A little community called Los Angeles.

It’s been quite a while since my last post, and of course that was about my last travel adventure with my family.  Since then, I have started my med school program at Bastyr.  It’s been quite an adventure in itself, but I thought I would spare you all the details of my life in biochemistry, anatomy and physiology.

As most of you know, one of the main reasons that I chose to go into medicine is to be able to combine my love of travel and international volunteering with my newly honed doctor skills.  In October, I heard about a group called Natural Doctors International (NDI), that was going to have a medical brigade going to Nicaragua in December.  “Sounds fun, but I’m only a first year ND student.  I probably can’t go yet.”  “Sure you can!”  “Seriously?  Where do I sign up?”  That was about the extent of my conversation with the girl promoting the program at a table in the hallway during “Club Day”.   It was “sign-up now, ask questions later.”  I honestly didn’t know what I was going to get to do there.  I had only had one observation shift at our school clinic and basically I just sat in the corner and didn’t speak unless spoken to.  I thought it would be the same in Nicaragua, maybe learning to take temps and blood pressures too.  Whatever, I was going to get preceptor hours too so I was excited.  I grabbed my friend, Anna and told her she was going with.  Before we knew it, we were finishing finals on Friday the 12th and heading to the airport a few hours later.

The island of Ometepe is in the middle of Lake Nicaragua.  It consists of two volcanos, the active Concepción, and the dormant Maderas.  We stayed in the little town of Los Angeles at the base of the active one.  Only a few blocks long and wide, dirt roads and lots of horses, cows, chickens, pigs, and dogs roaming about.  There were about 14 of us that came down to work with Drs. Tabby Parker and Dawson Farr.  They own a ranch near the clinic, where they have their homes as well as the NDI office.  It has a beautiful view of the volcano with all kinds of fruit trees and animals roaming arounds.  A bit of paradise, for sure.

From the get-go we got right into things.  We learned how to do a full intake physical from head to toe… in Spanish to boot!  Not only would I learn to take temps and blood pressures, but looking in eyes, ears, mouths, feel for nodes, listen to the lungs, heart, and stomach, palpate the liver and spleen, test reflexes and nerves on the feet, just to name a few things.  Whoa!  I was going to do all this on someone, for real?  Yep.  When Monday came, we arrived at the clinic to about 17 people waiting for us, some come as early as 4am to wait outside.  This we were told was a “light” day.  Our day was broken into two 4 hour shifts with job rotations every 2 hours.  One team would start out doing physicals while another team would be with one of the doctors, or Lilliam, the clinic psychologist.  When we were with the doctors, it was great to be a part of the conversation.  We weren’t there just to observe, we got to ask questions, were asked questions ourselves, and we were able to assist in coming up with and preparing remedies in the forms of supplements, tinctures, and homeopathy… whatever we had on hand.  Everything I know about herbs and homeopathy I learned right there on the spot.  It was great!  The doctors really cared about our learning and never once made us feel like we were in the way.  We saw patients who had back pains (lots of field workers), radiating pains, stomach issues, infections, lots of diabetes, and dehydration.  I was on hydration patrol.  As soon as a patient would say they only drink about 2 cups of water a day, I would grab a glass of water and say, “here you go.”  I wouldn’t ask, I would just give.

When we weren’t in the clinic, our evenings were spent in class at the ranch learning about the history and culture of Nicaragua and our little community as well as globalization and its impact on global health, especially where we were.  Globalization isn’t really news to us, but it brings on a whole new perspective when you are meeting the people whom this effects.  For me and many on this brigade, this isn’t just a trip to help out in a small, rural clinic in a developing country, there is so much more to it.  It’s getting to know the community, the way of life, what things cost when you make $2 a day and how globalization continues to keep the poor, poor.

One of our assignments was to work in pairs and we were each given a fictional family and their living situation. Typically mom, dad (usually a field worker), and a couple of kids.  Dad would bring home 50 cordobas a day which is about $2.  So what do you buy for a family on that budget when they need to eat and perhaps a child is ill and needs medication?  For $2, you might get some rice, a tomato, onion, a little soap and perhaps 2 days worth of medication to get you along until dad gets paid again.  It really puts things in perspective.  All the goods that we purchased were going to be give to families in the community who are in need.

At the end of our nights we would retire to our homestay families.  My host mom, Carolina was so welcoming and kind.  She was also a great cook… a little too good.  Every meal, my roommate, Ruth and I were greeted with a mound of food on our plate.  So much that I could rarely ever finish… and I am one who doesn’t want to waste food or insult by not finishing.  When I would ask for less food, it was only just slightly less.  Oh well.   Typical meals consisted of rice and beans, plantains, and maybe chicken.  Because we were paying guests, we also got fruit, and fishcakes (for breakfast) as well, a bit of a luxury.

Life in our house was modest.  Ruth and I shared a bedroom and it had its own bathroom.  A toilet but no running water so flushing, washing, and bathing were all done with buckets.  There were two other bedrooms shared between about 6 other members of the family, a main gathering room and a kitchen, though some cooking was still done outside.  At night the town was quiet except for the barking dogs, crowing roosters and the 4am church bells across the street that sounded more like a fire alarm… and they rang for service EVERY morning!  Needless to say, sleep was not achieved by me.  One night in particular I was just about to turn the light out when I saw a huge spider on the wall inches above my pillow.  I freaked (what a surprise), and Ruth tried to keep calm about it but she knew she didn’t want to deal with it either.  In my frozen, hyperventilating state, my host sister came to the rescue.  She laughed and said it wasn’t dangerous but she would be right back.  She came into the room with a machete!  Yes a machete.  One whack and a scream from me and it was over.  Needless to say, I wrapped myself in my cocoon of a sheet and didn’t come out until morning.

Overall the trip was more than I would have ever expected.  I met many great new people, had all kinds of new experiences, and learned more in one week than I have since starting med school six months ago.  Besides learning physicals, I got to give my first shot, mix tinctures, research remedies, do a urine analysis, test blood glucose, give a massage (“I think this patient would be a great candidate for massage.” “Do you know how to?” “I can fake it!”), assist a pap, give some counseling advice, and comfort tears.  These are skills that no text book can teach.  The smiles, hugs, and new friends are the only grade I need to know that this is exactly what I want to do.

Concepción

NDI clinic

Our dispensary.

In the clinic.

Waiting for patients, watching pigs walk by.

Physical exam intake with the chickens.

Do you see the monkey?

Going horseback riding to the volcano and getting to help herd cows too.

Mama Carolina doing what she does best.

My home and family for the week.

T.I.A. – This is Africa

Well, hello there!  It’s been awhile!  Not much has happened in the last few month that was worth reporting… until now.  “What is it?” you ask?  The Zimmermans went to Uganda!  What an adventure that was.  We went for two weeks at the end of March to visit our priest friend, Fr. Muwonge whom my parents have known and supported for 50 years.  We had brought him to Seattle twice to visit, now it was our turn to see his home.

