Theatre and Good Eats



My friend Kim and her partner Leslie were unable to attend a play for which they had tickets, and they were kind enough to offer them to Curtis and me. So Thursday evening, after my ct-scan was done and over with, we went to the Manitoba Theatre Centre to see Somerset Maugham's "A Constant Wife." It was a very amusing and entertaining play, and Curtis thoroughly enjoyed his first experience with professional theatre. I did too, despite getting sick during intermission and again when we got home. I think the contrast dye from the scan bothered my stomach.

The night before (Wednesday), after we both got haircuts at the mall, we went to Montana's to try their all you can eat ribs dinner. Was it ever good! We took a ton of leftover ribs home for supper the next day, when we picked up some cole slaw and potato salad to go with. Yummy! Sadly, I didn't get to enjoy my leftover dinner for long, as I mentioned above.

My anti-nausea meds kicked in, and I was able to enjoy a wonderful lunch today at a local Chinese restaurant (I'm sure Curtis will review it in his blog) of kung po chicken and shrimp in black bean and curry sauce. More delicious leftovers to enjoy later at home.

I hope my radiation starts soon, and that it proves to be effective, because my shoulder and arm are very painful. Despite that, my hillbilly and I continue to enjoy the good things in life.

My Ct-Scan is Booked

Just got word that I'm having my shoulder scanned on Thursday afternoon. I'm guessing that, based on the findings, a schedule of radiation treatments will be drawn up (don't know how many yet). Sure have my hopes high that the tumor will shrink, thereby minimizing the pain. The pain pills provide relief, but they make it hard to function due to grogginess; skipping them makes me even more useless due to the discomfort.

I don't expect this round of treatment to be as rough as my first couple, which were to the side of my face. I'll still experience the fatigue, but the burning and effects on the surrounding tissue shouldn't be as awful as what I experienced when my ear, eye and sinuses were involved.

Wrapped Up in Love



When the Bells gave me the prayer blanket that Kathy and Steven had made with their own hands, I felt completely enveloped by their affection; and I still feel that way every time I curl up in it in front of the tv. Today, many of my former teaching colleagues made me feel the same way with their many hugs and warm wishes.

It's been a couple of years and about 70 pounds since they last saw me, so some didn't recognize me at first glance. But when they did, their faces broke out into big welcoming smiles and their arms opened up into gentle hugs. I was happy that the first staff member I ran into was Wade M, who is a long-time survivor. He and I have swapped a few war stories, I can tell you. Unfortunately, he disclosed that recent checkups revealed some questionable lesions in a couple of places in his body - things that the doctors said were most likely benign, but that they wanted to investigate, given his history. I will pray hard that those blurs prove to be harmless, because Lord knows the man suffered enormously from treatments that almost did him in almost twenty years ago.

One of the teachers is a very well-respected massage therapist and healer. I mean, she's so good, she's spooky. When she softly hugged me (it was like she sensed that my shoulder is delicate), she warmed me like a blanket. She assured me that, every morning, she performs long-distance reiki treatments on me. Many of the staff I encountered said they think of me and/or pray for me often, and that means a great deal to me. I thanked them and told them I could feel the vibes.

My purpose for going to the school was to deliver birthday gifts to another former colleague and friend. I was shocked to learn that she went on disability herself, just a couple of weeks ago. She has been struggling to find the right cocktail of meds to get her bi-polar disorder under control, and the stresses of teaching are more than she can handle right now.

It's a good thing I never run out of prayers.

I'm a Lazy Ol Bed Bug



I spent all day in bed today. Didn't even check the mail or fold the second load of laundry that Curtis had done. My shoulder and arm were just so sore and I didn't feel like fighting against the pain, so I was a slug.

I was hoping to have heard from CancerCare about a ct-scan booking by now, but no news yet.

Tomorrow I plan to get up and shower in the morning, then drop off our tax papers at my brother Fred's office (it's sure nice to have a chartered accountant in the family). I might even drive over to the school where I last taught and drop off a birthday gift for a friend, if I can work out the timing right. She teaches in the afternoons only, so I'd have to get there at lunchtime before classes resume.

Of course, first I'll have to part with my pillow....

Not Good News

Well, it turns out the GP was wrong, and the lump on my shoulder blade is not inflammation; it is another new mass. Dr C had me go for two sets of x-rays, one of my lung and the other of my shoulder. The tumor was visible but fuzzy, so he is ordering a ct-scan and then a series of radiation treatments.

I hope the radiation minimizes the pain, because I just don't know how I can keep up with housework or haul in the big fishies this summer, otherwise. I guess that's the end of my golf career, and I was really hoping to get out on the links this summer, too. I was this close to makin the LPGA (yeah, right).

Dr C gave me a prescription for a new painkiller that works like Tylenol 3 but doesn't constipate.

I'm tryin to keep my chin up, but this is a big setback.

Why Me?



The title of this post is the same as the title of Father Robin's sermon today. He spoke about how various people react to the tragedies and misfortunes of their lives, and how they often question what it is they could have done to deserve such trials.

I have always felt very strongly that it was wrong, sinfully so, to ask, "Why me?" It implies that the person who utters these words feels so superior to others that s/he should be exempt from bad things. When I learned that I was terminally ill, my question was, "Why NOT me?" After all, cancer happens to far better people than I, including young innocent children.

