Pirahna with Chain Saws

I didn't feel like waiting until Tuesday when Dr. P was back in the office to learn the results of the MRI, so I called Dr. H's office on Friday. Anna, the nurse practicioner, got on the phone, and she sounded surprised that no one had been in touch with me as the results had been available and discussed among my various doctors on Thursday. She thought Dr. D, the radiologist, was supposed to call me. I guess no one wanted to be the one to tell me that the MRI detected no visible difference in the size of the tumor.

Anna immediately told me not to get discouraged. She said that Dr. H is not fazed at all by this. (Oh sure, but it isn't his tumor or his life.) She said he still wants me to continue chemo and do the surgery at the completion of the chemo. I asked if it had grown, and she said, "No." She also reminded me that the MRI could not distinguish between live and dead tumor cells. We won't know for sure until the tumor is removed. I asked her if leaving the tumor in the breast increased the likelihood of it spreading, and she said since there was lymph node involvement, the cat was already out of the bag on that. She mentioned that my tumor was fast growing, and I said, "Isn't it the fast growing cells that are supposed to respond to the chemo." I could tell by her slow and deliberate responses that she was carefully navigating the minefield of questions I was making her walk through. "Yes," she said. "That is the theory, so we may be dealing with a more... uh... tenacious entity than we originally thought."

What about the hand with 30 years of experience that was confident my tumor was shrinking? I didn't ask that question (and if I had, I wouldn't have worded it quite that way), but Anna brought it up herself. She said that when she and Dr. H first saw me, it was right after the biopsy. The biopsy probably caused inflammation and swelling that made the tumor feel larger than it actually was. That explains why everyone who hasn't felt it for awhile thought it was smaller, while I couldn't really feel a difference recently from day to day.

She kept telling me not to get discouraged. She said that we have just begun attacking the tumor and that we have a lot more stuff in the arsenal. She mentioned that many women (40%) have either a partial or complete response to the Taxotere, which is the next chemo drug that I guess I will begin next week. I reminded her that Dr. P has to order the chemo, and she promised to call me on Monday after she had a chance to talk to Dr. H and Dr. P about my schedule. If I am going to continue chemo, I don't want to lose any more time waiting around for the doctors to figure out who is going to call me. (Ouch! Am I getting a little touchy?)

So what does it really mean that there hasn't been a noticeable reduction in the size of the tumor? Maybe something, maybe nothing. Despite Anna's frequent reminders not to get discouraged, of course I got discouraged. Of course I created meaning, and of course it was unfavorable meaning. I allowed myself to shed a few tears that night. My brother, John, said that while this may be an emotional setback for me, it doesn't change the outcome which we know will be my victory over breast cancer. I told him that I guess I was going to have to get more aggressive than the pirahna, to which he responded, "What is more aggressive than pirahna? Pirahna with chainsaws?" Yea. When I was doing my visualization that night, I had a really difficult time figuring out how the pirahna would hold the chain saws though...

By Saturday morning, the moment of despair had passed. At this point, I am starting to get a little p----- off actually. I didn't lose my hair for nothing!! Tenacious entity? Well, so am I! I spent a couple of hours on the internet researching breast cancer on Saturday. I had previously resisted taking this action because I was afraid of what I might learn. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, and I was deliberately avoiding information like survival rates. When doing battle with a tenacious entity, however, one must be fully armed.

I visited reputable sites, like the Susan G. Komen website. It was a wealth of information and cited many recent articles on breast cancer research. I learned a lot. It was encouraging to see that the treatment I am undergoing is supported by recent studies. I do have confidence in my doctors and that they are current on the latest treatment modalities. Nonetheless, I developed a list of about 10 questions to ask them based on the studies I read. What is very apparent: there is still so much that remains unknown about breast cancer and so there is still much guesswork. The doctors are doing the best they can with the data that is available.

And by the way, I did stumble across the survival rates on one of the websites. For Stage II, it is about 80%. (I am assuming that it is the five year survival rate, but it didn't specify.) Of course, I am in the 80%. Also, I have decided to give meaning to the MRI results. The chemo is working because the tumor has not grown larger.