Uganda is a very beautiful country with an amazing contrast of blue skies, lush greenery, and iron red soil.  They grow bananas, bananas, and more bananas of all different kinds.  Tea fields and sugarcane as far as the eye can see.  They are proud to be home to the source of the mighty Nile that exits from Lake Victoria.  Did I mention heaps of wild animals too?  But of most importance are the people.  This is a very friendly country, yes, it does have crime and corruption too but in general, especially in the villages, everyone greets you with a handshake and a smile.  It wasn’t that they were making an exception just for the wazungu (white people), they greet everyone this way.  “Hello!  You are most welcome.”  Would you like to hear about our adventure?  Let me begin….

We arrived in Uganda on Thursday the 20th about 11:30pm.  I had arranged to have us stay at a cozy little guest house that night since it was so late and we told Father Muwonge that we could meet him Friday morning.  Well he and his entourage of nieces, their husbands, and drivers insisted on meeting us at the airport.  It was a bit overwhelming being greeted by all these people so late at night and so dead tired from traveling, but they wanted to make sure we got to our guest house safe and sound… then at 2:30am ( we were still up having beers with the innkeeper), our friends returned to fetch us at take us to another hotel they felt was better, where they were staying (our place was just fine).  “What the…?”  They paid our bill and whisked us away to another place… across from the airport.  My code word to Mitch throughout our trip was “T.I.A.”  I just wanted to sleep.

In the morning, we left for Masaka and Kalisizo, via the big city of Kampala.  The hustle and bustle of the city was very much akin to that of Hanoi, except there were cars everywhere instead of motorbikes.  The only rule of the road is that there is no rules.   We didn’t linger long and continued to Masaka for lunch and Kalisizo after where we stayed for the next 9 days at the Nabisere Hotel.  Kalisizo is a dirt road village where Fr. Muwonge lives and he is known by pretty much everyone there.  What they don’t see too often are white people.  One day we had a little down time so Mitch, dad and I decided to walk around to see what the village had to display.  Little did we suspect that we would be the ones on display.  It felt like everyone stopped in their tracks to look at us.  Kids were the most curious and would run up to us smiling and waving.  Parents would wave from a distance.  People who we came across on the road would greet us with a smile and a “You are welcome.” The people of this town have very little.  They live in very basic homes, some brick, some mud and most about 15-20ft long by maybe  8-10ft wide.  Few were much larger, some were much smaller.  Imagine your whole family living in a home about the size of your average bedroom.  No running water and a good chance no electricity either, ( if you are on the grid, the electricity across the whole country gets shut off constantly for most of the day).  However, these people seemed happy with what they did have.  They have family, friends, life, and a deep belief in God.  Kids make soccer balls out of plastic bags, chase bike tires, and fashion some wheels onto the end of a long stick and push it around as their “toy truck”.  The kids were always running around outside.  No sitting inside with video games for them.

So when you come to a country to visit your priest friend, you undoubtedly will visit a lot of churches, Catholic schools, priests and nuns.  A good part of our time was doing just that.  The first Sunday we were there, Father was to say Mass at a rural church.  Mass was to be at 8am.  However, it was raining that morning so that means Mass doesn’t start at 8am.  After breakfast, we made our way to the “church”, which was just in the classroom of a school.  We arrived about 9:00 and the boarding students began to get ready.  One boy started banging a drum to signify to the nearby villagers to come.  Finally about 10:30 we were ready to begin.  Despite the fact that is was still drizzly out, people walked to the church through the muddy road, some barefoot, but all dressed to the nines.  Everyone dresses up for church.  It’s a far cry from how most dress for church in America, rain or shine.

When we visited schools in the area, we always had a warm welcome.  We had brought with us, 17 soccer balls, 12 frisbees, and about 6 jump ropes.  The kids were ecstatic to receive these, especially the soccer balls.  As we arrived, the children were called out to the yard and all quickly assembled into their proper class line.  Some classes would sing songs to us, others would do some traditional dances and play the drums (what I called the “school band”).  These kids are all very polite, obedient, and everyone wears a uniform, so as not to distinguish the better-off from the poor.  If you can imagine, the classrooms were jammed packed with kids.  Perhaps about 50 or so, sitting on benches that may or may not have a narrow desk attached.  Chalkboards lined the walls and natural light was the only source of light.  At one school, we were able to tour a girls’ dorm.  “Jesus, Meningitis, and Joseph!” is the first thing that came to mind when I saw these rooms.  Triple bunks, spaced about 2.5ft apart with maybe 45 girls in a room.  If you had a suitcase or box of personal belongings, that sat on the bed and you slept next to it.  It’s hard to believe that anyone would find this living situation acceptable but they just make do and go about their day.  When it was time to say good bye to the kids, they all wanted to shake our hands, which at times was a bit overwhelming when you are surrounded by a few hundred children.  They wanted to touch our white skin and many would rub my arms as if the white would come off.  Sorry kids.  I’m sure it was as much a strange experience for them as it was for me.

One day while in Masaka we visited a local hospital.  They had different wards for different purposes, such as the nutrition ward, children’s, maternity, malaria, fistula, etc.  Think back to some of those WWII movies you have seen where there is a large, open recovery room full of those sterile, metal beds, concrete floors and dim lighting.  This is where Uganda is at today.  It was a very eye-opening experience.  Another eye-opening experience we had was the day we visited a slum fishing village.  Maria, Father’s niece is a headmistress of one school and a director of another school.  Part of her job is to check on the children of these remote villages, so she showed us around.  The first thing you won’t forget is the stench.  The second is the rows of shanties, packed together with families living in maybe as little as 50sq ft of space, but what you also won’t forget are the people who smile and greet you, the children who want to follow you, and the peacefulness of the village.  Is it uncomfortable to be an onlooker to this kind of world?  Sure!  You feel for these people and their situation, but it also humbles you; makes you appreciate all that you have, and then you think, “Maybe I have too much.”

We take for granted so much in our life.  We have a roomy, warm house, plenty of food, internet at our fingertips, and clean, pure water coming from our taps.  Many, if not most people in the towns and villages don’t have access to clean water.  There have been organizations who raise money to dig boreholes for water, but these are few and far between.  Everyday walking along the roads, you see countless people (usually the kids) carrying their yellow jerry cans to whatever local water source there is.  Sometimes it might be a few miles down the road to a lake or a stream that animals drink and bathe in.  We even saw people in a lakeside village fetch water from the lake, not 15ft from where a herd of hippos were lounging.  I think to myself, “There is no amount of boiling, iodine tables, or UV lights that will make lake water, shat in by hippos, clean enough to drink…..  But what if that really was my only option???”

