OK, I'm a slacker

I'm now done with the second to last infusion and it's been weeks since a post. Blame it on the holidays? Maybe. Mostly I think the treatments have become routine, the best thing being an additional drug, Emend, and saline infusion which is preventing the horrible nausea attacks.

I can show you more pictures of Lake Union or the infusion rooms but they are pretty much the same.

So what I think I'll entertain you with is the sometimes conflicting information I've gotten while being treated at SCCA. First of all, the care has been excellent. I am lucky that Seattle has such resources. But sometimes I wonder we're people are coming from.

When I first had my teach about the port, the nurse said it would be in for a year! I freaked out! I didn't want this thing lurking under my skin all of that time. The nurse, however, thought it was great for all of the tests I'd be having. I've come to learn that nurses love anything that makes their job easier, regardless of how the patient feels. As it turns out, the alien will come out with my final surgery in March. This nurse also thought taping a bottle cap over the port when I've applied Lidocaine was an excellent solution to keeping it from getting all over your clothes. Even other nurses thought this was silly as a piece of that sticky plastic wrap will do the job discreetly and well. Speaking of plastic wrap, this sticky wrap is supposed to be the answer to keeping my bag dry when I shower. It is supposed to stick to my skin while keeping the water out. Well, it does stick to my skin but does not keep the water out. So the the solution I was given was to use a hair dryer to blow the bag dry. OK, I ask you, how many of you want to blow dry a bag of s*it attached to you when getting ready in the morning? Thought so. And when I was first getting my teach about getting the bag and freaking, the surgeon said it was temporary so I shouldn't react the way I was. That doesn't help when your facing months of having this thing stuck to you! And then there are the directions for medication. The bottle says take after a meal, the RN says take half an hour before a meal.

In the end you listen and adapt to what works for you. Conflicting advise seems to be a part of the process.

Thanks for listening and best wishes for the holidays and a happy and healthy new year!

Half way, almost, kind of...

Last week I had session 4 out of 8. The best thing about this session? I was put in a bay I had been coveting - Bay 40, a corner bay!

Not all bays have windows and those that do have everything oriented away from them. Here I was able to sit across the bed with my back against the railing with a couple of pillows for support. Now I could watch the changing sky, the traffic and the urban campers under the overpass.

Half-way there, cause for celebration, right? But it's like running  a race and you happily realize that you're half way through and feeling good until you look ahead and see a huge hill looming as far as your eyes can see. I feel that now I've got to dig down deeper and really push to the end.

It's not the bi-monthly infusions so much, they've become a part of the process. The worse part has happened after the last two treatments - 5-6 days later  I have terrible stomach cramps and violent vomiting (is that a punk rock group name?). The next day I am wiped out and it takes days for my stomach to settle and my appetite to return (the first time I lost 4 pounds in two weeks). They now want to add a course of dexamethasone and omeprazole to hopefully mitigate these episodes. I am not thrilled about taking the steroid, but if it prevents the nausea, I'll do it.

The last part of the puzzle is the surgery that will return me to normalcy. I was thinking it would be the middle of February, but now looks like it will be mid-March or later. What's a month or two when I will have been going through this for almost year at that point? Indeed, it's a lot. Which is why at this point I don't want to count down the remaining chemo infusion, I want to count down to the final day when all I have to think about are follow-up appointments. Now that will be worth celebrating!

Sessions two and three - five more to go!

Since I'm late getting my second infusion session posted I decided to just combine the last two. Basically the drill is the same: port access and blood draw, wait, meet with the RN or oncologist, wait, infusion check in, wait, get infusion (6-7 hours), get pump connected, go home. Forty-six hours later I come back and get the pump disconnected.

I have purchased an Ipad mini which helps keep me entertained and connected to the outside world. They still haven't come up with a treadmill for me so I walk back and forth in the halls – there's not a circular route. Many of the other people getting treatment do not look like they are up for a stroll.

On my second session I got a standard bay (why they're called bays I don't know, to make you feel like you're on a cruise?). Here is an image of my bay:

Well, not cozy but serviceable. There's a TV if you want to watch it which doesn't interest me, especially if I'm there during the day.

