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!

Catheter Inserted Friday A.M.

The long white part was inserted (under the influence of double Versed) into a spot just below my left collar bone.

This is not for injections, but to take out my blood once it has enough stem cells from my bone marrow in it for harvesting.

I start the shots of Neupogan this morning that will begin pushing the cells I need out of my bone marrow and into my blood. The blood gets really thick from this procedure, so they needed something wider (like this catheter) to take out my blood (next week.)

Results and New Apartmentment

As I'm looking around me now, I see french doors that open onto a balcony. It's dark now, but I know there's a red bud tree out just beyond the railing. The living room is clean and obviously newly carpeted. I can see the kitchen over the bar and the doors left and right to the bedrooms. I am so glad that tomorrow when I am recovering from the catheter insertion that I'll have a King-sized bed to sleep in.

The weather here is just beautiful, too. Good moving weather. The grounds here are luscious. Two ponds and a walking path surrounding. But somehow it doesn't look like something you'd find in Dallas. Lots of trees, even pines.

Tomorrow, cathether insertion. I'm not too thrilled about it, but it's necessary to remove my thick blood. That is, my blood will be thick after the stem cells from my bone marrow have moved into my blood. I start the Neupogen shots Saturday. They say I'll feel as if I have the flu because my white count goes up. Bone pain is common, as well. A blood test on Monday will tell whether or not there's enough to start harvesting the stem cells I'll donate to myself.

Today was a big day for other reasons. I talked to my team: a very knowledgable and nice group of people. I think I saw a total of six people who's concern for my health and welfare during this transplant is paramount. It was flattering and cool.

But I know pretty soon I'm likely to start feeling a bit sick. I'm hoping not, but...well, you'll be the first to know.

My reports are good. I have only 2% cancer cells in the sample they took during the biopsy. That was at 20%! My counts are all good--platelets, glucose, all that stuff: normal.

A Room Without A View

Looks can, as we all know, be deceiving. The apartment I thought I wanted turned out to be an apartment I'd never want. No balcony, only windows overlooking a beautiful parking lot. Entry is accomplished by way of a walk down a long Texas-sized mosquitoe infested hallway. The leasing agent listened and gave us another apartment complex within walking distance to check out.

What a difference a walk down the street makes. The place has two fitness centers and a long sidewalk looping around two lakes inside the property. A red bud outside the balcony. I immediately did the Wayne Dyer thing and "intended" to switch to this apartment (and soon.)

Intention always works, so this morning we're in at least on paper. I'll put the new address on the website soon. Brompton Courts will not be it.

The CAT scan was an easy experience. The only suprise: an IV in the arm took longer than usual since my veins have turned tiny with so many needles these past months. They used it to give me iodine, which made me feel warm all over (but not necessarily in a good way.)

Last night, I had my third water dream in a row. But last night was much more significant because I did have an actual WAVE dream. Something's brewing. I don't know what. But it's always something with wave dreams. More on this later. I'm off to see Dr. Popat and hear my results.

Cat Scan Tomorrow & Transplant Doctor Visit

At 7AM tomorrow morning, I'll have a Cat Scan of my head and neck area. I have no idea why. But I'm sure it has something to do with making sure I have no bone lesions, since today I had my long bones x-rayed. I had an MRI for the second opinion back in November, but a Cat Scan is different somehow. No eating 3 hours before--like I'm going to get up at 4 in the morning and have a little snack! I'm hoping I won't have problems with clausterphobia like I did with the MRI at first. But Kirk will be there to get me through it even if there is a problem. That's what worked last time for the MRI.

I'll be seeing Dr. Popat at 9:30AM, and I'm hoping he'll have the results of all these tests I've been doing. I also have some questions to ask him, so tonight I'll be making a list. A kind of enchantment falls upon Kirk and me when we are in the presence of these doctors. All of our questions fade to the back of our minds, leaving us without questions--and, thus, without answers.