Our last night at the Nabisere Hotel, I was awoken about 11pm by what sounded like someone chopping down a tree.  It was coming from the neighbor’s yard just beyond the hotel’s brick wall and bougainvillea bush.  Like most families they had chickens, goats, and pigs.  It was  kind of therapeutic to hear the noises of these farm animals, until that night.  I don’t know what was being chopped before but about 11:30 that night, the chopping stopped then a pig began to squeal, and squeal.  It made horrible noises then, silence, followed by a low gurgle.  I laid in bed, wide awake realizing I just heard a pig’s life end.  I was now ready to leave this town.

No trip to Uganda would be complete without a good ol’ fashioned safari!  We ended out stay with a trip to Queen Elizabeth National Park.  I could not have been more excited.  All I wanted to see was an elephant.  I had been to Ghana before, but no elephant.  India last year, no elephant.  I was determined to see an elephant this time.  As we traveled west towards the park on the Congo border, we saw zebras, warthogs, baboons, and antelope.  But as we neared the park and entered the Ugandan savannah, and dusk was nearing, off in the distance, we saw an elephant.  I lit up with glee.  I was so happy.  It was a ways off, but still so exciting to see.  In the early morning around 6:30am we hired a guide to take us around to see the animals.  First thing we saw were lions, just chilling near the road.  We later saw tons of cape buffalo; kudu, water bucks, and kobs (all types of antelope), hippos, crocodiles, and again in the far off distance, a herd of elephants.  Again I was very excited, but deep down I wanted to see one up close.  As the day was coming to a close and we were leaving the park, I was satisfied with what we saw, and realized that I would not see an elephant up close.  Just as we were about to reach the edge of the savannah, it was like divine intervention happened and just off the side of the road was an elephant.  I screamed and told our driver, Francis, to stop.  I just marveled at the beauty that was in front of me.  This gentle giant, peacefully eating his dinner.  This was the cherry on top of the ice cream for me.  I could now leave Uganda a happy girl.

The next day it was time to head home.  It was a fun-filled two weeks with a lot packed into our days.  We met lots of new friends, had a fantastic driver who was brave enough and skilled enough to drive on the potholed roads with other wayward drivers.  We got to see smiles on so many children’s faces, and learn from so many people who live with nothing.  We experienced torrential downpours causing roads to turn to impassable mud in minutes (our driver got us out of a sticky situation that made mom and dad freak out and Mitch and I laugh. T.I.A.).  We saw the source of the Nile, and ate the local cuisine (highly carb based).  There were awkward times when it came to things like restrooms, slums, hygiene or things being lost in translation (amazing how two cultures can both speak English yet not know what the other is saying).   We bought little souvenirs but the best souvenirs are the memories we took away with us.  It was bittersweet to come home as our time seemed to have flown by but I can say one thing, I’m pretty sure mom hugged her toilet as we walked into our house.

Typical home.

Mass inside a classroom.

Lots of kids play with tires. No Xbox for them.

A wee little one in the nutrition ward of the hospital.

With Father on the right and his retired priest friends.

This was the cutest nun ever! 102 and still spunky. She did a little “happy dance” in her wheelchair.

Welcome dance.

A well we had dug in the name of our dearly departed Nana.

These kids followed me around the fishing slum.

Dad loved passing out the soccer balls.

Typical soccer ball made from plastic bags.

Greeting the children.

Matoke (a starchy banana), rice, sweet potato, maize porridge (the wedge in front), deep fried potato and white bread, flat bread, ground nut sauce, a little piece of meat, and pineapple.

Fetching his water for the day, looking out at the hippo herd that was about 15ft away.  You can imagine how dirty the water was.

Zebra!!!

My divine intervention!!!!

And then it was done.

Welcome back to another installment of Marit’s Adventures in Cancerland.  As many of you know, I had my final surgery two days before Thanksgiving.  You can bet I was thankful for that.  I am also thankful to all of you who have continued to support me… or even just read this, over the last two years.  I can’t believe that it’s been that long.  The first weeks and months seemed to drag on and on with the end nowhere in sight.  Well now the end has come.  My last surgery was to tidy of some odds and ends and now I can finally get on with my life.

Many people ask how I feel now that it’s done.  It’s a mixed bag of feelings.  There is the feeling of relief, that it’s all over.  There is also the feeling of fear; what if it comes back?  Disillusion can also be said, as my full-time job of being a cancer patient has come to an end.  Even in November, with the chemo part way over, I still had 15, yes 15 appointments.  From my oncologist, to my surgeon, physical therapy, acupuncture, dermatology, you name it.  Every 6 week since last January, I have been seeing my dermatologist for laser tattoo removal of my radiation tats.  They look just like 4 little pencil dots, but they are taking forever to remove and it is an exceedingly painful treatment.  A word to those who have much larger tattoos they want to remove…  The cancer never hurt, but the cure sure does!  So what am I left with?  I’m left with a reconstructed body full of scars from my face, to my port that was in my chest, my left side and my back.  It’s hard for me to deal.  A single, 35 year old girl doesn’t want to keep hearing, “scars fade over time.”  Yes they do, but let’s be honest, they don’t go away for good.  “Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is this person looking back at me?”  Honestly, if I had to do it all over again, I would seriously reconsider some of my options.

But it’s not all cancer, cancer, cancer here.  I have finished another quarter of school in my premed program, which Bastyr calls “post-bacc”.  Organic chemistry and physics.  I often wondered why I was doing this to myself so shortly after the chemo had wreaked havoc on my memory.  My doctors told me my brain would go back to functioning properly in about 18 months.  We are 9 months to go now.  We’ll see if it comes back online.  This made for a challenging time studying.  I’m not going to lie, there were a few times in physics I really wanted to cry.  The funny thing about being in the post-bacc program is that I have had a few people ask me for medical advice already.
“I’m having such and such problem, do you have any recommendations?”
“Yes.  I recommend you ask a qualified healthcare professional.”
“Well you’re the one who wants to be a doctor.”
“A couple quarters of chemistry hardly qualifies me to diagnose, nor treat your symptoms.”

So that is the latest news with me, which will most likely bring this blog to an extended pause.  Adventures in Cancerland is coming to a close and I mean really, do you want to hear all about my biochemistry class this winter?  Noooo.  I really hope you all have a very Merry Christmas, or had a nice Hanukkah, or however you celebrate the end of the year.  I hope 2014 will be better for all of us!  Again, thank you for all your prayers, cards, and support.  I will forever remember my family and friends who were there for me and for the friends I didn’t know I had who were also there for me.  My family and friends from around the globe who sent messages of support, I thank you too.  I am truly blessed to have you all in my life, and may you always be graced with good health.

Until my next great (FUN!) adventure… later ‘gator!

Can this year please end?

