Day 10 Still standing

Whatever makes your soul happy, do that

While David is out and about at MDA or resting in the apartment, I'm making my way in this new world called Houston. I've been able to get out and run with the Littles, using my cart so that I can take them on longer distances. 

Trying to chew herself free

When they get tired, they get to ride. Their milage is pretty high right now for small dogs. Maybe is 10 years old and doesn't run as far as she used to, but she really enjoys the ride. Maybe can run a total of 3-4 miles out of 10 miles I may run. Sugar is 3 years old and runs more than she should. I put her in the cart. She asks to get back out. It's back and forth and, although disruptive with the running process, we both get a good work-out. 

Sugar has several locations in the cart that she enjoys 

Usual positions when not running 

Sugar can typically run about 5 miles of the 10 miles we may go. 

Maybe is usually on the other side, as well

While they enjoy a good run, they also enjoy taking a walk and smelling all the smells. This is great, except the change from walking on country roads in Gunter to walking on side walks in a hustling and bustling city is frightening, at least for Sugar who is already a little broken from a previous life (before we adopted her). 

And the “ just checking if you’re there,  mom“ position 

Let's see, she's scared of:

These things make scary sounds

These large buildings have large noises coming from some of them, and Sugar is not a fan. Just as she's trying to dodge the rumbling noises coming straight at her as a personal attack, this blows by her:

Why why why is it here and there and everywhere 

Besides the tran/train thingie on the flattened railways in the road, the buses fly by with a flowing whoosh, and sometimes an occasional brake squeal. Her only saving grace is that, her kryptonite, 18-wheelers are not on these same streets we run. Yet, there's something new to look out for:

This is never good

Sugar will propel herself about 2 inches off the ground to not allow one paw to touch this foreign object that is constantly arising on the sidewalks. That, or she quickly attempts to go around it with 98% accuracy. 

The first dodge over to the side was because of one of those crazy buses going by, then a manhole cover comes along......geez....just trying to run over here. 

Since we now live in the heart of the Texas Medical Center district, there are plenty of bright sounding (and looking) ambulances zooming by, much like ants at a picnic - they are everywhere, every time you look around. There are also an incredible amount of care-flight choppers in the air with noise pollution that rivals the industrial sounds of generators, air conditioners and ginormous electrical boxes/units (see above) all that generate what is needed for these monstrous multitude of medical facilities.

All five of the dog's senses are on high alert and highly in tune when we are out and about. They are adjusting, yet Sugar is lagging a little behind in her adjustment. Surprise, surprise.

Sugar Pie Honey

The background of Sugar is unknown. After adopting her as an adult, she would not eat dog food - wet or dry. She was tiny and needed to gain some weight. I knew then I was "one of those dog owners" that fed their dog people food. After the vet looked at her teeth and cleaned them (dental procedure while asleep) we found out her chompers were more like squishers. She has minimal ability to chew dry dog food, and even when it's softened and/or canned dog food presented, she says, No thanks, I'd rather starve.  

So our life changed, trying to figuring out what people-food she would eat. Cheese, any meat cut up in the tiniest of bites, and more cheese. Her diet is that of a 2 year old. No veggies please. We have fine-tuned how and what we feed her now, and it's inconvenient, but do-able.

The next challenge was her attachment to me. It took about 6-12 months for David to even be able to pick her up. When I would go to work, she would await my return:

Waiting here

And here

And then here

Sometimes she waits here

Or here, as she knows I'll be driving up into my spot

And now that I'm working from home, she's in my lap much of the day. Our co-dependency issues may likely never resolve. I'm beginning to think that even therapy can't fix us. 

Sweet Maybe

Her saving grace is Maybe. Maybe was raised by us as a puppy and is seemingly a normal dog. Food-motivated in her old age, but fairly normal. Maybe shows Sugar how to be a real dog, and Sugar has come a long, long way. But the road is long.

The apartment here in Houston has been another challenge for Sugar. Something about one of the bedrooms and one of the bathrooms causes her to start shaking uncontrollably. There's a sound, or maybe a smell (we are not sure what it is for sure) that's familiar to her that brings back bad memories. This just our theory, but we know that she's definitely not comfortable with the environment and I imagine she looks forward to getting back to the farm. Maybe and Sugar no longer have free-will, and must be leashed to be taken out the front door. It's the rules. They both do well on leashes so we are good there. It's the free-will part they miss.