Friday morning, the catheter will be inserted. I took a picture of the thing, but can't get it to upload! I'm going to try again. Next week, I'll have my computer at the new apartment--maybe the internet will be able to handle my pics then.

Update

The BM biopsy went much better than last time, though I was not able to take Kirk into the room with me (as I had been promised by Dr. Popat.) I DID, however, get to take Versed, which was a lot like drinking five martinis all at once. It was all good after Versed.

The biopsy also went well because I had learned some new relaxation techniques since my last one, and I used them. I even went to my "healing place"--a bank by a river at Middle Earth.

I am now a bit sore. I slept much of the afternoon, so I'm not really tired. I am moving slow when walking. Felt good enough to make dinner, though.

We got the internet to work both at MDA and here at the condo. But the condo signal is not strong enough for me to get pictures downloaded to this blog. Bummer. Nor can I adequately edit the last set of pics I put on this website. Oh, well.

The catheter insertion had to be rescheduled because I took an Advil yesterday. I had no idea when I popped that pill for my headache that I'd be re-arranging the schedule by doing it. I'm actually kind of relieved. Today was enough of a DAY for me to have another DAY tomorrow. If you know what I mean.

Bone Marrow Biopsy Today

I have several appointments today, but the only one I care about is the Bone Marrow Biopsy. Gave 11 vials of blood this morning for analysis! A jug of urine and then a cup (who knows why theky can't get enough from the jug.) Just finished x-rays of my chest. Then, my next appointment: some kind of interview to teach me how to give myself the shots for harvesting my bone marrow. I think. I wonder if they'll give me a row to hoe.

But the only one I care about is the biopsy at 1PM. Had to fight for partial sedation with Versed. I'll take that about 30 mins. before in syrup form. Then, the fun begins. I really don't like bm biopsies. They suck. You lay on your belly and next thing you know somebody's digging into your hip with a long needle. Maybe this time, I won't even know what's going on. For this sort of thing, I like it that way.

After that, all done. Don't think I'll be eating bar-be-que tonight. It's chicken and brocolli with asparagus (Jacob's favorite food--joking) for me.

The weather is still fantastic here in Houston.

A Mish-Mash of Pics

The Myeloma Center at MD Anderson. (I wasn't supposed to be able to take this picture...but nobody stopped me.)

A view of trees from the condo.


Condo bedroom in the morning.

Okay, so here I am in the new wig. (I don't even look like myself--oh, well.)

Cassy with her happy face on--in the car to Corpus.

Internet Angst, Sister Joy

The condo is great (in a slightly beat up way,) but no internet access. So Kirk and I drive to MDA (less than a mile and a half away,) thinking we can use Kirk's laptop there. No luck there. The laptop won't connect or there's nothing to connect to. Called both the MDA help desk (no help there) and Kirk's work help desk (same as MDA.) So now I'm at a cyber center at MDA, unable to download pics off my camera, but still able to write my daily blog.

Here's one really great thing: waking up with huge oak trees peeking over the little fenced-in back porch of our condo. AND it's actually a little bit cool here is Houston--weatherwise. ALSO, my sister called while I was at SuperTarget, which I walked to. Add all those things together: oak trees, cool weather, walking distance to groceries, and getting to talk to my sister--and you've got JOY.

Hopefully tomorrow...I'll be able to bring my downloaded pics.

on the road again

Arrived in Corpus yesterday to leave animals in the care of sister in law and visit. Heading toward Houston today. Going the scenic route. All is well. Pics Monday.

Going Away Party (From My Cat's Perspective)

Martin (my cat) says:

There was a going away party for Sherry at Joe's house next door, but I wasn't invited. Isn't that nice.

A bunch of Sherry's friends from the neighborhood had cake and ice cream, but I didn't get any at all (though I could smell it all the way over here at THE HOUSE.)

