One year ago in July, following the collapse of my spine, it was clear that it was time for me to start chemo (see post from June 7, 2008 on "Spinal Collapse" and from July 18, 2008 on "So Grateful for Where I Am Now -- Chemo Began 1 Year Ago").
So it was on Friday July 20, 2007, that I began taking the 3 different chemo agents prescribed for treating multiple myeloma -- daily Thalidomide, weekly Dexamethasone, and Velcade every 3 days for 2 weeks followed by a week off. The Thalidmoide makes one sleepy, so I was told by my oncologist to take it around 10 p.m. each night. In fact, it was given to pregnant women in the 1950's to help them sleep, after which it was discovered that Thalidomide causes horrible birth defects. So now there is tight control over who takes Thalidomide, and who can even touch the medication. But the good news for those with multiple myeloma is that Thalidomide helps kills the cancerous plasma cells in the bone marrow, and it also helps one sleep in the process. Other side effects from Thalidomide, besides sleepiness, can include constipation and numbness or tingling in the fingers and toes. The numbness never bothered me...
At the hospital on Friday July 20, I was given a 3-second long IV of Velcade, along with other drugs to reduce nausea, and then at home that night I took the weekly dose of Dexamethasone and nightly dose of Thalidomide. In addition to the Thalidomide being constipating, I was informed that both the Velcade and Dexamethasone are also.
So the weekend went by, and each evening I took Thalidomide. I continued my habit of drinking plenty of liquid (over 80 ounces per day) to maintain kidney health, including water, juices, herb teas, no alcohol, and only 1 cup of Earl Grey tea with caffeine in the morning. As Saturday went by, I didn't poop. My daughter's future in-laws came into town to visit us over the weekend. My roommate from college came to stay, too, so I was showered with lots of love. My future son-in-law was also in town for the weekend, and we had fun playing all kinds of board games. And by the end of the weekend, still I hadn't pooped.
Monday came and it was time to go back to the hospital for another IV of Velcade. The ambulance arrived at the house at noon to pick me up, since I had great difficulty getting to the hospital in a car due to severe back spasms every time we went over tiny bumps in the road. Unfortunately, the ambulance was no better. When I arrived at the hospital and was wheeled on a gurney into the infusion center for treatment, the nurses told me I was a kind of greyish color. They also said the only alternative to getting the ambulance rides to the hospital was to be admitted to the hospital as a patient, and I thought that was not necessary. I didn't realize at the time how close I was to being admitted to the hospital, how sick I really was.
After treatment on July 23, an ambulance took me back home from the hospital, and again I took Thalidomide that night. I didn't poop that day, so it was 4 days since I had emptied my bowel.
When Tuesday came along, it was a beautiful summer day, and my partner's and my 15th anniversary. I still remember having visits from 2 very dear friends, one in the morning and another in the afternoon, as well as having a visit from the secretaries of the Astronomy Department, who brought lunch to share. It was a wonderful day with friends, and still no poop.
By late afternoon, I started to realize that there was a problem. I had been eating food for 5 days since chemo began, and nothing had come out. I was feeling very full inside, with not much room for anything new until I emptied some of it. So I asked my partner to go to the drug store to buy the stuff I had drunk before my colonoscopy 1 year before -- and 2 hours after drinking it nothing had happened.
We ate dinner, and I had room for a little food, so I joined in the festivities. But still no poop came out, so afterwards I sent my partner back to the drugstore, this time for an enema. That didn't work either, and by 11 p.m. I realized that I was in trouble, literally in deep shit. If all of the things I knew how to do weren't helping my intestines move food through, I needed to go to the hospital.
So shortly before midnight on July 24, 2007, we called the ambulance to take me to the ER for an obstructed colon. I still remember being taken from the house down the front sidewalk, looking up at the stars in the clear sky and exclaiming, "It's so beautiful. I haven't seen the stars all summer!"
I was close to death that night, although I didn't know it until later. But even though I was in very serious condition, I still found joy in the beauty of the Universe.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Black Holes and the Placebo Effect
Being a scientist -- and an astronomer in particular -- means that I was brought up to view the world in a rational, linear way. In this world view, every condition observed in the Universe is the result of circumstances which can be explained based on physical laws. And these physical laws become clear as a result of observation, experimentation, model building, and theorizing, and then making additional observations to test the theories and models.
