Bluebonnet Heaven

This morning was my second of two visits to the transplant doctors this week. It's down to that now. One Monday and one today. All my counts were excellent. And I am free to do what I wish with my weekend. I think I'll see some bluebonnets. Visit friends in Austin. Enjoy my favorite place on earth.

I also received a fantastic e-mail from my step-sister, Penelope. It is so good to hear from her! And it's been a long time. She sent a meaning of life response, so that'll be available soon.

But for now, I'm stepping out to live my life--at least as much as I can, since I'm still in a state of semi-quarantine. More thoughts on this coming soon because (believe me) that's actually quite a kettle of fish cooking in my boiled over brain, right now.

One more thing: the catheter is out. And it didn't hurt a bit. The nurse said, "Take a deep breath" and zip, no more catheter. I feel completely free. I'm scheduled for my exit interview Monday, April 9th, and then, most likely, home on April 10th! Sweet!

Jacob Makes It Safely to Austin for the Wedding

After waiting five hours at Dallas Love Field, Jacob's Dad was finally able to put Jacob on the plane that was to bring him to Austin. He arrived at the other end around 1:30AM into the waiting arms of Kirk's college-age niece, Chelsea, and brother-in-law, David. Weather in the midwest was the culprit, but Chelsea and David were my heroes.

Thank you to both of you, including everyone else who coordinated the drop off and pick up.

How relieved I was to receive the call that Jacob was safe! (Even though he was never really in any danger--you know, I AM a mommy after all.)

An Important Vision of Healing

There's a tape I listen to that helps me to relax and heal without fail, so I use it nearly every day. Andrew Weil, author of Optimal Healing, produced it; but the voice is not his that walks me through the relaxation breathing, it is a colleague's.

At the end of the relaxation phase, the voice of Weil's colleague then asks me to go to a place I find especially beautiful.

It may be corny, but I always go to Middle Earth from Tolkein's The Hobbit. (This photo of Kirk, my loving husband, is set in a type of earthly place that reminds me of my healing place; I love camping for this reason, I think.) It is spring there in my healing place, and I lay on a bank beside a lively stream. The air is filled with magic and the otherness of a place imbued with the power of myth. Nearby is a hobbit hole, where a river stone fireplace burns with ancient oak and cedar. There is an overstuffed chair with a side table, set with a hot pot of tea and a cup ready for me should I need it. But normally, I spend my time outside in the spring air laying on the bank.

In this visit to my healing place, four small sparrows came to me. One landed on each knee; two on the grass beside me. I watched them and imagined they were symptoms I wanted to heal. One was my red blood cell count; another: my white; the third: my platelets; and the fourth: potassium. The birds were small and forlorn, since they had no mothers to nurture them.

The voice on the tape, then asked me to create a healing image. For this, immediately, four well-fed ghosts of the baby sparrow's mothers--for they had been killed off by the chemo--arrived from the sky and began feeding and nurturing the babies. Soon, the babies began to thrive and grow as I watched. I imagined this was my counts pulling up to the levels I needed to thrive and grow, as well.

At this point in the tape, I am asked to see if the images before me have any relation to what I have experienced or am feeling in the real world. I realized it did. For I have sought the spirit of the mother--that nurturing that parents give children--for much of my life, but not always in the places that were safe. As Tess, my therapist, says, I have often taken of my shoes and walked in that brier patch one too many times. Always expecting that it will not hurt me to look for comfort in the wrong people or the wrong places.

When I awoke from the relaxation, I knew I had just been given the chance to remember something very important. And for that, I am so grateful.

I recommend this sort of activity to anyone seeking healing about anything. I found the tape at Half-Priced Books, but I have not seen it anywhere else. But you don't need the tape, for I often do the relaxation without it and on my own. It is, I find almost every time, a well-spent thirty minute space of time spent focused on myself.

Dad Sends a Picture

Inspired by my temporary loss of hair, Dad reminded me by sending this photo that there's hair in there somewhere just waiting to spring forth from my head. I was certainly a hairy-headed chick in High School and quite skinny (I might add.)

I think I'll more likely reach the skinny than the hairy part of this look at first. But I'll take what I can get.

Thanks, Dad. At least I FEEL as young as I actually was in this photo. I was 16 and a dancer in the high school drill team. We called ourselves the Cavaliers.

Farrah hair and all.

Cancer Etiquette: Now That I'm Strong Enough to Make Some Rules

When I was pregnant, like many women, I worked. It was the early 90’s, and I was a school teacher. From stories told by parents and colleagues, I began to believe giving birth was a nasty, brutish experience. For example, a friend told me how, in labor with her first child, the cord wrapped around the infant’s neck and threatened to pull out her insides when she went for the push. Another woman laid out for me in meticulous detail the horror of her unplanned cesarean. My youth and the constant hearing of these stories formed within me the belief that I was in for a grueling long haul to get the baby out.

With cancer, it isn't much different. You’d think, since I am older by about ten years, that elder wisdom would make me shirk off the death stories of cancer. Not so. With cancer, it’s worse. It seems people just don’t know what to say, so they say whatever comes to mind.

When I was newly diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma, it was hard for me. My husband was supportive, though our conversations often ended in tears. During this time, by accident, I met a woman at a nail salon. I don’t remember how, but it eventually came out that I had cancer of the bone marrow.

“Oh, my sister had that cancer,” the woman said. Then she tilted her head and gazed at me with a love that was eerie since I did not know her.

Stupidly, I asked: “How did she do?”

Her answer came soft, like one reminiscing of something wonderful: “She died, and, like you, she was beautiful until the day she died.”

Clearly, the woman knew nothing of her affect on me. For one, I didn’t let on. But I felt like I did that day my father accidentally kicked a football into my stomach. It was as if the breath had been knocked from me by someone completely unaware.

I’ve had more of these experiences than I care to relate. And so have many others with cancer. I believe that if there is a rule of etiquette for cancer, number one is this: do not relate to a cancer patient the tale of even one person you’ve known who died of cancer.

There are so many reasons for this.

First of all, it’s rude. Just like it’s rude to talk about terrible labor and delivery to a pregnant woman.

Secondly, it doesn’t help at all. In fact, the minute you tell the story, it becomes about that person who died and not the person who has risked sharing their cancer story.

Thirdly, no cancer is the same, ever. It's all different people diagnosed with different cancers at different times. Even people who’ve been diagnosed with the same cancer at around the same time know that their treatments, experiences and stories of healing will not match. Comparisons with others who’ve had cancer are like comparing apples with rocks or bridges with string, they are rarely similar except in the most unimportant ways.

The only people who can benefit by comparison in any way from stories of cancer are by hearing them from the people who have had cancer. There is often (but not always) comfort in that.