Ironically, the dog's de-stress activity happens to be the same as mine - being outside and moving. Our new version of free-will, as we call. So, we all three look forward to getting out the door and moving (mostly running) all while navigating new streets, new people and beginning to adjust to the new sounds. We enjoy the freedom to do so, and Adventure Land here in Houston never stops. 

Low Bar Lifestyle

As I rotate through the responsibilities of my life right now and carve out time for my passions and hobbies, I excel at the low bar lifestyle. I am seemingly eliminating all (what I deem) unnecessary self care and household duties. I'm setting the bar low so I may invest more time doing the things I really want to do. i.e. running, walking, cycling. It just so happens that a mask covers a large portion of the face which is always helpful when it comes to face self-care and makeup. I can wear the same clothes over and over because I never see the same people here in Houston. Leading a low bar lifestyle actually helps keep my priorities in line. 

As my road bike is back in Gunter on the trainer, I cycle to nowhere in the cold, winter-time weather. I do enjoy running and walking in the cold, though. Next to that, my favorite thing is anything outside on the farm. Cleaning the barn, caring for the animals, mending fences, anything outside and on the farm is my jam. As we move through this chapter, I am fortunate to have wonderful people caring for the animals and the barn until I can get back to that - and my barn therapy again. So very grateful.

What makes you vulnerable makes you beautiful

Thank you, Brene Brown. I've long blogged that she's one of my favorite authors. She reminds me that courage is telling the story of who you are with your whole heart. This can be challenging, exposing yourself to the world. Brene says that owning our story ,and loving ourselves though that process, is the bravest thing that we'll every do. I read and reread her words and let them melt into my mind and soul. I need these words, and it's Brene and many others that contribute to my growth as a human bean. 

I, too, have my own personal trials and tribulations with cancer. This is where it gets tricky. Who is supposed to care for who. So it seems this will bounce back and forth. David and I tease about it, as it's our way of finding humor in a tough situation. We keep it light, yet we tackle the heavy when we need to. I'm feeling pretty good these days, I mean, I still do many thinks I want to do. How could I even complain? Anne Frank didn't complain. She's my inspiration, reminding me that complaining is a choice. I'm just a Girl On Fire, as Alisha Keys would sing. I feel strong, I feel safe. I feel vulnerable. I feel like a girl on fire, whose spark is all that is within me. I'm going to keep going, until I can't. And that's when I'll stop, when God decides it's time. He knows, and I trust that. I'm grateful every day I wake up, and a soft audible Thank You escapes my mouth. Then I rise, work and play all day. It doesn't get better than this. Well, maybe it can get a little better than right now, but I'm okay with right now.

How's the birthday boy

I think the best way to explain how David is feeling today is the post-birthday feeling from when you turned 21 years old. That next day: the headache, woozy stomach, nausea, dry eyes and the need to lay around all day sums it up. David is having a post 21-year-old-birthday-celebration feeling today. And that's okay. We'll take it! 

What's up, Buttercup?

The last two days of this week, Thursday and Friday are radiation only days, with a follow-up visit with his chemotherapy oncologist on Friday. Goals, you ask? Our goals are to keep David hydrated, not nauseated, and blood sugars under control. This along with the usual jaw exercises, fluoride stuff, lotion on skin, special cleansing products, eye drops and ointment, lots of tummy medicine, nasal rinsing, mouth rinsing, and I could go on, but it's all do-able right now. We haven't fallen off the slippery slope. I'll let you know when and if that happens. So far, we are staying in our lane and going nowhere fast. Exactly what you need to do in recovery. Me? Well, I'm getting out and running, taking care of my physical and mental health, and finding the time to see the beauty in it all. The self-awareness helps, as the more I practice that, the more it helps me realize that we will go through this, then we will move forward. Perfect, let's do that.

Cause I'm feeling myself today,

Cyndi

Day 9 Birth Day

He's rubbish at turning lights off but awesome at shining his light

Happy Birthday, David! Look at you, showing us all what fighting the cancer fight looks like. I am inspired by your bright light each day, knowing you will shine it on everyone at MD Anderson all day long today. 