Sweet Potato Pies and MRIs

Bo brought the boys to visit Papa on Tuesday, and they took him to lunch. I am happy to report that Papa is doing very well. They returned with a real gift. Before she died, Big Nanny had made some sweet potato pies for Bo and the boys and had frozen them. We baked one of them Tuesday and put the other back in the freezer for a special occasion. I don't think Bo has ever savored a pie as much as he did this one. When I was in my office yesterday, Bo and the boys were having pie after finishing up lunch. I overheard Cole say to Bo, "I wish that Big Nanny was still around to make sweet potato pies for us," Bo agreed and responded back, "She's up in heaven making sweet potato pies for God, and all the angels, and everyone else up there, and they are all going 'Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm! This is the best sweet potato pie I have ever had!'" I will have to ask Papa if he has the recipe so that Big Nanny can live on through her pies. I'm not sure I can live up to the legend, and neither is Cole, but I would like to try.

Now for a Bo update. It has been three weeks since he visited his doctor for his "sympathy cyst", and it hasn't gone away, so the doctor scheduled an ultrasound for him this coming Monday (July 31 - my Mom's birthday). He will be going to the Women's Imaging Center, my new hangout. Even though his doctor and Dr. P don't think it is anything to be worried about, Bo went on the internet to WebMD, and what he read really concerned him. He said that breast cancer is men usually occurs as a lump directly behind the nipple, which is where Bo's lump is. I know it is absolutely NOT breast cancer because that would be so statistically improbable, not to mention just way too freaky. Of the two of us, Bo is the worrier, so even though I hate to wish away time, for his sake, I can't wait for next week so we can know for sure that it is nothing that ominous. So Bo will be at the Women's Imaging Center for an ultrasound on what would have been my Mom's 66th birthday, and I was there yesterday on his Mom's birthday for my second MRI.

For five years, we have lived on a lake, and for most of that time, I didn't pay any attention to it, even though I love the water. Ever since the diagnosis, I have made an effort to notice and enjoy my surroundings. For most of my life, I have not eaten breakfast because I just never felt like eating in the morning. Ever since the diagnosis, I have made an effort to nourish my body with healthy food throughout the day. So yesterday morning before I left for my MRI, I was eating my bowl of fresh fruit on the deck overlooking the lake. It was a typical Southern summer morning - the humidity that would rule the later part of the day was just beginning to make its presence known, but it was still very pleasant and comfortable.

I was contemplating the shift in my life from blissful (?) ignorance to a waiting game predicated on test results. (That's not just for the short term either. Once I am cured and officially enter the survivor category, I will be continue to be regularly tested for many years into the future to ensure there has not been a recurrence.) These thoughts, while obviously not uplifting, weren't depressing either. It just reinforced for me that life occurs in the everyday existence between all of the big events, or in my case these days, between the tests. So while the boys departed to the movie theater to watch Curious George, I headed to the Imaging Center determined to enjoy the experience! (Okay, that's a stretch, but at least not be counting the minutes until it was over.)

In the waiting room, I was greeted very cheerfully by the MRI tech, a young woman named Jamie who led back to the MRI area. As Jamie and I were talking, she told me that she had lost twins last year. One died at a day old and the other at 23 days old. My heart went out to her. Early on, I had said that my worst nightmare came true when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, but I nearly instantly reversed that thought once I had voiced it because truly my worst nightmare would be for something to happen to my boys.

When she so cheerfully greeted me, I could have easily let myself think that here is someone who doesn't have a care in the world, and I would have been so wrong. We really don't know what is going on in people's lives, but what I am beginning to really notice is that people you would think have every reason to be gloomy are far from it, while others who seem to have so much to be happy about aren't.

I guess since I knew what to expect this time, the MRI wasn't a big deal. It was still noisy, of course, but I just kind of meditated through it. Joe, the tech from last time, again asked me type of music I would like to hear during the procedure. I told him that I really enjoyed the top 40 station I didn't hear last time over the din, but that I would let him pick the station that I wouldn't be able to hear this time. He picked classical. In one of my more brilliant moments, I asked Jamie if the disposable earplugs they gave me were wireless and picked up the radio stations. She looked at me very kindly and said, "No, there are speakers over your head when you are in the machine."