On my third visit I had a window room! Unfortunately, everything is oriented away from the window so you have to sit backwards on the bed to get a view of the traffic on I-5:

There is one bay with corner windows! I hope I get that one some day.

In general, I am doing well. I met with the oncologist this last visit and he is happy with how I am progressing. The oncologist didn't feel I needed the CT scan done after six treatments and so now I am scheduled through the end of the year, literally, 12/31 is my last infusion. I have had little or no nausea. The worst side-effect is the reaction to cold in my fingers, like pins and needles. I need to wear gloves to take things out of the refrigerator. My feet, throat and face seem to becoming sensitive to cold also. A few days after chemo the sensation is not as bad. It could take a year for this side effect to disappear completely. David thinks my hair is thinning and I'm getting grey, but I saw my hairdresser this Saturday and she wasn't too sure. I may break out the Loving Care anyway. I am tired the Friday and Saturday after infusion so take it easy and don't push it (except for playing tennis which really isn't pushing it, it's just fun).

So, as you see, I'm getting through this, one step at a time. At one point the RN said that since I had to go through this I should just learn to love it. I said, no, I don't have to love or like it, I just have to get through it. And that's what I am doing.

Blessed and Lucky

Sorry I haven't been in communication recently. I've been enjoying life - working, playing tennis, exercising, being with David (opera Saturday night) and enjoying this beautiful fall we are having in Seattle - foggy, cool mornings and almost warm afternoons. The trees have been hanging on to their color a little longer, perhaps due to the milder weather.

Shades of grey, no?

All along, my goal has been to not let the cancer treatments interfere with my activities as much as possible. So when I get a stretch of time free of appointments coupled with some energy, I take advantage of it. And, I realize how lucky I am to be able to do the things I do. People tell me that I'm amazing, strong and brave. No, I'm just ornery enough to not let the cancer treatments get the better of me, when possible. There are times when I realize it's OK to nap or just rest - which is a breakthrough for me.

I also realize I'm very lucky that my colonoscopy revealed the cancer at a treatable stage. My sister recently went to a memorial for someone who wasn't feeling well, when into the hospital and was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer. He died five days later. Please, DO NOT put off any tests your doctor recommends, they are bearable and if the results are good, you won't have to bother for a while.

I saw this story in the NY Times about a woman who must decide on her wedding date based on her parents health. Warning - tearjerker.

Yes, I'm blessed and lucky.

One down, seven to go

Last Wednesday, I had the first of eight chemo treatments. So, every two weeks, this will be my routine.

But, wait, first I had to get the port implanted. I think the scheduling department dropped the ball because I ended up getting my port implanted on Tuesday, and started chemo the next day. It was outpatient surgery at UW, I was in at 7:00 AM, out by 1:30 PM. Things went well and now I have a little lump (bot fly) under my skin on the right side of my chest. The crappiest part is, that after being able to finally play tennis after my last surgery, now I have to wait two weeks to play again. One step forward, three steps backwards. Which, is kind of like my playing, three bad shots, one good shot.

I am very lucky that a friend of mine, Stephanie, a nurse and a breast cancer survivor, offered to spend the day with me during my first chemo treatment. A blood draw is the first step, but since a nurse had not removed the dressing, I got the standard in the arm jab. Then, I had an hour to kill until the results got to the doctor.

David and I discovered a great place near SCCA that is now open for lunch, Blind Pig Teriyaki at Eastlake. I've been wanting to eat at Blind Pig Bistro, but haven't been able to get there at night. I was able to pick up some gumbo before my appointments so I had something good for lunch. They do have a 'nutrition' center in the infusion area - if you consider Campbell's soup, Lorna Donne cookies and sodas nutrition. They do what they can, they can not maintain anything fresh, plus there's the issue of contamination from bacteria, and I am sure for some people this is a god-send. I wanted gumbo, and I got it! Stopping here will be on my agenda either before or after my treatments!

Now, where was I? At this point the doctor has the test results and you meet with them to get your vitals taken and talk about things such as what to expect and side effects. Then you go back to the waiting area to get assigned to a chemo station and a nurse. 