Fourthly, the best thing to do with a person dealing with cancer is to feel what the person is feeling, as much as you can. Jesus wept when he saw the sadness of his friends at the loss of Lazarus. And he knew he was going to bring Lazarus back! Whatever you do, don’t say “You’ll be fine!” or “Surely there's a protocol for that.” A person who tells you they have cancer is usually looking for comfort not solutions and that’s what you should try to give, if you can.

A final story: during one of my first visits to MD Anderson, I received at MRI. While waiting, a nice looking older man asked me:

“What are you here for?”

“Multiple Myeloma,” I said.

“Oh, that’s terrible. So many people die of that. Who has it?” the man said.

My soul sank into my shoes, but I answered: “I do.”

“Oh,” the man said looking down at the floor.

I heard my name called at the front desk. The old man leaned over and pressed a card into my hand: “You’ll be traveling a lot during this time, try my travel service. I’ll save you some money.”

I wanted to throw the card at him, but I didn’t. How could he try to sell me a service after declaring my probable demise so glibly?

So here’s a cancer etiquette rule that should ALWAYS be followed: NEVER try to sell a cancer patient anything in a waiting room.

I think now I’m smarter about these people who proclaim my death without really thinking about it. But it's still hard not to compare. I suppose it’s human. But it is so hard, when you’re the one being compared. Every person’s cancer journey is different; and few I’ve met ever want theirs to end in death.

Friends Now

Like Martin and Ace who have finally decided to be friends after all, in their forced co-habitation at the Goddess of Animals Dwelling (aka Ina) I have made friends with cancer. Of course, it helps that renewed strength enables my foot to be lodged more firmly upon its neck. But this is the position I feel I must take with cancer: that is, a position of "amiable enemies." That is, true adversaries calling a truce and agreeing to be friends but only under certain terms. The more suitable metaphor? A treaty, one that even President Carter would negotiate and support. I have now negotiated a treaty with the cancer.

I can do this because I feel good now. Cancer had me for a while, but I fought and escaped. In the fight, I lost my hair. I learned what pain really is. I experienced terrible fear and darkness. I dug through the underworld to find myself on the other side of pain, fear and cancer itself.

Throughout, I discovered the love of my family, friends and even that of strangers--Velma**, Sally* and Jill***--was with me, though I could not always feel it. But most of all, I have seen God working through people to bring me through and that has been like seeing a miracle. But a miracle more ordinary than I ever dreamed it was. Since it is God who gives people to my life, who have willingly shown God's love to me (who were showing me God's love all along.) I thought this miracle of love was unusual, but now I know better. The love of family and friends is ordinary--an ordinary, everyday kind of miracle that I could not see while pain and fear entrapped me.

Now, like Martin, I lay beside my former adversary and watch the door, eager to see what life will bring me now. What action can I hope to see? What beauty can I experience? What wonders await me beyond the door?

I am filled with hope. And life is very, very good.

*Sally is the NINO representative who helped us to get this great apartment in Houston. We had another one, but it didn't seem right. She scrambled to find us another. It was very kind of her. I recommend NINO corporate housing to all who find themselves needing to find a place near MD Anderson.

**Velma is my "fastrack nurse" at MDA in the Bone Marrow Transplant division. She is like an angel. Soft-voiced and yet willing to stand up for my needs.

***Jill is my favorite doctor. She may be what they call an APN, but to me she's my doctor. She knew exactly what I would be experiencing depending on what day I was in the transplant. It helped so much to have forewarning. AND she's got a great bed-side manner. So funny and full of the type of feminism I love.

More Freedom

My doctor said today I was free to shave off the Yoda-like remains of my hair. Well, I didn't exactly look like Yoda. But noticed I did certain abilities only one who has tapped into the Force can accomplish. (Levitating Kirk off his chair, I am.) My hair was coming off so easily that an accidental brush of my hand through it would bring disturbing strands of two or three inches. I opted for the shave down in the stark maze-like halls of the 1st floor at MDA. And got a free scarf in the deal.

I now can say with great confidence that I look like Britney Spears.

I am now also free from the saline drip I carried with me. This is wonderful. The doctor says I will wilt like a flower without water and feel tired much of the time. I don't now, though I did just have a two-hour nap. It's true I do get hit suddenly by tiredness and sleeping is the only cure.

I am also supposed to lose about 6 pounds of water weight this week. Then another 6 next week and so on, until I lose about 15 pounds. I'm looking forward to this as it will help me get over that plateau I struggled with for 2 years! No, actually, it's not all that great. It's a bit alarming to keep losing weight at that rate. I have to watch my blood pressure, otherwise I could pass out just from standing.

So now it is just Kirk and me, and that is nice. We have not been alone for many weeks. We'll have to spend some time getting re-acquainted.

I've received so many lovely cards. One of favorites is a homemade card about my hair, signed by mom, Sam and her c0-workers. Thank you so much. The card came at the perfect time, since today I am totally bald. (A picture should be forthcoming, as soon as I dare.)

Thanks for your continued prayers. I know I am handling all of the side effects well because of the petitions to God that have prompted Him to move on my behalf.

A Night Out

Since Dad is leaving tomorrow, we decided to make a push to get out of the apartment. I was feeling better, so it wasn't too hard. (Later, I crashed with a terrible sinus headache.) Dad treated us to a Italian, which I ate about four strands of. But it was still wonderful to get out. (We went in early afternoon when there were very few people; that way I wouldn't have to worry about germs.) Just as we were about to leave, a big family came over near us with two babies. I left immediately (as my doctors would advise me.) Blah...blah...blah...right?

As you can see from the pic, this is what my hair looks like considerably thinned. Since this picture, I've lost even more hair--but no bald spots so it doesn't look all that bad.

I'm still on saline (as you can see from the backpack, which has in it my saline back attached by a line that goes into the catheter.) Monday, I may be able to be off saline fluids entirely. I am looking forward to it.

What is Life: Evangel's Answer

Life is a valuable gift from God!

At the age of 86, I have had a long, incredible and happy journey.

My greatest gifts are:

1) Loving and caring parents and a happy childhood.

2) Happy married life with my wonderful husband (pictured.)

3) Successful and talented children and grandchildren.

4) Secure and comfortable golden years.

I believe our joy and happiness is our own responsibility.

Life is never measured by how many years we live

But by the Kindly things we do and the happiness we give.

3-12-07 Evangel Wilder

Hair Today, Gone...Maybe Friday?

I'm okay, but I'm not feeling back to normal just yet. My main complaint is a sore throat--the result of a high white blood cell count (they say.) I also tend toward headaches, if I exert myself too much. For example, try to climb a flight of stairs.