The day started as I drove around that area looking for a donut shop at 5:30 am. David has dropped the old "isn't there a donut shop around here" line several times lately. Diabetes is not friends with donuts, and since diabetes is David's close friend, donuts usually aren't. And, since the last set of lab results showed a good baseball batting average number for David's sugar level, it's time to buckle that belt a notch on sugar. Despite that, it's his birthday and even though he did not eat this morning, we packed his bag with breakfast and lunch for his busy day with treats (that he will likely just carry around and feel good that he has them). I'm going to guess he'll eat his turkey sandwich on sugar-free bread later on. He'll snack on the blackberries. And the donut and kolache will come back home in his lunch bag with some bites missing. Sometimes it's just the fact that it's in there is all that matters. It is your birthday after all. 

As we befriend the uncertainty of the day and week, David looks like he's heading out for a casual outing to Home Depot except he's got a lunch packed for it. He's got his comfy sweat pants on and his only DIY project is how to build a wedge pillow tower in bed. 

There’s a method to this madness 

His wedge pillow mountain is key for keeping the reflux and nausea at bay after chemo. Chemo = Burps. That sounds odd but this secret has been revealed to us now. Chemo equals many other things too, but it starts by getting you so out of sorts you don't want to eat or drink. That full-feeling will return along with the nausea and reflux. The radiation will continue to beat up his mouth and throat, so together it's a recipe for sleep and dehydration. We have been avoiding the 'sleep not drink' recipe as much as possible because nobody likes how dehydration makes you feel. Hydration is everything. I know I said sleep is everything but scratch that for a minute. ZzzzTown is easy to get to these days but WaterVille needs to be the first stop. 

We are stocked up on supplies as instructed. We've made our Target Run and Done. The instructions, directions and recommendations are all in our possession. And even though we think we are ready for this weeks excitement, it's like opening a white elephant gift at the holiday party. Wonder what we'll get.

Midday delight

Turns out for lunch, that myself and the Littles (Sugar and Maybe) decide to run up to the MDA building that David is at to met him for a birthday "lunch" outside between his appointments. 

We sit outside in the garden gazebo area that's very nice. There's many areas to sit and relax outside of MDA. Turns out, we share this area with panhandlers that pose as patients. 

Maybe and Sugar wait for food to drop

We enjoy our time together and then it's time we both get back to our things. He with his appointments, and I run back to the apartment to get back to work. He is still driving himself to his appointments so he'll drive home later on this afternoon after all the birthday fun is complete at MDA. It's nice that MDA is close enough for me to walk or run there. There is ample parking there and David typically drives each day and parks in the parking garage. There's a certain amount of parking fees that MDA covers for patients, and he generally only has a small, if any, amount to pay each day. 

These are littered through the apartment like confetti 

Let whatever you do today be enough

As David moved through his lab draw, radiation, radiation oncologist appt, chemo then radiation again, he did so with seeming ease. My favorite part of the day is when he comes home and tells me all the people/employees that he spoke with, what their names were, who he encouraged, who he assisted with directions inside MDA (it can be confusing), and how he's working on remembering so many names in each department. He teasingly pits the radiation dept employees against the chemo dept employees. He talked with the doctor about fishing and bbq, who he said only then really "perks up" and desires to chat. He makes having cancer treatment look easy. But really what he's doing is making something hard look easy. He laughs that "in 12 hours he better get the bucket ready beside the bed". He's performing his self care like a 16 year old teenage girl does. He smiles. He's had a great birthday not blowing out the candles on a cake but instead, shining his bright light on all those around him. After a 7 am - 5 pm day at MDA, he's ready for some down time and reflection. It'a a part of the day that allows us to celebrate the small successes. To listen to one another, and bask in our faith and trust in the Lord. We recognize that every day is a special occasion, this one included.

Birthday boy

Front Row Joe

As a special birthday treat, we are going to show a snipet of David's birthday day in the radiation dept and chemo dept - and take you there.