We were all hoping the test results would be back today, but Dr. P's office called and said that Dr. D, the radiologist, hadn't read them yet, never mind transcribed them. I know I am not their only patient, but I was hoping Dr. D would expedite them. Dr. P doesn't work Fridays or Mondays apparently, so that means I must wait until Tuesday. Then she and Dr. H must hook up and consult. If the decision is to continue chemo, I want to resume immediately so I can get it over with. Plus, I don't like the idea of the tumor sitting around with nothing attacking it but the pirahna! Ideally, I would have started the next round today. Well, I am not going to let it interfere with life between the test results!

I Have a Way You Can Help the Cause

When Bo and I were in Dr. P's waiting room last week for my lab work, I discovered "Cure" magazine. Can you believe there is a magazine dedicated entirely to cancer and for people who have cancer? Well, it makes sense when you consider this statistic contained in one of the articles: 46% of men will have cancer during their lifetimes, and 38% of women. Those are pretty sobering percentages. Even if you manage to dodge this particular bullet, many people you know and love, will not. The encouraging news is that, as implied by the title of the magazine, cancer doesn't have to be a death sentence.

Treatment for cancer has come so far. Take my situation, for example. Breast cancer is no longer a one-size fits all diagnosis with a standard course of treatment. In fact, since I embarked upon this journey, I have spoken to many women who have breast cancer or have had it, and none of them have or had the same protocol as I have had. The plan is really customized to the specific type of cancer. Is the cancer infiltrating ductal or lobular? What was the age at diagnosis? Is there a family history? Is it estogren/progesterone receptor positive or negative? Is it her2neu positive or negative? How large is the tumor? Is there lymph node involvement? The answers to those questions will determine lumpectomy versus mastectomy, chemo before or after surgery, the duration, frequency and type of chemo, the drugs that will be prescribed during treatment and for years after, radiation or not, etc. That's just for breast cancer. Other types of cancer have very specific protocols also.

The medical community has the benefit of years of extensive research now, but anyone who has cancer benefits the most from that research. I am confident that if my Mom had been given the same type of treatment plan used today and had had the latest drugs available to her, breast cancer would not have claimed her life and robbed this family of this beautiful, gentle woman who truly enjoyed life and people (and dining and dry manhattans).

I am the recipient of advances discovered through hundreds of thousands of women before me, many who unfortunately did not survive breast cancer and many more who have. The survival rates continue to improve for all types of cancer, thanks to the research that is ongoing.

One of the country's foremost cancer research facilities is the Dana Farber Cancer Institute in Boston. Every year, a bike-a-thon, the Pan-Mass(achusetts) Challenge (PMC) is held to raise funds for that institute's "Jimmy Fund", and over 4,000 cyclists participate. My cousin, Kathy, is one of them. She first began riding in the Pan-Mass challenge back in the late 1980s in honor of my mother. (My mother was the sister of Kathy's Mom, my Auntie Jo.)

Kathy is a month younger than me, and her two sons, Tyler and Andy, are both a month younger respectively, than Clay and Lance. We are bonded through multiple parallel pregnancies and through a strong family connection over the years. Plus, we just plain like eachother! Kathy is truly a phenomenal woman, but even wonder women have their limitations. While Kathy focused on family and her career at Middlebury College in Vermont, her participation in the Pan-Mass challenge was put on hold for a decade. She began riding again last year. Kathy wrote in her recent fundraising appeal to friends and family, "This year is particularly meaningul for me in that 2006 marks the 10-year anniversary of the death of my aunt for whom I began riding in the late 1980s, and it is the year that her daughter (my cousin) - Mary Beth Morrill Gibson- was diagnosed with cancer."

When Kathy and I spoke a few weeks ago, she suggested that I do the challenge with her sometime in the future. I committed to do it with her next year when I am cancer free as "living proof" that cancer research makes a difference. Bo, my two brothers, Jeff, and John, my sister-in-law, Julie, my Dad, and my hiking buddy, Jenn, have all committed to participate with me and Kathy in 2007 as well. Consider yourself warned that next year I will be making a personal appeal to each of you to support my victory ride. Anyone else who wants to boost their "hiney parts" on a bicycle for ninety miles is more than welcome to join us! Just let me know.