Each branch of science, whether astronomy or geology or biology, is a study of a particular class of objects, be it stars or rocks or living organisms. And while scientists build intellectual models to explain what they see -- whether it be a model of the Universe and the Big Bang or the Earth's interior or the nucleus of an atom -- it is important to remember that the model is not reality. It is simply a model.
I decided to become an astronomer the day I learned about Black Holes. I was a senior in high school, and I was taking an astronomy course along with AP chemistry; at the time, I had already applied for college and decided to major in chemistry. But on the day that I learned about black holes, I was presented with a science which accepted the existence of something which could never be proven to exist. That was what intrigued me about astronomy. A black hole has a field of gravity so strong that nothing can escape, not even light. So it is not possible to see one, because no light is emitted or reflected. Not a single photon. And if one could get close enough to **know** that one was visiting a black hole, one would be too close to get away and convey the information. I loved the idea that astronomy accepted the existence of black holes simply on the basis that theoretically such things **could** exist.
Of course, astronomers do see evidence in the Universe of what they think are very likely black hole candidates -- systems with one star orbiting something that cannot be seen, with gas swirling around that something, and as that gas gets closer to the center, strong X-rays are emitted. And although no one will ever **prove** that a black hole is there, most astronomers accept that conclusion. It amuses me that in my astronomical career, I never did study black holes. I just liked that they could exist.
When teaching introductory astronomy at the University, one of the statements I make to get the students' attention is "Black holes don't suck," even though there is a common misconception to the contrary. If the Sun were to be magically and instantly replaced by a black hole of the same mass at the center of the solar system, we would not be sucked into it -- we would continue to orbit the center of the solar system just like we do now. The main difference would be that it would be dark.
Today, I understand my initial attraction to astronomy and black boles as being one of those subjects where science and spirituality meet. And I continue to be interested in the crossroads of the scientific and spiritual ways of looking at the world.
It is curious to me that so much of what scientists accept as true is actually based on faith, although most scientists would deny it. Faith in the assumptions. We assume that the physical laws we discover here on Earth also apply on the Sun, the planets, and throughout the Universe, and that the elements that make up the Earth are the same elements found throughout the Universe. And many of the assumptions that we make are testable and verifiable. But some are not. And yet, the truth of these assumptions is taken on faith.
Because I am interested in the subject of healing, it too provides a topic which is at the crossroads of science and spirituality. And that topic is called the placebo effect. It is well known in medicine that some patients will get better if a doctor says to a patient that a particular drug is very effective, while it is actually made of sugar. In some cases, if a patient believes the pill can be effective, it will be, even if there is nothing in it. The placebo effect is the power of the mind to heal, or healing which manifests based on the belief that healing is taking place. How magical! That the body can heal based on a belief in the mind!!
When I first learned about the placebo effect, I wondered why doctors didn't take advantage of it. After all, if the mind is so powerful, it seems to me that it should be fully engaged in healing. I find it curious that the medical establishment has given this magical effect a label -- the placebo effect. Then doctors and researchers try to find the effectiveness of drugs by doing double blind studies so the mind will not be engaged in healing. And in doing double blind drug trials, they imply that the mind's role should be circumvented, and that it is the drugs that are important.
But in true healing, the mind is continuously engaged. I would like to see drug trials which are triple trials. That is, add to the double blind studies an additional trial to fully engage the power of the mind -- tell people that they are taking a drug and that it is very effective. But science and medicine ignore this potential, this magic, this power of the mind to heal, and they try to find how good their drugs are.
But no drug will ever come close to doing the healing that the body is already very capable of doing on its own.
I say bring on the healing power of mind. Bring on the magic. Bring on the curing. For we are beings with unlimited potential, and anything is possible in this amazing Universe of ours.
Each branch of science, whether astronomy or geology or biology, is a study of a particular class of objects, be it stars or rocks or living organisms. And while scientists build intellectual models to explain what they see -- whether it be a model of the Universe and the Big Bang or the Earth's interior or the nucleus of an atom -- it is important to remember that the model is not reality. It is simply a model.