For David, his radiation includes lying still with a mouthpiece in and (for head and neck cancer patients) your very own custom-made mask on for about 15-30 minutes each day. Pretend for a minute that you're 10 years old again and on the soccer team. You remember the one called The Lady Bugs and every part of your uniform except the shin guards is neon pink. There was the coach on the sidelines who yelled at all the participants for 45 minutes straight. Yep, that's the tech in the room. He/she does raise their voice a bit because The Beatles is playing a little loud today over the speakers in the radiation room. They realign David as needed, just like the soccer coach: You're not looking at the ceiling properly. Be still. Very good, Mr Graves, yes, stay like that. Except there's no clapping involved in the radiation room.

As bumpin' as the radiation dept is, the infusion room/suite is quite the opposite. It's like going into a yoga studio. People intentionally moving about, no loud music, calming and rhythmic beeps from the IV infusion pumps all chanting their mantras. You may have the luxury of a recliner or a stretcher, depending on how long you'll be there. David has had both of those options thus far. You can read a book, nap, or turn inward and quiet your mind. Whatever that looks like may be different on any given day. Today, David brought his book.

Self Talk

Now we wait, again. As the hands of time keep moving, so do the side effects from his treatments. It's a slow build so far, but a windup that does not stop. The dry eyes, the headaches, the scratchy throat, the woozy tummy, the stiff jaw (jaw exercises are a must) and the myriad of other changes that creep up like a cheetah on its prey. Quietly and precisely. It's all a matter of time, my pretty. The goal is talking yourself off the ledge before you get there. Try and stay focused on not getting lost in your head about it, but instead just being. The good news is the physical side regarding the management of side effects is pretty straight forward. Here's the list of suggested items to buy and have, including over-the-counter and prescription necessities, and here's how best to use them.  The emotional side of managing this is quite different. Have you gathered all the techniques you need in your Coping Skills Toolbox? Have you etched a strong mind to push through? Have you gotten all your memos and permission slips written to your self? Have you befriended discomfort? Have you grown so much that your fear doesn't fit you any longer, like that old pair of jeans? The one thing I know for sure is something will grow from what we are going through - and it will be us.

As this extra special birthday closes and night falls, we continue to celebrate the life we have. Yes, I'm secretly brewing my potions to blend for David in the NutriBullet blender. What I've discovered is that learning to make potions is a vital skill not only in witchcraft, but in also creating remedies for illness and diseases. My new alter ego created for me, Cybil may not be wearing a long, black cloak all while weighing dried nettles and crushing snake fangs, but instead discovering magical healing potions and reciting prayers. I'll use my newly founded witch hood, pretend cauldron and bountiful apothecary all for good. 

Cybil 

Happy Birthday, David! We all love you! 

Thank you for gifting us with your bright light,

Cyndi 

 

Day 8 Day Off

Wouldn't it be nice if every week you had Monday off. The MLK holiday brought a day off to those in treatment at MDA. It was a catch-up day for David and other patients in treatment. It gave him a day to wrap up things at work, rest and recoup. While I was in Gunter for the weekend, he rested. It was actually a productive weekend for us both, as his job is now Healing, and doing all the things for that to happen. 

Still doing things

First up, radiation things. Tell me more, please.

The radiation guide leads all head and neck radiation patients through this process. What to expect, who the care team is, weekly management visits, planning and receiving treatment information. All this information is important but what many patients really want to know is: What are the side effects? And how do I care for the side effects at home during the treatment. 

The timeline is my treatment bible

Fatigue is the first side effect listed. I first noticed this with the increase in naps/sleeping during the day, and then that David can still sleep at night. Hair loss and skin changes have not caught up with David yet, but likely will with time. Due to the sinus area being in the obvious field of treatment, his nose will feel stuff, congested and may have bleeding. Swallowing is affected as the throat is also in the treatment field. Eating soft foods and drinking meals will be guaranteed. The guide talks of the possibility of a speech pathologist to assist with safe swallowing, and what nobody really wants, but may be needed, is a feeding tube. You probably know by now this is a personal goal of David's to not have one, but we just can't predict that. As the salivary glands are nearby in the treatment area, the saliva gets thick and sticky. Taste is likely going to be distorted, with some foods tasting bitter, metallic or have no taste at all. Pain is included in the side effects due to a myriad of things such as skin burns, difficulty swallowing, eye dryness, crusting inside the sinuses and many more things I could list but you get the idea. The helpful part is the chart that illustrates how long to expect these side effects to occur and the average recovery time of them. It's always good to know as knowledge is power. This helps all the patients put a general timeline to their side effects, although everyones will be a little different depending on their own radiation field of treatment. 

