RED DEVIL

I’m scheduled for labs, one day early—today, in fact
Why?  My body has no strength to stand for even a minute
Do you know that one chemo is so powerful as
To be dreaded by patients, one and all?
As to the name of this dreaded chemotherapy, it’s Adriamiacin
This chemo is so highly toxic as to have acquired a nickname
The nickname of Adriamiacin is Red Devil
What?  I exclaimed, last week, when that nickname
Hit my ears with a thwack while the nurse was busily
Attaching a tube (to a red bag filled with Adriamiacin) into
My port, and so with tongue in cheek, I piped up—
Just a second, please—We’re not infusing anything called
Red Devil into me—And then I went on—
If Adriamiacin’s toxicity proves essential to
My recovery and if we’re not pumping
Red Devils into my body by way of my port then
It stands to reason that a new nickname is necessary with
Immediacy, and in less time then it takes to wink an eye
Will piped up with—How bout Cherries Jubilee!
YES!  Responded my spirit, eyes flashing with humor
Cherries Jubilee fits the bill to a tee!
And now, each time that red bag is hung onto
The pole that feeds tubes filled with
Life saving medications straight into my port
I smile at the power of words, which
Relaxed my mind while my body feasted upon Cherries Jubilee!
Thank goodness the power of positive focus is contagious
Why?  Because my chemo nurses are enjoying this
Switch in nicknames as much as is true of
Will and me, and also, thank goodness for the fact that
Will and I have long been in the habit of
Brainstorming toward palatable solutions on the spot so as to
Authorize such a delectable change in nickname, which
Offered me peace of mind though the only change that
Truly took place was our positive choice of words ...

IF A GOOD DAY IS REFERENCED AS ‘A NO WORSE DAY’ THEN ...

Remember the book
Alexander’s very bad terrible day?  Well, unfortunately, that was yesterday for me.  So if a good day is expressed as a ‘no worse day’ then a very bad terrible day will present itself as an Alec day (so as not to associate Terrible with Alex, as I have two young Alex’s in my life).

David’s loving presence freed me to loosen up a few tears, last night, and Steven and Ravi will be here, today, and though I felt light headed when I left my bed, this morning, I’m hoping for a no worse day, ahead.

More on the upside concerning yesterday—quite a few loved ones are with me throughout each day by way of text, email, cards, bouquets of flowers, fruits and sweets (since they honor my choice not to talk about cancer on the phone day in and day out).  One dear friend stopped by with chicken soup.  Another dropped off her homemade meatloaf.  And Angie hovers close by, as always, often with caramel apples and peanuts.  So many ways are love and friendship sincerely conveyed.

Though, at times I can’t help but feel alone with this battle for life that’s ravaging my body, 24/7, I balance that feeling by acknowledging my good fortune to have so many loving family and friends at my side, who, like a sturdy life raft, make up the proactive support system that keeps my spirit afloat when the rapids are too rough to manage on my own.

Being that my emotional reactions, though consciously controlled, have always been an open book, I can’t imagine the darkness that closes in on those who feel unable to expose their vulnerabilities, naturally, most especially to loved ones who truly want to lend a hand to help to ease the fear of pain that feels insurmountable but surely must be borne at one time or another within the scope of every person’s life ...
 ❤️🌈🌻 Annie

REALITY IS POKING AT ME

This morning, I awoke, accepting the fact that I feel sluggish, through and through—suggesting that though weekend plans are sweet, positive focus needs a break, now and then, and it’s not necessarily my choice as to when reality will choose to peek out from deep within my aching body.  Thank goodness, nothing is expected of me during the day.  No labs, appointments or tests.  Just rest. And by the time David’s plane lands, late this afternoon, who knows what may have offered my spirit a natural lift—perhaps all I need do is to quietly enjoy the sense of knowing that my son is eager to come home ...❤️🌻 Annie

MORE ABOUT THE HEALING PRESENCE OF LOVE

Good to say that, so far, my body is tolerating this round of chemo better than the last.  And with lots to enjoy as this weekend unfolds, my spirit awoke, this morning, smiling with thoughts of good fortune floating around in my head.

