On a More Somber Note

Today when I went for my radiation mask fitting and markings, I learned the results of my biopsies. They are not good: There are renal cancer cells in both my temple and my thyroid. It appears that my lymphatic system is being invaded.

Onward and upward: I will begin radiation treatments in a couple of weeks, and the new experimental drug in mid-January.

I will not give up.

Fa La La La La



I love, love, LOVE the Christmas season: immeasurably, unapologetically, enthusiastically. I love the carols, the wonderful piney and nutmeggy smells, the candles, the twinkling lights, the rich greens and reds and cranberries and golds of the decorations, the glorious foods, the gathering of friends and loved ones, the nativity scenes, the awe-inspiring church services - the whole warm, mushy, festive shebang.

Last January, as I carefully took down and wrapped the decorations so lovingly collected over the years, I wondered if I would ever see them again. The past three days, while taking them out of storage, I have treasured them all, conscious of the special meaning with which they are laden.

Our home looks like a Hallmark store now: fairly bubbling over with holiday cheer. I have yet to do the tree. We have a lovely little artificial tree, but putting the lights on can sometimes lead to some very un-Christmasy expressions bursting from my cherry lips. So Curtis and I have been on the hunt for one of those pre-lit trees. Oh man, don't get me started....It would be better if Curtis, with his gift for hyperbole, blogged about that little adventure. Suffice it to say that we're gonna stick with the one we have. Last year, the lights seemed to arrange themselves on the first try; maybe I'll be that lucky again.

I've kicked into the Christmas baking mode: Today I will grocery shop for a few tons of ingredients so I can chip away at all of our favourites as my energy permits. My cards are written, sealed and stamped - all ready to be dropped into the mailbox. I've made enough beeswax candles to get us through the holiday season, but I still have gift tags to emboss and a few gifts and stocking stuffers to buy. And I'm frantic to finish a cross-stitch for a friend of my mom's who has been very good to her and us. It's a decorated "sheet of music," with the notes and words to the first stanza of Joy to the World - very unique and pretty.

Curtis and I have promised to make this a very special Christmas.

Giving Thanks



Although I am Canadian, I have much for which to be thankful on this American Thanksgiving Day....

X-rays today showed that the fluid on my lung has almost completely gone! This explains why I haven't been short of breath or coughing the last two or three weeks. My oncologist suspects that the problem may have been another side effect of the interferon. What this means is that MY SURGERY FOR TOMORROW IS CANCELLED. The x-ray also showed no growth of the three tumors in my lung.

But wait - there's more good news: Sutent, an experimental drug that has done well against renal cancer in US trials, is coming to my city in about a month's time. It is NOT a randomized trial, and I qualify for it. By the time I see my oncologist again in mid-January, he should have the drug and I should be able to start on it. It is administered in pill form, so no intravenous or nasty injections.

This is the most hopeful news we've gotten for months now.

I had a plaster mold made of my face today (NOT fun) for a radiation mask; Wednesday I will have a fitting and a ct-scan so that precise markings can be made on the mask for the radiation of my temple. Although the biopsy results aren't in yet, everyone seems to think the lump is another tumor. We'll have to wait to find out about the thyroid.

Thanksgiving



I would like to give my sincere thanks to all who have expressed their kind wishes, shared their wonderful prayers and poems, burned candles, and thought good thoughts on my behalf. Curtis and I appreciate it and give thanks.

We are truly blessed.

Happy Turkey Day to all our Murrican friends.

Pain



Today I went to have the lump on my temple needle biopsied, and the doctor told me that my oncologist had requested biopsies of my thyroid gland as well. I have had a lump there for a long time, and recently it has begun to press on my throat, so that it feels as if someone is choking me.

I did not expect the biopsy of my temple to hurt much, and it didn't: It was only slightly more uncomfortable than the needle biopsy I had done of my parotid gland some months ago. But HOLY DOODLE, the pain in my thyroid gland was excrutiating. Two separate samples are taken from each site, and by the time the doctor started diggin around for the second time in my throat (he really has to work the needle to extract sample fluid), tears were streaming into my ears as I lay on the table. Curtis was with me, and he said that every time I moaned in pain, my feet flipped up into the air.

I was so glad to have Curtis with me, because I don't believe I could have driven home after that procedure. And those big warm bear hugs felt especially comforting afterwards.

It should take about a week to get the results, as they have to grow cultures or something in the lab in order to determine whether or not renal cancer cells are present. In the meantime, my radiation oncologist has set up appointments to make markings and a mask to hold my head in precise position for radiation treatments. If I don't post for the next while, it's because I am undergoing lung surgery on Friday; you can check on Curtis' page for a progress report on me.