In the meantime, Kathy is riding this year and must raise a minimum of $2,300 to participate in the first day of the challenge, a nearly 90 mile ride from Wellesely, Massachusetts to the Bourne Bridge at Cape Cod on August 5. She has, however, set an aggressive goal of $6,000. Last year, the challenge raised $23 million of which 99% went to the Jimmy Fund for cancer research. This year, the goal is $24 million.

Many of you have repeatedly told me, "If there is anything I can do to help you and your family out, please let me know." The outpouring of love and support in all of its forms has been more help than any of you realize, but if you want another way to assist, I would ask that you consider making a donation to Kathy's fundraising efforts. Your help will have far reaching benefits beyond just my personal situation.

If you are interested, donations can be made on-line via credit card payment through her (secure) personal PMC web page. It is https://www.pmc.org/egifts/giftinfo.asp?eGiftID=KF0072

Her personal PMC profile page may be viewed at http://www.pmc.org/mypmc/profiles.asp?Section=story&eGiftID=KF0072

While the PMC is a prominent annual event in Massachusetts, outside of that state, most people aren't aware of its significance. A compelling article about the PMC was published in Newsweek last summer can be found at http://www.pmc.org/articles.asp?ArticleID=223

Although Kathy is riding on August 5, donations will be accepted through early October. I have contributed to Kathy's ride each time, and this year will be no different except that for the first time, it is not just for my Mom, it is for me. It is also for Big Nanny and you too, Carrie. Thank you, Kathy, for riding for us and everyone else impacted by this disease now or later, either personally or through people they love. Here's sending pedal power your way!

Back to Perky

Well, I was able to talk myself back to a good place this week. Most of the time, it has been required minimal effort for me to remain optimistic and enthusiastic, but there are times, like this week, when I have really had to remind myself of and focus on all the wonderful reasons I have to be happy with my beautiful life. I do love my life, and that is probably why when thoughts of my own mortality intrude, as they can't help but doing these days, I do feel sad. I don't fear dying. I just have too much living to do, so I am going to. Something will get me someday, but it will not be breast cancer! Dammit!

I had an appointment with my surgeon, Dr. H. this morning. If you will recall, Anna, his nurse practicioner was diagnosed with breast cancer a few weeks before me. We were both sporting our bare heads and expressing our gratitude that we still had eyebrows and eyelashes. She reminded me a little of Sigourney Weaver in "Aliens." (Incidentally, I was told last week while donning one of my very fashionable hats from the Hat Trader that I looked like Demi Moore, and not in her G.I. Jane role either. Made my day!) Anna is also doing quite well, and it was nice to be able to share experiences.

Dr. H. got up to speed on my situation. I told him that Dr. P. scheduled me for an MRI next Wednesday to assess the tumor's response. He had already felt the tumor. He advised me that he had an equally reliable, far less expensive tool for assessing the response, and held up his hand. "Plus," he added, "this tool has 30 years of experience, and it tells me that your tumor is responding." Woohoo!!! Must have been the pirahna! He also was unable to locate any swollen lymph nodes this time (I had one last time) which he takes to mean that the chemo is working. I was so very happy to hear him say that.

He said to go ahead and get the MRI but that it may not be able to distinguish between the morbid tumor cells and live tumor cells. He is strongly and adamanantly of the position, that unless the tumor has grown, we continue with the chemo and then schedule surgery. His reasoning is this: No one dies from cancer in the breast. Women die when the cancer spreads to other parts of the body. The chemo is now killing any cells that may have spread undetected. The surgery would only be targeting the tumor in the breast and would delay the chemo which is the more systemic treatment. That makes perfectly good sense to me.

