...Lace Up Your Gloves...

Four days post op, and we've reached The Waiting Place..

"...for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring,
or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting."

What I'd like to know is why are all these people waiting for their hair to grow??

Anyhow, the surgery really went smoothly, all things considered. They finished with the procedure in just over an hour. While in there, the doctor did see one spot on the liver, which I can only assume is the spot we already knew about, and some fluid/ascites in the area. Other than that, and the two orange-sized masses that they took out with my ovaries, nothing really looked awry. I suppose that alleviated one of my biggest fears - that they'd be in there looking around and the cancer is everywhere. Thankfully, that wasn't the case. The way I saw it, whatever those orange things were, they are now OUT, and with regards to the liver and surrounding organs, we didn't really learn anything we didn't know. So, the way I saw it, worst case scenario, the cancer was stable from the scan in November.

Until I realized that at the follow up appointment with Dr. C, I'd have to make some decisions on course of treatment based on whatever the findings were from the pathology. And the fact that there is still THAT DAMN SPOT. I could allow myself to dream - that the spot is of insignificant findings, but why bother...I'm not yet acquainted with my elusive friend NED (No Evidence of Disease) and the sooner that he and I become close personal friends, the better.

This is the part where I'm thankful for Greg working for a wonderfully understanding boss/company that decided that instead of traveling this week, it was more important for him to be here with me. Between the post-op healing, the house being painted, and the appointment with the oncologist, if ever there were a week for him not to travel, this would be the one. I was fully prepared to juggle all that needed to be juggled, without a peep. Thank you, BD, for taking away the need for me to do so. You have no idea how grateful I am...

So, the surgery. Well, as I started to say, it went smoothly, and by 1pm I was stuffed into the car and on my way home with three steri-strips and a bandage covering the largest of the incisions (which is about 2 inches). From what I hear, this incision is a bit larger than anticipated, due to the oranges. Anyhow. I remember eating a handful of pretzels and some salt and vinegar chips and guzzling some sparkling water with fresh orange, most likely burping loudly, then sleeping off and on for the next 3 or so hours.

The following few days have gotten progressively better with regards to range of motion, but I'm still swollen and bruised in places I wasn't sure people got swollen and bruised. I've been walking each day - today I did about 2 miles - and while the going is slow, I suppose it's like physical therapy - it hurts afterwards, but has its benefits. So, I walk.

The day after surgery was filled with the phone ringing off the hook, and various and sundry wonderful deliveries ranging from flower arrangements to tea and bath products to sinfully decadent chocolate dipped berries. The piece de resistance arrived just as we were trying to decide what to have for breakfast on Saturday morning in the form of 2 dozen H&H Bagels, complete with coffee mugs, cream cheese, and lox. Apparently whatever weight I might have lost from the oranges will apparently be put back on in record time. Such is life. At least I can taste things again.

So, here we are. Day four. Still in The Waiting Place but not too much worse for the wear... all things considered.

and ready to go...
Yep, all cleaned out - that's for certain.

Say a little prayer this morning.
And one that the dogs won't get into anything too important in the house while we're gone...

Ready for the next step of this journey...
Laced tightly...

For some reason I'm feeling strangely calm about this upcoming procedure. I suppose it's not *that* strange for me to be calm, other than the fact that I'm usually all worked up about a simple scan these days, but surgery? Feh. Bring it on.

Even after yesterday's phone call...

"Hi, this is Joe Shmo from Mayo Clinic somethingorotherdepartment. We're calling about your surgery on the 10th. Dr. Magrina came down with something this weekend and he'll be out all week and not able to perform your surgery on the 10th. Dr. Magtibay is available to take your case, so you can still keep the surgery on the 10th if you would like, or if you would prefer to wait for Dr. Magrina, he can do the surgery on the 18th."

