Missing the Mark

It's the hope that gets me every time. It really is. I set myself up, and I know it. I have a picture in my mind of how this time will be different, how Scout will weather this treatment in a way that leaves her standing, smiling, and saying, "There. That wasn't so bad." But this condition doesn't care about my hopes, or her hopes. It is just doing what it does, and the treatments are trying to do what they're designed to do. The collateral damage, though, is real.

So, while these past 10 days have been fractionally better, it's a pretty small fraction.

Luckily, we've had family visit, which was wonderful, and we're about to visit some more family out in Arizona, far away from the last grip that winter has on us here.  That will help put Carol in a better place, both physically and psychologically, to come back to treatment the first week of May.

To think in terms of either pessimism or optimism 

oversimplifies the truth. The problem is to see reality as it is.

-- Thich Nhat Hanh

Finding the Sweet Spot

I came home yesterday from work, and what did I see? (No, not that the garage needs painting. That's nothing new!) Scout was sitting out in the back yard, bundled up, with her pump, Callie by her side, the two of them soaking in the sun. And on a Wednesday! That was when I was pretty sure that her doctor had found the sweet spot of this treatment for her. Every cycle before this, Tuesday through Thursday would keep Carol in bed, without either the energy or health to do much besides sleep. Although he had modified the dosages of the various drugs before, this time seems to have really helped in terms of her side effects. Coupled with the new once-every-three-weeks schedule, this might make the whole ordeal more tolerable for Carol.

From "What if?" to "What Is"

sculpture by Marie Davis

We are so lucky to have so many people who so obviously care about us. That's the honest truth. And yet, it is still easy to find ourselves waylaid by thoughts that don't seem to want to go away. These thoughts about what might happen can bring us to places that are hard to extract ourselves from, despite our best intentions. Over the past several months, Carol and I have spent a lot of time trying to spend less time worrying about these "What ifs". With the help of the mindfulness workshop we just finished this week, I think we may have come up with a phrase to help as a guide. Instead of focusing our energies on the unanswerable questions that start, "What if...?", we'll look at "What is", examining what is happening at this moment, bringing ourselves back from those difficult places. I know, I know -- it sounds easy on virtual paper, but any port in a storm.

And when we look at what is, the first thing either of us sees is this incredible network of caring people. We feel a bit like the wonderful carrot from Marie's sculpture (thank you so much, Marie, Aaron, Elizabeth, and Ivan!), watched over by the moon and tended by such lovely, soft-eared bunnies.

In order to give her more time to recover from side effects, Carol's treatment schedule will now be once every three weeks. This is her third week, so she's feeling relatively good. She then goes on Tuesday for her next session, which will be modified a bit to give her a little more relief from side effects.