I decided to become an astronomer the day I learned about Black Holes. I was a senior in high school, and I was taking an astronomy course along with AP chemistry; at the time, I had already applied for college and decided to major in chemistry. But on the day that I learned about black holes, I was presented with a science which accepted the existence of something which could never be proven to exist. That was what intrigued me about astronomy. A black hole has a field of gravity so strong that nothing can escape, not even light. So it is not possible to see one, because no light is emitted or reflected. Not a single photon. And if one could get close enough to **know** that one was visiting a black hole, one would be too close to get away and convey the information. I loved the idea that astronomy accepted the existence of black holes simply on the basis that theoretically such things **could** exist.
Of course, astronomers do see evidence in the Universe of what they think are very likely black hole candidates -- systems with one star orbiting something that cannot be seen, with gas swirling around that something, and as that gas gets closer to the center, strong X-rays are emitted. And although no one will ever **prove** that a black hole is there, most astronomers accept that conclusion. It amuses me that in my astronomical career, I never did study black holes. I just liked that they could exist.
When teaching introductory astronomy at the University, one of the statements I make to get the students' attention is "Black holes don't suck," even though there is a common misconception to the contrary. If the Sun were to be magically and instantly replaced by a black hole of the same mass at the center of the solar system, we would not be sucked into it -- we would continue to orbit the center of the solar system just like we do now. The main difference would be that it would be dark.
Today, I understand my initial attraction to astronomy and black boles as being one of those subjects where science and spirituality meet. And I continue to be interested in the crossroads of the scientific and spiritual ways of looking at the world.
It is curious to me that so much of what scientists accept as true is actually based on faith, although most scientists would deny it. Faith in the assumptions. We assume that the physical laws we discover here on Earth also apply on the Sun, the planets, and throughout the Universe, and that the elements that make up the Earth are the same elements found throughout the Universe. And many of the assumptions that we make are testable and verifiable. But some are not. And yet, the truth of these assumptions is taken on faith.
Because I am interested in the subject of healing, it too provides a topic which is at the crossroads of science and spirituality. And that topic is called the placebo effect. It is well known in medicine that some patients will get better if a doctor says to a patient that a particular drug is very effective, while it is actually made of sugar. In some cases, if a patient believes the pill can be effective, it will be, even if there is nothing in it. The placebo effect is the power of the mind to heal, or healing which manifests based on the belief that healing is taking place. How magical! That the body can heal based on a belief in the mind!!
When I first learned about the placebo effect, I wondered why doctors didn't take advantage of it. After all, if the mind is so powerful, it seems to me that it should be fully engaged in healing. I find it curious that the medical establishment has given this magical effect a label -- the placebo effect. Then doctors and researchers try to find the effectiveness of drugs by doing double blind studies so the mind will not be engaged in healing. And in doing double blind drug trials, they imply that the mind's role should be circumvented, and that it is the drugs that are important.
But in true healing, the mind is continuously engaged. I would like to see drug trials which are triple trials. That is, add to the double blind studies an additional trial to fully engage the power of the mind -- tell people that they are taking a drug and that it is very effective. But science and medicine ignore this potential, this magic, this power of the mind to heal, and they try to find how good their drugs are.
But no drug will ever come close to doing the healing that the body is already very capable of doing on its own.
I say bring on the healing power of mind. Bring on the magic. Bring on the curing. For we are beings with unlimited potential, and anything is possible in this amazing Universe of ours.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Dreaming of Drumming
For 16 years I have wanted a Mother Drum. That is, one of the big drums such as I have seen Native American people playing during the dances at Pow Wow gatherings.
I first played a Mother Drum during the summer of 1992, when I went to Montana and attended a 2-week program led by Native teacher Brooke Medicine Eagle. After dinner on the first night of the program, Brooke suggested we get warm clothes and flashlights, and come to the yurt for drumming. I still remember going up to her and asking, "What's drumming?" She answered my question by saying that I should come and find out. So I did.
In the middle of the yurt there was a large drum, 3 feet in diameter, supported on a stand. Several women were sitting around the drum, and each held a drum beater in her hand. One of the women began playing a regular beat, with gentle effort, and the others joined in with great accuracy and in unison, so that the reverberating sound was magnified. I watched and listened, and as soon as there was an opening I, too, joined with those who were playing the drum.