I then had to go to Dr. P.'s for my lab work. From the very beginning, Dr. P. has been more inclined to consider surgery sandwiched between chemo. I was discussing my schedule with her office staff and mentioned that Dr. P. will need to consult with Dr. H. on the MRI results next week but that Dr. H. was of the opinion that I should continue chemo. "Oh great," said Pam. "That means we may have phones being thrown around next week." When I asked if the two doctors really get into it like that, she said, "Yes, sometimes. Dr. H. likes to think he is an oncologist, but he is the surgeon." Hmmm.... Well, in the interest of preserving the phones, I hope that the MRI results are not at all ambiguous.

Both doctors can and will make recommendations, but ultimately, the decision is left up to me. Since I am chronically decision averse, I hope there is consensus on the part of Dr. H. and Dr. P. If not, I guess each will have to present a case for their position and provide data that will allow me to come to an informed conclusion about the best way to proceed. I would much prefer to get the chemo over with and then deal with the surgery in the fall. Otherwise, I have to wait a month to recover from the chemo before having surgery. Then I have to wait a month to recover from surgery before resuming chemo. By then, I may have a full head of hair I have to watch fall out again. No way!

More to come...

Lots of Stuff Going On

I try to update this blog every couple of days, but last week really got away from me, and this blog may be longer than usual as a result. Thursday was a hectic day. My brother, Jeff, and his wife, Julie came to visit us last Sunday. Julie flew home to Massachusestts on Tuesday, and I drove Jeff to the airport in Richmond on Thursday morning. We had a great time with them, and I hated to see them go. As soon as I returned home from the aiport, I grabbed lunch on the go, and Bo and I headed to the oncologist's office for my fourth chemo treatment.

We put a movie in the VCR, but we didn't end up really watching it, so I can't give any stars this week. I tried to get caught up on thank you notes, and Bo caught up on some ZZZZs. I am now 50% of the way through the chemo treatments. As you may recall, the first four treatments have been adriamycin and cytoxan on a dose dense schedule (every two weeks instead of every three weeks). The adriamycin, "affectionately" referred to as "the red devil" (it looks like red kool aid but packs a powerful punch) traditionally has the most side effects. In order to combat one of the side effects, extreme nausea, I took a pill called Kytril twice a day for three days after the chemo treatments. I will no longer need this drug. Good thing too. Can you believe, that even with insurance, the pills were $20 apiece? Withouth insurance, they were over $50 apiece! I guess they were well worth it though. I never experienced any nausea and have been able to eat just about anything I want. Since I have tolerated the adriamycin and cytoxan so well, I should do well with the Taxotere.

The next four treatments will be taxotere on a three week schedule; however, I am not sure when those treatments will begin. Dr. P. came in again to feel the tumor. She still thinks it is smaller, but I am scheduled for an MRI (ugh, not that noisy thing!) on July 26 to determine how well the tumor has responded to the chemo. She and my surgeon, Dr. H, will consult, and if the tumor has not responded well (has not diminished in size), surgery to remove the tumor will be scheduled next. Chemo will then resume following the surgery. If the tumor has responded as hoped, the chemo treatments will continue, and the surgery will be scheduled for the fall. One way or another, the breast will be removed, it is just a matter of when.

Remember Bo's sympathy cyst? While we had Dr. P. in the room with us, I asked her if she wouldn't mind feeling Bo's chest. I am sure she preferred it actually! Bo and I have now had both of our breasts palpitated by Dr. P. How many couples can say that?? She thought that it was awfully nice of Bo to show support for me in this manner. She seems to think that it is just a cyst that has developed from his weight training. She wasn't at all concerned about it, but she did agree that it wouldn't hurt to have an ultrasound done on it.

After we left the office, we scooted back home so I could change. This time, I grabbed dinner on the go, and we headed off on the hour drive to King William County for visiting hours at the funeral home. We left the boys with Bo's mother (Mama). Many people came to pay their last respects to Big Nanny and to show their support for the family. Everyone is doing well.

Friday was just about as busy. I had my weekly networking meeting in the morning and then my final hypnosis session. I told Andi, the hpynotist, that we need to get more aggressive with the tumor as it hasn't shrunk as much as I would have liked, so she incorporated pirahna engaged in a feeding frenzy into my tape this week.

