Midwestern Contraband

Yes, we got to see Eliza, and it was wonderful. Yes, we stayed with Susan, and it was wonderful. But I knew the trip wouldn't be complete for Carol until we returned with a box of Malt-o-Meal, a seminal part of her Iowa childhood. Considering the trouble we had getting Lake Champlain hot chocolate mix on the Minnesota-bound plane, I wasn't all that certain about the Malt-o-Meal going the other way. But no one batted an eye. I guess that's the difference between a canister and a box. Or maybe Midwesterners are always trying to bring a piece of their childhoods back East with them, and the TSA agents know nostalgia when it shows up on the scanner.

Carol was very happy to have had the weekend with Eliza, and more so because she was feeling so ... normal. By the end of her two-week treatment hiatus, she remarked how good it felt to be active in life, to be doing things because she wanted to do them and not just because she had to do them. Yesterday, she returned to the grind. She's resumed treatment, heading back tomorrow to have the pump taken off. We're all hoping that this modified regimen will be less toxic to her, giving her more time between treatments to feel as good as she can.

Thanks for all of the comfort you bring to both of us. We carry it with us always, and it's even better that we don't have to risk being stopped at security.

A Breather

Most people wouldn't call it a breather when they run 8, or maybe 10, miles on the weekend. But in this case, a breather it certainly is. And the fact that Carol's been able to do those kinds of runs the last two weekends shows how she can bounce back when she's not on treatment. Since she was worried about losing weight, I managed to make a chocolate cream pie that would send Vicki into peals of laughter, and Scout has humored me by eating it and not snickering (after it stopped oozing).

This Friday (not last weekend, as some thought from the previous post!) we venture to Minnesota for a long weekend. For all you classical music fans, Eliza's orchestra concert can be seen here on Sunday at 3:30 Midwestern time.  Then it's back for the beginning of a modified regimen next Tuesday, with the hope that Carol will tolerate this one better than her last round.

Although it doesn't quite feel like it right now, happy Spring to all.

Your task is not to seek love, 

but merely to seek and find all the barriers 

within yourself that you have built against it.

         -- Rumi

Treatment Vacation

Given the rough time Carol had with her last treatment, it was not too surprising that at yesterday's appointment, her doctor wanted to wait until her blood counts were strong again before resuming treatment. And when she does restart treatment, the regimen will be somewhat modified, to lessen the severity of the side effects she felt over the last couple weeks. That way she should be able to stay stronger through the course of treatment, without crippling side effects that compromise her ability to keep going down this road.

With this window, we're heading out to Minnesota for a long weekend, to see and hear Eliza. The orchestra has a concert next weekend at St. Olaf, which is just perfect timing!

I don't know how to begin to thank so many of you who continue to let us know that you're there for Carol, that you're thinking of her, that you have some chocolate chip cookies that just need to be eaten, that you made a little extra soup, that you don't mind transporting me or my sweaty squash clothes, that the air bags are there for a reason, and so much more. Every kindness means so much. Thank you.

Black Ice

Yesterday, on the lake, about a 1/4 mile out

There have been times when I've been moving right along, whether walking, running, or biking, when WHAM! I've gone down more quickly, and with less warning, than any reasonable person should. Maybe I had not had sufficient respect for the conditions, maybe it was just a matter of not seeing what was under the snow, or maybe it was just damn bad luck.

That's how today has been for Carol. She had treatment on Tuesday, and it seemed to have gone better than her previous rounds.  Wednesday and Thursday were sleeping days, which have become the norm after treatment, and Friday we went to the movies. Then, this morning, it was like that black ice that I've hit too many times -- the nausea threw her for a loop all over again. It was unexpected; she thought she understood the pattern of this particular treatment. Instead, she realizes that there may be no discernible pattern. Here's to a better day tomorrow.

Promise me you'll always remember: 

you're braver than you believe, 

and stronger than you seem, 

and smarter than you think.  

-- A. A. Milne