It turns out to take quite a bit of skill, as well as a good sense of rhythm, to play a drum for a long time and maintain the beat without speeding up or slowing down. Also, it takes a great deal of attention, listening, and coordination to be able to play in unison with others. And so, for the 2 weeks that I was in Montana, I played the Mother Drum often, and purchased a small hand-held drum for myself. I was drawn to drumming from my first exposure to it. And it was a dream of mine to get a Mother Drum someday. But we don't really have space for a large drum at home, so I never acted on that dream...
I have returned to Montana for various programs on 8 occasions over the past 16 years, and I always looked forward to having the opportunity to play the Mother Drum. Of course, I play my small drum during the dry months in Massachusetts -- generally October through April. And I take this drum with me when I travel out West.
So it came as a wonderful surprise this spring, when I was searching the internet for information on bone health and reading about bone building, when I came across references to the beneficial effects of vibration on bone building. Drumming is good for my health!!
It was in this context -- and also realizing that if I wanted a Mother Drum I needed to get one and not just dream about it -- that I decided to get a Mother Drum. Toward the end of the spring I contacted my dear friend Paula, woodworker and drum maker in Seattle, and asked her to make me a 3' diameter Mother Drum. It arrived last week!
The wood is cherry, the drum body is 15" high and 3' across, with an elk hide on one side and a cow hide on the other. A beautiful instrument with a gorgeous sound. With a simple tap, a penetrating sound reverberates deep inside the drum, and I feel it throughout my body and throughout the whole house. I can feel the vibration with my hand an inch away from the drum surface. And not only am I having fun playing it, but I am helping my bones regenerate in the process. Still, we really don't have room for a large drum, so for now it sits in the center of the living room.
No longer am I just dreaming of drumming, but I am also dreaming of strong bones. Built through fun, through vibration, through joy, and through a dream come true. Now I just have to figure out where we are going to keep it!
I first played a Mother Drum during the summer of 1992, when I went to Montana and attended a 2-week program led by Native teacher Brooke Medicine Eagle. After dinner on the first night of the program, Brooke suggested we get warm clothes and flashlights, and come to the yurt for drumming. I still remember going up to her and asking, "What's drumming?" She answered my question by saying that I should come and find out. So I did.
In the middle of the yurt there was a large drum, 3 feet in diameter, supported on a stand. Several women were sitting around the drum, and each held a drum beater in her hand. One of the women began playing a regular beat, with gentle effort, and the others joined in with great accuracy and in unison, so that the reverberating sound was magnified. I watched and listened, and as soon as there was an opening I, too, joined with those who were playing the drum.
It turns out to take quite a bit of skill, as well as a good sense of rhythm, to play a drum for a long time and maintain the beat without speeding up or slowing down. Also, it takes a great deal of attention, listening, and coordination to be able to play in unison with others. And so, for the 2 weeks that I was in Montana, I played the Mother Drum often, and purchased a small hand-held drum for myself. I was drawn to drumming from my first exposure to it. And it was a dream of mine to get a Mother Drum someday. But we don't really have space for a large drum at home, so I never acted on that dream...
I have returned to Montana for various programs on 8 occasions over the past 16 years, and I always looked forward to having the opportunity to play the Mother Drum. Of course, I play my small drum during the dry months in Massachusetts -- generally October through April. And I take this drum with me when I travel out West.
So it came as a wonderful surprise this spring, when I was searching the internet for information on bone health and reading about bone building, when I came across references to the beneficial effects of vibration on bone building. Drumming is good for my health!!
It was in this context -- and also realizing that if I wanted a Mother Drum I needed to get one and not just dream about it -- that I decided to get a Mother Drum. Toward the end of the spring I contacted my dear friend Paula, woodworker and drum maker in Seattle, and asked her to make me a 3' diameter Mother Drum. It arrived last week!
The wood is cherry, the drum body is 15" high and 3' across, with an elk hide on one side and a cow hide on the other. A beautiful instrument with a gorgeous sound. With a simple tap, a penetrating sound reverberates deep inside the drum, and I feel it throughout my body and throughout the whole house. I can feel the vibration with my hand an inch away from the drum surface. And not only am I having fun playing it, but I am helping my bones regenerate in the process. Still, we really don't have room for a large drum, so for now it sits in the center of the living room.
No longer am I just dreaming of drumming, but I am also dreaming of strong bones. Built through fun, through vibration, through joy, and through a dream come true. Now I just have to figure out where we are going to keep it!