Creating a Spectacle



If I could have grown a third hand the past few days, I might have invested in a pair of these opera glasses, but they're not practical for much else besides sitting idly in a posh loge watching Aida or Madame Butterfly.

Why was I considering such antiquated eyewear? Well, because my glasses kept goin cockeyed on account of this lump on my temple. Besides, the bandaids I was wearing to protect my skin from breaking out into a rash from the friction of the arm of my glasses, were now causing an itchy reaction. So, in an effort to find relief, I got out my eyeglass kit and used the teeny tiny screwdriver to remove the microscopic screw that held my eyeglass arm in place.

Bad idea.

Now my specs, because of their unevenly distributed weight, listed starboard even more alarmingly, which, when you wear graduated lenses like I do, has an effect similar to dropping a tab of acid. Great. Now I was blind, dizzy AND nauseous. Oh well, I thought, I'll just put the arm back on and suffer until the snowy roads are cleared and sanded and I can get to the optical shop and ask the technician there to bend it around my lump.

Uh uh.

I couldn't get that itty bitty screw back in to save my life. I spent over an hour in cross-eyed concentration, doggedly trying to coax it into a position so that I could screw it back into place. I was forced to give up, greeting Curtis at the door when he arrived home from work, lookin like a very exasperated nerd.

The perpetually patient Curtis, whose creed is, "You must remain calm at all times," took my fragmented eyeglasses and that teeny little screw into his catcher's mitt-sized hands and within minutes handed me my specs, all put together.

Bein able to see again after twenty-four hours of psychedelia, was nirvana, itchy temple or not. Hopefully the good people at the vision centre in Wal-Mart will fix me up even better this weekend.

Frankly Speaking


Frank, his wife Delima, and their two daughters Sharon and Sheryl in BC in June

I didn't think I would get a chance to see my brother Frank again before he flew back to BC, thanks to a heavy snowstorm that pretty much made roads impassable and ruined our lunch plans; but this evening our older brother Laurens drove him over to our place for a visit. We spent a really nice evening together in front of the fireplace in our rec room. Saying goodbye was extremely difficult; as I said to Curtis, sometimes loving someone is so hard.

The radiation I had on my leg on Monday was intense, and causes a lot of fatigue; but it's worth it because I know from past experience that in two or three weeks the bone pain will disappear. I am now looking at more radiation on my temporal region, as the radiation oncologist is certain that what I hoped was swelling, is yet another tumor. I need something done because I can no longer wear my eyeglasses without discomfort.

If you have a brother, give him a hug and let him know that you love him. If you have quarrelled, forgive him and make amends. Life is too darn short to do otherwise.

I'm in Love



I have lusted after one of these babies since I saw the first commercial advertising it a few weeks ago. Thanks to an early stop by Santa, I am the proud owner of this device, which removes carpet stains with the press of a button.

When you have three cats, two of whom tend to barf up hairballs and undigested cat food (Milo eats like someone might take the food away from him and then sicks it up later on), you spend a lot of time spot cleaning inbetween professional steamings. But no more: This thing works like a charm. (I bet Leslie, who has a real taste for cleaning products, is salivating right now.)

Sigh.

Bliss


Leslie's Bilbo isn't the only cat who becomes crazed by catnip. This is our Monkey cat, caressing her Bill Gates catnip doll.

We had a nice visit and a great dinner with family last night, including my brother Frank from BC. And there's nuthin like a long weekend with my favourite hillbilly.

Purrrr.

Lest We Forget



From http://www.canoe.ca/RemembranceDay/poppy.html

A writer first made the connection between the poppy and battlefield deaths during the Napoleonic wars of the early 19th century, remarking that fields that were barren before battle exploded with the blood-red flowers after the fighting ended.

During the tremendous bombardments of the First World War the chalk soils became rich in lime from rubble, allowing 'popaver rhoeas' to thrive. When the war ended the lime was quickly absorbed, and the poppy began to disappear again.

After John McCrae's poem In Flanders Fields was published in 1915 the poppy became a popular symbol for soldiers who died in battle.

Three years later an American, Moina Michael, was working in a New York City YMCA canteen when she started wearing a poppy in memory of the millions who died on the battlefield.

During a 1920 visit to the United States a French woman, Madame Guerin, learned of the custom. On her return to France she decided to use handmade poppies to raise money for the destitute children in war-torn areas of the country. In November, 1921, the first poppies were distributed in Canada.

Thanks to the millions of Canadians who wear flowers each November, the little red plant has never died. And neither have Canadian's memories for 116,031 of their countrymen who died in battle.