Once you get ushered into your station, the fun begins. Some tape or adhesive from the surgery had irritated my skin to the point that it took them a while to remove the dressing and then figure out how to anchor the IV access for the port. Now, I settle in for the duration. First comes some steroids, then an anti-nausea drug and then two of the three chemo therapies, Leucovorin and Oxaliplatin. To finish, I get a blast of Fluorouracil and then the tag along pump to administer more over the next 46 hours. After being there for six hours, I was on my way with my not-so-little fanny-pack buddy. We went everywhere for the next couple of days, except to the shower. Sponge baths and dry shampoo will be de rigueur. Bonus - I was given a hazard spill kit to carry around in case of an accident!

The next morning I immediately felt one of the side effects: neuropathy and cold sensitivity. I went out to fill the bird feeder and the tips of my fingers started tingling like they had fallen asleep. Over the next couple of days it was uncomfortable to take anything out of the refrigerator. The sensation lessened over the week, but I've heard that some people's throats close up even when they just open the refrigerator door. Guess I'll be heading to REI for some warm gloves this winter!

To get disconnected on Friday, I had to sit and wait until the pump administered the full dose. Then the access got plucked from my chest and a band aid gets stuck on. (Removing it later was fun.)
Afterwards, I had a slight issue with nausea but was able to control it with one of the anti-nausea drugs they gave me.

Like I said, one down; seven to go.

Quick update before chemo

Got my port implanted yesterday. Procedure went as expected. Can't lift anything heavy for a few days and cannot play tennis for two weeks! Just as I was getting back into it. Well, that won't stop me from getting back to it again! Today the area is sore, I'm taking ibuprofen and icing it. Later we'll leave for SCCA for my first chemo treatment. How fun is that? But it is treatment one of eight, so the countdown begins. My friend, Stephanie, who is also a nurse, is going to meet me there and stay for a while. Good to have someone like her by my side - she is also a breast cancer survivor.
Right now I'm looking at getting an IPad to keep entertained for future treatments. Though I still have enough books to keep up with my reading spree.

Port of call, and I don't mean a cruise ship

Well, I was scheduled to have my port put in today, but it got pushed back to tomorrow. I was supposed to show up at the UW Surgical Pavilion at 8, but now it's the UW Hospital at 7 (same location, different entrances).

But let me back up to the teach I had on Friday, which was to review the port and chemo procedures. I lost it when the nurse said I'd have the port for a year! My chemo is 4 months! What the ... ? I'll be losing the stoma in February 2014 so why does the port have to hang around (any port in a storm)? Turns out, she was misinformed. Oops. I'd left a message with the medical oncologist's nurse and she called back and said I will have it removed after chemo. Sigh, big relief. People, after my surgery in February I want to forget this whole episode of my life, except for the extraordinary support I have gotten from friends, family and co-workers! And, of course, my husband David!

So tomorrow I get this thing stuck under my skin with a bump where the port is and a tube going directly to my heart. On Wednesday, I first get blood drawn (now through my port rather than my arm), then wait an hour for my provider (really doctor) to see results, and then they start the infusion - first with steroids and antibiotics and saline solution and I don't know what else (except vodka!). Then I get the chemo started and they give me this, I'm sorry, really ugly 'fanny pack' to wear with a pump and two days supply of chemo that I get to wear all of the time. It's like being a drug addict without any of the benefits! Then on Friday I get disconnected, just in time for happy hour!

Well, I will deal with this. I was able to play tennis recently and have begun my workouts with Bronsa. I've been walking and I've climbed the stairs by our house - all 196 of them. As far as I'm concerned, I'm in the home stretch and the rest of what I will have to deal with is just getting back my fitness while working around these treatments.

The lioness is back.

The next segment in my journey

On Monday, after I met with the ostomy nurse and had a blood draw, David and I met with the medical oncologist and the surgeon.