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Such a Beautiful Summer
I am thoroughly enjoying my gardens this summer -- seeing the vibrant colors of the flowers, being able to kneel down on the Earth and care for the plants, and simply relaxing to read or meditate outside, lying down on a small folding cot that was taking up space in the basement.
The cardinal flowers are now in full bloom, with their brilliant red blossoms that are even redder than a cardinal with wings. The richness of their color is totally mesmerizing. And the snakeroot, with their long stalks of white flowers, up to 8' tall, add contrasting color and height to the garden. The day lilies are just about finished blooming; the roses are starting their second crop of blossoms; the phlox are in full bloom -- whites, pinks, reds, purples, pinks with red centers, and purples with white centers. The black-eyed susans (yellow rudbeckia) are so numerous that they add cheerful color all over the yard, and the sweet peas continue to open their flowers, surprising me with occasional white blooms amongst the pink.
Last summer this time, I was just learning to walk again, and I rarely made it outside into the garden. With a collapsed spine, there was little strength in my back bones and muscles, and each day I would walk with the walker around the inside of the house. My daughter measured with a tape measure the circuit of the downstairs -- the distance from my recliner to the hall to the bathroom to the kitchen, the dining room, and then back to my chair in the living room. Over all, a distance of 65 feet, which meant that to go 1 mile I would walk 81 loops around the downstairs.
I remember when the visiting nurse came to the house in early August last summer to check out the set-up for me -- asking me to show here where the bathroom was, where I would sleep, making sure that there were no rugs for me to trip on, and watching me move. As I walked with the walker to the bathroom, she said to me "You're walking this slowly to be careful, right?" And I remember answering, "No, actually this is the fastest I can walk."
So I began walking loops by the 5's and 10's. I tried in those first few weeks of August last summer to walk at least 1/2 mile per day, or 40 loops. As I got stronger, some days I would walk 40 loops in the morning, and another 40 in the evening. And sometimes I would lose count. The actual number of loops was not important -- what was important to me was that I was feeling stronger and getting stronger day by day.
After all, I had an important goal -- my daughter was getting married at the end of August last summer, and I wanted to help walk her down the aisle, and also to dance at her wedding. So I HAD to get stronger. And I learned that having a goal and working toward that goal, no matter how challenging, contributes enormously to healing.
And last summer and all last year I had no doubt that I would regain my strength and the full use of my body, but I had no idea how long it would take. And I still don't know how long it will take, even 1 year later. But I am blessed to be happy and healthy, and I am grateful to be alive. And I am willing to do what it takes. Especially when it includes being able to spend time in my gardens.
The cardinal flowers are now in full bloom, with their brilliant red blossoms that are even redder than a cardinal with wings. The richness of their color is totally mesmerizing. And the snakeroot, with their long stalks of white flowers, up to 8' tall, add contrasting color and height to the garden. The day lilies are just about finished blooming; the roses are starting their second crop of blossoms; the phlox are in full bloom -- whites, pinks, reds, purples, pinks with red centers, and purples with white centers. The black-eyed susans (yellow rudbeckia) are so numerous that they add cheerful color all over the yard, and the sweet peas continue to open their flowers, surprising me with occasional white blooms amongst the pink.
Last summer this time, I was just learning to walk again, and I rarely made it outside into the garden. With a collapsed spine, there was little strength in my back bones and muscles, and each day I would walk with the walker around the inside of the house. My daughter measured with a tape measure the circuit of the downstairs -- the distance from my recliner to the hall to the bathroom to the kitchen, the dining room, and then back to my chair in the living room. Over all, a distance of 65 feet, which meant that to go 1 mile I would walk 81 loops around the downstairs.
I remember when the visiting nurse came to the house in early August last summer to check out the set-up for me -- asking me to show here where the bathroom was, where I would sleep, making sure that there were no rugs for me to trip on, and watching me move. As I walked with the walker to the bathroom, she said to me "You're walking this slowly to be careful, right?" And I remember answering, "No, actually this is the fastest I can walk."
So I began walking loops by the 5's and 10's. I tried in those first few weeks of August last summer to walk at least 1/2 mile per day, or 40 loops. As I got stronger, some days I would walk 40 loops in the morning, and another 40 in the evening. And sometimes I would lose count. The actual number of loops was not important -- what was important to me was that I was feeling stronger and getting stronger day by day.