Sherry got presents, but I didn't get any presents. (But I snatched some pink fluff from one of the packages when she got home. It didn't taste all that good. There were some tasty-smelling candles in it, but candles are never tasty.)

I could hear everyone was laughing (since I have EXTREMELY good hearing and smell, in case you're new to this planet and don't know that cats are TALENTED,) but I didn't get their jokes.

Hugs were shared, but...well, I didn't want any.

I know their leaving for some place called Houston and MD Anderson, and they think I think I'm going since their taking me to Corpus Christi, but I KNOW I'll be staying with someone named Ina who's got a BIG DOG named Baby (go figure) and a LITTLE DOG named Puck (???) I wonder if these dogs named Baby and Puck will become MY DOGGY like Cassy is MY DOGGY.

Anyway, tomorrow's a long day. I better go practice staring contemptuously at MY DOGGY since I'll be staring contemptuously at MY DOGGY all day tomorrow in the car.

Joy.

Dreams of Water

I have dreams of water that tell of things to come. Since October when I was getting shuffled around from one specialist to another, my dreams of animals and houses, too, gave me information that helped me to cope with the confusion. But my dreams of water--and the more specific wave dream, as it's called--always foretells of change. Last night, I had such a dream.

I want to tell the dream, but before I do I should say that I discovered through my therapist and some research online that others have wave dreams that also always foretell change. The changes that arise are universally among wave dreamers of major importance. I remember reading about one women whose wave dream foretold her unexpected return to prison from being on probation.

My last major wave dream happened two days before I was diagnosed with cancer.

In my dream last night, I was in a mobile home with my mom and my sister that was parked in a state park with pine trees all around. A huge storm was kicking up outside with thunder and hurricane force winds. I opened the door to see a large ill-formed funnel cloud angled across a mottled black and gray sky. I suggested we flip over the couch and get under it to protect ourselves in the collapse. We did and underneath we clung to each other fearfully, forming a hug circle. The mobile home began to toss as flood waters I knew were clear and clean washed the mobile home down a gully through the trees. The tornado winds struck the sides of the home, condensing it to the size of a pop-up trailer with nothing popped up. We floated on a while longer in this cocoon-like RV, then came to rest at a patch of dry earth behind a cabin. But beyond the cabin, the flood raged on, washing everything on down. We were saved.

In dreams like this, I've learned to look at what is different to understand what it's telling me. Usually in wave dreams, I'm alone and, if there are others, they don't see the flood waters or the wave coming at them. Since my mom, my sister and I huddled under the couch together in a hug, it's clear that I am not alone at all, but supported by their love. Also, the flood does not injure any of us in any way. We don't even get wet. A dangerous collapse threatens us, but we remain safe because of my suggestion to get under the couch. But, also, the mobile home helps, too. It is a rather flexible home! The water is clear, which usually means healing. Therefore, the dream is clearly telling me something scary and unbelievable is going to happen, for which I'll have the support of my family, but I won't be harmed. In the dream I had before the diagnosis, I was almost washed out the door. Only my cat did not survive and was washed away as I saved just my dog, which I held in my arms. This time I held my mom and sister in my arms, but not because water or wind threatened, but for emotional support. This is also significant because the night before I dreamed again of my mom and my sister. Family, once again, is so important to me these days.

I wonder what the scary and unbelievable thing will be that happens in the days to come?

Time Line for Autologous Transplant (Updated)

Week 1: Tests/Catheter/Labs/BM Biopsy/Doctor's Appointments
Week 2: Stem Cell Collection/High-Dose Chemotherapy
Week 3: Rest
Week 4: Transplant
Week 5-6: Follow up

The transplant coordinator called today and gave me my appointments for next week. She reminded me that one of the things I'll be doing is giving myself injections to start the mobilization of cells to my blood. This will make it possible for collection of stem cells to begin during week 2.

Stem-cell collection can take more or less time depending on how quickly the cells respond and mobilize to the blood. They need to collect a certain amount, so that also affects timing.