I'll go the the short part first. The surgeon reviewed the results of the pathology test with us and, again, said the results were very good. He said I could start incorporating foods that had been restricted into my diet and I could get back to tennis and working out! He quickly reviewed the final surgery I would have in mid-February which would take an hour and require a 3-5 day hospital stay. Then I am free, baby, free!

Now the more involved part. I will need to have a port surgically placed for the chemo. I am calling my port my Bot fly (the pictures of them under the skin are too gross for me to post here, check out on your own if you want to). The type of chemo, Folfox, is too toxic to feed directly into veins. It looks like I will have the port installed this coming Monday. I will be under conscious sedation and from prep, through surgery, to recovery it will take 4-5 hours. Then, my chemo treatments will begin just two days later on Wednesday. The appointments start at 12:20 with a blood draw that lasts half-an-hour (they have to access the port, that means inserting an IV line). Then at 1:30 I meet with my provider (doctor). Then at 3:00 they start the pre-chemo infusion of steroids, anti-nausea medication and some of the Folfox. Then around 6:30, I get outfitted with a fanny pack with a pump that I will wear for two days while it pumps the chemo into me. Friday around 4:30 they will disconnect the Alien monster from my body (the one that pops out of the guys chest as he slumps face down into his spaghetti). This will be the routine, every two weeks for four months. On weekends, I'll get to recover. I get a teach on all of this on Friday, I can't say I completely understand all of the details yet but here are some images from the web.

Basic placement of port (it will look like a bump or bot fly under my skin)

 An infusion chair. I hope they let me walk around since I can't sit still for even half-an-hour!

 What I believe the fanny pack will look like (I know, not as scary as the alien monster).

And now, some folks sporting the fanny pack look! Not so bad, right? Right?

World order has been restored!

Not really. There's still the situation in Syria, super bugs out pacing antibiotics and members of Congress trying to derail the economy, but I got to play tennis last night for the first time in months! At the new tennis center too! It's beautiful, close and a wonderful facility! I switched out playing games with David, since I'm not up to playing even a full set, but it felt great and I didn't do too badly! David said he was proud of how well I did. Is he awesome or what?

Then, for dinner we stopped and picked up a Brooklyn Bridge pizza from Pagliacci on Sand Point Way.

The perfect ending to my first day back to tennis!

I've also started to work with my fitness trainer, Bronsa. She is great, check out her web site!

Interesting graphic from SCCA site

I was looking around the site after my last post and noticed this graphic. So, don't eat more that your fist can hold!

Leaks, and I don't mean Wiki

Sorry for not posting anything in a while. My mother-in-law, Lois, came into town for a visit as well as for an appointment at SCCA. She has late stage ovarian cancer and was getting information on any options that may  be open for her. She didn't get any new information but got reinforcement and options for the treatment she is getting. I didn't plan a lot for us to do as I wasn't sure what she would be up for. But we did go to the movies, The Butler (go see it!), did some shopping (she bought comfy shoes at Nordstrom!) and had a BBQ gathering with friends. David fired up Bertha, a competition smoker friends gave to us.

Lois and my mom met for the first time via Skype. If you have relatives in different areas and want to communicate with them, Skype is a great option. I know it helped my mom to see me during my treatments, since she couldn't be here.

Dealing with my ostomy bag has been a frustrating process. I was told that it would take about six weeks to get the system down and this Thursday will make it five weeks since my surgery. My ostomy nurse has been terrific. If I don't have an appointment, she answers emails within a day, if not sooner. After a leak (all over the bathroom floor) with one system, I tried a second one. Both of these are two part systems, with a skin shield to which the bag attaches. Early one morning the bag separated from the shield and, well, shit was everywhere. I was not happy but I have to say David handled it quickly and coolly by gathering sheets and getting them downstairs into the laundry. How'd I get so lucky to be with such a guy?

So now I'm going back and forth between the two systems, seems that none of them are perfect. So this is what I will have to deal with for the next 5-6 months. Welcome to hell.

On a lighter note, we've been having torrential rain, lightening and thunder storms lately, unusual for the northwest. But today is gorgeous and we do get the benefits of the occasional rainbow.

You can see a seaplane taking off towards the right hand-side.