As I keep good people within my sights, Steven’s high school sweetheart, who flew into town from Denver with her sister to attend her daughter’s soccer tournament, plans to enjoy dinner with us, tonight.  She and I have always been glad that both of our hearts have chosen to keep in touch throughout the years.

Tomorrow, David flies in, and he and we have dinner plans with college/medical school friends, who winter here from Seattle.  Sunday’s play date is planned with Steven and Ravi, and the hi jinx, which are sure to abound whenever our family gathers together, inspires my spirit to laugh in anticipation of happy memory-making, directly ahead.

Amazing how easily the presence of loving family and treasured friends places the harsh reality of cancer on a back burner simply by showing up, which turns up the dial that sees my heartfelt good humor simmering within the gentle warmth of so much love bubbling forth ... 🥰

Lucky me

DANCING OVER THE RAINBOW

Presently, Will and I are in the cubicle assigned to me within this prestigious Clinic’s infusion center, awaiting chemo to drip through my port into my body after a medication that protects my heart has been absorbed.  Though the infusion of chemo, itself, will be easy, it’s the absorption that makes me queasy, and if history repeats itself then fatigue will be my most debilitating side effect following today’s protocol until week 2 when physical misery 🤨 is expected to challenge my natural level of patience to heighten while I make my way through each next day with as much grace as is humanly possible when my red and white blood cells and platelets plummet in number, offering me sound reason to hibernate from social interaction in hopes of avoiding viral and bacterial infections (most especially during flu season) which would prove too combative for my depressed immune system to calm into a state of submission.  And in order to buoy my spirit until days of chemo induced misery during round three fade into the past, I’ll remind myself of need to muscle up my mindful connection to courage in order to undergo the highly complex, dual cardiac/thoracic surgical procedure in Houston, which awaits my body’s stabilized readiness to take my most courageous leap of faith to date by focusing my sights upon landing at the end of the rainbow where recovery of my natural lust for life will enrich my soul with joy far more than could any pot of gold ... 💃🏻 cha cha cha!

THE SPIRIT OF SUPER BOWL SUNDAY PLACES THOUGHTS OF IMPEACHMENT AND CHEMO ON PAUSE

Yesterday was spent laughing with Ravi, which encouraged my enjoyment of another no worse day as I’m half way through ‘week three’ of my new chemo protocol.  

After Steven asked questions, concerning my upcoming surgeries, he could not find words to express the depths of his emotion, so he simply took hold of and held onto my hand, freeing our love for each other to fill the silence as though clarity was speaking aloud.  Barry and David call, every night.  Marie texts funny quips to which my corny sense of humor responds.  Daily texts, sent by my sister and a beloved high school friend, as well as texts, emails, cards and phone calls from all over the country buoy my spirit while Angie’s energy bounds through my front door, almost every day, and in addition to meals ringing our doorbell, the depths of Will’s protective devotion continues to take my breath away.

As to being on the receiving end of love flowing freely, I was shocked upon receiving a dozen roses from my eye doctor, last week, amid streams of calls, cards, gifts, emails and texts flowing toward me from sea to shining sea (whoops—sorry if I’m being redundant), my heartfelt reactions can’t help but smile while tears fill my eyes; however, rather than a woman divided, my emotions blend, inspiring my spirit to accept my fate, whatever it may be, with a greater sense of grace than frustration.

The depth of my sister’s love for me and mine for her maintains its heartfelt connection several times daily, and these past several days have offered me a ‘no worse week’.  So when considering half full cups, mine runneth over, because, with one fast glance at today’s post, we clearly see why, from my point of view, I am an exceedingly fortunate person

My next infusion of chemo is this coming Wed, so if history repeats itself then I can expect to experience several days of exceptional fatigue followed by my being caught up within a dark spell of physical misery during week two, when I’ll feel like Rocky in the ring, fighting the good fight against great odds.  And now on to more good news ...