HUH??? Ok, first of all, HUH?? The surgery was originally scheduled for the 18th, we changed it to the 10th, took the appropriate break from chemo, took appropriate days off of work, Greg took the appropriate days off of work but in the meanwhile, someone in scheduling at Mayo didn't get the message. After a verbal sparring match with the scheduler (who I hope I never have the fortune of meeting) and making sure it was indeed, on the 10th and confirming it with anyone with vocal chords last Thursday, Dr. Magrina is SICK???

"Uh, Dr. WHO? What's the situation?? Um...uh...oh boy..."
"Dr. Magtibay. He's the Chairman of the department and it's fortunate that he's free to perform your surgery as that's not always the case and we have no choice but to reschedule. It's up to you though."
"Um...uh... the 10th. Keep it. That's fine. Everyone has already taken the days off. The 10th it is."
"Ok, great. We'll see you then."

Well, I haven't met him, but apparently, he is the Grand Poobah. Or as he will now be known: Chairman Ma(y)o. Still, strangely not nervous.

I mentioned this to Greg this morning. His response?
"Well of course you are, you old hound dog. They're just going to be playing Wii on your belly..."
Um, no. They're going to be playing Wii IN my belly. Still? Strangely not nervous.

I've been successfully clearing off my plate of things to do here at work and taking care of various and sundry estimates, pay applications, and invoices that will be due in my absence. Dan asked me yesterday if I was writing my memoirs. I'm not sure if you'd call this a memoir, but I suppose it's something...

Now, how's this for the kindness of strangers... (well, not *strangers* per se, but from a place I didn't expect it) I just got a call from our Chief Estimator asking if I'd be in my office and if so, he'd be up in a minute. Ok, not too strange. I've been working on pricing for a handful of projects and figured there was something in either the bid items or scheduling to review. Anyhow, a couple of minutes later, all eight estimators come walking into my office with two cards and hugs, wishing me good luck on Thursday. Completely unexpected, and very much appreciated. Maybe at times I run around here, getting done what I need to get done, with my head down, and I don't realize that people actually do notice.

In other worlds, I'm feeling pretty good these days. It's as if somewhere along the line, potentially somewhere in Grand Canyon country, I started to come back to life. Maybe it's the 12 (count 'em, TWELVE) pounds of water I have now peed out.

Ridiculous, isn't it? 12 lbs is a LOT. Granted, I'm still over my preferred fighting weight - but I much prefer being 5-6 lbs over, than 18. GOD was that uncomfortable. I can see my ankles again, and my legs no longer touch when I stand in the shower. The little things that make one happy.

Now, how about this hair growing process...
I shaved my legs yesterday morning. I'm not entirely certain it was warranted, but the razor looked like it wanted to be used and the legs felt vaguely of stubble (unless it was my overactive imagination working). Anyhow, they are smooth now. Is it completely bizarre to wish they would be stubbly soon?

Tomorrow at this time I will be undergoing the MASTER CLEANSE...
Can't wait.

Next week at this time I should be resting quietly the morning after surgery, with two less estrogen-producing ovaries, minus a couple of mystery masses, and short one unnecessary appendix. At least that's what they cleared me for yesterday after spending half a day at the Mayo Clinic being checked in, checked out, debriefed, thoroughly interrogated, and at long last, poked (three times) for blood. Now, I am officially cleared for my bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy and bonus appendectomy. Say that three times fast.

So... yeah. Here we go. The next step on this roller coaster ride of a journey. I'm ready for this one. I'm sure I'll be panic-stricken next Wednesday night, and I am NOT looking forward to the bowel prep they have prescribed for me the day before. And lest I forget, I am less than thrilled at the prospect of clear liquids only after lunch the day before (but wait, they said I can have clear chicken or beef broth for dinner!!). But eh, small potatoes. (Which I had better stuff up on at lunch on Wednesday, come to think of it.) I'm ready to get whatever is in there OUT of there though. I don't need it. And truth be told, whatever else there is in there, I want to know. Only if I know what there is, will we know how to proceed. And, I'm ready to proceed.