For the last time this week, I grabbed a meal on the go, and this time the whole family headed to the funeral home. Dad went with us too, which was nice. Cole, Clay, and Lance were able to see Big Nanny one last time, and this was important to them. I have been fielding lots of questions from Cole and Clay. The are wondering about where is she now and will she come back.... Don't we all wonder? Following the funeral service where the minister spoke about sweet potato pies and butter beans and a woman who always spoke her mind, we proceeded to the church (and cemetary) in King and Queen County where she and Papa had worshipped early on in their marriage and where Big Nanny's parents are buried.

From there, it was on to their present church in Hanover County where members of that church had prepared a meal for family friends. (we traversed five counties in Virginia on Friday!) This concluded the funeral events. Again, my heart goes out to Papa, as he returns to an empty house and must find new meaning to his days. Please keep him in your prayers.

Saturday, my friend, Jenn, and I were finally able to get together for the walk we have been talking about for a month. I know Jenn from the Development Office at William and Mary. We usually grab a lunch together on a regular basis but thought a brisk hike would be a nice change of pace (pardon the bad pun). She drove down to Newport News with me first. Due to the funeral, I was unable to get my shot of Neulasta yesterday as normally scheduled at4:00 p.m. , so I had to find another way. (The Neulasta is important because it promotes the white blood cell count.) Thank God I do not receive my chemo at the oncology clinic in Newport News! It was so depressing. There was a huge room with probably twenty chairs and i.v. stands set up around the perimeter. It was like assembly line chemo. I much prefer my private room #6 at Dr. P.'s office. I told them just to put up a sign, "Mary's Room." Actually, I prefer they don't because after my eight chemo treatment this year, I NEVER intend to go back to that room.

Jenn and I hiked a great trail along the marsh at York River State Park. We got in a good aerobic workout and were able to catch up on a month's worth of happenings. It was a beautiful morning all around.

I would have to say that this weekend is the first time in the past month or so that I have felt a little down about things. The doctors have told me that many women respond so well to the chemo that it virtually melts the tumor, and in some cases, there is no trace of the tumor. Mine is still very prominently and unmistakeably there following four treatments. Of course, we won't know the effects for certain until I have the MRI next week, and I do believe it is smaller, but I was just hoping for a more dramatic response. Also, from a long term outcome perspective, I don't know what the implications of are. Whenever I try to go there with Dr. P., she tries to keep me focused on "one step at a time." That is probably not a bad thing, but anyone who knows my anal-retentive, need-to-know, planning and organizing (control freak) type of personality, can probably understand how difficult this is for me. It is also my nature to take limited information and create meaning with it, and it doesn't help that I am more inclined to jump to worst case scenario.

If that's not enough - I used to be able to track hormonal fluctuations on the calendar like clockwork, and I would know if I was feeling a little teary because I was "PMS ing", (which is quite honestly the only time I ever feel teary. Well that and sappy movies and t.v. commercials.) Chemo, however, has the effect of launching you into the uncharted territory of an early menopausal-like state. I think I am experiencing hot flashes in the evenings. Since I usually always run cold, the fact that I am checking the temperature on the air conditioning and then lowering it means that something is up! This may be contributing to my mood. Of course, being surrounded by the experience of losing Big Nanny has kind of put the whole concept of death right out front and center this week. So, I imagine that it is a combination of all of these things.

That being said, I haven't been all all despondent and depressed. I just wouldn't be have been honest with myself and with you if I didn't admit I was a little sad about things this weekend. I know I have every reason to continue to be optimistic though, and I understand that attitude is everything. I love my life, and I see every new day is a gift. I plan to continue living life to the fullest each and every day - that is all any of us has.

This One is for You, Big Nanny

Bo's grandmother passed away last evening from ovarian cancer. She was originally diagnosed with ovarian cancer back in 2000 when Bo and I were living in Florida, and she had surgery at that time. I remember thinking that she probably wouldn't be around for long because ovarian cancer has such a high mortality rate. Also, she had been in poor health with a weak heart ever since I had been a part of the family. Nonetheless, it was never mentioned again and she was fine until several months ago. Then they discovered the cancer was back and that it was pretty widespread. About the only thing that could be done this time was palliative care.

