at UCSF and an opportunity to drive across the city.  The UCSF imaging center is at China Basin next to AT&T Park.  I may be jinxing myself here but San Francisco traffic cannot hold a candle to northern Virginia's morass and the I-95 crawl up to NYC.  Even when reports announce slow rush hour traffic crossing the Golden Gate, we do move along.  Nothing like the American Legion Bridge and the Beltway :)   So with that perspective, I flew happily across town:  NO back-ups AT ALL at 8 am.  NoVA traffic has made the driving world a piece of cake ....

Worlds collide in San Francisco :)  Such a happy jolt to see the crest!

Anyway, the scans themselves were different in many fundamental ways.  For example, gowns were required; my metal-free proven-to-be-okay-for MRI street clothes were NOT allowed.  Also, the rest time after my PET nuclear injection was not prone in the dark for an hour but sitting in a chair in a waiting room - allowed to read!  allowed to move!  That being said, given my VCU experience of repeated cautions not to move and create false activity readings, I sat very still reading my "New Yorker" taking care not to clench my hands or tense any muscles.  Even the MRI symphony of sounds was altered.  "The news" consult is scheduled for next Thursday, August 1.  Megan has said that she will try to come with me ... just in case.  I am phobic about getting any bad news alone in a consult with the oncologist.

But in the meantime, I am NOT incredibly nervous this time.  Am I tempting fate?  Or is this calm just a reflection and tacit acknowledgment of my body's return to normal?  I CAN say that I am extremely busy and distracted with preparations for school and with continued settling-in-to-dos in the apartment.  Joe provided an immediate distraction for me after my scans, meeting me for a delicious lunch at the Ferry Building.  I enjoyed a warm and wonderful walk along the Embarcadero before coming home to crash with fatigue; it must be all the contrast dyes as well as that useful nuclear tracer that cause me to have such an energy dip after scans.  Today brings more distractions from worries about "the news" as Joe has the day off and we are having a big date ... at the DMV :)

A Phenomenal Long Weekend

Monday - July 22, 2013

Combine Carolyn and Megan for a cheery joint birthday celebration.  Add in the pleasure of Chris' company.  Mix with many fine meals including Joe's introduction of a favorite North Beach pizzeria and Megan's hosting us at a familiar favorite in Davis.  Flavor with multiple walks around Sausalito, Fort Baker, San Francisco, and Angel Island.  Spice up the long weekend with many laughs about the unusual-for-us July weather, our success in figuring out the apartment's heating system, our triumph in jerry-rigging the dogs' access to the front yard, and Sadie's stealthy counter-cruising, food stealing and burying exploits.  What do you get?  Normalcy.  Happiness.  Diversion.  It's been a fantastic long weekend :)

Dodging a Bullet?

Saturday - July 13, 2013

Usually, I am very quick to post an update following a visit with an oncologist; sometimes I update from the clinic waiting to check out.  But obviously this time I have delayed 2 full days. Why?  It was a smooth, professional, pleasant, and all-good-news consultation.  For example, my next MRI and PET are already scheduled for July 24 with a follow-up for "the news" on August 1st.  In addition, I had team care, meeting with both an oncology fellow and my new oncologist and hearing that they had input on my scans and records from another more senior lymphoma specialist (I do love being cared for at a teaching / research hospital).  My vomiting episodes did not raise alarm nor did they trigger a clear to-be-expected-after-chemo response; my abdomen is scanned during my PETs and they rechecked my May scan and confirmed nothing of concern was evident.  AND the team fully agreed with both my R-Hyper-CVAD protocol, the additional rounds of methotrexate, as well as Dr. Ambinder's "sit tight" decision to NOT proceed with a Bone Marrow Transplant.

And there - right there at the end of the last paragraph - is the source of my delay in posting.  I am mulling over, digesting, contemplating, the oncologist's strong affirmation that I should NOT have gotten a Bone Marrow Transplant.  He stated - quite firmly - that Hopkins, UCSF, and other (what was the adjective that he used?  top?  elite? ) cancer centers are NOT advising Bone Marrow Transplants after achieving complete response from Stage 4 DLBC lymphoma.  If I relapse then have successful salvage therapy that results in another complete response THEN a BMT would be warranted but NOT after a first remission.