We got to attend the wedding of a friend - she looked gorgeous! Unfortunately, I was too tired the next day to go to the reception. I really do have my limits these days. But here are few images from the wedding.

Check out the dress!

Happy ever after!

Cake by Sarah's mom! With two whales on top!

Less sluggish

The wound ostomy nurse I saw at SCCA is terrific. She regularly communicates with me via email. Turns out I was having diarrhea. Seems like I should have known that but since my bodily function is disconnected, I wasn't getting the usual signals.

Some imodium and a few cups of tea and I am feeling better. This whole thing is still a learning process, or at least that's what I've been told.

For now, I'm ready for a walk and go out and do a few errands!

I was a slug yesterday

Not sure why, but my energy level has been lower. Last time I took a walk I was light-headed so I'm now going to take two shorter walks. Some of it could be due to a hydration level. I'm not supposed to drink anything while eating and then take liquids in slowly. I've found a re-hydration recipe at WebMD. Not the best tasting so maybe I'll play with it a little. In a sense, I feel that my recovery has slowed a little bit, but maybe this is natural.

But I have now finished five books and am happily watching the US Open on ESPN3. Roger is due on court soon! Things aren't that bad!

Two weeks later, the pathology report

Good news! Just got a call from the surgeon and the pathology report shows great results!

There was no sign of cancer in any of the 28 lymph nodes removed and he removed all of the tumor that was left after the radiation/chemo worked it's magic!

So, I have a good future ahead of me! Celebrate!

Me and my bag, and I don't mean Vuitton

First, something nice. The view of Lake Union from the 4th floor of SCCA.

So, on Monday I met with a wound ostomy nurse to see how things were going. The location of the stoma is not where initially planned, but just to the right of my belly button. This makes it very difficult to wear anything except elastic waist pants! Also, because it's located right were my waist bends, I couldn't get a good seal which led to leaking. I can't tell you how gross that has been!
8/22 - (I talked to the surgeon about this and he chose to use an existing incision rather than make a new one since the ostomy bag is temporary. More inconvenience for me but one less incision to weaken my abdominal wall.)

This new wound ostomy nurse was great. I have a new set up with a more rigid skin barrier, plastic wings to adhere over my belly button and irritated skin and a belt to wear at all times to keep things in place. I remember in the '70s Helmut Newton did a series of fashion shoots with models wearing various medical devices. I couldn't find any of those images, but I did find this by an artist Olga Noronha.

Imagine what I'll look like when I start my chemo – wearing a bag, a belt, a port and a fanny pack with a pump! All I'll need is a pair of killer high heels!

The nurse thought I had a nice stoma - really? I've decided it's like the bubbling mud pots I've seen in Lassen National Park, at the end of Bumpass Hell trail (how could you not love that name!). Yep, my little stink pot.

Flowers from my Nordies!

A beautiful bouquet arrived this afternoon!

Thank you again for all of your support!

One week later, I'm back!

Thanks to my husband, David, for taking over for me while I was recovering in the hospital. It was one week ago I had my surgery.

First of all, I am touched and honored by all of the visits, flowers, gifts, cards, calls, emails and well wishes! I am truly lucky to have such friendships and support! Thank you! Many of the care givers commented that they liked coming into my room because it smelled like flowers. (We don't want to think of what hospital rooms normally smell like!)

Every day I received encouragement from the staff with how well I was doing. I moved quickly from sitting to walking, from no liquids, to clear liquids to food. By the morning I was slated to be discharged, I was practically skipping around the halls, my medical tethers were disappearing one by one and I got to take a shower and wash my hair!  It is the simple things in life.

They removed the epidural and started me on oral pain relief. Then came removal of the JP drain. OH. MY. GOD! I can't remember when I've felt such pain! The hunky, young doctor from Texas told me it would hurt (sadist) and he was right! I felt like one of Jack the Ripper's victims!

It was ten-steps backwards after that, but I managed to still get released.

Since then, getting the pain under control has been iffy, until today. Here is what I am taking:

• Acetaminophen - 2 caplets (1000mg) every 6 hours up to 6 caplets a day.

