December

The spirit of Christmas is everywhere. I love this time of year. I love the music, the hot cocoa, the candy canes, the snow, the old TV shows, Christmas trees, baking cookies......ALL of it. It's December and for one month of the year, we give and receive. We reach out to those less fortunate and we spend just a little extra on the little things. I love getting dressed up in red and white, wearing my girl shoes and my holiday sparkles and holding a martini glass. 'Tis the season for Santa and pomatinis.
This year is a little different. Budgeting my energy, i have to tone it down this year. Way down. I can't pull off shopping all morning, baking holiday cookies, wrapping gifts and stuffing christmas cards into envelopes. I have a whole 'nother tote of decorations I don't have the energy to put up nor the heart to ask my overloaded husband to do it for me. I want the outdoor Christmas lights to work so badly, but the task of hooking them all up is indescribably daunting. This is the time of year to spoil the family that spoils me all year long and I haven't a shred of energy to do it. Instead, I must learn to let things go, and to look to others for help. It is such a HUGE lesson in humility for me. However, I have had an epiphane of sorts. Yes, another one....
Christmas is the season of giving. While I sit here and lament my own situation of not being able to make music CD's for all of my friends, Soccer DVD's for my daughters' soccer team(s), witty Christmas letters that make people smile, or plateloads of elaborately decorated sugar cookies, there is one thing I can give others: the gift of giving to others. I know. Sounds crazy but lately, i've noticed that we are so wrapped up in our own independence that we rob others of the opportunity to do something nice for us. For example, what do you get the 44 year-old woman who has everything? How many of us are trying to think of that special gift for someone that we want to honor this holiday season but can't come up with anything because they have it all? Most of my friends seem to be doing pretty well. They are fortunate enough to have not only the basics of food, shelter and water, but a few trinkets as well. In my minimal attempts of going shopping, I have witnessed people buying items for others just to give something but not really getting something that the other person wants. I have literally, heard people say, if they don't like it, they can bring it back and get what they want. True. Its kind of missing the point though. If a friend takes the time to get a gift for you and really puts some thought and effort into it, is it ever something you would take back? Probably not because the thought and effort they put into it is the true gift right? Someone knitted me a hat recently that isn't EXACTLY what I would wear, but the fact that she knitted it for me, with absolutely no free time of her own due to a job and two kids and the fact that she genuinely picked something that she thought I would like, makes me wear that hat everyday. I used to think that people wore things that I gave them to make ME feel good but I now believe that they wear them because it makes them feel good inside.
I've always been a terrible receiver. Feeling unworthy of such efforts, I have always felt undeserving of people going out of their way to give me something, so I feel compelled to give them something back, which prompts a frustrating attempt at trying to find something meaningful and noteworthy. I am often that person who gives a gift certificate which pretty much says, I tried and failed, unless of course it is a gift card to Peet's coffee or iTunes. Unless you are REALLY good at knowing what people want in coffee and music, these cards are sometimes the better way to go, although I will admit they are the easy way out. It's the gift that says, "I'm thinking about you. I know you like coffee but the holidays have me on the ropes and filling up your house with useless crap is not going to be my gift to you this year." I mean really, that too, is a gift. There's nothing to maintain, store or clean. However, there is nothing memorable about a cup of coffee. How long are you going to remember that grande, skinny, latte? Probably as long as it takes for you to get through an afternoon of returning unwanted holiday gifts, thankful for the extra energy. However, tomorrow's morning coffee will be the first step in forgetting that very special gift card.
Traditionally, I have been a gift retaliator. Rather than appreciate the true kindness of a gift, I worry about what to get that friend in return. This tends to be a real problem as a cancer patient. People bring us gifts everyday. The gift of food, of friendship, of companionship and in this very trying time, those are memorable gifts of time and effort. I am constantly at a loss of what I can get that friend who has given to me. I don't want to be that person who gets something just to get something or give my friend the job of taking back a gift they don't want in exchange for another.
This year, I am choosing to be gracious. With very little energy to waste and an overloaded shopping husband, I have decided to simply say "Thank You." I am really hoping that my appreciation is going to be enough, in lieu of a gift card or gift that I can't put any effort into. I'm hoping that the homemade gift i was able to muster matches whatever they are wearing this holiday season or that the Christmas cards that sucked me dry of positive energy are enough for people that get one every year. I have big plans for next year though.
Recently, a friend gave me the most memorable and incredible gift of the season: the gift of joy for my family. Each year, the El Dorado Hills Fire Department does this thing called the Santa Run. They mount a sleigh and reindeer to the top of a giant fire engine, put Santa in it and drive around the neighborhoods picking up toys and canned food for less fortunate families. This year, the incident commander invited us to ride along for an evening. Imagine my two girls, ages 7 & 9: "Okay girls, tonight we get to ride in a fire engine. Oh and by the way, Santa will be riding on top of it. You girls get to sit with Mrs. Claus and Papa gets to sit in the passenger seat with a headset and honk the horn...Want some hot cocoa and candy canes to go with that?" Yeah, two girls have never been so ecstaticly excited and my husband was happier than a tick on a fat dog letting that horn fly as we went through every intersection with full lights and sirens. The pure, unadulterated joy in both my children, my husband and the hoards of people that came out to see this spectacle was enough to push me over the edge. Whether I get to see it on a Thursday night the week before Christmas or Christmas morning, my holiday season is now complete. The gift of my family's happiness during a pretty challenging time is better than any other gift there is. With nothing to store, clean or maintain, it is the gift that gives all year.
It's not even my birthday yet.