Joe said that I "dodged a bullet."  A potentially fatal bullet.  I am - once again - tremendously grateful, tremendously relieved, and a little bit breathless from dodging that BMT bullet. What if a donor had been available off the BMT registry?  What if I had matched?  Aside from the lethal dangers of cancer, the mortality rate from an allo BMT procedure is 1 in 4.  Yup, 25% from the BMT itself.  And then of course there is the graft versus host issue and the possible failure to graft and subsequent loss of immunity.  Bullet dodged.  Phew.  Bad luck can be good luck, I suppose  :)

Settling Into Our Perch on the Hill

Wednesday - July 10, 2013

Our view:  Belvedere and Angel Island

Today we celebrated many move-in milestones:

• The last of our moving boxes was broken down and put in the recycling!  HIP...
• All of my classroom materials are now IN my new classroom (after three car trips)! ... HIP...
• Joe and I enjoyed our first meet-at-the-ferry-then-eat-downtown-then climb-the-hill-home dinner!  ... HOORAY!!!!

Life on our Sausalito overlook is absolutely drop dead gorgeous; we can scarcely believe it.  The scenery is constantly changing.  Fog creeps over the hills to our west only to evaporate before our eyes in the sunshine and the wind.  The water and the light are everchanging with whitecaps alternating with surprising calm.  And of course, the birds, ferries, sailboats, barges, kayaks, and paddle boards always provide interest.  Living theater right outside our spectacular windows.

Happily, all of the furniture fits into our much tighter quarters, the "stuff" all has a home, and the closets are sufficient.  In fact, we have room to spare (phew!) particularly in the kitchen (which is officially the best we've ever enjoyed).  Driving up (and down!) the hill is becoming more routine, the dogs are somewhat less freaked out by the wind every day, and slowly but surely we are arranging all of our unboxed belongings.  Joe started at work this week and has commuted successfully by ferry, bike, and bus.  He is supremely content.  Life is GOOD!

Another sun spot for Baxter

This week, I have been thrilled to begin settling into school.  It truly is a fabulous environment with lovely, welcoming staff and an expansive, well-appointed classroom.  A splendid fit.  I am so happy to set down professional roots and to get prepped for students in a few short weeks.

Of course, hovering in the background (or "lurking" as lymphoma was first introduced to us in April 2012) is the nagging ever-present worry that somehow I am tempting fate with every box unpacked, taunting cancer with every instance when I forget my past illness.  My head knows I am well but my gut will no longer trust my head.  Tomorrow I visit UCSF for my first meeting with my new oncologist.  It feels a bit like a blind date so of course I will dress up (for me that's a low bar) and carry my "big girl purse."  The goal is to schedule my next series of scans and subsequent results consultation for mid-August.

I also need to discuss 5 incidents of middle of the night vomiting since March.  No nausea at all - just awaking, knowing it's coming, waiting about an hour, then emptying my stomach.  At first I thought it was an isolated bout of food poisoning but now with 4 incidents in the last month (and some reluctant googling), I think that I might be suffering some lingering effects of my chemo.  Needless to say, I am also obsessing about stomach cancer ... but nothing seems to corroborate that fear .... Best to consult with my oncologist .... Tomorrow ....  I need some reassurance ....

Our view north, across to the next ridge

Lastly, these last few weeks cancer has reared its foul head once again.  Megan's close friend from high school continues to battle her scourge-relapsed-lymphoma with salvage chemotherapy in preparation for a Bone Marrow Transplant.  Carolyn's dear friend has finished her chemotherapy only to now be suffering through her radiation treatments.  Mark has now been gone for 3 months and I hold his parents and family close in prayer as they endure a summer without their 12 year old.  And now a dear friend from our early days in DC is enduring treatment for an aggressive form of breast cancer.  I am railing at the universe with the injustice of this brutal diagnosis.  She is a physician herself who has been vigilant about annual mammograms and self-checks yet the mammograms missed the disease which has apparently been present for years.  Wretched disease.  Please hold her in your thoughts and prayers.  Her boys need her.  Her family and friends need her.  The world is a better place with her smile, laughter, and gentle heart.