I have often asked, "Why them?" I've known such wonderful people who have endured Job-like suffering, and it just didn't make sense to me that they should be subjected to such pain. I tried to explain it away by rationalizing that they were given these burdens to show the rest of us "how it's done," how to handle difficulties and sorrow with grace. But that seemed doubly unfair, for why should they have to bear such heavy loads for the sake of instructing others?

Father Robin referred to a bumper sticker with the familiar catch-phrase, "sh*t happens." He said God doesn't choose individual humans and pick on them; but what He does do is make something of it, and give us as humans the opportunity to make something of it. God doesn't make the bad stuff happen; it just happens. The beauty that lies within that, is that we have the freedom to choose what direction we will take from that point on. And that's very powerful.

There is opportunity in everything, praise God.

Of course, this only satisfies as it pertains to adults. I still agonize when I see a three year old at CancerCare with a bloated face and a bald head. I still ask, "Why them?"

Results



The above photo shows a normal shoulder; apparently, it's what mine looks like, too. The three small tumors in my right lung were evident, of course; but nothing ominous showed up in the shoulder. Whew.

I'm seeing my oncologist Tuesday, I think it is, and the x-rays are being faxed over to him. He may or may not decide to order a ct-scan of my shoulder. In any case, I guess it's safe to book a chiropractic appointment and see if that helps. I'll hold off until after I've been to CancerCare, just to be on the safe side.

Why I Hate Pink



Pink is such a girly colour. So benign and sweet and innocent-looking.

Yeah, right.

As the daughter of a skilled carpenter who was constantly renovating our wartime house, I was pretty familiar with most carpentry tools and materials. But one summer afternoon, when my best friend Barbie and I were about four and five years old respectively, we discovered lying on our small patch of grass in the back yard, a wondrous, fluffy pink mattress. I didn't know what it was, or why it was there, but it looked like the perfect plaything, especially since jumpin on my bed was strictly verboten.

Barbie and I leapt into the billowy thing and began rolling around in it, giggling. After engaging in our play for who knows how long, Dad emerged from the garage and said we'd better quit it, or we'd be sorry. After obeying and pouting for a few seconds at our interrupted fun, we suddenly became acutely aware of what he meant.

Our entire bodies were impregnated with tiny slivers of fiberglass, and the itching and burning was horrible. Barbie went howling home to her mom, and I went howling inside to mine. A cool bath did little to soothe my agony, and scratching myself with a scrub brush provided only the most temporary relief before it made me feel even worse.

My mom and Barbie's phoned one another back and forth, comparing notes on possible remedies and their little girls' discomfort. I don't recall how long it took for us to recover from our misadventure.

All I know is, ever since, I have kept a respectful if not resentful distance from pink insulation. I have an intense dislike for the colour pink, and I'd like to kick that pink panther they use in the commercials, right in the bucket.

Really hard.

X-Ray Contortionism



I had my shoulder and chest x-rays done this morning. YOWCH. Needing to get images of the shoulder from numerous angles, the technician required me to twist and turn my arm and shoulder in ways that were excrutiating. I felt like sayin, "Toots, if I could do that I wouldn't need these x-rays," but all I did was moan. She apologized profusely, sayin, "I'm sorry, I know I'm killin ya." Necessary evil.

I'll be interested in the findings. My friend Marina thinks I've dislocated my shoulder, coughin and barfin my guts out for so long. (She pointed out that I'm carryin that shoulder lower than the left one, but then I've done that since my big car crash in 94.) She wants me to go to my chiropractor for treatment. I want to find out what the x-rays show first before I let anyone monkey around with it.

Yesterday Curtis and I went to our old haunt, the Seine River Cafe, for brunch. We hadn't been there in a while, and it was so nice to see Laurie and the rest of the crew. I ordered the mini sausage and egg breakfast off of the kiddie menu, and enjoyed every speck. First time in many months that ketchup tasted normal. I am so enjoying food again, allbeit in small quantities. I had better watch it, or I'll have to go to Value Village and buy back all the big sized clothing I donated to them.

Well, time to abandon this keyboard and give my tender shoulder a break. If I could only rid myself of this pain, I'd be one thoroughly happy little camper.

Major Owie



I've been reluctant to post about this, because too much of this blog is dedicated to health problems as it is, and I've been feeling so much better lately that I hate to sound whiny....

but...

For about a month now I have been suffering with intense shoulder pain, and I've been unable to raise my right arm or move it away from my body. Typing exacerbates it and causes a severe ache down my arm as far as my elbow, so I haven't been online much. Painkillers don't help much, and every time it starts to feel better, it gets worse again. Finally today I went to see my doctor's clinic partner, because, whereas my doc doesn't give cortisone shots, he's an expert at it. (He really helps me with my arthritic knees.)

What he found was that my pain was not where it typically is for a rotator cuff injury; it's in the back of my shoulder rather than the front. He also found a lump or enlargement on my shoulder blade. Could be inflammation, could be related to or caused by one of the tumors in my right lung. Can't be sure without an x-ray, so he ordered one for me. The x-ray clinic is closed on Friday afternoons, so I will go there on Monday.

Just in case it is a rotator cuff problem (because I tend to do things differently than most people), Dr B gave me a cortisone shot. He said if it does help me, I'll feel some relief tomorrow.

Here's hoping.

**********************

Saturday Update: Nope, the injection didn't help a bit; still hurts like h-e-double hockey sticks. I took a gander in the mirror at that lump on my shoulder blade: it's a big one. Soon I'll be ringin the bell at church.

Just call me Quasimodo.