Tax All

My chemo is going well. Taxol is brutal in its own way. I started with a regimen of Adriamycin and Cytoxan (AC) which was toxic and awful. It beat the crap out of me. I lost all of my hair...and I mean ALL of it friends. Well, except my eyebrows. I'm fighting to keep those. I considered shellac-ing them to my face but so far, they seem to be holding out. My eyelashes are gone, which is a little weird. AC also induced a sort of "brain fog". My reaction time was reduced and recall was slow. I couldn't think without totally focusing my attention. The AC also nuked my GI tract which means that eating and going the bathroom are an entirely new adventure. It pretty much feels like drinking flaming gasoline. I'll save you the gory details but just know that garlic stuffed olives make a great breakfast food. When I was getting the AC, I felt like a toxic waste dump. I had piercing headaches and endless nausea. I have mentioned that it was like being on a fishing boat in 60 foot seas and someone hands you a shot of jagermeister...barf. Food repulsions were intense. The thing I needed most was water and water was absolutely repulsive. Just the thought of drinking water made me shudder. The chemo changes your taste sensation too so the thing you think is going to taste really yummy, tastes like cardboard. I resorted to strong cheeses, garlic, olives and sourdough bread because that pungent bite seemed to overcome the toxic taste in my mouth. I lost no weight. I was thinking that a rockin', skinny body that I could shape later with a few arm curls would be an upside to all of this but alas, I am not the patient that loses weight. I get to be the one that gains. Such is life. However, It's better to have reserves with 4 more months of treatment ahead. Skinny people die when conditions get tough and I'm here for the long haul. I got the AC once every two weeks. Week one, I was a bit of a wreck, but felt really good the second week. I had a lot of energy and was pretty motivated to get things done on my "week off". I had settled in to this routine and felt that I could manage.
November 22nd, I switched to Taxol. I have infused and mixed (prepared) Taxol for patients as an Oncology nurse, a cruel sort of joke to have this experience and then have to have it infused into my own body. Taxol is derived from the yew tree. It is a thick, viscous, gummy substance that is mixed with saline so they can drive it into your veins. I can't help but wonder why it doesn't gum up the system, but magically, my heart still beats on the days I get it, so go figure. I was worried about the Taxol regimen. I get the Taxol every week. No week off in between to gear up and prepare. It was definitely increasing the difficulty level. However, the Taxol side effect profile is not as toxic as the AC. Tastebuds sort of recover, the headaches and the nausea go away and the brain fog isn't as big of an issue. The big effect of Taxol is fatigue. Fatigue is sobering. It's not like feeling tired where you go take a nap and wake up recharged or a workout that leaves you tired. Fatigue is the debilitating feeling of apathy. The slightest movement seems monumental. It's a lot like being at altitude where every step is an effort. Climbers of Everest will tell you that climbing to the summit is not the challenge. The desire for the summit inspires the brain to overcome the fatigue in exchange for the reward of standing on top of the world. It's getting down from the summit that is the real test because once summited, the tangible rewards are no longer lying in front of you. Every day on Taxol feels like you are trying to get off of the mountain. The fatigue factor is overwhelming and the tangible rewards are absent. You feel like you simply "can't". It's not a feeling I'm very familiar with. Every effort requires a focus of global proportions and inertia is not your friend. There are times when I have literally "hit the wall", where I have absolutely nothing left and my ability to deal with the simplest of tasks becomes greatly impaired. My eyelids start to fall, my body slows to a staggeringly inefficient pace and the need to lay down becomes a vital necessity. It is unrelenting, so much so that I will lie on the kitchen floor. It's just about this time that the kids start bickering over who got more milk in their cup or whose turn it is to empty the dishwasher. Suddenly, I realize that not only is operating heavy machinery a really bad idea, but so is parenting. My ability to be rational with even the simplest family crisis is non-existent. And in this moment I have a choice. I can either start yelling and screaming at my kids for being so inconsiderate of my condition, which they are not remotely perceptive about, or I can simply cry for help. "Can somebody help me up off the kitchen floor?" I tried yelling once (expelling far too much reserve energy). It was extremely ineffective and all of us felt really crappy afterward. Now, I choose to opt out. I say to my kids "okay girls, Mom is done. 3 things have to happen. Homework needs to be done, dishwasher needs to be