After all, I had an important goal -- my daughter was getting married at the end of August last summer, and I wanted to help walk her down the aisle, and also to dance at her wedding. So I HAD to get stronger. And I learned that having a goal and working toward that goal, no matter how challenging, contributes enormously to healing.
And last summer and all last year I had no doubt that I would regain my strength and the full use of my body, but I had no idea how long it would take. And I still don't know how long it will take, even 1 year later. But I am blessed to be happy and healthy, and I am grateful to be alive. And I am willing to do what it takes. Especially when it includes being able to spend time in my gardens.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
The On-Going Saga of the Carrot Cake
When my daughter was married last August, the wedding cake of choice was a carrot cake with cream cheese icing. We went to great lengths to make sure the icing would be a real cream cheese frosting, and not simply the white wedding cake stuff. No problem, we were told. And because a carrot cake is so dense, the cake would not be the usual wedding cake tower, but 4 separate rounds of successively smaller sizes arranged beautifully on a table.
In the end, there were only a couple of things that weren't quite right about the carrot cake -- the frosting was not cream cheese frosting, the cake tasted more like a spice cake than a carrot cake, and the usual small round top that is saved for the bride and groom's 1st anniversary was never made. Instead, there were 3 equal-sized rounds that were all consumed at the wedding. But otherwise, the cake was fine -- we were quite full by the end of the dinner anyway.
We called the caterer after the wedding was over to ask for this small cake, and when we went to pick it up, it was a full 14" diameter carrot cake that could not possibly fit into our small freezer. So we ate some and gave the rest away, but still had no carrot cake to offer my daughter and her husband for their 1st anniversary celebration.
Now, as it happens, yesterday morning we decided on the spur of the moment to go to Maine for 2 days to visit my daughter and her husband and in-laws. And since it is close (within 1 month, anyway) to their 1 year anniversary, I decided I would bring a carrot cake to Maine for us all to celebrate together.
So I called a local ice cream parlor and ordered a 12" diameter carrot cake, which I picked up this afternoon. But when I got home and opened the box, the cake had clearly fallen apart -- icing was covering the sides of the box, and the cake was crumbling. So I took the cake back to the store and got my money back, went to a local bakery and got a cute 7" diameter carrot cake to take to Maine.
I have been laughing to myself all afternoon about the saga of the carrot cake. I hope it tastes as good as the one I make. This one that we are taking to Maine is a surprise for my daughter, so that adds to my enjoyment. But now I think maybe I'll get a food processor, and then the next time I want a carrot cake, I'll make it myself.
In the end, there were only a couple of things that weren't quite right about the carrot cake -- the frosting was not cream cheese frosting, the cake tasted more like a spice cake than a carrot cake, and the usual small round top that is saved for the bride and groom's 1st anniversary was never made. Instead, there were 3 equal-sized rounds that were all consumed at the wedding. But otherwise, the cake was fine -- we were quite full by the end of the dinner anyway.
We called the caterer after the wedding was over to ask for this small cake, and when we went to pick it up, it was a full 14" diameter carrot cake that could not possibly fit into our small freezer. So we ate some and gave the rest away, but still had no carrot cake to offer my daughter and her husband for their 1st anniversary celebration.
Now, as it happens, yesterday morning we decided on the spur of the moment to go to Maine for 2 days to visit my daughter and her husband and in-laws. And since it is close (within 1 month, anyway) to their 1 year anniversary, I decided I would bring a carrot cake to Maine for us all to celebrate together.
So I called a local ice cream parlor and ordered a 12" diameter carrot cake, which I picked up this afternoon. But when I got home and opened the box, the cake had clearly fallen apart -- icing was covering the sides of the box, and the cake was crumbling. So I took the cake back to the store and got my money back, went to a local bakery and got a cute 7" diameter carrot cake to take to Maine.
I have been laughing to myself all afternoon about the saga of the carrot cake. I hope it tastes as good as the one I make. This one that we are taking to Maine is a surprise for my daughter, so that adds to my enjoyment. But now I think maybe I'll get a food processor, and then the next time I want a carrot cake, I'll make it myself.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Calling a Hummingbird
Yesterday I returned home after spending 5 days with my family to celebrate my mother's 80th birthday. This was my first vacation in 2 years, so not only was it wonderful to spend time with my immediate family, but it was additionally wonderful that I could travel, see new sights, and go for walks in a new place. My brothers had not seen me since January, just after I had stopped using the walker, and I have made tremendous strides in healing since then -- becoming stronger, more energetic, and looking "like the picture of health" as someone remarked.