And (drum roll, please) my hair has now started to fall out. Actually, it is more like heavy shedding than anything. This means lots of hairs in my brush and a creepy feeling when I first wake up. So I've started wearing a little hat at night to catch the hairs, giving me a sense of control over the situation. Weirdly, my hair seems to shed the most when I am feeling the best. So, it does not bother me all that much. I mean, I've been preparing for this hair thing for several months now. I am ready.

Dad flies out tomorrow. It has been a great thing having him here. Comforting and a great chance to get closer. He has been so patient with me (as has Kirk,) since days around apartment #5327 are a little "slow," to say the least.

This morning (I know, it's Sunday)--Kirk and I showed up for another blood test. They are constantly checking my vitals and my blood at MDA to make sure I have no needs. Like more platelets, etc. All of my counts were within acceptable ranges, so I did not have to get any treatments.

Tomorrow, I have another round of tests, but I think the results will be the same. And this is good because I'm ready to get out of Houston!

To Platelets and Feeling Better

Having two men as caregivers this week has been God's little way of having a giggle at my expense. The last two days have been embarrassing because my monthly visit from the god of bloodletting came as scheduled, but would not stop because I had no platelets. It weakened me terribly and was so scary we all loaded up the Explorer and headed to the hospital. Dad actually ended up popping in at Randall's to buy me sanitary napkins! I believe the experience left him some shreds of manhood, but having to ask the pharmacist to advise him in his purchase may have stripped him of all pride in the end. We are still not certain.

(Picture, above: Kirk catching some Zzz's in the pop-up last Spring. I don't know why I include it in this blog, but it seems somehow apropos.)

After some deliberation from my favorite female doctors while I suffered terrible migraine pain (again) and listened to the booming voices of men catching up on their business calls, it was agreed that I needed a platelet infusion. I was also given a very nice gift to alleviate the headache: Tylenol with Codene. I could sing its praises, but you can tell by the name alone that it is one great med, let me tell you. Now, I am a different person, feeling much better and happily clicking away at my e-mail.

I feel as if I have "turned the corner."

Many cards and letters from family and loved ones have been received. Thank you! Very soon I will present Evangel's meaning of life letter, which she very kindly sent me. It is beautiful and will be on this blog SOON.

In the Company of Men

Since Dad arrived, I am now in the care and company of men alone. If I want a steak, then steak it is. No quibbling about "wouldn't I rather have a nice bit of chicken" or some fruit or other "healthy" repast.

Voices far deeper and metaphor-driven now fill the apartment, answering questions authoritatively and wheeling deals like rainmakers negotiating rain with an indifferent god.

But it's good. Well, at least, it's different. And different is nice when your holed up, as I am, in this Hobbit Hole of sheet rock.

I suppose it helps that I am feeling better these days. Thinking of reading a book again, if my eyes will focus. Perhaps an overdue movie from the Lisa days. Whatever the case, I am cared for now by men and am finding it quite nice.

Visiting Doug's Grave

On our way to Galveston, we stopped to see Doug's grave. Doug is an old friend of the family that I loved very much. He was a troublesome sort and worked too hard. He died at age 55. He still has no grave stone. Some pains are to hard to heal, I guess. He DOES however have a little river stone, bearing his name and the dates of his birth and death.

Mom dug out some weeds around it.

It was hard to say goodbye to mom, but she did leave on Sunday morning. I was barely able to say goodbye, I had such a migraine. But now that I'm off of Zofran, I'm better. Wish she was here again so I could give her a proper goodbye.

A Blast From the Past!

Cool thing! My step-sister, Samantha, came to visit me. So, now, I have two sisters again! When this is all over, I'm hoping to have more. Counting Ina (Kirk's sister,) I actually now have three sisters. Sweet mother of God, what will we do with all this femaleness.

The Meaning of Life: Kirk's Answer

For now, I can only attempt to comprehend the present meaning of life which I believe is pursuit, risk, trial, discovery and growth of our unique, divine gifts to benefit all, resulting in enjoyment, appreciation, wonder, love and awe. Beyond that, I don’t think that we are yet to know.

There is a supreme being, a force of life that makes it all work and I remain in awe of how amazing life already is – how complex our bodies are, our senses of sight, sound, smell, taste and touch to perceive and try to reason all that is around us – the vastness of space, from the smallest of matter to the vastness of our solar system, to the size of our galaxies and into deep space without end.

It is a miracle to how all existence interacts and to the abundance of all forms of life on earth. Why am I so moved by nature? What are we to learn from the laws of nature? How does it all work together? How does the sun hold our planet in orbit, the moon create our tides, why is there day and night, seasons to the year and in how many ways does all nature depend on each other?

For now, I must cherish each moment of each day with the blessings of life on this planet. Beyond that I can only wonder in awe with great excitement of what’s to come.

“To infinity, and beyond!”

- Buzz Lightyear

Images of Love

My last picture of Jacob before he flew back to Dallas. I miss him so already. I was feeling very sick when I took the picture.
Believe it or not, Lisa, Jacob, Kirk, Mom and I went to Galveston while they were here. The beach was beautiful though overpopulated with sex-hungry Spring Breakers. We ate at Gaidos at a time when few people were there, or rather, I watched everyone eat (too nauseated.)

Our dear friends Joe, Jen and Zenny came to visit. I had to wave to Jordan (their baby) from the balcony. It was a great visit, though I wasn't feeling very good.

It's Not Natural

I have decided that the hardest part for me in getting through this treatment--the stem cell transplant and all the other chemos and pills that came before--is the unnaturalness of it all. It's not natural to be hooked up to an IV of saline and nausea medication in a backpack I carry with me everywhere I go. Nor is it natural to have a "port" under my collar bone that gives fluids and medicines straight access to my heart and veins. It's not natural to take so many pills to keep from getting diseases while my body--most unnaturally--has no immune system.

It's not natural to want to sleep all the time, unless you're a bear in hibernation. And it's not natural to be content with dreaming of going camping and living in the Hill Country, when there's no certainty I'll be able to do those things any time in the near future.

The natural thing when getting cancer is probably dying. I'm sure that's what people have done for thousands of years when they got cancer. I am doing the unnatural thing.

But one thing's certain. When I get through with all these unnatural things to save my life, I'll know that my natural self is what will truly save me. It is the part that will take over once the doctors are done. My natural immunity, which was so strong for so many years, will take over because I will nurture and encourage it. It won't have to be weak because I've weakened it with stress or fear or all the other host of things I've allowed myself to fall prey to.

I will be strong, naturally.

Short Update

I am very weak today. Sleeping a lot and still quite nauseated. Water seems less dry, today, however. And the ache in my right leg is subsiding considerably. Haven't eaten much today.

It's all pretty pitiful, actually. But I am pushing through.

