Jumping in the Water

same lake, different season

You can tell they're siblings just by looking at them. They may seem different as all get out, but don't let that fool you. Each has a left leg that kind of wings out when s/he runs, long legs, and a lean figure (not just from enduring over a year of treatments). And when Wayne says, "I just love jumping into the water from a boat," I know it runs deeper than whatever physical characteristics they may share. So, while they may be different in so many ways, there is a common pulse there.

Last week was a full week. Horseback riding, biking, sailing, traveling, eating out. It was great to share these with Wayne and Debi, and even better that Carol was in her third week. This week is the beginning of the next cycle. There's a little comfort that she will have an extra week of rest this time, to allow her to experience the Art Hop when she's feeling relatively well this year.

A special thanks to everyone from the 100 on 100 team -- we were with you in spirit last weekend!

The Dash Between

Yesterday, on her first Saturday after treatment, Carol said one of her two goals for the day was to go out on a little bike ride. I asked if she thought that might be a little ambitious, if lying on a tube on the lake might be a more suitable first weekend goal, but she just responded that that sounded good, too, so could we do that as well? So we went for a bike ride and later, after a little recovery time, went to the lake.

I should know by now what a sucker I am. But who could resist her as she's biking up a hill, saying, "I am so nauseous right now, and my legs are like jelly," and just wants to keep going?

We had just a beautiful visit with Eliza last week, made even more special by cake and sailing. Thanks, Vicki and Carol L., for making these events so wonderful. Who would have thought that I, landlubber that I am, would say that something would be made more special by sailing? There is always something new in the world.

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                                          And you, who are as old as I am,

                                          I love as I loved you young,

                                          except that old, I am astonished

                                          at such possibility, and am duly grateful.

                                                       -- Wendell Berry

Third Weeks are Better

Why are third weeks better? Oh, for so many reasons. For starters, Carol begins the week feeling like she has something to prove and goes out and runs over 7 miles on Sunday. This morning, I come home as she has her shoes laced up and is heading out to do a brick session. This afternoon, we pick up Eliza at the airport. Later in the week, Carol and Eliza will ride Icelandic horses (I'm bringing the bike this time).  Third weeks are better because she has a semblance of her life back. Of course, towards the end of the third weeks, the first weeks loom. But knowing that the treatment has been bringing down her tumor markers helps make those first weeks a little easier to endure. And the knowledge that these third weeks do come -- that doesn't hurt, either.

Wishing you all awesome third weeks.

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"Beautiful people do not just happen." -- Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

Along the camino, there sits a little rock doing a big job

One little stone...

Whether it's been Susan running in Grandma's Marathon (btw, great job, Susan!), Sylvie sending photos from the Camino de Santiago showing her decked out in the shirt made by the 100 on 100 team to support Carol, family shifting to accommodate us when our plans change at a moment's notice, the open offer for Callie to have doggie sleepovers, Kathryn and Doug showing up with good cheer and better soup, Harper wanting to go all over the park with Aunt Carol, and so much more, Carol and I are every moment touched by the kindnesses of those we love. As she prepares for her tenth treatment of this cycle, her neuropathy is a little worse, but she takes comfort that she'll be receiving one fewer drug tomorrow, which means that she'll be in the chair for less than five hours. She will still go home with the pump, but sooner.

Along the Camino de Santiago, there is a large iron cross ("Cruz de Ferro") surrounded by a rockpile some 20-30 feet high. It's customary for pilgrims on the walk to leave a rock or other token there, signifying an unburdening of one's soul. Before she left, Sylvie asked Carol to give her a rock, not too heavy, which she would place on the rockpile. That little rock now sits among its fellows at Cruz de Ferro.

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"Your present circumstances don't determine where you can go;

they merely determine where you start."

          -- Nido Qubein

Changing the mixology

Since January, Carol has been on a cocktail of (minimally) four different drugs for her treatment. This week, that main number went down to three. One of the nasty four is a platinum-based drug that has a tendency to cause neuropathy in the hands and feet. Rather than being flushed out during the interval between treatments, though, this drug's effects are cumulative, meaning that the neuropathy becomes worse over time. This is what was starting to happen for Carol. While she had noticed some tingling early in her treatments, by this time, scheduled to be her ninth cycle of this concoction, it had become more insistent. Rather than risk a worsening of that condition, she decided to forge ahead with the other three drugs, but to leave out that fourth.

What does this mean? Well, for starters, it would be nice to think that the neuropathy would just go away, but that will take time. Without more of that drug entering her system, she should feel the effects of the neuropathy lessen over the next couple months. As for the overall effectiveness of the treatment, the hope is that the other drugs kick in their share, keep Scout's condition good, and let her get on with the business of living.

Thanks, as always, to everyone for your support.

On the Eve

With the luck of good weather, we will be celebrating our 25th anniversary Tuesday afternoon by riding Icelandic horses in Waitsfield. I never actually thought I'd be writing those words. Oh, the "celebrating our 25th anniversary" bit I fervently hoped wasn't too much of a stretch; it's the "luck" of being able to ride Icelandic horses in Waitsfield that comes as the surprise. But then, I wouldn't have expected to spend our 24th anniversary meeting with an oncologist, either. The good fortune I have had to spend the last 25+ years with Scout is matched only by the good fortune I have to continue to be with her. Riding Icelandic horses? Icing on the cake.

While we know that the time before any of us was here stretched so far into the past, and the time after we're gone will span so deep into the future, it is, over the past year, this time right now that has come to mean everything. 

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Sometimes people are beautiful. Just in what they are.

-- Markus Zusak

There Will Be Rest

There will be rest, and sure stars shining 

Over the roof-tops crowned with snow,

A reign of rest, serene forgetting,
The music of stillness holy and low.

I will make this world of my devising
Out of a dream in my lonely mind.
I shall find the crystal of peace, – above me
Stars I shall find.

                 -- Sara Teasdale