She went into the hospital last Wednesday, and we visited her on Friday and again on Sunday. On Sunday, we were allowed to bring the boys in to see her, and she was alert enough to interact with them. Bo and I also visited her yesterday afternoon. I knew the end was near, but I didn't know as we left that I had kissed her and said "I love you" for the last time. As Bo and I were waiting by the bank of elevators on the third floor to go back downstairs, we could observe the nursery and see all of the activity around the little newborn babies. We were both thinking about the circle of life. Big Nanny was 83 years old and had a full life. That doesn't make it any easier to say "goodbye", but it is comforting to know she lived a good life and that she is no longer suffering.

She was never called, just "Nanny". We always called her "Big Nanny." The reason escapes me because she couldn't have been five feet tall, and she probably wasn't more than 120 pounds soaking wet. Bo thinks the nickname started as a joke. While her physical stature wasn't big, her presence was. Her health may have been weak, but her will was strong, and she was the family matriarch.

She wasn't the real touchy-feely type of grandmother who smothered you with hugs and kisses, but you always felt loved. She often showed her love with food. Almost every time we went to visit, we left with a sweet potato pie (Bo's favorite since boyhood) or some other type of homemade treat. She was known for her butter beans. She used a pressure cooker and a little bit of margarine (pronounced margareen), but her secret was to add a little bit of sugar when cooking vegetables. Her mama taught her that. Every year, she insisted on having family holidays at her house, and we didn't mind. She would put out quite the spread for us. Several years ago, we all thought it would be easier on her to have it somewhere else, and she reluctantly agreed. I volunteered our house. She still cooked just about everything she normally did and brought it over to our house. She then commandeered my kitchen, and showed me the right way to make mashed potatos and whatever else I was preparing. Anyone else, and I may have been a little put out. Nanny and I got along just fine though. Bo thinks it is because we were so much alike and appreciated eachother's strengths.

Even though the past couple of months were very hard on her, she was always thinking about us. She remembered Lance's and Clay's birthdays and sent cards with the usual $10.00 enclosed to buy a toy. She was very concerned about me and was always asking how I was doing. She lived a life of service and generosity, and of compassion and concern to others up until the very end.

Bo's father told him that last evening, Big Nanny's breathing had became quite labored. She took two deep breaths and then she held up her hand and it looked like she waved. That was the end. I would like to think she was waving goodbye. It would be just like Nanny to depart this world with that last little bit of gumption.

Bo is holding up well. He met his Dad and his grandfather at the funeral home this morning to begin making arrangements. Big Nanny and Papa have been married 63 years. It would have been 64 on Halloween of this year, so I cannot begin to imagine what Papa must be feeling. He is a wonderful, kind man. He has spent so many years caring for Big Nanny that he probably won't know what to do with himself. Cole said last night, "We should all take turns going to sleep with Papa so he won't be alone."

Please keep the family in your thoughts and prayers, especially Bo's grandfather and father. Thelma Gibson's spirit will live on through us in the many ways she touched our lives. We love you, Big Nanny!!

Weirder than Weird

Bo and I celebrated our wedding anniversary on July 5 - nine years of matrimonial bliss. Okay, that may be a little bit of stretch. It has been nine years though, and probably 8.75 of them have been pretty content and the remaining .25 have been only a little frustrating. Regardless, we are happy. I would attribute this to our acceptance of eachother for who we are. Bo did this from the day we met. He has always loved the woman I am, flaws and all, and hasn't tried to change me. It took me a little longer to get there. I joke that I was perfect when our paths first crossed back in June 1995 and that he still needed work. The truth is, I was the one who needed a little bit of work to realize that love isn't about shaping the person into who you think they should be or who you want them to be - it is about helping your partner grow in the ways important to that person. I love my husband!!!