Destination Sausalito: DONE

Monday - July 1, 2013

Voila!  WHAT a view!  WHAT a breeze!  Forget the terrace dining room, I am lobbying - hard! - for an outdoor bed.  Seriously.  I am.  NOW is the opportunity.  My childhood "sleeping porch" fantasy may have originated in southern novels but may find its reality in the North Bay.  On a terrace overlooking Sausalito and Richardson Bay.  In the crisp Pacific air scented with eucalytpus.  Outdoor sleeping NEEDS to happen.

But for tonight, our perch on the hill remains completely empty save for the hounds' beds that we have left behind for the evening.  Joe and I are bunkered down in a nearby hotel awaiting tomorrow's delivery of our household effects.  Given the fact that getting the Jetta up the hill is a bit of an all-in-first-gear-and-pray-for-our-clutch ordeal, I cannot imagine how they will shuttle up the thousands of pounds of stuff.  Thank you USG for underwriting this move.  Guaranteed there are more than a few surcharges for this delivery.  And it is worth every penny.  This apartment is a gift!

Last night's stay in Davis was HOT but restful.  Megan and Chris toured us around their lovely downtown, we dined al fresco on Mexican with the hounds at our feet, and then treated ourselves to some Yoloberry froyo.  Jonathan is keeping us up to date with phone updates and ephemeral Snapchats so we don't feel horribly far away.  All was well on this particular summer evening with the reassuring promise that many more such relaxed evenings await us.

Today, we breakfasted with Megan before hitting the road and then - for a last happy highlight before our moving odyssey recommences - we drove by San Domenico to see my new work home.  Sigh.  Life is very very good.

Back on the Road

Saturday - June 29, 2013

Two nights' rest with the Alzamoras was a welcome break from time in the car.  We celebrated a birthday, enjoyed some scrumptious meals, watched skillful knife throwing demos (yup, you read that correctly), and even played a game of Catan that was SO involved that we ran out of development cards.  Now we are in the final push, overnighting in Salt Lake City with the goal of eating dinner with Megan tomorrow in Davis.  Today's scorching, record-setting triple digit temperatures were somewhat bearable with the lack of humidity and when sticking to the shade.  We ended the day in downtown Salt Lake, roaming Temple Square, enjoying the architecture and gardens, seeking shade under the lovely tree canopy, and dining al fresco on Main Street with dogs at our feet (salads for humans and meatballs and chicken for hounds).  Final push across Nevada comes tomorrow :)

Smooth Sailing

Wednesday - June 26, 2013

Two days on the road and while we have not yet hit the halfway point, we have officially crossed from east to west in traversing the Mississippi at St. Louis.  I am totally geeking out on so many history touchstones.  Today saw more river highlights as we enjoyed glimpses of the Ohio, Mississippi, Missouri, and Kansas rivers.  Tonight humans and hounds are all resting up and hiding from triple digit temperatures in Lawrence, Kansas - site of Free State disputes, Big 12 athletics and academics, a Civil War raid, and a stop on the Oregon Trail (which of course resonates beyond my love of history to my memories of listening to Megan play a favorite early educational CD).  Travel continues to be wonderfully smooth.  I-95 traffic makes everything a cakewalk in comparison  :)

And Off We Go!

Barking at movers has its limits (a few good hours later)

Tuesday - June 25, 2013

Farewell to Williamsburg!  Yesterday the house was finally emptied but only after another eventful day of packing, furniture tumbles, hound panic, and personnel confusion.  Sadie added to the general sense of the surreal by NOT chowing down her dinner for the first time ever.  I attributed this aberration to stress and disruption, gave her extra cuddles and reassurance, and then discovered that our stealth food addict had absconded with a new bag of treats and gulped them all down in the back yard.  Joe discovered the empty-bag, corner-gnawed evidence. Hmmmm....  Arriving last night in our Temporary Quarters, we promptly oriented the dogs inside then left them  while we unpacked the car - OOPS!  Guess who haven't locked a door in 4 years?  Who would have thought that doors could lock behind us?  Thank you, security personnel who hurried over to let us back in before the hounds went crazy!  Time to adjust to life outside of the safety of a military base  :)