• Ibuprofen - One tablet (800mg) every 8 hours.

• Hydromorphone (generic Dilaudid) - 1 or 2 tablets as needed.

 I've learned to set up a schedule for each medication and keep taking the hydromorphone regularly. Sleep has been difficult since I need to sleep mostly on my back. But I am working on being able to sleep slightly on my side.

The day before I got on the treadmill twice, yesterday I slept most of the time. Today I read most of the time. I finished The Nanny Diaries while in the hospital and Where'd You Go Burnadette yesterday. Both were fun, easy reads. Now I'm reading Andre Agassi's biography, Open.

Yesterday I also got a home visit by a nurse as part of my care. We went over emptying and replacing my Ileostomy bag. It's not pleasant, I don't like it, but I can handle it – so far.

Oh, and for good measure, I get to inject myself each night with a shot of Enoxaparin Sodium - a blood thinner - in my stomach area.

Thanks again for all of your support, friendship, positive thoughts and prayers!

Dorothy is Home!

Yup, she's home and happy to be here. Daphne was ecstatic, talking to her mommy non-stop and wanting to be held.

I baked a loaf of bread for the nursing staff. It was still very hot from the oven when I dropped it off.

Sunday's update

David here again. But not for long. Dorothy may be sprung tomorrow, Monday. No idea about time if that happens.

I will see her at about noon, for a visit with the ostemy nurse. A teaching session, if you will.

When I went by to visit this afternoon, found out that Bronsa had visited, ran into Chuck and Barb as they were leaving, and Wendy and Michelle were in the room when I arrived. I may missed names of other visitors.

But I did get a whole lotta grief about posting my dinner last night when all Dorothy got was broth. Well, so it goes. And the bread is tasty and she can eat it when she gets home.

Tonight, she had real food. She had an open-face turkey sandwich with gravy, mashed potatoes, and haricots verts, with apple pie for dessert. I have to say, since she shared some bites, it was pretty good. The beans, especially, were perfectly cooked, as in to say they were crunchy, seasoned, and buttery. The turkey and gravy was real. Not sure about the potatoes, but they tasted OK. The pie was definitely not home made.

I really want her home... I want to be able to roll over in the morning, every day for the rest of my life, and say, "Good morning, Mrs. Darrow" in person.

Dorothy's diet, post-surgery

It's not pretty, what I have to say. Dorothy will be on a restricted diet while she has her ostomy bag. There's no polite way to say it. It is the shits.

So, knowing she can eat white bread, not whole wheat bread like we normally do, I made a white bread loaf tonight, using the starter I've been culturing and making loaves from, for about 6 months. I really can't wait for her to come home...

Saturday update - she's doing really well

David here again.

The last evening Dorothy was home, before all the hospital stuff, we were out on our deck. And she saw the balloons.  When we first moved into the house, we'd look for them every night, and take pictures. We have literally hundreds of pictures of balloons with the cascades in the background. And for her birthday one year, we went up in one, out of Woodinville. Here's her last picture the evening before all heck happens...

I also mentioned in an earlier post the thunder, lightning, and rain (and petrichor). From the Seattle Times:

More beauty here at the Seattle Times.

Saturday Dorothy made great strides in her recovery. She's "oot n aboot" the wing she is staying on, getting much walking time down. And she's had visitors. Yesterday, Stephanie (who I've not met yet, but is a kindred soul in cancer town), and today Kaji, Michelle, Stanley and Fumiko, Wendy, and myself. Please, don't hesitate, wondering about timing. At the hospital, visiting time is all the time, and the nurses will do their stuff visitors or not.

Just go.

When I saw her this evening, her room was redolent of flowers. I mean, really? Flowers? Why not BACON?

Oh, OK, she can't eat...

And the princess is doing really well. She had BROTH today! How awesome is that? And tonight, while I was there, she ordered dinner. More BROTH! Oh my!

Here she is. You can see she's looking quite healthy.

So, I left her to her broth, and movies on TV (Skyfall, and some recent Snow White one). I went to Central Market, and selected what I would have for dinner. No broth...