After the transplant, engraftment, or when white blood cells return to normal range, takes 8-14 days. During this time, in order to be discharged, my white blood counts, platelets and red blood counts must have recovered adequately.

MD Anderson always sends my appointments via My MDAnderson, a web-based appointment system. But they haven't given me any specific appointments, yet.

Insurance Love

My insurance sent authorization today by letter for "tandem autologous stem cell transplantation followed by non myeloablative related allogenic stem cell transplantation." They've given me until Valentine's Day 2008 to do it, the sweeties.

I must be special.

Since they've authorized $230,000 just to save my life.

And it must be love.

(Pond Slime With Rebarb, '07)

Sunstone Cancer Support Centers

In December, I went to a cancer retreat at a place called Sunstone Cancer Support Center in Tuscon. I chose Sunstone because Andrew Weil recommended it in Spontaneous Healing, but also because it was free.

Sunstone does ask for a deposit of $150 when you register, but you get back the check at the end of the retreat. They warned, as well, that they would ask for a donation at the end. But no one ever did in person. It came in the form of a note on an envelope taped to my cabin door on Sunday. I was under the influence of dex while there, so I didn't want to make any decisions.

A month or so later, after I realized and remembered the benefit of attending the retreat, I sent in my check. Of course, for some people there's the cost of the flight. Whatever the case, Sunstone does so much, they deserve all the support they can get monetarily or otherwise.

I remember how I transformed while at Sunstone. I arrived feeling overwhelmed and old. Forty-three is not all that old, but I felt as if I were 90. On Saturday night, five of us (three of them pictured here; the fourth, sits to my left in the group pic) decided we needed to make a mad run somewhere. One of us had never been to Walmart! So, of course, we had to go there. We only had a truck, so three of us piled in the back with blankets, while the one from Canada (because she's special) rode shotgun, next to the driver, wearing a pink angora hat since she was bald from treatments. Busting down the freeway, the three of us in back tried to take pictures in the dark as hair whipped around our faces. We had a buttload of fun at Walmart, but the kicker was when we got back to Sunstone. There, we piled out of the truck with our treasures, laughing hysterically. It just so happened an elderly gentleman (the facilitators husband) was pulling in just as we did. He didn't say hi and actually seemed angry with us. Later, we found out he'd reported to his wife that a bunch of teenage hooligans had just pulled up in the parking lot and were probably up to no good.

I had gone from a 90-year-old cancer patient to a teenage hooligan. It was a wonderful transformation. For this reason, I'm sure I'll be going again, when the transplant is done.

But for now, I want to tell you about Sunstone because it helps me remember the joy I had there. For one, Sunstone is a beautiful property. It's not large, but it's filled with beautiful twisted oaks and dessert plants. Mountains overlook Sunstone from the distance. The colors on those mountains are stunning. The rooms are homey. My shower was so big I felt as if I could have played handball in it. I had a window with a view of a large tree. The food is awesome and healthy. A huge plus is the therapies they offer: cranialsacrial, healing touch, Quicong, and on. These are private sessions that will change your life. They do ask for a small donation ($30?) for the therapies, but that's not even a requirement. The best thing about the place, by far, was the people I met who had cancer. It's been two months since the retreat and we are still keeping in touch by e-mail and phone calls. Despite the fact that people in the group were in so many different places and had so many different cancers, we bonded.

It helped me not to feel so alone. Now, if talking in a room for hours and learning "alternative" ways to breath, deal, heal, and think is not something you'd enjoy, you better not go. But I think everyone got something they needed from the retreat. Both men and women.

For more information about upcoming retreats or to donate, go to www.sunstonehealing.org.

What is Life For: My Mom's Answer

My mom (←pictured w/ me, age 2?) recently wrote a paper at my request answering the question: What is life for? Here is what she wrote:

Life is for the glorification of God. My early Christian training has that statement branded on my brain. In a much more complicated and broader sense, I still believe that.