The chemo break has done me a world of good, and aside from last Friday's minor episode, I'm feeling much closer to normal. Minus the hair of course. And the eyelashes. And the waistline. (Too many potatoes?)

Yeah, last Friday's minor episode was interesting. I had been bitching and moaning for a while about the excess water weight I had been slowly putting on. Resigned to the fact that it would dissipate after the chemo stopped, imagine my surprise to wake up on Friday morning having lost my ankles completely. Yes, the water retention got bad. So bad that when I called Dr. Cavalcant's office, they asked me to come in for a nurse evaluation. That, coupled with the atrocious fingernails, and I was apparently too much to diagnose over the phone. Long story short, I went, they saw, they prescribed, and a week later, according to the Mayo Clinic, I have peed out nearly 8 lbs of water. (Before stepping on the scale today) YUCK. Just freakin' yuck.

The good news is, I have already peed out 8 lbs of water, and hopefully the Lasix will continue to counteract the effects of the steroids and Taxotere that went into my body weekly for over five months straight. What's more, the atrocious smell emanating from under my fingernails is no longer in evidence (thank GOD for small favors, for a multitude of reasons).

In unrelated news, thanks to Vitamin K and a diligent husband, the Rocky Raccoon circles around my eyes are MUCH improved. What's more, I haven't had a nosebleed in two weeks, my legs no longer feel like they are encased in cement (most of the time), and I no longer rattle the bed with my breathing at night. Even better news? During yesterday's inquisition at Mayo, I learned that for the first time in months my blood pressure is back to normal, and my resting heart rate, while higher than it used to be, is pretty darn normal again as well. All together now.... PHEWWWWWWWWWWWW. I bet the nurse there never heard anyone cheer when she gave a blood pressure reading before.

So, gloves laced, and here we go...

(Thank you, Liz! xoxoxo)

Wow.

Aside from the piles of work on my desk that I have slowly been plodding through, determined to tackle before the 10th arrives, life continues as usual...

It was a beautiful week or so off - lots of relaxation, lots of cooking delicious-smelling things, lots of love and laughter mixed in with some reflection and not too many tears. It was just what it should have been.

New Year's Eve found us keeping with tradition and sitting at our favorite sushi bar after having the traditional pre-sushi drink with TZ (which will, this NYE on, be enjoyed at Caffe Boa...). Three years running we've done the sushi-and-home routine. It was nice to be sitting there, realizing that we have created somewhat of a tradition. It was nice to be sitting there, feeling good, being able to taste the food in front of me, and knowing that I looked somewhat normal. Most of all, it was good to know that in the eyes of my husband sitting beside me - due to antibiotics, Vitamin K, and lots of love - I knew that he could once again see past it all and see the inner me. It was definitely a roller coaster of a year, but as we sipped our (traditional) Clos Du Bois chardonnay and reflected, we agreed it was definitely more good than bad...

So, we looked at the year in review:

January: P.F. Chang's Rock'n'Roll Half Marathon. Our 3rd one together. Not my best effort, but only about 30 seconds off last year's time. It was cold.... very, very cold that day.

February: The FBR Open, the Clouds' visit, Greg's birthday, the Lost Dutchman half marathon, the Hoffmanns in town. It was a busy, fun month...

March: My first time to Santa Fe. I loved it. We ate, we drank, we braved the cold. We got our marriage license, we checked out the sculpture garden, we laughed and dreamed and planned.

April: I'm sure there was more going on in April prior to April 27, but that weekend is what sticks out in my mind most of all. We got married in our beautiful sculpture garden on a crystal clear spring day. I got to be the beautiful bride I always wanted to be, I got to look into the eyes of the man I knew I'd spend the rest of my life with and join our hearts and lives in front of God and the world. It was just he and I in our own world, and it was just how it was supposed to be.
We celebrated and dreamed and enjoyed and loved and lived...

May: Our party at Caffe Boa. We celebrated with friends, we hiked, and we came up for air...