It's Lisa

In case you didn't figure it out, it's Lisa coming to visit. I am feeling a little better each day. Still not eating all that much because of nausea. But it is manageable and I've stopped throwing up. All night I am still so thirsty that water seems dry. I am tethered, as well, so a saline infusion that I carry around with me in a little back pack. But I cannot wait for it to be done (7 days?!?) and the catheter to be out. In general, my spirits are good. I wrestled the beast and got him on his back. Now, I've got my foot on his neck, though it takes most of my energy.

Others are visiting today and tomorrow. I'll put up pictures as we go. We may even try to make it to the coast! To see the ocean sounds like heaven to me. I've always loved the ocean.

Guess Who?

From the contents of this suitcase, can you tell who's come to visit? Let's see: a blow dryer, a rather formidable hair curler, a bag of innocuous and somewhat earthy looking make-up products.

The bottom of the t-shirt worn appears to be a tree with a mysterious scroll unfurled beneath. Fingernails are perfect, though somehow clearly natural.

Hmmmm? Who could it be?

Find out tomorrow. Same bat time; same bat channel.

Sleep

I sleep. A lot. It's not the meds; it's not for lack of sleep at night. I am, simply, tired. I believe when I am sleeping, the various parts of my body are convening in my honor to form covenants. Beneath the veil of sleep (my eyelids, actually,) I can see dark outlines of hands working to rearrange my cells and blood with quickness and care. I am their project. A project that pushes me every day toward freedom from cancer.

The Other Side of the Hardest Part

Look at me; I am in a place fear told me I could never be. I am writing from the other side of the hardest part of my treatment. At first, I decided fear was wrong. That's because after high dose chemo I felt just fine. Then, evening came and it hit me. Fear was right. Every moment of that evening and the next day brought new pain. I threw up first dinner, then lunch...then acid that burned my throat and stung my eyes. I twitched with weird pains in my legs and along my back. And a migraine, though not as bad as previous ones I've suffered, stayed with me for two days. No matter how much Darvon or Ativan I allowed myself to take.

I threw up so much, I lost two and half pounds. I wondered how today I would make it to MDA for the final step, the receiving of my frozen stem cells back into my body. But I did. My headache finally went away when they started pre-meds for the return of my stem cells. I lay on the bed watching them pull my stem cells, steaming with freezing vapor, out of their storage. Fear came again. I had been wrong about fear. Fear had certainly won over me the last two days, why not now. So, when the cells went in, I started retching again. I couldn't talk, but hid under the covers in between, the fear in me was so great.

The nurses scrambled, trying to find something to relieve me. Finally, an Ativan injection into my IV, and I fell into a peaceful sleep. When I woke up, the process was over. The taste of rotten watermelons in my mouth (something to do with the preservatives that are used on the cells).

But I have made it to the other side of these painful moments. I am weak, but I am going to make it. I'm writing this blog, after all. And that is something I feared I would not be able to do when I hadn't made it (last night) to the other side of the hardest part.

Wednesday in the Depths

Hi, this is Sherry's son, Jacob, and her mother, Mary, trying to do her blog for her. Sherry is directing us, as she is just too sick to do it herself. She made it through last night's visit to the Siberian tundra and is alive to tell about it. (She received the heavy duty dose of chemo yesterday and by nightfall knew that she would indeed experience side effects).

Around 7 p.m. last night, she started to feel nauseated and by 10 p.m. was regularly throwing up and spending a lot of time in the john. It was a very rough night for her and all anyone could do was stand by with water, wet towels, fresh waste can liners, and prayers. She kept the prayers! Everything else went elsewhere.

It rained and the television station warned of flooding. So what else is new about Houston? We watched the water come up over the curbing, but that is as far as it went. Everybody's car got a nice wash job. Kirk went to get supplies for the "war effort" in case we got snowed- uh, flooded- in. That means BLUEBELL ICE CREAM! The best ice cream in the world! (We held out til midnight and then hit the sack while Kirk went through what he called the "Chinese Water Treatment". Every time he dropped off into Dreamland, there would be a new phase of Sherry's journey through the depths of bodily onslaughts.

Today is a new day and Sherry can actually voice doubts about Tomorrow. Annie may have sung about "Tomorrow, Tomorrow", but in this case Sherry's version is a little more pitiful. How can she make it back to the hospital tomorrow to endure the replacement of her own stem cells when right now her most adventurous trips are to Outer Slobovia (The Bathroom).

Those of us who are observers have no doubt she will be happy to see daylight and something other than the little white throne tomorrow. She already has some color in her face and can open her eyes and focus on us. She even speaks! So we have great hopes that tomorrow - well, it will be a new day for her.

The Clock Is Wrong

Warning: This blog was written under the influence of Darvon. Side effects include: shortness of girth, goofiness, impotence, impertinence, self-importantness, silliness and, sudden pimples.

Do not adjust your set. The clock pictured here (to the right of me in my silly hat receiving chemo) is wrong. As are ALL clocks at MD Anderson. Do not, I repeat, do not blame this phenom on the unsolicited time change. The clocks at MD Anderson are ALWAYS wrong.

Anyway, as you can tell, I am fine. All of the terrible side effects I feared are either 1) not happening now or 2) not ever happening. I choose case number 2. (Though I'm not taking the deal, until I know the million's not in MY case...if you know what I mean.) Actually, I AM taking the case and I'm taking it now.

There's a fellow, the research nurses tell of who received his transplant and hit the road. Thought he DID come back for his allogeneic (this spelling, by the way, is straight from THE horse's mouth, which happens to be THE book written by MDA who ROCKS--apparently--in the transplant world.) I now understand this fellow's feelings exactly. Since I am now planning MY escape with running shoes already on. (If you happen to be someone from MDA and you are reading this please know: THIS IS A JOKE. I am NOT taking off. Really. I'm not. I'm staying right here where you can take my blood repeatedly for as many days as your heart desires, you vampires you.)

So, the clock is wrong, but notice I am smiling with my furry little hat planted firmly on my head. Meaning: It's all good. At least for now. Signing off, your fine and furry friend, Sherry.

High Dose Chemo Prayer

The Lord is my healer; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul, my body, my all:
He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadowy halls of MD Anderson and death itself,
I will fear no evil:
For Thou art with me.


I go in at 9AM; please pray!
Love to you all!

Chemotherapy, Here I Come

We finally received mail today! Kirk had to run after the mail lady to get it, but he got it. (The little yellow and blue figure in the photo is him doing just that.)

All of the loving words I read aloud in each card and letter will certainly give healing to my bones (literally,) as I go through the days and weeks ahead. Hugs and kisses to you all!