unloaded and dog and cats need to be fed. Put yourselves to bed and I will see you in the morning." It sounds cruel but it's not. My girls, ages 7 & 9, step up. They get the job done and then either climb into bed with me or go to bed on their own. Give them the responsibility of being their own people and they rise to the occasion. The bickering ends. The teamwork begins and we start to gel as a family. I have to let go of the fact that the dishwasher doesn't always get emptied or the poor dog goes without food one night but that in and of itself is the lesson that cancer tries to teach me every day. Acceptance. It's a beat-down for sure, but how I deal with that beat-down is a choice. How I choose defines me because my outward appearance no longer does that for me. Bald, one-breasted and poisoned, I know longer exhibit my character of an organized, strong, independent woman. I appear weak and frail and incapable. My actions are now more important than they have ever been. I am trying to learn how to be a good person all of the time. It's a daunting task. What I have come to realize is that people genuinely want to be of assistance. If you let them, it empowers them. I used to think that doing everything myself was noble, that not asking others for help and dealing with my own life was a testament to being a good person, a good skier, a good river guide, a good nurse. However, it is exactly the opposite. Give others an opportunity to shine and they do, even when they don't because every little bit helps and as long as I choose to view it that way, both parties win. This is probably elementary for most people but for me, it took cancer to teach me this very important lesson. Fatigue. Who would have thought it would take fatigue to propel me into adulthood.
Last week, I had my third infusion of Taxol. Prior to that infusion, they drew my blood to make sure that I was tolerating the stuff. My blood counts were extremely low, almost low enough to have to cancel the chemo. What this means is I'm not making enough white and red blood cells fast enough. The chemo nukes this process as blood cells are rapidly dividing cells. Generally, you can nuke your blood cells but because they multiply so quickly, the body recovers. Mine did not recover between my 2nd and 3rd week. My white cell count was 2 (4-7 is normal) which predisposes me to infection. My hemoglobin (hgb) was 9 (12 is normal) . Hemoglobin is the oxygen carrying part of a blood cell. If I can't carry oxygen then I can't function. The heart and brain take available oxygen first which leaves the rest of my body nothing. No wonder fatigue has been a factor. The other element of my blood that was low was my platelets which cause clotting. No platelets equals risk for bleeding, making beating my head against the wall another undesirable activity. So, last week, I had to avoid crowds and sick people, prolonged exercise and trauma, 3 of my favorite pastimes. Just to be safe, my Oncologist ordered a life-saving injection called Neupogen. Neupogen stimulates the bone marrow to make more blood cells. This week my counts not only recovered but skyrocketed. White cells jumped up to 13, Hemoglobin is up to 10 and Platelets are up to 300 (from a dangerous low of 100). All good news for the thriving cancer patient, except for the bone pain caused by the neupogen which is basically beating my bones to produce more. Neupogen is the Vince Lombardi of my bone team. My bones are doing up-downs all day. That's just gotta hurt.
In the midst of all of this, I have amazing people inspiring me to be at my best. Last week, two friends flew all the way from Vermont and New Hampshire just to drive me to chemo. We went to San Francisco the night before and hooked up with 3 other friends who drove all the way from Santa Cruz to be there. I can't describe how monumentally important a gesture like this is. I am completely blown away that these amazing girlfriends who are beautiful, brilliant and talented would take the time to make this happen. It inspires me to earn it and my vision of earning it is to live and survive and smile as much as is humanly possible. This gift of presence is huge in a way that it makes me feel worthy of surviving. It makes me want that $9000.00 shot that boosts my blood counts. It makes me get my fatigued, apathetic rear end out of bed to engage with the world outside even though it seems impossible. When I'm feeling a little down, I look to email or facebook where more friends are posting and commenting and encouraging me to not only fight but win. I am surrounded by Vince Lombardis and I will continue to do up-downs and burpees of cancer treatment because it's clear that the world is not done with me yet. More importantly, I am also not done. I got a new bucket list, a few new life lessons and blood counts to spare. Only 8 more Taxol treatments and a little radiation therapy to go. I'll be good as new by April. Until then, I'll be writing, and knitting, and quilting, parenting and budgeting energy with grace and style.
Feel free to come by and help me with inertia anytime.

