Sunday, March 14, 2010

March 14, 2010 – Visiting day (or is it visited?)

It’s been a quiet Sunday.  The rain did come as predicted, but either I slept through the worst of it, or we had a lot less than anticipated.  Dan did run in the race this morning.  Though it was real wet in Boston, most of the five thousand runners who signed up showed and ran.  Amazing!

We spent most of the day puttering around.  Overall, I’m feeling much better.  Imodium will be part of my life for the foreseeable future but that is under control.  The day was punctuated by naps and visits.

Ann’s Dad Bill and his friend Mary stopped by.  This is the first time I’ve met Mary and the first time Ann & I have met them as a couple.  They are very cute together.  We’re delighted that they have each other.  Life is best lived with your best friend locked in step.

After an interim nap, my Mom & Dad came by to say hello.  Mom’s back has been bothering her, so the visit was all the more appreciated.  Dad likes to watch the Celtics games, so we that be the backdrop. 

Throughout both visits, we were serenaded by our canary Sweetie who is quite the singer.  Rudy and Lacey Dogs were excited that everyone came to visit them.

I’m trying to push calories today.  These are sort of interim days.  The second chemo cycle winds down.  Thursday the third starts up.  Though each cycle has its own peculiar challenges, I know what to expect.  Hopefully, what we’ve learned from the first two cycles will help us through the third.

Tomorrow afternoon, I head into Boston for a hearing test.  One agent in my chemo cocktail, Cisplantin, can cause hearing loss.  So far, my hearing has been unchanged.  The team at Dana Farber wants one more test to be on the safe side.

So, a lazy day.  Hope the rain was reasonable wherever you are.  Thanks for being you, for your support, and comfort.

Love…

Richard

4 comments:

  1. It was gray here today, too, and a little rainy … Not at all unusual for winter in Columbus. But, I’ve noticed new growth around the stems of last year’s sleeping plants. It happened so suddenly.

    Jackie and I played last night. We had an amazing guitar player sit in with us. His name is Jim Volk and he’s worth looking for between slashdot.org and Facebook. (I turned Jackie on to Slashdot after you mentioned it … News for nerds is definitely right up her wake-up alley.) Today, Jackie and I have what’s termed “gig hangover.” Neither of us wanted to do much of anything. We lay around, blissful and lazy, ignoring all the projects that wanted attention. Ah.

    Here’s wishing you lots of delicious, guiltless calories. They’re your job right now, after all.

    Love to you, my friend.

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  2. Ah, bless you BeJae! Here I am tired but with insomnia (seems my typical night during week 3 of the chemo cycle) and I turn on the computer and find a note from you. Makes the insomnia worth every minute!

    It's still raining here. For the past hour, I listened to the water rush the gutters and the sump pump in the basement below the bedroom purr into action every 20 seconds or so. The rain's metronome.

    Jim Volk - http://www.jimvolk.com/ - will check him out when I can make noise later today. Sounds like an energizing and enveloping gig. Glad you're finding music community in Ohio.

    Well, I'll try the sleep thing again. Have to drive to Boston & back tomorrow afternoon.

    Love to you...

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  3. Ah, insomnia. I have that sometimes, too. We should be up Skyping in the middle of the night. “You sleepy yet?” “Nope … You?”

    It takes me a long time to adjust to information like this. A dear friend has cancer? What? Now that you’re just about to undergo chemo number 3, I’m getting my bearings enough to start wondering how it all works.

    You mentioned that you have a chemo port so that they don’t have to stick you every time. Is it in your chest? Does it bother you to have it there in between treatments? Does the chemo go into a vein? Does it circulate through your system? When you’ve described the side effects … well, I guess they aren’t side effects … they’re primary effects, intended effects … those effects seem so specific to your tongue and mouth. If the chemo circulates through your system, how does it end up at such a specific site? How does it, in ridiculously non-medical terms, know where to go? Other than some general fatigue, do you notice other parts of your body besides your mouth, tongue and throat that are involved in the chemo reaction? I know you say that you feel cotton-brained … but, do your knees ache? Your shoulders? Do you feel like you have the flu?

    You realize, don’t you, that by the time I figure this stuff out it’ll all be over and you will have been pronounced all better. I’ll write to you to ask, “Did your hands hurt when you had chemo for your tongue?” You’ll write back and say, “B, that was two years ago, I don’t remember if my hands hurt or not.”

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  4. You do Skyping? I haven't ventured there yet!

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