Can’t stop the feeling 

It's time to talk home care during the treatment. 

Bathroom pharmaceutical explosion 
Only one side shown

David already has his arsenal of remedies, medication, mouth and sinus rinses, creams, lotions, fluoride, and nutrition elements ready - or at least the first line of defense for what's to come (and what has already arrived). 

CVS in the kitchen

He has jaw exercises to do several times a day to fight the tightness that develops. Nutrition is key, and what we place in the NutriBullet Pro blender is very important. 

My newest fav thing ever

Fruit, protein powder, ice (water), yogurt, fresh veggies and more. I'll be honing my smoothie skills over time. We'll see what the favorite recipes wind up being. I can't sneak in the veggies yet. Not yet......

Thank you, next

I could spend way too much time talking everything radiation, but I feel like a general overview is fair. So, with an understanding of the (above) stated side effects of radiation, let's talk chemotherapy. Once a week (generally on Tuesdays) David has chemo. The agent used for him is CARBOplatin. Before each chemo session starts, the nurses administer zofran (anti-nausea) and dexamethasone (steroids) through his IV. He does not have a port, and they start an IV each session right now. 

Giant chemo book

The chemotherapy guide is about 3 times bigger than the radiation guide, and that's about what the chemotherapy does too, it hits about 3 times as hard. David has his chemo once a week (mostly on Tuesday) and then will likely be sick for 3-4 days. The number of days afterwards is still a trend we are watching. Not all our data is collected yet as there has only been one chemo treatment thus far. Yet, we will figure out the timing of the effects and should become able to rely on what those after-results will be and about how long they will last. It increases with time, so there's that. Along with the side effects of radiation there will be the side effects of chemo simultaneously. As in the photo above, there are more side effects of chemo so it seems. What we've noticed so far is that it's sometimes hard to differentiate which cancer treatment is really causing which side effect(s). None the less, our guide books help us with home care. It also takes about the importance of protecting loved ones from the chemo agent. It reviews everything from not "splashing" when using the restroom, cleaning soiled bed linens and towels to keeping the bathroom clean and free from the toxic chemicals excreted from the body such as urine, stool, vomit or body waste. Safe handling guidelines are important for not only the patient but for the caregiver. 

It's a real thing

I wish David had never seen this

Little would I know that David has one more reason for forgetting where the keys are or where his wallet is. It's Chemobrain. Turns out it's a documented effect of chemotherapy, and he'll probably use this for the rest of his life. 

Is wine-ing allowed

Nope, no alcohol - not that we are big drinkers anyway. Instead we'll stick to  clean foods as much as possible. Is whining allowed? I think there will be a fair amount of David sharing his feelings. I'm here to try and soothe his soul, body and spirit as much as possible. So let's get this week started, shall we?

First up, David's birthday is tomorrow! He'll be 63 years young and has a big day planned:

Wake up and head to lab work at 7:30 am

Quickly head down the hallway(s) to his 1st radiation session of the day at 8:30 am

Next up, a visit with Dr Rosenthal, his radiation oncologist for his weekly management check at 11:45 

Then jiffy quick over to the infusion center for his chemo at 12:15

And lucky him, since it's his birthday and it was a holiday on Monday, he gets a 2nd radiation treatment at 2:50 pm. 

We had originally thought we would celebrate his birthday Tuesday evening, but instead will spend the evening at the apartment and have a nice bland, soft meal and a zofran for dessert. And probably early to bed for the birthday boy, too! 

Last day at work

As David moved through this MLK holiday treatment-free, he used it to tie up all the loose ends at work that he could. With increased congestion in his sinuses, scratchy throat and mild nausea lurking, he finished the day strong and is ready to tackle his new job of healing.

. 

He loves his green screen 

We did have a meal out tonight, as after 3 days of down time, we were able to get out to his favorite meal of a gyro sandwich at Nikos Nikos here in Houston. Comfort food, warm and soft. What a great evening it was. 