Life is a gift from our Creator. It is impossible for me to imagine the Creator or the Universe and those regions far beyond of which we have no concept. At this time in my life I say, “So what?” By now it is very obvious that this Creator loves us/me. I am so content with that. He can look like or resemble anything He wants.

My dad (Grandfather Fred with me, Grandma Helen→) always said that God is the Alpha and the Omega, and it says that in the Bible. I never really “got” that until recent years. Now I am comforted to know that with God there is no beginning (Alpha) or end (Omega). I don’t know why this would/could be so. I just feel it.

Life is about that other “L” word, love. Life is for loving. Every time we forgive we get a little more insight into what Love is. God is Love. That is as far as I have ever been able to go with my reasoning.

When we get the knack of forgiving others we soon find out that somewhere along that line of experience, we forgave ourselves. Loving ourselves happens then, making loving others a piece of cake and oddly enough, a lot of fun.

Life, of course, is for living. We take the Creator’s gift and we do our best at the living of it. We become aware. We find now more fascinating than before and after.

When I was a youngster I thought of us people as being created for entertainment for God. “He” was lonely so he created us to fumble around down here on earth while He watched from up there in heaven. I figured that He gave us free will so we could win/lose at life and praise Him or ask Him for help. Then He could feel camaraderie with His creations. That concept seems so narrow to me now.

Nowadays I would say that, basically, life is for living to the hilt or more accurately, as far as we dare go. That’s where faith comes in, the daring to risk at living and loving. I think of it as flying through the air with my mouth open, not worrying about the bugs that might fly into my mouth.

Babies are born with that flying concept and bust through life learning to talk, walk and risk until they learn something different. Sometimes it takes years of practice to get the concept back and includes letting go of a lot of preconceived notions about what life is for. God doesn’t want us to throw our “gifts” away foolishly; at least that is what the Bible says in different ways.

What is life for? Learning and practicing are certainly part of the game plan, carried out with courage and curiosity, faith and joy, all in the name of Love. Any bugs collected while flying are just part of the journey.

Final note (from Sherry): Evangel, Uncle Pat and Aunt Dot, Aunt Daphne, ANYONE in the PARIS, WILDER or related clans who'd like to submit a statement answering the question: WHAT IS LIFE FOR? please send to my e-mail at swilder@ccccd.edu. I'll publish them, if they're not obscene (just joking.) Send old pictures, too, if possible with your statement.

What is Life For: My Dad's Answer

In a recent e-mail, my dad wrote the following as his answer to a question I'd been asking about the purpose of life. He also sent some old photographs of his life as a boy growing up in rural San Antonio. (The boy on the bike is my dad→)

What is life all about? That's the big mystery. Everyone has to face this question in their own way.

I haven't a clue about this. But, a universe without life seems rather pointless. But, none of us has a real choice about the matter. As you may know, I almost died when I was born. I had collapsed lungs. My mom's doctor tried a brand new (at that time) experimental treatment...helium to cause my lungs to inflate so that I could breath normally. That worked. But, I might have been one of those who were not as fortunate. So, I could go on living. So, one day, we find ourselves living (with only in a vague memory... in my case when I was in the 1st grade ... the second time ... the first time was so bad that I simply don't remember it.)

My best friend in high school drown in a pool at a Student-Council party with me and dozens of others being near by (at the edge of the pool). He apparently stayed at the bottom of the pool during underwater tag. Someone said, "let's eat." So, we all jumped out of the pool (and left Roger at the bottom of the pool who died there.)

When I conducted the ocean-education trips, I had a student die on a scuba dive. I almost died myself on a dive (when my air ran out at 50-ft underwater.) So, my student died while I kept on living. Why didn't God intervene in these cases? They were not evil people who were somehow out of God's favor.