David/Mickey plans to fly in, this Saturday, when his sense of humor will resume my ‘training’ concerning walking with head held high and keeping my dukes up, and in addition to enjoying his company, I love the fact that David picks up Ravi from school, because watching their imaginative antics is the best of all heartwarming medicines when physical misery attempts to knock my spirit out cold.  And though physical misery has come close to knocking me out, so far, my spirit’s not gone down for the count.

For clarity sake, here is the three week pattern, which has been shaping up, concerning my highly personal (natural) reactions to chemo:  First week after infusion of chemo, I feel so seriously energy deprived as to walk with a walker.  (Day after chemo infusion, I’m injected with a substance that stimulates bone marrow to produce white blood cells during week three).  Second week, blood tests show white blood cells and platelets plummeting while physical misery rises exponentially. Third week, as blood cells start to rise, my energy level remains light headed though on the upside, I, feeling my protective need to hibernate lessening, am more inclined to embrace my natural social life until the week passes, and I find myself receiving the next ticket to ride the chemo roller coaster, all over again—no chance to say ‘no more chemo’  to my team of medical specialists when we travel to Houston at the end of this month where my oncologist at MD Anderson  will study my most recent cardiac 3D MRI after which he’ll say,yea, time to schedule surgery—or nay, a fourth round of chemo is necessary ...

As being smack dab in the middle of week three sees me truly appreciating every day that misery and hibernation stay away from my sunny smile, my family and friends join me in sighing with relief as, together, we take each next step forward into the great unknown ...

Last night, Will and I ventured out to dinner (after two weeks of hibernation) at one of our favorite comfort havens with Angie, Mark and and another dear couple, and it felt really good to brighten my lips and cheeks while wrapping my head in a colorful turban (of which I now own several ala Amazon though I've sent back more than I’ve kept), and while peals of laughter rang aloud round our table in an old world Italian eatery, I imagined, once again, how good it must have felt to have spent time at TV’s factionalized Cheers, where, having been so warmly welcomed along with my friends, I was able to set thoughts of serious illness aside until the evening’s end when my friends’ heartfelt hugs circled round to include the establishment’s owner, manager and long time wait staff until each one turned toward me only to find that though my smile was sincere, my new found, natural inclination to maintain my physical distance in attempt to insure my physical safety, gently backed away from every open armed hug aimed directly at me.

Today, we said nay to a huge annual Super Bowl party (at the home of the first couple whom we ever met in Phoenix) in favor of watching the game at our house with Angie and Mark, who are bringing wine, cheese, crackers to munch on.  We plan to enjoy dinner on Monday with our super bowl hosts.  So, though I’m maintaining quiet days, we’re fitting in as many social evenings as my present level of energy allows before my next chemo infusion on Wed. drains my body of energy, yet again.

As for now, I, feeling showered with love, know myself blessed, plain and simple ...

And as always, I’m sending you tons of love!

Annie

A MUSTARD SEED ... AND MORE

As many of my friends can testify, chemo brain is a real thing, so here are insights that I’d forgotten to share, which came to mind just before I fell asleep, last night, concerning one of two book clubs, both of which I enjoy membership.  The women who comprise the book club, referenced in today’s post, number ten, and all of them are neighborhood friends.  Every December, it’s been my pleasure to choose the restaurant, where my imagination decorates a festive table for our holiday party to which we bring unwrapped gifts (which Ravi and I and anyone who wants to join us deliver to our local fire station where Toys For Tots are collected, gift wrapped and eventually dispersed.  And along with these gifts for children, Ravi and I surprise the firemen with a chocolate cake, decorated with yellow roses as well as these words:  THANK YOU FOR KEEPING US SAFE THROUGHOUT THE YEAR.  This year, in hopes that I could attend, my friends postponed our luncheon to January; however, being in hibernation until my white blood cell count rises, I could not attend, and since the festive occasion took place earlier, this week, here are the sentiments that I emailed to each of my nine neighbors, all dear friends, after they chose to honor my spirit’s presence at the table, last Wednesday: 