I finally have my schedule; it is as follows:



Tomorrow (Tuesday) 3/13/07: High Dose Chemotherapy
Wednesday 3/14/07: Rest Day
Thursday 3/15/07: Transplant Day

Please pray that the Melphalan will do the healing God intends, then move on out of my body without incident. Also pray that I'll engraft to the stem cells in such a way that frees me completely of this cancer without infection or illness.

Friday, my sister, Lisa, comes; and I am so excited. All five of us will be crammed into this place for a day or so, then mom and Jacob will go home. But it'll be good having so many members of my family here to support me. It's been great having mom and Jacob here this last week, and I look forward to the week dad will be here, as well.

I love my family so much, especially Kirk (who runs after mail trucks if necessary for me!)

May God be with me tomorrow.

Storms Are Starting to Form Over...Me

Kate Bush has a song on her Hounds of Love CD called "Hello Earth" that I teach as an allegory of Ophelia. The main voice sings to earth from outer space, warning of water in its various forms. To fishermen and seamen, she croons: "Get out of the water." "Storms are starting to form over America," she moans. "Hello, little earth." And beware the flood.

It stormed last night here in Houston. Hail-like rain slammed the windows and a crack of thunder shook open the drawers in the extra room.

And I dreamed that my doctors had secretly been giving me Melphalan already in small doses, so I would not have to take the big dose this week. I awoke feeling both betrayed and relieved.

My old friend, Denise, and her family came to visit yesterday. We ate at the Hobbit Cafe. The menu has changed only slightly since my family and I used to eat there in the 70's. They no longer make cashew butter. They've moved, too, but the same posters of Gandalf, Gollum and Bilbo hang from the walls. I had the "slim" version of The Strider sandwich. But it was still more egg salad than I could eat in one sitting.

After that, we all went to Amy's Ice Cream. It, too, looked familiar. A lot like Amy's in Austin, but with a wall of bricks spammed with youthful comments like "I'm bringing sexy back" and so and so was here.

It was fun, but today is gloomy. The sun won't come out, and the time change brings within me the urge to strangle my local congressman. The whole of MD Anderson groaned with earliness. My test delayed because the computer was still asleep. The elevators jammed, leaving fragile people at the doors grumbling in tones so low even teenagers should not be able to hear...though I did. Even the eggs were runny in the cafeteria, slopped on to my plate by one unhappy and under-rested worker.

Today, the earth...though it does not suck, certainly spews.

Gifts From Mom

Pink scarf: Mom gave me others, but this is one of my favorites.








Red Slippers: now all I need is a matching robe.








Last, but not least: Manley's Kachina doll (actual size: 4"?)

Mom Arrives in Houston

Mom's flight arrived early at Hobby, but we were already there waiting for her. You can tell by the picture how thrilled Jacob is to see her and so am I. I felt peace knowing she was here. As if next week would be all right somehow.

Kirk is so overloaded these days. I know he will be so excited for the extra help. But it's not just that. It's something else.

More than anything, I think it's the love she brings that's needed.

She brought gifts, too! Several warm scarves and hats, slippers. I love them all! She also brought a hair hat. I'm sure you'll see that one on someone's head soon enough.

A special friend of my mom's whose been through cancer himself sent me a kachina doll and two dollar coins that I now cherish. The kachina doll, Manley explained in his letter, represents the sun and moon, who watches over us at all times. It is the doll he received when going through his own cancer and now he's passing it on to me. When I am done with the cancer, I'm to pass it on to someone else who is getting through cancer. Thanks, Manley. Such a thoughtful gift and it means so much to me.

The Love of Nature

A red bud outside my window reaches up to me from the ground floor. His desire is for me, but I am uncertain of his intentions. Is his grasping a wickedness that seeks to steal my soul? Or is it more likely his intention is to sooth me with his thin twig hands in an earthy laying on of hands?

I choose the latter.

The limbs of willows that yesterday hung like the legs of dead spiders over the pond have burst with lime green buds. They no longer weep for me or any other. Spring overcomes their previous inclinations. They are happy for today.

So be it.

The bushes bloom with flowers I've never seen before. In pink, cream, purple and yellow--they unbud to the sun. But I did not know a bush had buds. They hid from me when it was cold. Now they unfurl from nowhere. Colorizing this black and white story.

Amen.

For that is what I want, too. I want spring. Particularly in my bones. Down into the marrow, where a few dead things may still remain, needing spring's rejuvinating flow.

I receive the love of spring.

Fear

I can see now that the hardest thing about cancer for me is fear. Since October, I have feared the high dose chemo I will probably receive next week. And I don't think I've feared it because of the pain it may cause me. I think I've feared it because of how it may change me. Will I be okay when I'm done with this last chemo shot? I mean, will I be okay with me?

I can use my mind. I can analyze someone like Lance Armstrong who went through three cancers all at once and more than a few high dose chemo events, but went on to be stronger and better than he was before. But will I be as strong? Will I be okay with who I am when the chemo has washed out of my system the way that Lance or other cancer survivors were okay when it was finally over for them? I think that's what I fear. Being okay with who I am when all of this is finally over.

I do not even think about the people who did everything I'm doing, were strong and brave, but didn't make it.

For me, the high dose chemo is the beginning of the end of treatments I've wanted to get past for over three months. The beginning of the end of something I've longed to see go, but hoped I would gain from what my soul needs me to gain.

I do not want to be afraid of this. If there is a difference in me after next week, I want to see it as something my soul needed.

God help me not to be afraid.

Missed Appointment, But It's All GOOD

After apheresis on Wednesday, Kirk understood that I was to have a day off and not come in again until today. Once lucid, I checked this on line only to find I DID have an appointment. But I went back to bed, believing Kirk knew something I didn't. So, we missed my appointments for Wednesday. It all worked out fine. If anything, the incident is a testimony to Kirk being overstressed about EVERYTHING.

Now, I do have time off until Monday. Then, I'll say, let the games begin. Probably high dose chemo on Tuesday, maybe Wednesday. It just depends on their mood. Mom's coming in Saturday, so we'll have time until the sleeping begins again. (Though I'm sure there'll be plenty of that this weekend, since my white count is still so high from Neupogen.)

I met a man with MM today. Actually, I met his wife. The man himself was so despondent and sick he just sat in his wheelchair with his face to the wall. His wife seemed young. (I actually thought her husband was her father.) They are both from Austin and going through hell like all of us at MD Anderson. I know I will see them again, as I've started to see a few familiar faces now and then. Some keep to themselves, like the man with his little girl, trying to comfort with pats and endearing murmurs as his little girl alternately slept and cried through apheresis. Some are there to donate and are most willing to talk it up (if you've got the energy.) But most are just trying to make it through another day of treatment, as am I.