Well it’s been a while, yes, I know, but life is trying to get back to some semblance of normal.  I last left you just before my surgery in May.  That was to replace my broken expander and to take some of my latissimus muscle and pull it around front.  This has a good result, but leaves my back with a nasty 7″ scar.  Not too excited about that one.  I stayed in the hospital for 3 days, in an angled room that made it impossible for me to look out the window at the lovely garden art (you just keep racking up points with me, don’t you, UW Medical Center…), and then many more days in the comfort of my own bed (where I can see out the window).  As my mobility improved I was able to get up and move about, or at least to the table where I could put together one of my jigsaw puzzles.  Baby steps.  Life as a surgical patient starts to become a bit lonely as you are more or less confined to your home.  Driving wasn’t an option and being a passenger wasn’t fun either when you have a giant gash on your back.  I couldn’t do much in the garden as the sun was shining more and more, so it was a lot of sitting, reading, puzzling while the rest of the world went on.  I get it, people have their busy lives too, buzzing here, there, all about… but when your life seems to be going in super slow motion, the days get painfully long.

Finally when July came about, I was excited to start my intensive chemistry course.  If anything it was a reason to get out of the house.  Two quarters of chemistry wrapped up into 8 short weeks of the summer quarter.  No pressure there.   Why would one do this to themselves?  Knowing my surgery in May was going to keep me down for a bit, I took spring quarter off (which gave me a good excuse to go to India) and so that I could still keep on track and be ready to start the ND program in the fall of ’14.  Doubling up on chemistry was the only way I could do it.  It was three days of 3 hour lectures, followed by an exam every Thursday, then lab.  It actually wasn’t too ghastly and the weeks just flew by… unlike my recovery weeks.  On top of that, Bastyr is just down the road from me and I was able to ride my bike to class every day.  It was a good chance to try to get my energy back up, but I still actually feel weak.

Over the course of the summer, I spent a lot of my free time in my garden.  To go with our bountiful, well established blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries, I planted cauliflower, cabbage, tomatoes, potatoes, bush beans, beets, onions, carrots, pumpkins, zucchini, and cucumbers.  Boy did I have a lot of cucumbers, and they are still coming in.  Note to anyone who wants to plant these next year, only plant one plant!  I planted six and all my neighbors have been reaping the benefits; up and down the street I would take these lush, green cukes, “Somebody please take these things!”  Going to a party or dinner, guess what I brought?  I have had cucumbers coming out of my ears.  I even made about 17 qt jars of pickles, and I still have more cucumbers.  They won’t quit!  Never again will I plant that many!  But I can’t complain as I was blessed with an overall great harvest!  I think if I’m this lucky next year, I will start my own farm stand on the side of the road.

At the end of August, literally the day after finals, I went in for another surgery, this time for the actual implants.  It was a quick procedure which allowed me to go home the same day, and it was at the UW’s satellite center down the street from the hospital which was smaller and much more efficient, except the facility is so small that instead of being wheeled into the OR on a gurney and already out of it, here they have you walk into the OR then knock you out.  That I wasn’t too keen on.   Planning to have surgery the day before a long holiday weekend, probably wasn’t the most enjoyable way to celebrate the end of summer.  Oh well.  I’m just glad to have this behind me with one more to go in November to tidy up things.  I said to my doctor, “Can we just make sure this is all done by December 31st?  I really don’t want to go into another deductible year.”  She agreed.

So school starts up again soon and this time it’s physics and organic chem.  I’m looking forward to physics, but o-chem could be a different story. What are my travel plans you might be asking?  Well at this time, nothing and that scares me.  This school thing is really going to hamper my ability to flee to far off corners of the world… but you never know what I could be thinking.

So long for now.

Here is a bad pic of my garden…

Here is another bad pic of my garden…

And just like that, the dream is over…

As they say, “Time flies when you are having fun.”  That couldn’t be more correct.  I left for India on April 1st.  Returning on May 5th seemed like forever away, but it came and went and we are now well into the second week of May.  Maybe it is better to travel more as a child when time travels at a snail’s pace.  Oh well.

I left Seattle in the evening and landed in Dubai 14 hours later, the following evening.  I have a dear friend living there at the moment so I spent the night with her, and two other friends from Hanoi who where also passing through town.  It was a great reunion that was far too short with only 12 hours before my next flight.  When it was time for bed, I was greatly jet-lagged so I was wide awake for most of the night.  Just as I was dozing off, I heard the “call to prayer” over the loudspeaker down the street.  Do you know what time the “call” is?  About 4:45am.  Just FYI.

Before I knew it, I was off to the airport.  This must be the world’s largest airport as I honestly walked over a kilometer to my gate, which was an internal gate where you walk down a dark ramp to the dimly lit basement, then a bus picks you up and takes you on a 10 min ride to the far corner of the tarmac to board the plane.  Perhaps they don’t like India.  I said to the driver, “Are we driving to Mumbai?”

I arrived in this city of 20 million people, from the airport in a cab that came straight from the cold war, I headed to my friend Shivani’s home.  She is a friend I met in Florence during my grad program.  It was good to see her after six years, but it felt like it was yesterday when I saw her last.  Mumbai (formerly Bombay) is a city of the “haves” and “have nots”  Where in one corner you have the most expensive home in the world, a $1billion, 27 story building for a family of 4.  Four people!  In the shadow of this “home” you have millions of people (about 55%) living in slums, on the streets, next to open sewers, eating maybe a handful of rice a day.  My head hurts thinking of the preposterousness of the contradictions.

I spent three days in Mumbai, seeing the “Gateway to India”, the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel – one of the bombing sites in 2008, the “Slumdog Millionaire” slum, and having random people want to take their picture with me,  before I headed south.  I flew to Mangalore where I caught a train to Kannur.  I had read about the trains and that there were different class levels to travel in.  Even the “nicer” classes are still dirt cheap so I figured I would go via “Reserved A/C” class since it was hot and stuffy outside.  I found the line for tickets and as there were only 3 people in that line I felt I was in luck.  But as I stood in line, more people came into the line… in front of me.  They just filed up to the window, giving no regard to those of us in line.  “What the hell?  Is this how it works?!”  So I pushed my way to the front and by the time I got to the window I just said “Kannur”.  He told me it was 50 rupees (about $1), I paid and walked away with my ticket… which was printed in Malayalam – the local language – which looks like curly-cues akin to what it looks like when I’m trying to get my ballpoint pen to re-ink.  I found a young person who spoke a little English to explain to me that I had the general seating at the far end of the train.  Push your way on and good luck finding a seat.  As the only white girl around, I got many stares and hesitant looks.  I saw one spot on a bench and asked if I may sit there.  Two girls just looked at me and cocked their head from side to side – I guess you could say like a bobblehead.  I said to myself, “I don’t know what the hell that means, but I’m sitting.”  Turns out, it was a way to say “yes”, also “good morning”, “hello”, “I don’t know”….  It was standing room only in our car and a very long 2.5hr ride.

