The Restoration of Hope

The shock is slowly ebbing away. Ramon has been extraordinary. My inability to mobilize and make decisions has resulted in him taking charge. He made an appointment for us to see an alternative treatment place in Culver City. They use low dose radiation combined with heat therapy to treat cancer. I am cautiously optimistic but I am placing my faith in the Heavenly Father to pave the way for my healing. I know He will see me through this. Thank you for restoring my hope.

When it rains, it pours

Do I keep fighting? The old adage “When it rains, it pours” seems so appropriate. Today we saw my UCLA oncologist and what he had to say wasn’t very encouraging. Essentially, he spelled out what I already knew to be true. I’m out of chemo options and the last regimen he has to offer is not a promising one. I tried not to cry at the appointment but it was simply too hard. Ramon maintained his optimism, urging me to try the chemo. I shook my head. My body has been through enough and I’m not willing to subject myself to the horrible side effects again.
So, now what? I guess I ought to start those letters I have been meaning to write. Letters to my children about how much I love them and how sorry I am to leave them. I am writing this through my tears. The physical pain cannot even begin to compare with the emotional pain I feel. They are so young still. I am angry for how unfair this is to them. I worry about how they will cope without me. I worry about how vulnerable they are still –so incredibly young and impressionable. I try to take comfort in knowing that my family would look after them. I don’t know how anyone deals with this level of pain. I cannot endure it. I simply don’t know how.

"I don't have good news"

“I don’t have good news”, began my usually sanguine oncologist. His somber tone, contrary to his customary cheery demeanor, stopped me cold. A feeling of cold dread spread through my body. I shut my eyes and braced myself for the news that would shatter my hopes yet again. The chemo is not working and the cancer has spread further. More lymph nodes are now involved and some have grown larger. I was strangely calm as I listened to his report. The entire conversation lasted about a minute and I didn’t say much. I think I said “okay” a couple of times, but was otherwise silent. He told me I could go back to my regular oncologist since I am now off the clinical trial. “And then what?,” I screamed inwardly. My regular oncologist hasn’t offered me much hope. I have exhausted all possible chemo treatments and other novelty treatments are at least a year away from FDA approval.
Visions of my children growing up motherless permeated my consciousness. Anger and despair once again threatened to overwhelm me. I tried not to cry as I reached for the phone to call Ramon. I could barely talk. One inescapable truth was predominant in my mind…I was going to die soon.

MD Visit

Got back from the doctor for a Procrit shot. This shot boosts my hemoglobin which gives me more energy. Essentially, I could walk a block instead of a mere quarter. My blood pressure is still sky high - 140/110. The bottom number has been consistently high and the NP at my doc's is concerned about me stroking out. Yeah, he and I both. He strongly admonished me about needing to take my blood pressure med which I forgot to take this morning. I promised faithfully that I will not allow this lapse again.
Went to visit my nieces so I could play some more with my T1i. The camera started giving me a "busy" signal and not fully comprehending all the various mechanics, I attributed these hiccups to user error. I really ought to read the manual more thoroughly. Nonetheless, I managed to capture a few amazing shots of the girls.

Sense of normalcy

Living everyday with cancer and pain is a struggle I cannot express into words. I am now habitually awake in the wee hours of the morning because of the pain, and it's escalating. Unfortunately, I am extremely sensitive to opiates so I rely on over-the-counter medications to alleviate the pain. Moderately effective relief, but enough to enable me to function. Walking is painful because of the numbness to my feet and my hands have difficulty grasping things because I am unable to fully bend my fingers. The sensitivity to hot and cold can be downright excruciating. The skin on my hands and feet is also peeling and cracked.
My energy level is waning gradually. Walking around the supermarket is enough to make me short of breath. Most days I find myself physically molded onto my sofa cushions.
Gee, I wonder why I’m so depressed.

New Toy

I finally received my new Canon Rebel T1i. May I just say how sweet this camera is. Unfortunately, my favorite photographic subjects are unavailable during the daytime so I am forced to make do with the lovely "scenery" in my backyard and my poor dog Marsh. I am still struggling with all the complex buttons and the various techniques one needs to master in order to fully appreciate the use of this camera. Intimidating and out of my league would best sum up my relationship with the T1i. Thus far, I have only used the auto focus modes. I am getting decent pictures but nothing spectacular. I do love the camera's shutter speed, however, as it enables me to quickly snap photos continuously.
Somehow, RJ and Jalen do not appreciate being bombarded with a series of flashes as they try to do homework, eat dinner, watch TV, be sullen, etc., etc. Ramon is just as accommodating. Well, I suppose I could train Marsh to sit still for portraits.