Our "NO Lollygagging Tour 2013" Day 1 brings us to Jeffersonville, Indiana across the Ohio River from Louisville, Kentucky.  625 miles through Virginia, West Virginia, and Kentucky was an absolute pleasure for those of us accustomed to the harried hordes of traffic in the I-95 NorthEast corridor.  Where was the traffic?  Where were the bumper to bumper trucks?  The aggressive drivers weaving  ahead for a wee time advantage?  Were these wide open spans of highway the norm?  The hounds zonked out cold in their backseat beds until we all disembarked along the banks of the Ohio.  History geek that I am, I was incredibly excited to enjoy a long mosey along the Indiana bank letting the dogs sniff away while Joe and I read the historic placards and stretched our legs.  A highlight was the newly repurposed pedestrian Big Four Bridge.  We were also reminded that our intrepid hounds are quite discomfited by elevators.  Our fourth floor room has a view of Louisville, the Ohio, and its bridges (some lit up purple in the night).


AND, UCSF called!  I finally have an appointment for July 11.  Funny how the clerk mentioned Carolyn's phone call and not those from my oncology RN or my oncologist.  Carolyn gets things done.  One month and 2 days after receiving my paperwork, UCSF has opened the door.  Phew.  Now we can really relax :)

Celebrating a Full Deck

Monday - June 24, 2013

Somehow events came together in the chaos of pack-out and move to create a lull - a relaxing oasis with family that happened to coincide with my birthday and (as it happened) a super moon.  Five days away from our half-inhabited house and the mountains of boxes.  A very, very soothing interlude ... and a fabulous juxtaposition with last year's mid-chemo commemoration of my 51st birthday when I was hairless, incredibly debilitated, and letting the chemo do its magic.  

This year's birthday marked a "full deck" at 52, an opportunity to breathe and celebrate renewed health and precious connections.  Time with Megan who was back east for a wedding. Time with Jonathan who came north for the annual Ammirati reunion.  Time with my cousin who has been a strong internet presence and virtual support during this long lymphoma challenge.  Time with family who gathered once more with Joe's mom to exchange updates and share memories.  The green and the coolness of the Delaware River Valley was restorative; a welcome respite from transition hiccups and uncertainty.

Relief in the form of an answering machine message upon our return to Williamsburg.  UCSF finally called me back on Friday (my birthday!).  Apparently a phone call from my VCU oncologist kicked up some response or it is simply a lovely coincidence.  I hope to find a moment of calm in today's final iteration of "pack-out and load" to call back and secure an appointment.  Now that is a birthday present that it truly an answer to prayers  :) 

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Another cheery birthday coincidence!  FINALLY, on Friday Virginia cashed my check for a revised Teaching License with ESL Endorsement.  Another gnawing to-do is getting closer to resolution  :)

All Those Details

Tuesday - June 18, 2013

I write at the time we had originally intended for me to rendezvous with Megan at the Philadelphia Airport but the details have changed, the days have shifted, and all is well.  First came the July / June drop-down menu mix-up on the part of our packers and then American Airlines canceled Megan's flight and rebooked her for tomorrow evening.  So ... found time.  Our plans for this week are pushed back for by the great hand of chance.  A good opportunity to try to rest and regroup before our drive and visit north.  A needed respite from the onslaught of moving obligations, the preparation for next Monday's final pack-out of our California shipment, and our Tuesday departure for our 3000 mile drive to Sausalito.

Safe - but alert! - snuggling together inside their fleece cave

The pack-out of the storage was as smooth as can be hoped.  Massive preparations and sorts helped delineate the storage / shipment split and it is also clear (at least to me) that we have lessened the load in the last 4 years even with all of my classroom materials and teacher resources.  The dogs have now collapsed in exhaustion after a day of relentless attention guarding us from the four movers and their endless supply of boxes (!) and the screeches of their packing tape.  We created a bit of a dog oasis / gated sanctuary in the kitchen and dining room and the hounds hunkered down together seeking comfort.  In a family first, the trauma of all of this action prompted Sadie and Baxter to seek refuge together in the refuge of their Cozy Cave; Joe and I whipped out our cameras to capture the moment :)

On the health front, I have not yet heard back from UCSF.  Somehow the old adage of "you only have one chance to make a first impression" comes to mind as I wait and wait for someone to call me back from this highly-regarded hospital.  Let's remember that even my oncologist's office has phoned with little real result.  I need to meet with a physician soon.  I need to schedule the next round of MRI and PET scans for mid-August.  These details need to be hammered out as soon as possible.  Carolyn called to wrestle out an answer and got the same reassurance as I heard last week: an oncologist is reviewing my case and I will hear soon.  Hmmm....  UCSF is the fourth major medical hospital with which I have had contact and I am stunned at the snail's pace.  Johns Hopkins called me back within a few hours.  Now that's customer service!

