HEALTH UPDATE #8B

Though I’m starting today’s update with a mixed message, it’s my plan to leap straight to really good news—so let’s get this mixed message out of our way—I felt progressively better during this past week until Wednesday’s infusion of chemo left me exceptionally fatigued.  And that said, let’s get on to really good news—Our trip to Houston was fruitful—the team made up of cardiac-thoracic surgeons and a top notch oncologist believes I’m a candidate for a surgery, which very few heart specialists throughout the world have been trained to perform —as of yet.

Each time I remember that my cardiac surgeon developed this intricate procedure, my awareness of having placed my life in good hands deepens.  The fact that he and his team have experienced greater success when a sarcoma endangers heart and lung function than anyone on the planet invigorates my connection to courage.  Once a series of chemo infusions has killed off a large portion of the tumor, my surgery will be scheduled.

So here’s the plan—Will and I expect to travel to Houston, every six weeks, where I’ll continue to have PET scans and cardiac MRIs in order to monitor the activity of the tumor and the strength of my heart to withstand everything that lies ahead.  Surgery is anticipated to take place, late spring, in Houston where this brain trust of surgeons practices medicine.  Once this surgery is described, you’ll understand why my need to rest quietly, every day, while refueling my spirit with courage proves necessary,   You’ll also see why I feel need to remind myself, quite often, of my good fortune to be a candidate of a surgery so serious and rare that beneath my exterior of calm exists an undertow of fear, which if freed could very well be overwhelming.  And thus do I respect my need of a zen environment in which to recharge my courage as we move forward, day by day.

I love that my friends want to spend time with me; however, somehow our conversations return to cancer, and watching fear cover the faces of loved ones directly opposes that which I need to bolster my inner strengths so as to face whatever lies ahead with as much resilience and grace as possible.  Also, my days start in slow-mo, and if my afternoons are not spent at my clinic in the desert where this test or that shot or another image of who knows what is being administered then I am most probably napping at home, because my energy is at a low never, ever experienced before, and for those reasons, I choose to relish solitude, during the day.  So though my spirit is buoyed by love, my intuitive voice determinedly strengthens my resolve to quietly maintain a homemade, positively focused, zen like emotional environment that feels integral to my recovery, and as quiet hours continue to inspire my attitude to absorb as much restful courage as the months ahead will surely require, I reserve brief social interactions for evenings, now and then.

As to Will, much of his time is his own, and just as he’s always happily watched sports on TV, in addition to that, during recent years, we’ve both enjoyed evenings spent with whatever series appeals to us both, cuddling close, together, on the couch, Will in shorts, me in a sweatsuit under a cloud-soft throw—a gift from my sister when the cloud-soft throw that Angie covered me with in the hospital was attacked in the dryer and fell completely apart (which I hope not to do)—just goes to show—another mysterious case of good health, one day, gone tomorrow.

I have no doubt that, my eagerness to enjoy time spent with dear friends will bounce back once fatigue is less overwhelming (there’s that word, again) and if side effects, yet to emerge, are not nearly so debilitating as had been true throughout most of December, I imagine my sociability will match my recharged energy level.

Though my days are spent at the clinic being tested and at home enveloping my whole self in quiet, occasionally, as sundown welcomes evening, I’ve rallied, and we’ve actually ventured out for dinner with friends, suggesting patience and progress have been mine, one small step at a time.

Though we can mask emotion brewing deep within from our conscious minds for quite a while, we can’t reach so deeply into the core of our hearts as to switch off the pilot light that burns brightly out of sight until true love has reason to flare with a passionate resurgence whenever the natural emergence of deeper truth feels intuitive readiness to blow through our defense system’s imaginary, many layered wall of persistent denial, and at those times when love expresses itself, naturally, I thank god for the self-empowered, clear stream of emotion that runs so free and pure as to be unable to hide itself away deep inside you and me, overlong ...

If you’ve not seen Frozen, run, don’t walk ... why?  Well, the tale that unfolds clear as day with blue skies all around symbolizes the fact that once two wounded birds can’t help each other to fly, misunderstandings between loved ones tend to ice up ...

And now, please take a moment as I caution you to fortify yourself as my posts are about to offer up info concerning the chemo I’ve experienced and the surgery ahead, so, without further adieu, here goes—as mentioned before, my infusion of a new chemo was restarted earlier in the week, so I’m feeling a bit apprehensive, even though both oncologists have reassured me that the present dose will not be as intense as the last infusion, which ran through me for five days straight, 24/7.

I’ll have one dose of this new chemo, every three weeks, and every six weeks, Will and I plan to fly to Houston to check in with the surgical team there until the oncologist at MD Anderson believes I’m prime for surgery, most likely, sometime, late spring.  This procedure is so intricate as to be divided in half—open heart surgery to reconstruct the portion of my heart that’s distressed by the tumor followed by extracting my affected lung the next day.  Hopefully, I’ll remain so sedated, over night, as to have no clue when the first surgery begins and the second one ends.  The surgical team in Houston has found this dual procedure less traumatic for the patient’s body, postoperatively.  As my surgeon brain saw its way to developing this life saving procedure, and if my body can take it (and it will!) then I’m in good hands under the care of his team.  Again, here’s another reason to feel fortunate—after studying all of my many tests, Dr. Reardon could have said, I’m sorry that you are not a candidate for this complicated, two stage surgery, and where would that have left me?  Crying into my half full cup ...

Will and I just left our excellent medical team in the desert, where today’s blood test will hopefully show my body empowering all of me to withstand this next infusion of chemo—and after my last experience, let’s hope that side effects are so tolerable and few that a lengthy hospitalization proves unnecessary.

Will continues to minister to my every need as if he is polishing the rarest of jewels, and David flies in on Saturday, which will be followed by our family celebration of Steven’s birthday on Sunday, and as the addition of David’s loving presence always serves to lift my spirit, I’ll be up for his gently whipping me into exercise mode as Will is my sergeant while Angie took on the role of Colonel and David was labeled a most loving Simon Legree, because as soon as he turns on the Rocky music, he becomes Mickey, leaving you-know-who to never-give-up fighting toward The Cure 

At any rate, we arrived home from Houston, having no clue how I’ll feel a few days after my most recent chemo infusion, and since I have no clinic appointments, today, my plan is to entertain my spirit by choosing Valentine treats on Amazon to send out to quite a few munchkins, whose adorable antics never fail to melt my heart ...  thank goodness, for children, so innocent and pure, and thank god for every parent who grows aware of the jewel they’ve been given to cherish for eighteen years during which time their little ones are meant to grow up to embrace each next stage of personal independence so fully that once the pups are full fledged adults, their parents feel free to expand their wingspans, as well😊

❤️Annie

Whoops!  I forgot to include the monkey face story; no worries, it’ll pour forth, naturally,, one of these days ...

Sent from my iPad