So what's weird about that? Nothing, but this is. I am sure you have heard of sympathy pain. Well, Bo seems to have taken that to an extreme. Bo has developed a hard mass under the nipple on his left side. He went to the doctor yesterday, and the doctor isn't exactly sure what it is. She doesn't think that it is anything to be concerned about though. Nonetheless, she said that if it doesn't go away in two to three weeks, she wants to send him to Dr. D ( my radiologist) to have it checked out. Men do get breast cancer, but it is extremely rare. Only 2,000 men are diagnosed each year with breast cancer, compared to 200,000 women. We are not worried about it, but we are hoping that it does go away on its own so that it is one less thing we need to think about.

I went for my labwork yesterday and all of my counts were acceptable. My red blood count was still a little low, but I received medicine after my last chemo treatment to help raise it and boost my energy level. Energy level really hasn't been an issue though. I haven't noticed any decline and have even been able to maintain my regular treadmill routine.

I am meeting lots of other cancer patients during my visits to the oncologist's office. It is actually a little scary how routine the conversations about cancer have become for me. Yesterday, we were discussing treatment options and side effects and exchanging tips on coping. Even though the journey is very personal, I understand now that I have become part of a very, very large circle of people who are experiencing similar things. One of the women mentioned that she had seen a t-shirt that said, "I have chemo brain. What is your excuse?" What will they come up with next? (Chemo brain, I am told, is inability to focus or concentrate, loss of memory, etc. Shoot. I have had those symptons since I started having kids, so I doubt I'll even notice that!)

I had a couple of very nice visits this week. John, a former co-worker from the Department of Social Services, and his wife, Margaret, joined us for dinner Monday night. John has the distinction of being my first professional mentor upon my graduation from William and Mary 20 (ugh!) years ago and the ensuing introduction to the world of work. Our families have remained close over the years. My friend, Pam, and her daughter Kristin, took me to dinner last night. Pam is also a former colleague from my Social Services days. All this attention is very nice and very appreciated, and I want everyone to know that I hope the increased focus on friendships and making the efforts to see eachother to continue long after I am cancer free! It is so easy to get caught up with the day to day aspects of living that we forget that life is all about the relationships we nurture and the way we touch others.

Feeling Wonderful

I am three days into my third chemo treatment and I am still feeling great. When I hear from others about how much the chemo affected them, I consider my own response to the treatment to be a small miracle and a most appreciated miracle. I told my wonderful oncology nurse, Gloria, on Thursday that I was actually a little concerned that the only noticeable side effect I have experienced from the chemo has been losing the hair on my head. Was the chemo working? She said that the two have absolutely nothing to do with eachother and that I am just very "resilient." (I like that word.) My so-called resilience has been a blessing because the impact of my treatment on the family has been minimal. There has been no disruption to our normal routine.

My friend, Angelia, came over Friday afternoon to help me style my wigs. Angelia, is a former co-worker from way back to my APAC Customer Service days. She has a family member for whom she has styled wigs for many, many years and had offered to help me. As she was working her magic on me, I told her that I never envisioned when we first met back in 1996 that she would be styling wigs for me. I guess that is what makes life such an adventure. You never know what the future holds. I also suggested she add "cranial prosthesis technician" to her resume. People may think she performs brain surgery! Those of us in human resources feel that way sometimes anyway.

Under Angelia's expertise, the six wigs transformed from offering a pelt-like appearance to providing a chic and stylish look for the occasions when I am inclined to wear hair. I have been quite comfortable with hats, and yesterday I was running around with just a Wiliam and Mary baseball cap. I do have a very fine fringe of hair left. Dr. P. said these were "keepers," so I guess they are there for the long haul. When I am wearing a hat, you can see hair peeking out, so it is fairly natural looking. No matter. I don't cringe when I look in the mirror anymore. I took Max's words to heart to look more deeply, but also, like most change, it just takes a little while to adapt to something new.

Speaking of which, the kids have all adapted too. We celebrated Lance's third birthday with a small party at Pizza Hut last Tuesday night. Cole and Clay were encouraging me to show their friends my hair, and I obliged. The world did not stop. Cole informed me that he has gotten used to my hair now, and when I ask Lance if he likes me hair, he had been saying, "No, not yet." Now he answers, "Yes." They all like to reach over and pat my head. Bo made some comment about having six women to choose from now... Seven if we include the blonde wig, but that one is for when I want two men to choose from!