Storage vs Shipment - Delayed

Monday - June 17, 2013

Well, today is TRULY a real life example of "hurry up and wait."  It's been weeks of prep and a dedicated weekend of intense sorting and dividing our household goods into "storage / can't fit into our charming but small Sausalito flat" and "shipment / bare essentials for trimmed down California living."  After all, for this move, I cannot recreate the epic fail of my 2009 last car trip from Arlington when the Yuzawas came to the rescue and we hauled a full carload of extra stuff over to their basement to await a subsequent trip south (Yes, I was off by a factor of 2 in estimating how much was left to fit in the Jetta and YES, the Yuzawas are amazing friends!)

This time, we face the challenge of downsizing AND setting aside items for storage.  Closets are taped off and barricaded, a dog sanctuary is readied behind doors and gates where I will work and provide calm during pack-out, laundry is done, dishes are finished, car is crammed with more Goodwill donations, and we await the arrival of the first crew of packers.  And we wait.  And we call. And we wait, and call, and wait some more.  And then MANY hours after the packers are scheduled to arrive, we get the explanatory call:  a typo had us scheduled for pack-out on JULY 17 (not JUNE 17) with truck loading on JUNE 18.  Pretty hard to load a truck when it won't be packed for another full month, yes?  Yikes!  Perhaps I didn't say "yikes" when I heard what was going on.  Perhaps I might have used more colorful "traffic language" (even though I was not driving a car while talking to the moving company).  When explaining that I was scheduled to be in Philadelphia tomorrow at 6 p.m. to pick Megan up at the airport, perhaps I might have expressed some ... let's say "disappointment" before I moved into problem solving mode.  But now I am here in the zen of problem solving mode, thinking that a huge crew of movers might arrive at the crack of dawn tomorrow to get the storage (just the storage) packed and loaded.  Problem solving mode is pretty calming. Maybe I can even take a nap since I got up at 5 a.m. and am wired as tight as Baxter at the sight of a box and a suitcase.  A nap cuddled up with the dogs would be so lovely.  But first let me call the shipping company to confirm some details ....

WAIT!  HOLD ON!  All of a sudden, my landline phone can't get a dialtone.  I can't problem solve without a phone!  Ahhhh .... my new iPhone, how I love you.

Isn't moving fun?

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Just off the phone with the movers who are planning to be here in force tomorrow and plan to do the full pack and load of storage in one (long) day.  I am immensely relieved to have gotten a reality check from my contact who reassured me that while I was shocked (and indeed salty) I was not personal and never directed my wave of frustration at her.  Good to know that even in a verbal amigdala response, my Positive Parenting and Responsive Classroom instincts kicked in and that I expressed frustration with the situation and not the person.  Consider that one test I do not wish to repeat :)  And in an example of good Customer Relations, in recognition that their error means that we cannot liaise with Megan in Philadelphia, they will reimburse us for Megan's shuttle from the airport to her grandmother's house.

A Derecho and A Decision

Friday - June 14, 2013

A wall of wind and horizontal rain slammed into our relatively flimsy military-issue house yesterday afternoon shaking the walls, rattling the windows, bending the surrounding loblolly pines to an abrupt and disturbing angle, and cutting off the power with a certain sense of finality.  Joe came home and pronounced that he thought it was going to take a while to get back on line.  While he was indeed right, we are now back enjoying electricity a mere 29 hours after the mini-derecho (?) rather than the 3 day outage after Aug. 2011's Hurricane Irene.  We'll take it.  After all, we need to finish up our preparations for pack out.  A day without ready access to communications, electronics, NPR, and general diversions  :)  Just a quiet venue for prepping for our transition, for mulling over decisions and choices, for feeling fortunate and healthy....  Somehow I felt suspended in time.