Meanwhile, Jacob fights against evil in Gandalf's army, as melodramatic music from the XBOX fills the living room.

Talk To The Hand

Jacob Rimes greeted the morning paparazzi in customary fashion.

The Myeloma Weight Loss Diet

Lose weight now! Yes, you too can lose weight and be the admiration of all your friends. The answer: well, cancer, of course. But not just any cancer. Mylemoa (actually Leukemia or any of the other blood cancers.) Some cancers leave you bigger than you started...and what a drag. But Myeloma makes the pounds just melt away. You'll be the envy of all your friends when you are diagnosed with a blood cancer, only to find that it was a great way to lose that pesky weight you've had since college. The secret: medications given to save your life will at first cause you to GAIN. But don't be alarmed. Transplant meds will soon bring about the opposite effect. AND YOU WILL LOSE IT ALL.

(A Short Short Jacob Wrote for His Writing Teacher) Little Red Riding Hood- An Allegory of a Mob Hit By Jacob Rimes

The blinding sunlight pouring down from the high courthouse window made it a little difficult for me to concentrate on the beady little judge up in the podium. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing- Her Honor was an uncommonly ugly woman. Little more than four and a half feet tall; with tiny black eyes like a rat’s and a rather hard-to-look-at mole firmly situated upon a nose that dwarfed her face- in fact, she wasn’t just ugly- she was grotesque. But of course, me being the well-mannered man-about-town that I am, I didn’t say a thing out loud.

Judge Stout, as her somewhat ironic name was, looked up at me with an expression of hate and disgust that trumped even the spiteful stare that Little Red was giving me.

Her voice dripped malice as she spoke. “So, Wolf, what do have to say for yourself this time, hmm? I can tell you right now, there’s no way you’re getting out of this one- not on my watch!”

This brought a round of hoots and cheers from the jury- in particular from the Three Little Pigs, who were seated at the top right side of the juror’s box.

Somebody in the crowd- it sounded like Little Bo Peep (what’s with all the “little”s, eh?)- shouted out, “Hang him by his own tail!”

Once again, the jury broke out in wild celebration, but was soon quieted by a savage banging of the judge’s gavel.

“Alright, alright! Shut up before I hold you all for contempt!” screamed Judge Stout. “Now… we have a case to get underway! First, we’ll hear from Wolf’s side- not like there’s anything he could say to save himself now!”

Well, my court-appointed lawyer had “forgot” to show up for the trial, and since Stout didn’t seem all too interested in following the law and getting me another one, it looked as if I was on my own.

“Well, Your Honor,” I started off modestly, “As was apparent from the crime scene and the inspection of my stomach, I ate Ol’ Granny, plain and simple.”

“Poor Granny!” cried the pigs in unison. At the same time, there was heard a deep chuckle from the general direction of The Giant.

“We know that,” spat the Judge, “What we want to know is why you ate her!”

"Well, Judge, as I was about to explain, I didn’t eat her of my own accord- I was ordered to!”

As I had expected, a round of gasps went around the room. I heard a vague thump, and knew that Jack (of “Jack and the Beanstalk” fame)’s mom had feinted.

“Who would tell anyone to do such a dreadful thing?” cried Stout.

“Why,” I stated, “It was the Mob.”

“Organized Crime?” inquired the Judge.

“The Mafia?” screeched the Pigs.

“How horrible!” wailed the Fairy Godmother.

“Of course it was the mob,” I fumed, “What do you take me for, a law-abiding citizen? Now, if all of you would just SHUT UP and let me tell my story, then maybe you’ll get your questions answered!”

A hushed silence fell over the courtroom, and I continued. “Thank you. Now, it started just the other day, as I recall…”

“It was a Saturday night, you see- now, everybody has had a few Saturdays where they had just a little too much corn cider, eh? Well, for me, this was one of those nights. I was stationed in the back room of the Far Far Away night club, over on Drury Lane. The Family was keeping its weekly shipment of Ginger Dust there, and it was my job to guard it. It was one of the more boring jobs I’d taken in the Mob, but everybody’s got to do a little guard duty every now and then.

“Anyhow, as the clock ticked away the hours, I felt my self getting sleepier and sleepier, and the cider wasn’t helping. But, I kept drinkin’ it, straight out of the jug. A couple dozen swigs later, and I was passed out on the floor. When I woke up, I felt terrible, and it took me a few minutes before I realized the truth… The Dust was gone! Vanished, into thin air, it seemed.

“And to make things worse, I could hear the delivery truck pulling up in the back. I couldn’t go out that way, and the front was guarded by some mean-lookin’ Family bruisers- I was trapped, so I had to come clean and tell the Don what had happened. He was a lot less angry than I figured he would be- he may have been a little drunk himself, actually-, and he just told me that I had to get it back soon, or I’d be dead and gone by that time tomorrow.

“I knew I had three main suspects- The Muffin Man, who liked to give his pastries some extra “spice”; Mary, who used it to dope up Little Lamb and stop it from following her to school; and- you guessed it- Granny. But, the first two suspects wouldn’t work out, since they were both on the Mob’s delivery list, and wouldn’t have any reason to cross their supplier. So, I had to go with the third option. You see, Granny was much more than many people thought she was- she was the Godmother- no offense, Mrs. Fairy ‘Mother- of the biggest Family in the land- besides mine, of course.

“Granny had been a problem for us since May, when we stole her recipe book as a little “joke”. That time, she sent Little Red over to shoot Godfather- she wasn’t successful, and nearly got herself killed, but all the same, it was a little too close a call for the Family’s comfort. Then, Granny had Big Bad Wolf- my brother, mind you- killed in an elaborate hoax that ended in the “unfortunate accident” of his death. Now, she had stolen our Ginger- this was all the Family could take. I got an official Writ of Execution from Godfather himself, and set out through the woods.

“As I walked through the pines, I ran into Red, but it was obvious that our meeting was no accident. As soon as she saw me, she screamed and threw a cupcake filled with ether- the little weasel- and ran. I followed her until I came upon a little cottage. Red was nowhere in sight, so I just walked right in. I peered around the first room of the cottage, the kitchen. It smelled like ancient French cheese in there- and the dainty trim on everything made me shudder.

“Suddenly, there was a call from the back room- ‘Red, is that you?’ called a feeble-sounding voice. I chuckled and barged right in. Before I could realize my mistake, I had already walked into a trap. I was hit in the back of the head with a tire iron, and immediately fell over, unconscious. When I woke, I found “Weak Little Granny” poised over me with a baseball bat. I could clearly see Red, composing herself in the mirror, and in the shadows, there was a large figure that I couldn’t distinguish.

“Granny spoke up, ‘So, Wolf, what will you do now? There’s no way out of this little house!’”