We’ve only just begun 

We will call it a night in anticipation of a busy birthday Tuesday. I feel like I've only scrapped the tip of the iceberg regarding all the information we were given for both radiation and chemo. David said it best tonight with his closing remark, "I'd rather not know all of it, and just take it as it comes". I'm all about that, with the exception that I need to be the one prepared - or at least mostly prepared. Can I be willy-nilly and prepared all at the same time? I think so, because as I practice my potions in the disguise of smoothies, David has given me my witch name of Cybil. I’ll get to brew up lots of things for him over the next few weeks. Let’s see what it all brings us and tackle it as we go. We'll try to stay ahead of the curve, but we are on a slippery road and here's hoping we stay in our lane. Now where did I leave my magic wand.....

Peace and blessings, 

Cyndi

Day 5,6, 7 No one fights alone

David wears his blue/green polycythemia vera wristband and I wear my maroon/white (head and neck cancer colors) No One Fights Alone wristband. It is our tribute to each other and all the other cancer soldiers/families/friends out there. Every day I think about all the other people who had walked in my shoes previously, now and even those who will be walking this walk in the future - and have no idea. Who are they? What is their story? I see them at MDA walking around, in wheelchairs and going through all the motions to try and save their life. What I know for sure is it's really hard to get it, until you get it. That sounds so dramatic insinuating that someone could not possibly understand until they have walked this walk. Which is precisely why I love to blog. It has the ability to allow others to step into their shoes and try them on. The details can be edgy at times and the personal moments very personal. Yet, knowing what goes on behind closed doors is something I've often wondered myself and have been offered the gift to illustrate it to other people who are wonderers as well. It takes time yes, but is so very therapeutic. It may not be a masterpiece of writing, but not all stories have to be well written to convey their message. So, I keep-on-keeping-on to tell the story of David, who has SNUC and has chosen to invest in what the experts at MD Anderson have recommended. Why would someone not? Money, time, denial, transportation, responsibilities and I could continue with all the "why's" but I'll stop here, as everyone has their reason(s) for what they do and I respect that. David has chosen to go to the edge of the earth and back to fight SNUC. Sure, it is easier to have the chemo and radiation separate but that was ill-advised. The cancer is too aggressive, they say. And time is not on our side for the microparticles left behind to move about the body and spread. Aggressive cancers need aggressive treatments. So here we are, blessed beyond our own belief that we are able to walk this walk. With Week 1 (of 7) down, we keep putting one foot in front of the other. 

When the rain is over, you bow

That rainbow will come, but first the storms. The hard driving rain, the hail, the cold winds and feeling like you're out in it all without your coat and umbrella, for hours, even days. David had his radiation on Friday and things are changing. He can feel the heat from it seemingly starting on the right side of his face and moving through his checks, around his eyes, across the bridge of his nose and on his neck from the radiation. He can feel the casual burning sensation on his skin, almost like he stayed out in the sun a little too long as if he's been outside laying in the sun, as if intentionally working on his tan. No sunscreen, no hat. Most all his senses are becoming affected. His eyes are too dry for his contacts much of the time. His nose is scabbing inside from the burning of the radiation. His hearing even lessened, so it seems, although he's unsure if it's less wearing of his hearing aids or the treatment. His throat is having that feeling you get when you first get a cold. It's scratchy and you know that the soreness is on it's way next and not because he has a cold. As he lies there with his mouthpiece and mask on, gazing at the ceiling, he has less saliva to manage. And David might even tell you that this is the best part of the side effects because he does not have to really worry as much about the swallowing-with-his-mouth-open mouthpiece now (although he was getting used to it). It's an indication that his salivary glands are not able to do their job like they used to. That's the radiation effect, and as we move forward, we prayer for safety for his eyes, ears, nose, and throat to have enough function to allow him to swallow. We find ourselves asking for God to spare his eyes and ears/hearing. Nothing is guaranteed, and we pray for his safety, as well as the health care workers caring for all the patients at risk, as the after-effects can be troublesome when it's all said and done.