GOOD news!  I finally got a return call from UCSF Cancer Center today.  Yesterday, I called in the "big guns" and persuaded my VCU oncologist's RN to phone the UCSF New Patient Coordinator phone line to try to dislodge some sort of response to my many unanswered voice mails.  I called again this morning, left another message, noted that I needed to schedule scans for mid-August, and pleaded for any update on how I could get into their system.  This 1-2 punch effected a result: my records have been forwarded to an oncologist and I should get a call next week with next steps.  

TECH news!  We used our electricity disconnect as an excuse / final straw to get a smartphone.  In considering our upcoming transcontinental drive (with hounds!), the smartphone decision seemed like a wise option.  How ironic that given the wretched cell coverage here on base - exacerbated by the widespread power outage that seems to have impacted our closest cell tower - we STILL couldn't hook up to the internet even with our new iPhone. We ended up lurking outside amid mosquitoes and with overexcited hounds to check email this evening.

BEST news of the day:  After MUCH debate and reflection, I am happy to have accepted an offer to teach second grade at San Domenico School in San Anselmo!  A warm and welcoming staff, a child centered curriculum, and a beautiful premises in a spectacular setting!  I am overwhelmed with appreciation and a sense of good fortune.  San Domenico is a fabulous fit for me and I am sure that I can contribute to their wonderful team.  Yes, I am still drawn to the vision of the new school in the city but the timing and the location are simply not right.  Two amazing choices.  Two remarkable programs.  Choice is always valued although it can create angst.  Life is good.  San Domenico should be a fabulous professional home for me  :)  Joe and I are VERY happy.

Memory Lane

Wednesday - June 12, 2013

Our last Wednesday in Williamsburg...  Tick tock, pack-out approaches....  With some sense of comfort that most of the preparations are in hand (or at least within reach) for Monday's pack-out of our storage items, I treated myself to a lovely lunch with a friend followed by an after-school visit to the comforting halls of Matoaka.  I feel overwhelmed with gratitude whenever I go back.  Could I have fallen ill in a more supportive environment?  No.  I already had built up a comfort level and familiarity from my student teaching year at Matoaka and I felt fully supported by that wonderful Matoaka community after I returned from winter break in a pathetic state of illness.  EVERYone was kind and so very adept at putting me at ease.  Matoaka has set a standard for collegial school culture that will be difficult to match.

Speaking of which ... school climate is certainly an issue in contemplating my California job options and I am truly excited by the possibilities. The job search continues on its double-pronged path.  I am completely and utterly conflicted.  Two amazing choices with equal energy, commitment, and vision.  Two phenomenal opportunities: one in a long-established school, one in a school that has yet to launch.  Two divergent locations and states of development.  I am giving myself whiplash considering the options.  A good problem, for sure, but my internal (and external!) debate is never-ending and I am tying myself up in knots.  Thanks to everyone who has listened to me parse the options and who has weighed in.  More interviews and discussions with one school yesterday.  More interviews and discussions with another school tomorrow....

Moving Forward (and getting ready to move OUT!)

Friday - June 7, 2013

Moving forward with the job process!  Heartening news: my references are being contacted by both schools.  Discomfiting news: "Are you at liberty to disclose the nature of her illness?" has been asked by a teacher (who I met in my California interviews) who is helping to vet my references for her school.  In reflection, I realize that she was not in the room when I mentioned that I had been on (and am now OFF) medical leave.  So I choose to believe that she was just surprised when my reference mentioned my medical leave and the question just popped out.  Ah well .... Happily, the educator who was asked this question knew it was illegal and replied "No, I am not at liberty to share that."  Whatever will be, will be ....

Hmmm .... Again, it is NOT in my nature to be anything but open so I WANT TO DISCLOSE, share, lay it all on the table.  Yet I also want my cancer to be immaterial in hiring decisions and I am well aware of realities.  So ... I am not being specific when I say "medical leave."  "Cancer" might just slam shut an otherwise open and welcoming door.  I will spill the beans ... later.

Moving forward with the countdown!  Jonathan's home for the weekend! It's possibly (probably?) his last trip to the Williamsburg house. That's a wake-up call! Yet I look around and see that the children's instruments are off to new homes, furniture is being sold to neighbors, and boxes of belongings are being hauled away by the carload to Goodwill. Our final pack-out date has been confirmed for June 24. Seventeen days and counting!