“I quickly checked my options, and realized that whoever had tied the knots behind my back was terrible at keeping people restrained. In a few seconds, I had undone them. But Granny didn’t know this yet, and just as she raised the bat to bring it down upon my skull, I lashed out and knocked it from her hands. She gave a high-pitched scream, and Red turned from the vanity table with a tiny pistol extended toward me. I dove instinctively as a gunshot tore the air inside the cottage, and then turned, and in one gulp, swallowed Granny whole. Before I could even cry out, the figure from the shadows was upon me like a bull.

“Hearing Red yell, ‘Catch!’, I looked to watch a double-barreled rifle fly through the air. Making the most of my momentary reprieve, I scrambled up (now, this is difficult to do when you’ve got a fat old lady in your belly), and flew out the door like the devil was after me. I heard two shots behind me, and felt a pellet skim one of my ears, but I kept running. I looked back for a moment, though, and, to my stunned surprise, looked upon… the Huntsman!”

Chaos broke loose in the court, as a hubbub of shocked exclamations spread across the room. But, just above it all, Red could be heard as she blasted; “Now you look here, WOLF! When MY FAMILY hires an ASSASIN, we don’t choose someone like the HUNSTMAN!”

Everything stopped. Entirely. There was not a sound in the entire room, and for a few seconds, everyone was so appalled that they became speechless. Except, that is, the Judge. Her raspy voice rang across the court- “That’s a confession! THAT IS A CONFESSION! Bailiff, arrest her!”

In the back of the room, a giant commotion broke out as the Huntsman himself tried to make it to the doors. This upstart was immediately followed by a terrific THUMP, that of the door guard’s nightstick on the Huntsman’s stomach. A pained “Oooooohhh!” issued from the crowd. In seconds, the guards were upon Little Red, too, and she screamed all the way to the floor.

The end of the story is quite obvious- I, of course went to jail- for possession, breaking and entering, and conspiracy to eat. But, of course, not murder. Little Red got slammed with three conspiracy convictions and is currently on trial; People Vs. Little Red Riding Hood and the Three Little Pigs, for the First Degree Murder of the Big Bad Wolf. The Huntsman, too, got his fair share of jail time, for assault with a deadly weapon and, of course, conspiracy.

So, what happened to the Ginger Dust? We recovered it, but don’t ask me how- just talk to Little Red herself- she can be found banging a tin cup on the outside window of her 6X8 cell at the county jail- the cell right next to mine.

Stick a Fork in Me: I'm Done! (With This Part Anyway)

Apheresis is over. Tuesday was day one. It took me 6 hours but I collected 4 units of stem cells. Yesterday, was day two. I was only there 4 hours, but collected 7 units. The total needed was 8, so I'm done.

Today is a day of rest. Kind of like an after-the- Oscars party, but on Ambien. I'd like to thank my husband for being there for me when all I could do was whine. My son for holding my hand and healing my aches and pains. My agent...wait a minute, I don't have an agent yet. Oh, yea, Tran, my nurse, who seemed to know what I needed before I asked for it. ZZZzzzzzzzz.

(I'm asleep now. You know, doing the ancient eyelid inspection. Counting sheep. Dreaming of Freud...whatever. Meanwhile, Jacob does his homework--Mexican War Timeline pictured above.)

Apheresis: Day Two

Only about four hours on the machine. I was so tired from Nuepogen, I could've slept under a bridge. But the catheter kept clogging when I'd lay horizontal. I cannot sleep if I'm afraid I'm going to fall over. So I'd slip into a sitting up coma and awaken just in time to realize I wasn't really falling off the bed. Later Jacob got in bed with me, and we watched Star Trek together. But I never slept.

Bone aches are a very real and terrible side effect of this process. Today, I came armed with pain meds, which deadened the pain. That way I could sit still.

Jacob took over for during the first half so Kirk could do a meeting. Jacob did an awesome job. All Jacob has to do is lay is hand on the back of my neck or my arm and the pain disappears. He has a healing touch much like Kirk's. How blessed I am to have two guys with healing touch to watch over me.

My nurse, Tran, was terrific. Every day she shows me the bag of stem cells I've collected. It looks a lot like blood, but darker. She says I'm to call in the morning before my 9AM Nuepogen shot to see if I need to do another day of apheresis.

The next step is high dose chemo. So I'm not exactly eager to go on to the next step. I think I just want it to be over with.

Tonight, I actually feel pretty good. Thanks to pain pills and Ativan. And Jacob being here.

Jacob actually worked on two major projects right beside the bed during the apheresis. Such a good boy.

The Meaning of Life: Lisa's Answer

I've got some thoughts on the "meaning of life" question.

The answer is... I don't have the answer. My understanding is that I would only have that answer if I created myself, which I didn't. God created me. God has that answer. And I am content in that knowledge.

I think it is more important to have a meaningful life. My life is meaningful because God gives me love, strength, joy, patience, and comfort. In turn, I can (within my human limitations) send these things on through to the people around me.

Having a meaningful life has helped me to:
--enjoy snuggle time with my son,
--share laughing with my sister, who understands a part of me in ways that no one else does
--achieve a deeper and richer relationship with my husband
--find humor in not-so-humorous situations, and
--hang in there when I'm scared.

Thank God for all of this!

The Meaning of Life: Chris' Answer

That meaning of life question is something I've had bouncing around in my head since Mom passed last year. I still haven't come up with a good answer for the "meaning" of it all, but I read about an interview David Letterman did with musician Warren Zevon after he had been diagnosed with cancer and given 2 months to live. Letterman asked Zevon if there was anything he understood now, facing his own mortality, that he didn't before. Zevon replied, "Just how much you're supposed to enjoy every sandwich."

Right now, that "enjoy every sandwich" line is something that I am trying to remember as I go through my day to day life. You can't always be planning and worrying about tomorrow. If you do, you miss it all. Of course, no planning leads to park benches and soup lines. I'm trying to find that fine line between always living in the moment and always worrying about tomorrow. I think somewhere in between is where happiness lies.

As far as the "meaning", I really don't think it's something we are ever suppose to know. I think of it as the "answer" to life. I see life as a test. If you know the answer to the test before you take the class, how much are you really gonna learn ? I think we are suppose to learn all we can in Life 101.

Chris' mom, Coleen, passed away a year ago from cancer. Chirs is a beloved cousin of Kirk's. Thanks, Chris, for your words of wisdom on this, the one year anniversary of your mom's passing. I miss her very much, as I know the entire family does.

The Meaning of Life: Asima's Answer

Life is like one of those Six Flags roller-coaster rides that starts going smoothly then suddenly shifts position and turns upside down. I think the meaning of life is to learn and to experience; and to experience one has to be brave and strong like a fighter.