I arrived in Kannur bleary-eyed and tired.  I found my hotel and also found that a Communist Comrades Convention was taking place that same weekend in town.  Not only was a I single, white girl traveling in a place that doesn’t see too many tourists, I was now surrounded by a bunch of commie men that all stared at me.  Needless to say, I wasn’t too adventuresome and spent most of the next day in my hotel room.  I was very happy when Monday came and it was time to meet my group whom I would volunteer with for the next 3 weeks.  We had a great group of all women.  One other girl from the US, 2  from Mexico, and 3 from France (unfortunately the other American had to leave less than 2 weeks in for personal reasons).  We had such a great time together.  During the week we worked at a boarding school for orphaned and disabled girls.  Half the time was spent painting a mural in a classroom and the other half of the time was spent playing with the girls.  We didn’t have a common language, but we didn’t need one to have a good time.  We taught them our own games and songs, and they taught us some of theirs.  There were about 8 girls ranging from about 5 years to late teens.  We had so much fun with them and I thank them for what they taught us.

The other part of our day was leaning about Ayurveda medicine and yoga.  As I mentioned in my last post, Ayurveda (meaning life science) is a 5000 year old practice using what nature has provided as well as your own body to heal.  It was amazing to learn about different techniques and herbs to use from a cough or congestion to cancer and diabetes.  We got to peel bark off a cinnamon tree, as well as chew lemon leaves, pick peppers, and try bitter root.  Nature provides so much more than we even know.  Most of us also wanted to try an Ayurveda massage which usually you need a minimum of 3 sessions and a doctor’s recommendation.  So I went to get an appointment to see the doctor first.  The receptionist at the Parassini Ayerveda College that we were at, told me the doctor could see me right away.  “Oh, that’s great!  How much is his fee?”  “20 rupees.”  I choked and asked her to repeat the price.  Yes, a visit to the doctor cost me about 40 cents.  Cents!  He checked me over, asked a bunch of health questions and then gave me my prescription.  “Awesome, I’m going to get 3 massages for about $5 each!”  Well when I arrived for my massage, I had to lay on a wooden table and two women who didn’t speak a lick of English poured oil all over me then went to work.  It was actually quite uncomfortable and at the end, I was ready for the fry pan I had so much oil on me.  Needless to say, I passed on the other two massages.  I just told myself, “It’s all part of the adventure.”

The three weeks came and went and before I knew it, we were all saying good bye to each other.  The friendships and memories I walked away with will last forever.  We were the only tourists we saw the whole time and the looks from the locals proved it.  We traveled with the locals – on the bus, which I don’t think can leave until it is packed to the brim with people.  We ate with the locals – using our hands as utensils.  We shopped with the locals – at the markets, buying clothes, bartering for things that cost next to nothing and drooling over all the brightly colored, beautiful saris.  We went to spiritual rituals with the locals – even when one was at 4:30am.  We had wild adventures on the weekends – traveling 4 hours on a crowded bus to a wildlife sanctuary that was closed then staying in an $8/night hotel – just guess what you get with that… and staying in paradise the following weekend with our own private beach.  You don’t get this kind of a trip from a travel agent.

My last destination in India was Kochi, about 6.5 hours south of Kannur.  This time I made sure to reserve a seat on the train so I wouldn’t have to fight for a spot to sit.  $2 is all my ticket cost, but 6.5 hours on an Indian train is a very long time, especially when you are in the back row near the bathroom.  ‘Nuff said.  In Kochi I stayed with a friend’s mother who made sure I had all the mangoes I could possibly eat before leaving the country.  This was also a chance to play tourist as this city attracts travelers, but still not a lot of them.  I was actually kind of excited to see tourists and I wanted to call out to them and engage in conversation, but alas, they had no interest in me, after all to them I was just another tourist.  Oh well, I promise they didn’t have the adventure that I did.

As I flew out back to Dubai, I reflected on what I experienced over the last month.  India is a land rich in history, culture, spices, and life.  They have all that they need and live for today.  They may have some of the poorest of the poor but they are rich in spirit and steeped in tradition, quite the opposite of where I was heading.

I was going to stay in Dubai again with my friend for 3 days.  As I like to learn about the culture of places I go, I was a bit saddened by the fact that Dubai doesn’t have much culture, save for a very small touristy mock up Bedouin village.  Despite how beautiful the architecture is there, it is a city without a soul.  It’s Vegas for the rich.  Fancy cars, designer labels, and gold jewelry are what you find there.  We did have fun though.  We went on a desert safari – riding in SUV’s through the sand dunes, seeing camels, having dinner and a show at sunset, and we went sightseeing through the city to see the Burj al Arab – the only 7 star hotel in the world, and the Burj Kalifa – the tallest building in the world, and one very gorgeous beach with turquoise water.  My friend tried to hide from the sun under her umbrella, while I embraced it, trying to soak up every ray that I could.  She wanted A/C, I wanted heat.  She was always hot and I would freeze every time we set foot in a building.  Who loved basking by the rooftop pool at her place?  Not she.  What can I say, my thermostat is broken.  Besides, I was about to return to Seattle.  I wasn’t going to see this kind of weather again for a long time.  All-in-all I had a great time with her and I can’t wait till we meet again.

Now I am back in Seattle, and back to being a cancer patient.  I have already had 5 doctor appointments in the week that I’ve been home and by the time most of you read this, I will be on the operating table for reconstruction surgery, which by no means will be the last one.  It was so nice to escape and not have to be “Marit the cancer girl” for a whole month.  I felt almost normal.  There is so much more to tell about my trip but most of you probably have dropped off by now.  This was a trip where you had to step out of your comfort zone.  You had to get used to little inconveniences like nightly power cuts, running out of water half way through your shower, everyone spitting, car horns honking, eating where you knew it wasn’t clean, or having someone’s butt in your face as you sit on the bus.  But you focus more on the adventure, the beauty of the people, the sunrises across the river at our house, auto rickshaws, the aroma of jasmine in the hair of all the women, the smiles on the children’s faces when they were brave enough to give us a wave or just laughing at the crazy things that would happen.  This was a trip like no other for me, and I can’t wait to go back and see more.

First thing you see when you land in Mumbai.

Sacred city cow.

This is what a $1 billion house looks like.

Gateway to India

Typical bus ride.

Market

Our group.

This is how we ate every meal.

Girls of the school.

The girls with one of our team leaders.

Our art work.

More art work.

Handloom factory. This is how most of your clothing starts out.

Tayyem festival… at 4:30am! This is the bad shiva god.

We had our own Holi festival.

A friend dressed me up.

….and she also did henna on me.

Camel

Burj al Arab, the only 7 star hotel in the world.

Hooray for Bollywood!