"In Flanders Fields" by Lieutenant Colonel John McCrae 1915

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

Hangin in There



Most days, I feel like I have a better grip on things than this little fella does, but I do have what I call "moments:" mini-meltdowns. Generally I feel pretty good, better than I did on the interferon; but I do tire easily. The lesion in my tibia seems to have become active again, as I've been experiencing pain; radiation on Monday should take care of that in short order. Tomorrow I go for all the pre-op stuff for my lung surgery on the 25th. I see my oncologist on the 24th and get bloodwork done; I will be asking him to investigate the swelling in my temporal region, which has gotten so bad as to interfere with my eyeglasses. I'm very self-conscious about the deformity of my face caused by this (and it's uncomfortable too), and am hoping it is fluid that can be drained. I will not have it radiated, as it is too close to my eye, and after experiencing what the radiation of my jaw did to the inside of my ear, I'm not willing to take any risks with my vision.

On the brighter side, my brother Frank is coming from BC for a few days' visit. He arrives around midnight tomorrow, so I won't see him until Friday. Can't wait. Unless it warms up a bit, he will be greeted with a very light dusting of snow, a reminder of why he left Manitoba for what he calls "Lotus Land".

Speaking of winter, I'm pretty much done my Christmas shopping except for Curtis; before long it'll be baking and card-writing that will keep me occupied. How ready are you for the holiday season?

Wrapped in Love


This is the beautiful blanket that Steven and Kathleen made for me. (And what's more precious than a handmade gift?) After I had removed the wrapping paper, Steven touched my shoulder and said, "I tied a lot of the knots (to make the fringe), and when I did, I said a prayer for you." That went straight to my heart. Every time I cuddle up in the blanket, I'll be gettin a hug. *SNORK*

Saturday Curtis and I drove over to the airport hotel to meet with the Bells before they were to fly home to San Diego. Up in their room, we delightedly looked at the hundreds of photos taken of their polar bear adventure in Churchill. I know Kathleen will blog about it, so I won't steal her thunder. Suffice it to say that Curtis and I are thrilled that they had such a wonderful experience. We had lunch together at the restaurant, and enjoyed good conversation and many laughs before saying our goodbyes.


Sean and Steven

We consider it a privilege to have met this wonderful family, and we're glad to have played a small part in their adventure.

Scandalous



My friend Marina emailed this photo to me. I don't know about you, but I'm disgusted....those are the worst bedsheets I've ever seen.

Meeting the Bells


(from left to right) Doug, Sean, Steven, Kathleen, me, Curtis

What an eventful weekend. We came home early from Barrier Bay on Sunday (and the extra hour helped) so that we could unpack, cuddle with our cats, and rest a bit before it was time to go meet the Bell family. Last week, I alluded to a surprise being planned for someone; that someone was Steven Bell. Our financial planner, after hearing about the Bells' stopover in Winnipeg on their way to their Make-a-Wish polar bear tour in Churchill, Manitoba, made a few calls and the result was a private tour of the Bears on Broadway, which are now being stored in the old Kapyong Barracks.


This is Snowbank Bear. Although the Bears weigh four tons each, they are hollow, and this one had a vault inside it and a large money slot for donations. Viewers of the Bears showed their appreciation for the project by donating over $45,000 in cash.

The coordinator of this incredible cancer fundraising event was Doneta Brotchie, and she was kind enough to meet the Bells at the airport, drive them over to Value Village to purchase jackets and sweatshirts when their luggage did not arrive (and wouldn't arrive in time for their train ride up north - it has been flown there to await them when they got to Churchill this morning).


Doneta

Curtis and I met Doneta and the Bell family at the barracks, where we were treated to a guided tour of most of the 62 beautifully painted and decorated life-sized concrete polar bears. We learned all about their construction, the meaning of the art, and the artists; and Doneta managed to get the autographs of 36 of the artists in a book I purchased for the family that depicts all of the bears. She also picked up a Bear t-shirt for Steven, on my behalf. Curtis and I already had a plush polar bear for Steven and a poster of the Bears for Sean, who couldn't resist cuddling up to every single bear on exhibit.


The Bears were presold to sponsors for $10,000-$12,500 each, proceeds going to CancerCare Manitoba. The ones on the trailers outside are bound for various locations in the province, according to the sponsors' wishes.



After our tour, we all dined together at The Old Spaghetti Factory, courtesy of our financial advisor Dwaine. I went home exhausted but with the biggest smile on my face. The Bells are a very endearing and charming family, and Doneta is nothing short of a doll.

It was the perfect way to end a perfect weekend.