Asima was diagnosed with Lymphoma when she was 37 weeks pregnant. She is now in remission. Asima is the wife of a co-worker of Kirk's. She also added that an optimistic attitude has been most helpful in healing her cancer.

Thank you, Asima. Keep up the good fight.

Stem Cell Collection Started Today

The Neupogen did its magic, so that I was able to begin aphoresis, or stem cell collection, today. I am eager because the sooner I am done with this process, the sooner I can stop taking Neupogen. Neupogen is causing me some bone pain as well as weakening me such that I sleep much of the day. Aphoresis should take only 3 hours, but my ports were clogged. So it took me 7 hours. I could have done it with a clogged port, if I were able to lay perfectly still on my side for 3 hours. But bone pain made that nearly impossible. (I forgot to bring the pain pills from home.) Eventually, since I did have an Ativan or two, I was able to be still. But they decided to unclog my port, which added the extra time. Six hours later and I was finally done.

The nurses were very kind, through all of this. There was a man next to me, getting the same procedure, who kept everyone laughing with his Texas talk. I bonded especially with a Vietnamese nurse named Tran. She was wonderful, kept telling me the clog was not my fault. Just one of those things.

They had little televisions to keep you occupied, though I tried to read the book I found in the library that was acceptable to me, Sideways. Yes, it's the novel that inspired the movie. I'm enjoying it, but cannot read long without falling asleep. In this case, falling asleep would have helped, but I kept waking up from the pain.

Kirk was a real life-saver, since he rubbed the places that hurt. It did help. He also brought food, though I wasn't all that hungry. However, it forced me to eat and get my body out of a low sugar state.

When I left, I was freezing. Could not stop shivering. They say the injected meds do that because they are not at body temp.

Needless to say, tomorrow should be better, since I'll come armed with my pain pills and warm clothes. I am taking the pain pills now and it is diminishing the pain. Without pain pills, the bone pain is very bad. Similar to pains I had giving birth.

Pictures tomorrow.

Jacob will be here any minute. I'm so excited to see him. He is such a sweet boy. And I love him so much.

The Meaning of Life: Forrest's Answer

7

Nuepogen: Day Two (Cont.)

After getting about two hours beauty sleep, I feel much better. I have made a revelation. No matter how bad you feel from Nuepogen, if you take a pain pill and sleep...it's not so bad.

I'm excited about my blood test tomorrow, since that's when I'll find out if I've had enough Nuepogen and can start the transferral. Now that I've got a port, that shouldn't hurt much (no needles in the arm for this chick.)

Life's good. Jacob's coming to Houston. I am the happy one.

Pictured above is "Kim's Place," a gaming hang-out for kids Jacob's age at MD Anderson. I think he'll like it.

Party Pictures: Technical Problem

It looks like the pictures that were taken at the party aren't showing up in the blog. Sorry about that. And I'm a bit too tired to figure it out. Jacob's coming tomorrow, maybe he can.

Party Pictures (Finally)

Our next door neighbors, Joe, Jennifer, Jordan and Zenny put together a going away party for me the night before we left for Houston (by way of Corpus Christi.)

Joe, Jen and Zen have been awesome supporters, even before the diagnosis in October. They are good friends, and we treasure them.

A lot of people came to the party. If you click on the group pic, you'll see what I look like with my hair cropped super short. (Some of you were interested, so--Whoop!--there it is.)

Thank you Joe, Jen and Zenny for watering our plants and all that other stuff.

God bless you every one.

A Patch of Sky Just Beyond Our Door

Unusual clouds stacked up like teetering pylons above a palm tree. Feels as if I'm in the St. Thomas again. Wish I were. Believe it or not, this is a pic I took in the courtyard a few steps from our door.

Kaki's Answer: What is Life For?

I believe life is for joy, freedom, happiness and laughter. I believe you should do in life those things that you love and that bring you joy. I believe this is what God wants for us. He wants us to be happy. If you don't know what brings you joy, then you should take the time to find it and commit yourself to it. Follow your passion, enjoy life because life is phenomenal. It's a magnificent journey!

Austin, Texas Dreamin'

6th Street as we were speeding by to Corpus.

Neupogen: Day Two

Slept very well last night after my 2nd shot of Neupogen at 9PM. Woke up feeling okay, not sick. Very little appetite. I keep thinking--hey, some nice eggs and bacon might be good, then I think...no, forget it: how about a glass of juice.

The shots are really easy to give; I don't have to find a vein or anything. They do make me feel sleepy, so if I'm going to go for a walk I better go now. My next shot is at 9AM again. That's when I'll flush out the port with Heprin. Kirk does that since it's a bit hard for me to reach. I could probably do it in the mirror in a pinch.

Neupogen: Day One

Started feeling tired about an hour after my first shot of Neupogen. I fell asleep on the extra bed, listening to Kirk on his lap top. At 1PM, we headed to MDA for a class on catheter management. While waiting for it to start, I fell asleep again. The class was in a cramped room with a nurse whose accent told me she was from Jamaica. I hoped Kirk was listening as she explained daily injections of Heprin to keep the thing from clogging. Next, how to change the dressing on the thing. Meanwhile, bone aches set in. All I can eat at lunch is half a bowl of soup and a Root Beer, to help with the nausea. Another shot of Neupogen tonight, and I'm sure I'll feel even worse.

They tell me that means it's working. I'll be able to stop the shots when they get enough cells on Monday or Tuesday.

They say there's a full eclipse of the moon today. I wish I were up to it.

Our Man David

Looking good, David!

Goddess and Protector of Animals

Ina, many thanks for taking our sweet babies for a while.

Kirk and His Mommy

Beers were distributed within seconds of arrival. What a great host Evangel is!

Kirk's Temporary Work Space

Kirk bent over the bed in the extra room, catching up on e-mails. Soon he'll move in next to me in the dining room. Traffic made his errands last night take 3 hours!

Fearless Pigeons

Center of pic is a plastic owl Kirk bought at Lowe's. As you can see, the pigeons are flipping him off with their little middle talon. The fight for the balcony begins.

Our New Place

Bedroom at morning: new apartment.

The Catheter on Me

Hurts only a little today--24 hours later.

Martin None Too Happy in His Carrying Case on Trip to Corpus

Evangel reports that Martin now sits on the windowsill looking out on the luscious world of Corpus, conversing with Muffin (Ina's ancient outside cat.)

He was a good traveller, all the same.

BTW, Cassy is doing well, too, having found her place as to pecking order beneath Babe, but somewhere above Puck.

Catheter Teaching Mannequin

This fellow showed me where the catheter would go in. On him, however, it is under the right collar bone. I don't know what the other two patches are for. He's got a towel wrapped around him because people keep stealing his pants!