Well hello there!  Are you still following?  It’s been a while, yes I know.  Time can slip from your hands before you know it.  When we last left off, I was not quite through with my radiation and subsequently hating life.  It took a tremendous toll, on me, both mentally and physically.  Imagine getting a sunburn and then going back day after day to burn some more.  The after effects were enough to make my mother weak in the knees, to which I would say, “How do you think I feel?”  But now I am cured… like a ham.

The holidays came and went as fast as they seem to do every year.  Once again, with my father and nephew, we volunteered with the Forgotten Children’s Fund, dad as a Santa and us two as his helper elves.  We delivered presents on Christmas Eve to families that needed a little extra help this year.  It always is such a rewarding experience.

With all the activity of endless doctor appointments, infusions, surgeries, radiation, and everything else that encompasses the life of a cancer patient, when I finished my radiation, I kind of hit an unexpected lull in my life.  Radiation was over, I was healing, and now only getting my herceptin chemo every three weeks.  The endless appointments seemed to have tapered off and the main thing on the horizon now was my series on reconstruction surgeries that are set to start in May.  So what do you do between now and then?  This is the lull I hit.  I still had enough appointments scattered about to prevent me from getting a job, but I couldn’t just sit at home twiddling my thumbs.  I had to do something.  So, I signed up for a chemistry and biology class.  Why would an interior designer want to sign up for science classes, you ask?  Sitting at home for a year with not much to do but be sick makes your mind wander to many places, and my mind kept going back to my first career choice when I graduated from high school, medicine.  I freaked out at the time commitment back then and ended up a world away in design school.  My mind has gone back to this thought over the years and I figured, maybe this cancer happened for a reason, it was a sign that I need to change something in my life (although I could have used a much more subtle sign).

Going back to school was a bit of a wake-up call.  I was going to be among new people now.  A more active social life, and still coming to terms with my “new look”.  My hair is dark, curly, and thick (think Frankie Avalon/Wayne Newton pompadour).  I hate it!  On top of this all of a sudden I had to use my brain in a whole new way.  From the artistic/abstract side to the more logical.  These two classes were all I needed to apply for the premed program at Bastyr University, to which I applied and got in so I will start this summer.  The program is a year long and will prepare me for entering the ND program there and at the few other naturopathic schools around the country.  If all goes well, this will take up the next 5 years of my life.  “What?!”  Because I am signing on to go completely crazy with school and deep into debt, and to celebrate my last infusion of herceptin on March 6th, I decided to go to India for a month, leaving April 1st.  “What? What?!”  I figure if I will not get to travel for the next 5 years, I might as well go have one last hurrah.  I will be visiting some friends in Dubai along the way, visiting another friend in Mumbai (Bombay) for a few days then heading south to Cannanore to do a three week yoga/ayurveda/volunteer at a school, program.  It sounds like a lot of fun and right up my alley.  When I come back, I get to look forward to my reconstruction, 6 weeks of getting better and if all goes well, a nose job to fix the horrible scars left on my nose from a “side effect” of chemo.  Insurance is calling it “cosmetic”.  “Really?  You have paid how many hundreds of thousands of dollars for my treatment already, you can’t swing $2k more?”  If you get a dent in your car, your insurance will pay for that to be fixed.  Get a dent in your face, fughetaboutit!  If anyone would like to send donations to the “Send Marit to India/School/Fix Her Nose” fund…

This is the latest and greatest about my life for the past few months.  I will post about India, but don’t know if I can do it while I am away.  I will finally have some fun pics to show with my posts, and something more interesting than my exciting adventures in cancerland.

Radioactive

Hawaii was a blast!  How could it not be?  Sun, beach, palm trees, not a care in the world.  What else do you need?  A week was not long enough and they had to drag me back onto the plane, kicking and screaming.  I think I also did that when I left Bali last year.  Do I have a serious problem with returning to reality?

The Sunday after I returned I had my Making Strides for Breast Cancer walk with my fellow fighter and neighbor, Kelly, her husband, their friend, and my dad.  It was a great day for a walk, surrounded by lots of people in pink and because I have so many wonderful friends and supporters, I was able to raise almost $3000.  I like fundraising about as much as I like listening to political campaigns (sooo glad that’s almost over),  but if this money means one less person has to go through breast cancer, or any cancer for that fact, then it’s worth every penny.  Again, many thanks to all who helped!

After spending a wonderful week in paradise and coming home on a vacation high, I hit a low.  Radiation is not as easy as I thought it would be.  Before I left for my trip, I went in for my radiation simulation/set up, which involved a series of breath-hold tests, having to uncomfortably lay on a metal table while an cradle cast was made of my upper back, being moved around to get into the perfect position, and be tattooed with 4 dots on my torso to line me up with the lasers so I will be in the exact position every time.  Yes, I was permanently inked.  Why couldn’t they have used henna?  I get to have these dots forever?… or until I can get them lasered off?  Not a happy camper.

The day after I returned from my trip, Friday, I went for my final simulation to which radiation would start the following Monday, Oct 1st.  For some reason, I was under the impression that I was going to have the same female team for radiation that I had for my initial set up.  As I checked in I was given the explanation of the procedures for my appointment and they asked if I had any questions.  All I said was, “You’re men!”  “Well, yes, you will probably see all 11 of us, men and women throughout your treatment.”  I was a bit taken aback by this revelation and as hard as I tried not to, I started to cry, for the first time in many, many years all I could think of was, “I want my mom!”  Dad was in the waiting room and I couldn’t have him do anything because as we know, we didn’t need another “Code Red.”  Tearfully, I went in for my simulation but halfway through, I was so upset they had to postpone the rest of the set up until Monday.  They said to me, “It’s okay, we see this everyday.  You’ll get used to it.”  So now I have gone from being a person to just another day on the job?  This year has been a beast.  I’ve been scarred, disfigured, and bald.  I have a hard time looking at myself in the mirror.  I’m not comfortable in my own skin.  Sorry if I just can’t “get used to it.”  Needless to say, every day so far of my radiation, 5 weeks in with 2 to go, I have cried the entire 20 minutes I am in there.  Side effects have been an equivalent to a sun burn, I’m tired (again), cranky, I have enough radiation in me to pop a bag of popcorn, and I’m just mentally beat… and if I have one more person say, “The light’s at the end of the tunnel!” they are going to be in for a rude surprise.  I’m sorry but I’m at critical mass.

And so goes the latest fun-filled installment of my Adventures in Cancerland.  I leave you this time with a view into my trip to Hawaii, where my escape from reality just wasn’t long enough.

Sunset from our condo.

At Haleakala Crater

Silver Sword. Only found on Maui.

Diving

Turtle!!!

Carrie, me, Megan, and Katy.

Can never have too many sunsets, can you?

Thank you for your support!

Nose hair: it’s there for a reason!