Upon returning home, I went for my usual garden tour, following the paths and exploring the perennial beds around my yard, looking for the flowers that had opened in my absence. After all, during the warmth of summer, a lot can happen in a garden in 5 days. If it is hot, the plants may wilt and die. Or some that have a short blooming time may flower and fade without being seen. Luckily, while we were away the temperatures were not too hot, and there was plentiful rain -- so the garden didn't need me to water it.
The flower I was most excited to see upon returning home was the cardinal flower, lobelia. It likes to grow in the shady woods along stream banks where the soil is rich and damp, and there are 2 areas in my yard where the cardinal flower thrives. Or there used to be. In fact, it is doing so well now that this year I have over 30 flowering stalks of the deepest vibrant red color, and the cardinal flower has even spread outside of the garden borders, as well as to new spots entirely.
As I strolled in the garden yesterday and stood in front of the cardinal flower, I was struck with deep gratitude, feeling great joy and a tinge of sorrow -- that I was standing before this gorgeous plant and able to walk in the garden, unlike last summer this time when I was in the hospital and missed seeing the cardinal flower completely.
Today when I strolled through the garden and came to the cardinal flower, I had a different thought completely. I was reminded that the hummingbirds love the cardinal flower, and I wondered if I would see a hummingbird in the garden enjoying these brilliant red blooms as much as I do. My mother was with me, having come to visit us after her birthday last week, and I told her of the 3 times this year that I had seen a hummingbird -- once when we were in Arkansas in May, once when I was visiting friends in June, and then last week during our family gathering for her birthday in July.
As I said this, I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye, and I turned around see what it was. A hummingbird had flown to the pink sweet peas about 8 feet behind me, and as it hovered near the flowers I cried out to it with great glee. I know I said something, but now I cannot recall what. I was SO excited to see the hummingbird -- the first hummingbird I have seen in my gardens this summer. My mother turned to me with a look of complete bewilderment on her face and said, "It was like you just called the hummingbird -- you're magic."
It was like magic, this most recent time that I saw a hummingbird! So tomorrow, I plan to sit outside near the cardinal flower to watch for hummingbirds. Kind of like a vision quest in my own yard. Because I know that the hummingbirds love the bright red blossoms, and sooner or later these joyful little birds will hover nearby. And this summer, not only will I will be there to greet them, but I will also be there to say, "Thank you for Who You Are!"
Upon returning home, I went for my usual garden tour, following the paths and exploring the perennial beds around my yard, looking for the flowers that had opened in my absence. After all, during the warmth of summer, a lot can happen in a garden in 5 days. If it is hot, the plants may wilt and die. Or some that have a short blooming time may flower and fade without being seen. Luckily, while we were away the temperatures were not too hot, and there was plentiful rain -- so the garden didn't need me to water it.
The flower I was most excited to see upon returning home was the cardinal flower, lobelia. It likes to grow in the shady woods along stream banks where the soil is rich and damp, and there are 2 areas in my yard where the cardinal flower thrives. Or there used to be. In fact, it is doing so well now that this year I have over 30 flowering stalks of the deepest vibrant red color, and the cardinal flower has even spread outside of the garden borders, as well as to new spots entirely.
As I strolled in the garden yesterday and stood in front of the cardinal flower, I was struck with deep gratitude, feeling great joy and a tinge of sorrow -- that I was standing before this gorgeous plant and able to walk in the garden, unlike last summer this time when I was in the hospital and missed seeing the cardinal flower completely.
Today when I strolled through the garden and came to the cardinal flower, I had a different thought completely. I was reminded that the hummingbirds love the cardinal flower, and I wondered if I would see a hummingbird in the garden enjoying these brilliant red blooms as much as I do. My mother was with me, having come to visit us after her birthday last week, and I told her of the 3 times this year that I had seen a hummingbird -- once when we were in Arkansas in May, once when I was visiting friends in June, and then last week during our family gathering for her birthday in July.