Yes, double cut veal chop with picatta sauce, a hash of fresh "just harvested" potatoes with some onion and Anaheim chile, and of course, corn on the cob.

Yum.

Petrichor

The Smell of Rain After a Dry Spell

OK, so, as I was working on the last post, I knew there was a forecast of possible thunderstorms on Saturday, mostly later. But, as I was editing, I smelled rain.

First, it hasn't rained much in Seattle this summer. July was one of the driest and hottest on record. We had a touch of rain last week, but not enough to actually water anything.

And then...

I smell rain. I hear rain soon after. The smell has been named "petrichor." From Cliff Mass, "A wonderful name combining two Greek roots:  petra (stone) and ichor (the blood of the gods in Greek mythology)."

And I smelled it, and I hear the rain, and I hear thunder in the distance. Hurray!

Yes I know, Seattle is supposed to be rainy all the time, but it's not. In the summer, particularly the second half of July to end of September, we don't have rain much at all. People here, well locals, don't even try to water their lawns. What we do is let them go dry, die back, go into hibernation.

We can always tell the foreigner from the East who is out there trying to keep the grass alive against all odds. (We are essentially on glacial till, sand if you will. There's no soil in most of Seattle. But down in the river valleys, there is probably the most fertile farmland in the temperate world, and it is fast disappearing under industrial parks and condo complexes.)

So as I type, I feel a very humid breeze filled with the smell of rain. I am happy for the rain. I hope that the predictions of lightning in Eastern Washington with the possibility of "lightning without rain" don't come true. The forest on the other side of the Cascades is DRY.

My Princess

David here again.

Did I mention check in was at 5:15AM? Then you wait, and wait, and wait, finally get escorted to a room where the latest in backless gowns awaits... Then you wait, and wait, get poked with needles for IVs, and wait, and wait... Did I mention you spend a lot of time waiting?

Dorothy got IV lines in both hands, and also got an epidural line placed in her back - so that pain medication can be automatically administered to her spine during her stay.

Needless to say, Dorothy took all this in stride, being the most patient of patients. With humor and wit, grace and decorum, we waited until she was wheeled into surgery.

Ah, my princess

I spent the night with her on a cot. I'd forgotten how often a night's sleep is interrupted in a hospital. Every few hours, someone is in the room checking vitals, checking IVs, checking pee and poo production. And just when you're really asleep, the IV bag is empty and an alarm goes off... I left about 5:30AM, and went to Voulas Offshore Cafe. The guys are great, they're into cars, and I was driving Maude.

Today, Friday, was her first full day of recovery. She tells me she got up and walked around the floor of her wing three times, spent time sitting in a real chair, and really, is making great progress. The nurses are amazed at her quick healing and recovery (although I think they say that to everyone to encourage compliance).

I went in this evening and watched Food Network with her - torture for sure! She may, that is may, get broth and Jello tomorrow. Yum!

David here with a comment

OK, so this is David speaking. It's about 10:30 PM, and Dorothy and I are supposed to show up for check in at the hospital at 5:15 AM. Of course, I am taking her in the Rolls. Scroll down, you'll see.

She went through "heck" today with her "cleanse;" clear liquids, no food…

So, what did I do? I had a delicious bacon burger for lunch (the bacon was my home cured, apple-wood smoked bacon, and mighty aromatic in that frying pan), then made a pork piccata with a Niçoise salad on the side for dinner. It was delicious. And aromatic. Oh, and because she couldn't have wine, I had hers. Yum. She hated me for it.  :-)

I will update this page sometime tomorrow, or maybe the next day with her status. I know she's one tough girl, so I have nothing but expectations that she will come through the surgery just fine. Her challenge will be to not rip the throats out of the hospital staff when they tell her she can't be released to play tennis at 6:00PM Thursday, after surgery… She's amazingly tough.

I pity them.

D Day

Check in at 5:15 tomorrow morning. Wish me luck!

Prep day, aka Cleanse day

Here is the accouterments that I'll be using for prepping for my surgical experience (that is the term they use in the handouts).