Friday, Day Five was radiation only. It was enough though, as David came home and went straight to bed. The chemo was still causing nausea and fatigue, and his body is trying to manage all these new chemicals - and radiation - coming into it. He's afraid to eat or drink in the morning before radiation in hopes that he won't have a throwing-up incident with his mouthpiece in and mask on. It takes everything his body has to process all that's happening, and sleeping is his recharge and comfort. I wake him often asking him to hydrate and drink. He has this weird full-feeling all the time that makes it hard for him to want to drink, and quite frankly, he's never had to drink so much before. (Besides the occasional poker game). But the radiation is drying him out and the nausea from the chemo talks him into sleep instead of drinking and eating. 

Just Like Brooks

Sweet Brooks is wonderful. He's learning to sleep in his crib, process his environment, and keep his spitting-up under control. 

He's doing very well! He's adorable from every angle and in every picture. Even when he cries he's cute - or at least I think so. Lauren and Ryan spend every waking moment anticipating his every need while trying to keep their tiny human alive. Then, it hit me. OMGoodness, I'm doing the same thing over here, except my little Brooks is big David. Here, here's a smoothie. What sounds good to you? Just water? No? How about we try some Sprite Zero. Are you hungry? We need to eat, sweetie, at least something. Okay, let's try this different smoothie and see if your tummy handles it a little better. Burpy still, huh? Okay, have you potty'd today? Want to lay down? Okay then, let use the wedge pillow. More blankets? I know you're cold, so let's turn the heat up. Oppp, let's change you into something more comfortable. What? Whataburger sounds good? Are you sure? 

This makes me realize that using my experience as a mother will help with the anticipation of what David's needs are or might be. Yeah, that's a shift in how I was seeing this. Now I get it. Okay, now that you've put it that way, it sounds easier. And the best part is David hasn't cried....yet. So that's a plus that Lauren and Ryan will not be able to eliminate the crying for many years to come. That very loud cry of a healthy baby boy. What a blessing, though, right?

Home Alone

It was difficult to head out to Gunter for the weekend leaving David in Houston. We had expected that he would feel up to going. Some of my plans were to give heartworm meds to the dogs back home, clean the barn, check on the projects that were completed this past week (while we were gone) and pick up some of the things we left behind that we decided we needed. The trip would prove too much for David, and I knew this early in the day on Friday, as he made a difficult decision to put his notice into work that starting Monday, he was on PTO/leave until the beginning of March. His body is not going to allow him to work, as the schedule for what's to come next week treatment-wise is just not going to allow his body to cooperate at work. As of Jan 18, 21, he's now a full-time healer. That's his one and only job. Attempt to do as much as he can to allow his body the ability to heal (as much as it can). Drink, hydrate, drink some more. Eat too (even if it means drinking a meal), take his medication, speak his needs, and focus on healing. He says he'll drive himself to the cancer treatments, until he doesn't feel comfortable doing so, then I will drive him each day. We will take this day by day. Our intention to communicate and work together stays strong, and as each day passes, the importance of that is more and more apparent. We need to stay focused and not let our guard down. What we do now is important in regards to what the next day will bring. Hydrate today to stay ahead of the game as long as possible. That slippery slope is slick. We are working hard to not let that barking, ravenous dog chasing us to catch us - and bite us. 

Chickens are magical

While home this weekend, my first order of business is barn therapy. Seeing all my chickens happy and healthy makes me smile. When they are happy, I am happy.

How many chickens is too many? Well, I think I've determined that answer now. There's too many when you can't keep your barn clean. Luckily, I can keep my barn clean, but it's harder when you're not there to clean it. The caretaker who comes to feed morning and night feeds all the animals and also makes sure they have water. But there's not enough time in her own day to really keep the barn clean, it's just not feasible, nor what most people even want to do. So, we have two dear friends in Gunter, Angela and Paul who are going to come and take on the task of helping keep the barn clean. Technically that translates to cleaning up chicken poo - let's call it for what it is. It's about to rain for 4-5 days straight (according to the weather) and that barn is going to get bad real quick-like. I cannot begin to express my gratitude for this, as if anybody were to ask me what I need right now in all this going-ons in our life.....it's to have my barn cleaned for my chickens and guard dogs. My soul needs that. What brings me the most joy is calling my chickens and that they actually come. Or better yet, when I don't even call them and they follow me around like that one ex-boyfriend used to. They each have their own personalities, their own voice, and preferences on being picked up and/or petted. I'm so far down the crazy-chicken-lady road that I add complete strangers who are into chickens on social media. You like chickens? Me tooooo! Hi, I'm Cyndi. I mean, I even had an electrician over a month ago (or so) and as he worked on an electrical outlet, he was commenting on my chickens. Turns out his wife is as coocoo for chickens as I am. Our conversation went something like this:

HIM: My wife is looking for a silkie hen, and she can't find an affordable one. We have a silkie rooster and she would like to have silkie chicks.