Ok, so I don’t call the shots.  If you remember from my last post, I said I would start radiation at the beginning of August and that I had to because I was going to Maui in September.  I, as well as my parents were under the impression, as told to us by a few of my doctors, that I could start radiation as early as 4 weeks after surgery.  Well upon meeting with my actual radiologist at the end of July, she put the quash on that.  For people like me, (those who are having the same type of reconstruction), it’s a longer wait time, and with Hawaii happening next week, we thought it would be best to wait till October 1st to start radiation.  With that said, let me fill you in on what has been happening since I last wrote back in July.

Why has it taken so long to write again, well basically I didn’t have much to write about.  My life was getting kind of boring as doctor visits have become my full-time job.  Can I get paid for that?  My recovery has been going well and with my twice a week physical therapy sessions, I have made quite an improvement in getting my left arm moving.  I’m to about 98% back to normal.  I have been going to the gym to work the muscles on my left side and have found that standing on my tippy toes and grabbing hold of a metal support bar with my left hand has helped give that side a good stretch, despite the fact that I look like a dangling, retarded monkey while doing it.

When I do have some free time between doctor visits, I have been trying to get out into the open.  In August I did some hikes in the mountains as well as near home to try and get my stamina back to normal, before it gets knocked down again with radiation.  I am quite proud of my progress, however it is not nearly back to what it used to be.  My first hike out I wanted to tackle Snow Lake which is a pretty vigorous 8 mi RT and one of my favorites in the Cascades, but decided I shouldn’t be so gung ho and opted for an easier one that was half the distance.  I went with some friends and although I tried not to show it, it did beat me up pretty quickly.  Thankfully my dog was with and she had to slow down a few times along the way so that gave me a good excuse to slow down too.  Yeah… for my dog’s sake.

In other news, my hair is growing back and I finally saw my head in the mirror for the first time since that fateful day in February.  Hair is coming in much darker than before, and my eyebrows have made a full return – albeit very blonde.  Also my nose hair has made a comeback!  Have you ever had the joy of not having nose hair?  It’s there for a reason.  Keeps the dirt out and the snot in (more or less).  Without it, snot just sneaks right up on you and you don’t know it’s going to run until it’s too late and right there in front of friends or perfect strangers your nose drips.  Makes you feel real classy.  They say you don’t appreciate something until it’s gone.  Well I appreciate it more than ever now that it’s back.  What’s not coming back yet, my brain.  Yes, chemo brain (forgetfulness) struck and my doctor said it could take almost 18 months for full comeback.  Well at least I have an excuse now for why I walk into a room for something and then completely draw a blank when I get there.  If I have a chemo brain around you, don’t worry, I’ll remember it by next year.
So now it’s time to pack and if chemo brain isn’t bad enough, combine that with vacation brain and you can guess where my thoughts are for the next week.  I am more than excited to spend a week with my two dearest friends in paradise… and when I return, I will be doing my first BC walk with my neighbor, Kelly (mentioned in the last post), for Making Strides Against Breast Cancer.  This will be my chance to get all pinkified and raise money for a cure, because if I was the last one to go through this, I would be the happiest person in the world.  I feel lucky for how well my treatment has been going.  Our dear friends in NZ who have been wonderfully supporting me had tragic news when the husband, after 3 weeks of a bad sore throat, checked into the hospital last month where he was then diagnosed with late esophageal cancer that spread to the liver and within a few hours, he was gone.  Boom!  Done!  Gone!  Why didn’t he get the same chance I did?  A few days after hearing this news, I had received a  beautiful book of hope and memories made by Elizabeth who had sent it to me the day after Ian had tests done and the day before he died.  Even in their time of unknowing, being in limbo, she was still thinking of me.  It’s people like that who have made my success happen, and I can only pray that a cure for all cancers comes soon.

If you care to donate to my walk, I would be forever grateful, but I know times are tough so even if you don’t, your positive vibes would be greatly appreciated.  Click on or copy/paste this link to read about it and donate if you wish.  I can’t thank all of you enough for all your love and support.  I know I have said this before, but I couldn’t have done this without you.
http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR?fr_id=47417&pg=personal&px=30131698

Until next time, aloha!

Ever feel like you are missing something?

Well for those who have not heard, after surgery, my surgeon, Dr. Javid told me that they got 100% of the tumors through chemo and removal of ol’ lefty.  Is it enough to get me out of radiation?  Ha!

But let’s start from the beginning… Surgery was set for July 5th and as I mentioned in my last post, that’s the official start to Seattle summer.  The operation consisted of two levels of axillary lymph node dissection and removal, left breast removal and reconstruction, and removal of my power port on my right side.  It was a day that I was really dreading and it seemed like it was so far off on the calendar, then it came, it went and I can’t believe it’s been two weeks now.  The day before, I was primed by a bc survivor I happened to meet at a 4th of July party.  She told me to ask the nurse for something to take the edge off when they were prepping me.  All I remember after the initial prepping was they gave me a shot of whatever, wheeled me out towards the OR with my parents by my side, we said good bye to them and then it was lights out for me.  Next thing I’m waking up in a different state than I began 6 hours earlier with my parents by my side.  I was only in the hospital for one night, highly drugged up and in and out of sleep until I was woken up at 6am by resident Dr. Brown (McDreamy) and team doing their rounds.  Just want I need at 6am; hot doctor coming into my room to wake me from a drug induced slumber, with messy hair, no make up, tubes sticking out of my side, and I’m pretty sure I was drooling on myself.  What a festive occasion I must have looked like, akin to Nick Nolte’s mug shot (Google it).  “How are you doing this morning?”  That’s a pretty loaded question there doc!

Once home, I finally got to enjoy the Seattle summer I yenned for, from the comfort of my bed.  I was pretty immobile and had my mother at my every beck and call.  This woman has been a saint.  It’s quite humbling having to rely on someone else for some of the most basic daily doings.  She helped my rise from bed and prop me up on my pillows like a rag doll.  She fed me breakfast in bed and watched as I tried to feed myself with my right hand.  I’m sure it was quite a sight, and yes, I will be milking the breakfast in bed with the newspaper for as long as I can.  There were sponge baths, clothing changes, draining my tubes, grooming, and doling out my meds all day and all night.  Then there was the rash from the antibiotics.  What could be more fun than an upper body itchy rash when your arms are immobile?   It wasn’t until about the third night that mom was helping me change into my pajamas that I glanced down and saw a large bandage where a part of me once was.  It was the first time I had looked and it was only a mere glance, but that’s all I needed to lose it.  The after effects of my surgery finally hit me.  Like my hair, another part of my femininity was gone.  Something I had for the last 34 years, 4 months and a day.  Mom was there to console me as I cried which only made the pain of my incisions worse.  I have yet to see my head with no hair, and now that the bandage is gone, I have yet to look to see where there is nothing.  Will this change?  Time will only tell.