As I said this, I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye, and I turned around see what it was. A hummingbird had flown to the pink sweet peas about 8 feet behind me, and as it hovered near the flowers I cried out to it with great glee. I know I said something, but now I cannot recall what. I was SO excited to see the hummingbird -- the first hummingbird I have seen in my gardens this summer. My mother turned to me with a look of complete bewilderment on her face and said, "It was like you just called the hummingbird -- you're magic."
It was like magic, this most recent time that I saw a hummingbird! So tomorrow, I plan to sit outside near the cardinal flower to watch for hummingbirds. Kind of like a vision quest in my own yard. Because I know that the hummingbirds love the bright red blossoms, and sooner or later these joyful little birds will hover nearby. And this summer, not only will I will be there to greet them, but I will also be there to say, "Thank you for Who You Are!"
Friday, July 18, 2008
So Grateful for Where I Am Now -- Chemo Began 1 Year Ago
One year ago, on the 3rd Friday of July 2007, I began chemotherapy. At the time, I was unable to walk very far or move my legs to get into a car -- not because of pain but because my legs just didn't move. So the nurses checked with my insurance company, and it was arranged that an ambulance would take me to the hospital for treatment. A 30-minute ride each way.
What I didn't know was that ambulances don't have very good shock absorbers. Also, the stretcher they had me in would recline back significantly, but it wouldn't lie flat. That meant I was lying back as the ambulance went over bumps, and having back spasms every time. Of course, there was significant road construction last summer, with gravel roads for part of the way... I will never forget holding tightly onto the side rails of the stretcher, desperately trying to lift my body off the cushion so that my back would not feel any of the bumps.
It was hell.
When I arrived at the hospital, I was delivered to the infusion center and transferred to a bed for receiving my first round of chemo. There were papers to sign, nurses to listen to, side effects to learn about, drugs to take orally, drugs to take trough an IV. I was given a notebook full of information. I was told about the side effects of drowsiness from thalidomide, of possible neorological damage, of constipation. I was told about the side effects of dexamethasone, including bone loss (and my bones were already breaking down) and constipation. I was given phone numbers to call if I had questions. And lastly, I was given a 3 second long IV of velcade, the new drug for treating multiple myeloma that makes everything else more effective, except one's intestines. You guessed it -- velcade is constipating.
Leaving the hospital with a body full of toxic chemicals, a notebook full of information and a hand full of prescriptions, I joined the ranks of millions of cancer patients who experience chemotherapy. And even though I loathe putting toxic chemicals into my body, for me chemo made the difference between life and death. And for that I am immensely grateful. I wouldn't be where I am now, had it not been for chemo, and I am very grateful for where I am now.
I have no doubt that I would have died last summer had it not been for chemo, beacuse even with chemo, I almost died. But that story is for another post.
What I didn't know was that ambulances don't have very good shock absorbers. Also, the stretcher they had me in would recline back significantly, but it wouldn't lie flat. That meant I was lying back as the ambulance went over bumps, and having back spasms every time. Of course, there was significant road construction last summer, with gravel roads for part of the way... I will never forget holding tightly onto the side rails of the stretcher, desperately trying to lift my body off the cushion so that my back would not feel any of the bumps.
It was hell.
When I arrived at the hospital, I was delivered to the infusion center and transferred to a bed for receiving my first round of chemo. There were papers to sign, nurses to listen to, side effects to learn about, drugs to take orally, drugs to take trough an IV. I was given a notebook full of information. I was told about the side effects of drowsiness from thalidomide, of possible neorological damage, of constipation. I was told about the side effects of dexamethasone, including bone loss (and my bones were already breaking down) and constipation. I was given phone numbers to call if I had questions. And lastly, I was given a 3 second long IV of velcade, the new drug for treating multiple myeloma that makes everything else more effective, except one's intestines. You guessed it -- velcade is constipating.
Leaving the hospital with a body full of toxic chemicals, a notebook full of information and a hand full of prescriptions, I joined the ranks of millions of cancer patients who experience chemotherapy. And even though I loathe putting toxic chemicals into my body, for me chemo made the difference between life and death. And for that I am immensely grateful. I wouldn't be where I am now, had it not been for chemo, and I am very grateful for where I am now.
I have no doubt that I would have died last summer had it not been for chemo, beacuse even with chemo, I almost died. But that story is for another post.
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