June: Havasupai Falls. One more thing checked off of my life list. I've always wanted to go, and finally, we did. I could try to find the words, but amazing wouldn't quite cover the feeling of swimming into pounding water to cling to rocks behind the waterfall at Havasupai Falls or facing my fears and navigating the hike down to Mooney Falls, or traipsing through the lush vegetation on the way to Beaver Falls or diving off the rocks into the clear blue water once we got there. Or drinking wine chilled from the river after a long day of playing and exploring and experiencing and swimming. Or falling asleep in perfect temperature feeling the breeze rustle through our tent in the arms of my husband. And then there was the Red Sox Series. And Alison Krauss. And Norah Jones. June was full of sweet, soulful music. And we went to Flagstaff. And prepared for Mt. Whitney. June also brought Greg some sadness with the tragic loss of a long-time friend. And a bit of reconnection with the past and the people that shared the memories during a trip home. June was full of activity and learning and music and strength and led straight into July...

July: July started off quietly aside from the air conditioner breaking, but the quiet was fleeting. July brought scans and doctor visits and biopsies and diagnoses and the realization of one of my greatest fears. Cancer. But there was a beautiful trip to Prescott with hiking and friends and dogs. And a trip to Overgaard the weekend of my birthday as we watched the rain pouring down from the wrap-around deck of our rented cabin, contemplated our future, enjoyed one another and prepared for what lie ahead. Together.

August: Chemo. And the beginning of this leg of the journey. It can all be found in these entries - at least pieces of the story. Yet, we conquered Mt. Whitney and got to stand on top of the world and tell cancer to fuck off and that it's not going to take me. I had too much still to accomplish. I still do.

September: September was full of treatments. And my 1.5 minutes of fame on Channel 12. We got the opportunity to sneak up north to camp on the Mogollon Rim for some fresh, cool air and rejuvenation. Twice.

October: Still full of treatments. And being featured in two articles in the news. And the Race for the Cure. And shaving my head. Still running. Still thriving. Fundraising and getting ready for the 3-Day. Going up to wine country and San Francisco, and even though we were sick, laughing and enjoying one another and having fun. And watching the Red Sox win the World Series...

November: The 3-Day. Standing in front of the crowd of walkers, crew, and survivors, bald head out there for everyone to see, proudly carrying a flag that read "Belief." And afterwards, finally starting to feel the cumulative effects of treatments and starting to slow down, kicking and screaming all the way. Thanksgiving. Giving thanks for friends, and family, and love and life.

December: The holiday season and putting up our beautiful tree. And getting that warm feeling inside upon coming home and seeing our lights. Our house. Our life. Dealing with the fact that the weeks and weeks and months of chemo had finally caught up to me, and not dealing with it all that gracefully at times. And finally taking a break. And the Nutcracker. And heading up to the Grand Canyon, which was full of more time in the lounge and scrabbling then hiking, but still just as beautiful. Looking out over the edge and saying a prayer to whomever happened to be listening, in thanks and reverence to the wonder before me and the wonder I still had yet to see in its depths. Finally feeling my body and my soul start to bounce back and my spirits start to rise again. Tasting food and looking toward the time when I wouldn't have to cover my head with a ski cap to protect it from the cold. Relaxing and cooking and filling the house with comforting smells. Celebrating the holidays with the beautiful family I married into, and looking forward to the year ahead. Finally, coming full circle, to sitting at the sushi bar at Sakana, talking with Greg about the year we just had. Looking forward to seeing what the coming year would bring. Realizing that the next couple of weeks would bring about some interesting developments and questions answered with the surgery on the 10th and being glad to finally have that behind us. And realizing that the future of treatments would not be decided until then. And knowing that more prayers were needed.

At the time? Enjoying the Red Storm and the assorted sashimi and the spicy scallops and unagi. Savoring the crisp taste of the chardonnay and smiling about the tradition we had created and the fact that this was the third year in a row we had spent New Year's Eve in this manner. Realizing that we were, once again, laughing more than not. And hearing him say, "I love my girl, so much...".

Quite a year it was...