For five days before today, I was drinking three containers of Nestle's Impact Advanced Recovery nutrition drink.  I really don't like taking this stuff as it's a bunch of chemicals and calories. Each container contains 340 calories, times three that's almost an extra 1,000 calories a day! And  your supposed to ingest this along with your regular diet. Fattening me up for the kill? The cloying sweet taste of condensed milk and chocolate does not cover up the fish oil that has been added. I suppose this product would help if I only ate fast/processed food, drank soda all day, didn't exercise and smoked, but none of these apply to me.

Today will be a clear liquid only diet, just like in some of those fancy weight loss spas. Perhaps I'll even have time for an herbal facial in between trips to the necessary (as my mom calls it).

First thing, I mix pouch A and pouch B of MoviPrep (Who's the idiot in marketing that came up with that name? Further more, they have a link on their web site for a MoviMent. Really?) with a liter of water. Starting at 8AM I'm to drink 8oz of the solution every 15 minutes, consuming all of it within an hour. In less than an hour things begin to work, and I mean really work! Afterwards, I'm supposed to drink 16oz of one of the clear liquids of choice (no, not vodka). Then at 10AM I start the process all over again!

Then at 1PM, 3PM and 11PM I take 1 gram each of Neomycin and Metronidazole.

Then tonight, I get to shower with Dyna-Hex 4, and go to bed on clean sheets. Then tomorrow I shower with the Dyna-Hex 4 again and head to the hospital in clean clothes.

After more than two months of agonizing over my upcoming procedures, I have reached a point of resigned acceptance. Going forward, what I will be experiencing will be painful, frustrating, repulsive and undignified, but at least I won't have the constant anxiety I've been feeling. I have a job to get through things, one day at a time.

David, my husband, will be my guest blogger when I can't do it myself.

Thanks for reading!

Last supper

Last night was the only time in a long time to come where I could eat what I want. Since I'll be on a low-residue fiber diet for at least six weeks, I went with as much pulp, seeds and fiber as I could find in our refrigerator.

So we started with screwdrivers with fresh Valencia orange juice.

Then, figs stuffed with goat cheese, wrapped in prosciutto, broiled and served with some fig balsamic vinegar from the olive oil place in Milwaukee.

Then a big salad with lots of raw veggies and seared tuna, kind of à la Niçoise.

 Now, on to my prep day.

Stoma stigmata

To add insult to injury, I mark the spot where my stoma will be with a surgical marker. It's a daily reminder of what is to come. Sometimes I do graffiti and write things like, "I hate you" around it. Then I did this:

Only the stoma mark remains, I'm not sure the surgeon would find humor in this.

We'll always have Lummi!

Our wedding was not only auspicious for us but also for England and Seattle's nighttime sky.

The next day we headed to Lummi to spend three nights at Willows Inn. They were having a special event, their second annual First Harvest dinner where five notable chefs from around the world forage and fish with Blane. Here are some images from the Facebook page. Recapping the meals will need to be a separate post but let me tell you it was incredible!

Here is Maude's first voyage on a ferry:

There's an tragic connection between the Spirit of Ecstasy and ships. Here, she looks like the ferry's figurehead!

We stayed in the cottage which is on a hillside behind the inn. When we arrived, we found robes and totes from the Willows Inn and a bottle of wine from David's co-workers in Thousand Oaks. We'll open it on our first anniversary - better than year old cake!

Here are some images of the cottage.

In the image below you can see the smoke from the alder wood fire the staff starts first thing in the morning

A water feature near the cottage.

On the second morning we awoke to the sound of fog signals. I love that sound!

Sunsets are always beautiful and I awoke one night to see the moon in the trees.

On the second day we hiked in Baker's Preserve. It was quite a strenuous hike in the beginning but we were rewarded with wonderful views.

There are wonderful views of Mount Baker and Hale Passage from the island.

On the way home, we drove down Chuckanut Drive and stopped at Taylor Shellfish for some oysters and crab. I garnished the oysters with oregano blossoms, inspired by our meals at Willows Inn.

When we got home there was a surprise waiting for us!

 All in all, a wonderful honeymoon and birthday trip!