I don't really trust those who say that they know what life is all about. Maybe they do ... maybe not. In most cases, those who say that they do want to con you into giving them some of what you already have so that their life is better (at the expense of your life being worse.)

Maybe some day we will find out...but for now life is a path that leads to an unknown destination. Or, maybe we just go from one life to another without any memory of what went before? All we do know is that we are people ... not just animals. We have a unique ability (among animals) to know some amount about truth (what we call scientific truth) so that we can act better on that better truth. It's better than being an animal that knows nothing about truth and who is a complete victim of whatever befalls them.
(←Grandma Jerry and her bulldogs w/ dad)
As you know, my mother's cancer was not discovered until it was much too late for any kind of treatment that had a chance of leading to remission. Barbara's cancer was discovered at a very early stage. So, her treatments had a high chance of being successful. She did not delve
into the world of alternative medicines. She did what her doctor's recommended. She is a statistic of one ... the statistics of the rest of the pack of cancer victims did not really matter. She did what seemed best. It worked out well for her. My dad's cancer was brought on by his smoking (as well as his other lung diseases). In the end, he too could not take advantage of today's medicine. He lived at an earlier time. He tried to find fault with his doctors and his new wife .. but they were not the cause of his suffering and death. None of us will live forever ... at least not as we live now. We all have to deal with each day ... a day at a time and be grateful that today went okay or well.

We have a lot of cancer in my side of the family. I have friends here who have a lot of trouble with heart disease. I don't have that problem...that not part of my genetic profile. Others have a lot of problems with kidneys. I have friends who have had lots of organ transplants. In no time, they are back to normal. Most everyone I know accepts life at it comes ... and trusts doctors as being the best way to know what to do when adversity strikes ... as it must strike all of us some day.

Simplicity

My favorite book of all time is The Hobbit. One reason: it's one book that I can say I've actually read through about a dozen times from start to finish, sometimes silently to myself and sometimes aloud to students. Second reason: the character of Bilbo. To this hobbit who loves home but decides to pull up some distant aspect of himself and go adventuring, I can definitely relate. Three, the story for me never gets tired. It's Tolkien's talent of writing, especially his craft in the transformation of Bilbo, that makes the story special--not a children's tale at all, but a metaphor of the pragmatic nature of courage and the passing of beauty from the earth that is worth fighting for.

One of my favorite moments in The Hobbit happens near the beginning. Though the night before Bilbo is visited by a rag tag group of dwarves who convince him to join their quest to win back gold stolen from their homeland by a dragon, Bilbo oversleeps the next morning, missing the dwarves early start. By this, Bilbo convinces himself the night's planning session was a dream. He spends the morning cleaning house, but does not clean the mantle where a note from Gandalf, a wizard, admonishes Bilbo to join them by a certain hour with bags packed and ready to leave a few hours down the road.

Since Bilbo never sees the note, the time slips by. Gandalf shows up to bring him to the appointed place where the dwarves await him, but Bilbo has not packed. At that moment, Bilbo makes a choice, essentially between two things: his creature comforts and the adventure of a lifetime (as the cliche goes.) He chooses adventure, running to meet his new companions without even the most essential items. Not even a handkerchief.

When I started compiling my list of items to take to Houston for the transplant, I realized we'd have to rent a trailer in order to fit everything in. The apartment is furnished with everything a girl could need, but I wanted more. My special pots and pans. My special chair. My own towels and bedspreads. It would be like a mini-move to a new house.

That's when I remembered the story of Bilbo. How I admire him for going light on his journey, even though he was kind of forced to do so. Then I looked around my house. Did I really want to take with me all this stuff that I had grown so weary of? I mean, possessions. None of them seem important any more, since cancer. There was so much more to life. My family, for one. Friends. And the peace of a beautiful spring day. Worth fighting for and getting out into.

So, I decided to choose simplicity. To test myself with hobbit resolve. Casting off the things that may be holding me down and keeping me from moving on into a more adventurous space of choices. To be free of things.