Bucket List

"I believe you measure yourself by the number of people who measure themselves by you."

~ Morgan Freeman, "The Bucket List"

When I was first diagnosed with Cancer, I thought to myself, well, you've had a pretty good run. At 44 years old, I have chased after an Olympic podium, traveling the world with some of the United States' fastest skiing women. I broke myself into ten pieces after hitting a finish post at 55 miles per hour and survived to tell that tale. I graduated college....twice. I've run marathons and triathlons. I've been to every continent except Antarctica, visiting over 20 countries, learning a language and living in a country other than my own. I've hiked the Inca Trail in Peru, the Everest region in Nepal, and kayaked rivers all over California and even Ecuador. I've helicopter skied in Alaska, driven to Baja Mexico 15 times over, and hiked the Circuit in Torres del Paine, Chile in the southern tip of South America, once by myself. I waited tables, guided rivers, coached skiing and soccer, and cooperated with teams of people who save lives in busy emergency rooms. I've loved a man for 18 years and raised two beautiful, healthy daughters that I have carted to Thailand and Morocco in search of social conscience. Given that I have only lived 44 years, my life's resume is pretty darn good. Hard to be bitter or resentful that this life might be over. That said, I decided to be grateful, for once, for what I have or have had. I thought, It's okay, that I have cancer. I have checked off just about everything I have ever wanted to do.

Well, sort of.

In the book. The Survivor's Club, the author outlines the "Rule of 3" prescribed by survivor's everywhere including the American Military. It goes something like this:

You can live 3 seconds without hope; 3 minutes without air; 3 hours without shelter; 3 days without water; 3 weeks without food; 3 months without companionship.

What really gets me about this list is the 3 seconds without hope part. Air, shelter, water, food etc. do not really matter if you lose hope. Without hope, there are no prayers, no solutions, no last ditch efforts. Without hope, you are doomed. It makes perfect sense to me that it is first on the list because if you don't have a hope to live, then why bother breathing, finding warmth, water or food or human companionship. Hope is the most important ingredient to survival. For anything to get better or to survive, one must first believe it to be possible. Hope provides this in the first 3 seconds of any situation. From there, the race to survive is on.

So did I run out of hope in the first 3 seconds of my cancer diagnosis? I wonder only because I question my drive to survive. My bucket list is extensive and well......checked off. I found myself lost for a moment (approx. 1.3 seconds). What could possibly be left? In this moment, I realized that it was time to re-create the bucket list of a 44 year-old woman and no longer that of the 20 year old adventurer. Epiphane: I am not the same person I was 24 years ago. I realized that I was at the end of my bucket list because I was at the end of who I used to be. Now a wife, a mother of two, a contributing member of society, and a Cancer patient, I must revisit my values and desires. time for a new bucket list. So I thought, what can I look forward to, really?

Grandchildren. I hear they're pretty great,

The next thing that popped into my head is I've never been to Tahiti and would like to visit this place before I kick that proverbial bucket. And finally,there's a boy out there I meant to kiss when I was 12. That got the idea stream rolling, despite it's elementary school origins.

