Early Thanksgiving season

Ordinarily, this would be a week off from treatment for Scout. But with Thanksgiving around the corner, she asked to have an extra day of treatment this week in order to be free from it during the week of the holiday. So far this round, all of her bloodwork has been good there shouldn't be any problem this week for her to get treatment.  Still, it is seeming to have a little of a cumulative effect on her in the days following a treatment. I know she's looking forward to having a short break from it; I can't imagine having the physical strength to walk around the block after one of these rounds, let alone go for a twelve-mile run, which Carol did today. And the same inner strength that gets her out to run is getting her through all of this.

An early Thanksgiving wish to all of you.  You have no idea how thankful we are for you, our friends and family. Now get out there and run in a Turkey Trot!

Long-distance running

the long-distance run of an early morning 

makes me think that every run like this is a life -- 

a little life, I know -- 

but a life as full of misery and happiness 

and things happening as you can ever get really around yourself

                                                   -- John Sillitoe, The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner

Carol's doctor has said on more than one occasion in the last several months, "it's not a sprint; it's a marathon." And just as in a marathon, Carol's experience changes as she goes through it. There are times when she has felt energized by the support and love from others, and there are other times when she has had to draw upon reservoirs of faith, hope, and optimism she has inside herself. 

This week, when a blood test came back not as positive as she had hoped it would, was one of those times. Reminding herself that she just ran a half-marathon on Sunday, that she is able to get out and do all the things she loves to do physically, that her recent scan bore positive news, that all other blood tests to this point have gone in the right direction -- that all was a little harder this week. But she's doing it. She amazes me. Again and again.

And as for all of you -- you are all taiko drummers, at the bottom of the hill on Battery Street at the Vermont City Marathon in Burlington, beating the hell out of those big drums and helping to propel Carol up the hill while she goes through her own journey. Thank you so much.

One of my uncles gave me The Loneliness of the Long-Distance Runner when I was eleven or twelve, and I remember wondering why he gave it to me and whether he thought I was a runner (I wasn't), or if he thought I might be a runner at some point, so I had better be prepared for those bouts of loneliness that came to all long-distance runners at some point.  

Thanks to Uncle Vin, Jerry, John, Jack, Rich, or Bob for the book, and to all of you, for lessening the impact of that loneliness.

Moments of Joy

“We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, 

or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses.” 

― Abraham Lincoln

Carol took our dog Callie down to the lake today, where she threw sticks into the water for Callie to retrieve and cavort in the waves. Those simple moments, when something pure and real stands right in front of you -- I wish we could encapsulate them, keep them as more than a memory, as a counterweight, perhaps. I guess by continuing to experience those moments, we do just that. For me, the moment she told me of her outing was one of those counterweights as well -- a moment of joy in her joy in seeing the dog's joy.

Speaking of weight, I'll be dragging mine around the Shelburne half marathon this weekend with Carol. Her umpteenth half marathon, or something like that, but my first. I'm sure I'll see some of you passing me this Sunday. I may have to stash a bike somewhere around mile 6 or so.

Carol started her latest round of treatment yesterday. She looks good, and she feels good, and that's good.

Off Week

In the absence of treatment this past week, Carol has been feeling much more like herself, with one exception -- on Thursday morning, she had a little fip in her stomach, despite the fact that she wasn't going anywhere near a needle that day, and the closest she would get to giving blood would be if she cut herself (again) while cutting onions. This has now happened on each off week (the little stomach flip, not cutting her finger! Though that happened on an off week, too...). By late afternoon, she's been back to feeling good, and even more so because she didn't have treatment on that day. The power of the mind is great.

This mental energy that has also helped buoy her so well along this path. For making sure she got her mind off upcoming scan results, for sending a quick note, sharing a photo, thank you. It means so much. Thanks to all of you, she heads into the next round feeling good and feeling loved.

It's Been a While...

It's been a little while since Carol has received a full dose of treatment for all three sessions in a round.  This past round, which ended on Thursday, was just that. She looked good, and all of the bloodwork they looked at told a similar story, so she has received a full dose for these past three weeks. For right now, she's feeling the effects of this treatment pretty strongly. But by early next week, the symptoms will have lessened, and it will make this upcoming week off all the sweeter.

She spent a healthy chunk of Friday at the studio, which I take to be a very good sign indeed. For now, she's concentrating on small paintings; there seems to be a demand for those right now. Soon, though, Scout hopes to turn back to larger canvases. I love to see her creative and emotional energy come out in her art, and it warms my heart to know that she feels good enough to do what she loves.

“If people can just love each other a little bit, they can be so happy.”
                 -- Emile Zola

No Spread, No Growth

To paraphrase a friend, "I know shrinkage is even better, but no spread, no growth is the report one always wants to hear."  She certainly wasn't talking about a Seinfeld episode.  No, this was in reference to the report from Carol's most recent scan, which I was able to share with Carol last night when she got home from a wonderful night out with friends.

The scan showed that there has been no new movement or new growth in her condition.  In other words, the treatment is doing just what it is designed to do: it is bringing down the marker numbers and preventing tumor cells from multiplying. This means that Carol can remain on the same regimen for treatment, which, comparatively speaking, is really good. She will be able to continue her schedule of three weeks on, one week off, with the same medicine.  Without the anxiety of waiting for her appointment today to receive the results of this scan, Carol went into treatment in a much better frame of mind. 

I have to believe that her better frame of mind was also due to the thoughtfulness of friends and family, knowing so well how to comfort her (and me) through all of this. Really -- they should give out medals for all of the kindnesses we have received. Please consider yourselves medallioned. Thank you.

Back, Away Again, and Back. Again.

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.

                                                                                          -- Unknown

Back from Costa Rica last Wednesday, start of Round 4 of treatments on Thursday, down to Connecticut on Friday, and back again on Sunday. After a week of riding our one-speeds around the coastal towns of Caribbean Costa Rica, all this traveling is enough to take a lot out of me. And when I think of how much more it impacts Carol physically, I think I'm about the biggest wimp. Not to mention the psychological stress of heading back to treatment. She's inspiring to me in so many ways.

It's been a few weeks since Carol received a full dose of treatment, so this weekend was a little more challenging. Still, it was a good sign that she looked so good after being away that they felt she could easily handle that full dose once again.

Huge thanks to family and friends we saw down in Connecticut this weekend. The love you share is so appreciated. Uncle Rich -- we loved your letter, but we still missed you and hope you feel better very soon.