My dear friends, First of all—whether the mustard seed parable is taken from my ancestors’ bible, The Old Testament, or quoted from The New Testament, the insight below rings so true that I want to thank you, Martha, for gifting me with a precious mustard seed, which I plan to keep close to my heart so as to honor its meaning with the utmost of care—

For truly, I say to you, if you have faith as a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move; and nothing will be impossible to you."

Just as the tiny mustard seed grows into a strong healthy tree, I actually have a tree that I call ‘My Tree’ which I’ve cherished since childhood as its majestic presence inspires me, to this very day, to honor its deeply rooted, magnificent strengths, which, over these past 76 years, have continued to do much more than survive the windy city’s fiercest storms while shielding my family’s home under the gorgeous leafy expanse of its umbrella, to which photos cannot do justice without the use of a panoramic lens, because, each time I feel inspired to pay a visit to my tree, I stand before it, marveling, anew, at the circumference of its trunk, which, upon rising ever so high into the sky, branches out so spaciously as to cover the entire corner lot upon which my father built his dream house circa 1953 at which time My Tree had seemed fully grown, so tall and awe-inspiring had been its breadth and height, way back then, so as to have seemed as biblical in nature as was The Tree of Life to ten year old me.  And if, one day, I come across a photo of My Tree, I’ll send it forth, so you can see the ease with which its natural majesty miniaturized my family’s solidly constructed, red brick, two story, four bedroom home.  And thus do we come to see why the self-empowered, lasting presence of My Tree has become synonymous with the on-going development of my strong sense of personal safety, over most of my life. 

And so, my dear friend, Martha, your gift of the tiny mustard seed speaks to my inner strengths more personally than you could have known unless I opened my heart to reveal a vulnerable child, whose intuition somehow knew, straight from the getgo that magnificent trees, which had once been held in hand as tiny seeds, have lessons to gift to small fry with open minds, eager to embrace countless reasons to offer love so naturally and unconditionally as to nurture compassion as being the eleventh commandment, which never made it down the mountain based in Mel Brooks having dropped the third tablet, as seen in The History of the World Part I

As to planting seeds, I remember joining my father, who, smiling, on his knees, handed me seeds, which, upon being gently placed beneath fertile soil, grew into a garden of colorful blooms so beautifully arranged as to have rivaled any award winning floral display, around, and that rainbow-colored memory leads me toward thanking Gail for creating this year’s holiday table arrangement so beautifully that words could not do justice to Suzie’s photo, which truly delighted my spirit‘s sense of nature’s bounty on display.

And then, we come to the place that you set so lovingly for me, while inspirational quotes (each of which I’d love to read) were recited round the table by friends, who I miss dearly, and having read the timely and meaningful message contained within the rainbow card (which was signed by all with such heartfelt sentiment that I couldn’t help but feel so deeply loved as to tear up), so grateful do I feel to have you all, close by, that in answer to the question, which each of you has asked so sincerely—what can I do to ease your way—once my recovery, post surgery, gets underway, Will may deeply appreciate any nutritious meals that ring our bell so as to offer my sweetheart sound reason to relax after taking tender care of me, day after day, week after week, month after month ...

And now, having spoken straight from my heart, I hope you all feel as deeply loved by me as your love has been clearly conveyed in every one of your replies, which inspires my spirit to smile in response to each update that continues to connects me so meaningfully to beloved family and treasured friends. Plain and simple ... I love each of you more deeply than words can clearly express, so thank goodness for emojis

❤️💖💜❣️💕💘💞💝💓💗🙋🏻‍♀️Annie