Small potatoes. But nonetheless, something left undone.

Most of my bucket list items always had to do with travel. Why? Because by changing the setting or the environment, I was transformed. I was required to adapt. I learned something new. However, simple travel items tend to run together. At some point, you find yourself on the road chasing the meaning of life instead of life giving meaning. I decided that there must be guidelines in choosing bucket list items. First, it has to be possible. Second, it has to have intention and substance. Third, it must create a deep and significant change. Now, in my fifth decade, there must be something about the travel that increases the difficulty level or nuance. So instead of visiting Fiji, the task might be to surf Tavarua (in Fiji), presuming that is, that I already know how to surf. Time is no longer on my side. Learning a new skill will have its limits. I must choose my list items carefully, mindful not to choose unattainables or hollow distractions that take me away from rule number 2.

Strangely, reinventing the bucket list of a 44 year-old woman is more about connecting with people. Instead of simply heli-skiing in Alaska, I want to stand on top of the mountain with my friends Edith, Kristi, Tamara, and Minnow and watch them drop into waste-deep powder while we all lay down huge arcs, coming within inches of one another, each of us confident that our paths will never collide. I want to windsurf in Hawaii with Eva and Erin and watch them fly across the top of the water and jump the waves while kicking back in their harnesses like they're not really going 40 miles per hour. It may even be something simple like sitting by a roaring fire, with a cup of hot chocolate in a snow-covered landscape or drinking fresh-brewed coffee somewhere off the beaten path. The connection with people is a strong motivator and the possibilities are endless.

When I start to brainstorm a new bucket list, I think of places like the Taj Mahal, the Amalfi coast of Italy or the Egyptian pyramids, but being there alone would not suffice, so who's with me? Marek and I will definitely hit Tahiti before time's up, but what else is there besides travel?

Well, I'd like to learn an instrument and command a language. I would like to write a book and learn to sew. ("I'd like to teach the world to sing/in perfect harmony....I'd like to buy the world a coke/....and keep it company." That song just popped in my head. Couldn't resist.)

As I think of things I haven't done or would like to do, I realize that perhaps I have unfinished business here on Earth.

One day, I would like to meet my grandchildren. To do this, I must first raise my own kids. Again, time might not afford me this luxury. I will have to make the most of this one however I can. Suffice it to say that every day with my kids is a bonus and leads to deep, significant change.

I would like to bring joy to my husband's life. I've been putting this off in my limited capabilities to be both devoted wife and mother of two. I focus well on one thing but not several and sadly, he has taken the backseat to all the other things that motherhood, soccer coach and ER nurse require ( like "Sleep"). We have so many plans to relive our 20's and satiate that constantly-postponed desire for each other. Our biggest goal was to drive a giant 4 X 4 or 6 X 6 Mann overland vehicle from Alaska to Tierra del Fuego. Full of adventure and a lust for new experiences, we are energized by the prospect of digging our truck out of a South American mudhole or muddling our way through a Central American milintary checkpoint. It's what marriages are built on.

I have come to realize that my bucket list is not nearly checked off. I've got way too much to do and a lot of stuff that requires time learning how to do it, but more importantly, getting together with the people I care about to share these bucket list experiences. Perhaps the activity itself is not the bucket list item but rather the person that you wish to encounter it with. I hope and pray for as many days as I can have with my kids, maybe a grandchild, and of course, my husband. And all the people that strengthen me everyday.

As for the 12 year old boy, well, he is happily married and so am I. This might be the one thing that remains undone, unless of course Winona Ryder wants to make out with my husband in which case, I might be able to trade for a free pass. However, the remote possibility of checking this off the list still provides hope and proof that the end of my story remains unwritten. I'm pretty sure my husband feels the same way about making out with Winona Ryder.

Hope. It's what keeps us going. It's what gives us the desire to dream and wish and seek the things we want in life. I hope to surf the big waves someday. I hope to drive to Tierra del Fuego. But I will also "settle" for Tiramisu and Cappucino on the Amalfi coast, an Irish Car Bomb (a libation of Irish whiskey, Bailey's Irish Cream and Guinness) in Ireland, or Lobster in the Maldives. And as we all know, the journey of 1000 miles begins with a single step. A single step called chemo. Thank goodness for a resurrected bucket list to help me get through it.