As the days wore on, I was able to move about more and more and then I was able to sit outside on the deck, reading and enjoying the sun.  Sometimes I would meditate and just listen to the world around me; the birds, the breeze, a lawn mower in the distance, a dog bark, and at one moment, complete silence.  It was really quite peaceful.  By Wednesday I went for my first dog walk with my neighbor and the circus we call; Truffle, Belle, and Mia.  It was a short walk, but it felt great to get out.  While walking back we ran into our new neighbor and during our conversation she said “Well Friday I go for my bilateral mastectomy.”  “Whhaaat!?”  We had talked a few weeks prior when she told me her sister had recently been diagnosed with bc and was going through chemo, so I responded, “Oh geez, I’m sorry, I for some reason thought you were talking about your sister before.”  “Yeah, I was but I just went to the doctor the other day and they said I am early stage 2 bc.  So I’m going it on Friday for surgery.”  She said this in a way like she was running errands.  “Let’s see, Friday I need to shop for shoes, drop of the dry cleaning, have a mastectomy…”  Just goes to show, everyone takes bad news in their own way.

The healing is a long process as I still can’t raise my arm more than about 45 degrees, and sleep still eludes me since now I have to sleep on my back.  There was a lot of damage done that needs to be undone.  You never appreciate what you have till it’s gone… like your nerves.  Many were cut along the way, some will come back, some will not.  From my sternum to the left, everything is still pretty numb.  When I drink something cold, it feels like there is a hole in my esophagus and it trickles and spread through the left side of my chest.  I am regaining feeling in my upper left arm, but as the nerves regenerate, they are super sensitive so whenever I get a cold chill, the goose bumps on my arm feel like a thousand needles jabbing me.  It’s incredibly painful.  Dr. Javid said I can expect this to last for up to eight months.  Awesome!

So what’s next on the cancerland line-up?  My herceptin chemo every three weeks – now via IV, radiation, then sometime down the line final reconstruction.  Radiation (nope, couldn’t get out of it) should start early in August and by should I mean it has to because I am going to Maui at the end of September with two of my dearest friends.  “Yes Dr. Fang, you will be done with me by then.  I’m calling the shots.”  Hawaii or bust!

Aloha!

“Mama said knock you out!”

“What’s up with your eyebrows?  Are you plucking them?”

“Really, dad?  Perhaps you didn’t notice that I have been going through a little chemo and that I have NO HAIR AT ALL!”

“Well, just don’t get into the habit of plucking your eyebrows.”

“Ok, whatever. Good night.”

Here we are, another blog update.  Since I last wrote, I have completed my taxol chemo regimen.  This means I have gone from weekly infusions of taxol and herceptin followed by daily oral tykerb (4 large pills), to just herceptin every three weeks.  Wish I was all done with the chemo, but the doctor says I need the herceptin as a “maintenance” until March of next year.  Not excited to say the least.  However, this should be manageable and have fewer side effects than all the rest.  I hope this is true.   So what has is been like so far?  So far my nose bleeds have gone away, my cracked fingers are healing and maybe soon I won’t have to have my dad floss my teeth for me.  I haven’t passed out in a while, and my nose rash is almost gone, but has left me with a disfigured nose.  My fingernails are still bad and I keep some of them taped so that they won’t continue to lift off the nail bed.  This is not a pretty sight!  Lastly, I am still tired… and I have said it before, I am tired of being tired.

But it isn’t all sour grapes.  I had a whole week where I wasn’t scheduled for an infusion or a trillion doctor appointments.  So what does this girl do when she had free time on her hands.  Gets on the first plane out of town.  That’s right.  I took a little vacay to St. Paul.  “Come to Minnesota”, my aunt Judy said.  “It’s been 85 and sunny”, she said…. until I arrived.  Sixty-three and rainy when I landed.  Out of the whole week I was there, I think I had 2 sunny days.  Oh well, I still had a lot of fun seeing all the aunts, uncles, cousins, and all their kids, even when my aunt took me to the zoo in the pouring down rain.  It’s always like a trip to the circus when everyone gathers, but it is family and it is fun.  One of the highlights of the trip was a visit to my uncle Bill and aunt Cathy’s farm.  It is so quiet and peaceful out there in the country.  Away from city lights and noises.  We played in the hay loft, let little calves suck on our fingers, rode the 4×4 “around the block” (that’s about 2 miles) and I followed Bill around as he did his chores to get a behind-the-scenes look at the inner workings of a farm.  I did feel like a true city slicker.   For my first big outing away from doctors and infusions, I managed pretty well.  I did discover that chemo and flying made me have cankles and little Vienna sausages for toes, but the swelling did subside with yet another prescription to add to my ever growing list, but all-in-all, it was great to get away and for a moment (if I didn’t look at my feet), forget that I have cancer.

Just before my trip to St. Paul, I had another MRI to see how I am coming along with my treatment.  Thea my friend from the blood lab had said the nurses in radiology didn’t know how to access a port very well (like the last time I had a scan), and she was right.  Strike two – through the chest.  Like a knife.  Question is, do you bear through it for the next 30 min or do you have them take it out and try again.  It was quite uncomfortable but I stuck with it.  Lesson learned, always go to Thea first.

After arriving home, the next day, June 20th, I met with my medical oncologist again and she had said that my tumors are almost gone.  Some areas you can’t even see anything.  Great news, but that doesn’t get me off the hook for surgery, which is scheduled for July 5th.  I’m not looking forward to that at all.  As the saying goes, summer doesn’t really start in Seattle until July 5th.  It always seems to rain on Independence Day, but the 5th is always nice.  Nothing like spending the best part of the year, bed-ridden.  These are the days I live for.  9 months of cold, gray, wet only to have my summer taken away.  So I am trying to make the best of it now, meeting up with friends, finishing the kitchen and dining room and getting my arms in shape as to stave off lymphedema.   How am I doing this?  Why signing up for kick boxing, that’s how (cue “Rocky” theme song). “What?!!!” you might be saying.  Yes it is true.  In January I bought a Groupon package of 10 classes, not believing my doctor when she said I was going to be very fatigued through all of this.  Turns out, she was right.  My Groupon was about to expire next week so I wanted to get a start on my classes.  Let me tell you, when you are fatigued and you try to take a kick boxing class, it kicks you in the butt!  What was I thinking?  But it does feel good to whale away on a punching bag to relieve months of pent up stress, as wimpy as I may look.

As I wind down the days until my surgery, I have tried to meet with many of my friends and have had to cancel meeting some thanks to spur-of-the-moment side effects.  I’m sorry I can’t see you all but do know that I am still thankful for all of your cards, calls, prayers, and support.  This evening I had my 4th Anointing of the Sick sacrament and I was blessed to be surrounded my so many good friends.  I can’t thank them or all of you enough for your support.

See you on the other side of surgery.

I don’t even think my grandmother had so many pills!

Cancer picked the wrong girl to mess with.