ME: Oh, have her call or text me and I'll give her one of my silkie hens.

HIM: Great! She'll be thrilled and she's been looking for one for some time now.

20 minutes later, his wife texted me (Amber) and 1 hour later she was at our farm. I proudly presented her with one of my all-white silkie chicks whose now grown into a beautiful teenager (all white, phoofy and luscious). She cried. Free.99 for you, Amber, because she is one of my people, and I hers. She carried her precious one in her arms the whole way driving home. Once she made it back home, she texted me to say she named her Cinderella. My heart was soaring with happiness and what a fabulous name for that beautiful chicken. Then, about a week ago she texted me this update: 

😭😭Amber calls her little silkie hen Cindy, for short. Crying over here. I love life as much as I love chickens. 

Taking a dog named Shark to the beach is a bad idea

Ahhhh, all the dogs. It seems I have just the right amount of dogs. On my way home to Gunter Friday night, I stopped by Lauren and Ryan's house to pick up their dog, Tula. David and I had agreed that it’s best for me not to be around people due to the exposure with the covid pandemic. In our effort to keep covid away from him while he is having his cancer treatments, I would not be holding Brooks, hugging Lauren, seeing my sister, or any friends. Lauren‘s husband Ryan brought Tula out to the car for me. He loaded her up in my truck and we visited a quick minute outside and then I left to continue my journey back home. I would not be seeing Lauren, Ryan, and Brooks the way that I would normally see and visit with them. We are FaceTime-ing for this time period as we move through the next 6-7 weeks. This was going to prove quite challenging, as I made my way back home that’s the first thing I want to do is put baby Brooks in my arms and give Lauren a huge hug. It will have to wait. I figured since I'd be at the farm for the weekend, Tula could have a mini vaca though. She's an Aussie with lots of energy, and does well at the farm running around like she's been cooped up in an apartment, or something. Winston (stray who is now a resident) loves Tula but cannot possibly keep up with Tula. Their interactions are fun to watch as a youngster vs oldie-but-goodie worlds collide. 

Winston is glad to see us, and Tula is glad to be out running, oh and glad to see everyone at the farm, too. Maybe and Sugar are in the mix of it all, as well as Levi and Whisper doing their guard dog thing. All is well in the dog world. I even had Tula shaved (Lauren approved) along with Sugar. Less dog hair in an apartment with a new baby is always nice. Tula will go back home Sunday night as I drive back to Houston, and Winston will await our arrival again for another week. But wow, it’s good to be with them for even a short period of time. 

This girl needs a sweater 

HOCO

David and I had decided awhile back that having a few home projects completed while we were away would be fun to come home to in March. Nothing big, mind you. So we decided on having the front deck redone and replace the wood railing with wrought iron. 

Our little KOA-looking house

The folks that did this are C.A Decking and Construction and simply put - amazing. They have done so much work for us around the farm that we consider them family friends. They are a sweet family with 3 young children and we adore them all. The work they do is first class and the other best part is that it gets done in a very timely manner. And that's what I (we) always want, "Can you do it now/soon?"

David and I have both been wanting a flag pole placed out front for some time now. We ordered it and were planning on putting it in ourselves. Then, a inguinal hernia showed up for David which eliminated him from being able to do that sort of thing, just weeks before we were to leave for Houston. He cannot have it surgically repaired (as is needed) until after his cancer treatments and he's healthy again. Luckily, they were able to get the flag pole placed and up, and I sent pictures to David of it. We've been talking about doing that for about 4 years and it's finally up. Not sure if a UT or Texas A&M flag will fly - or both - but we'll see what arrangements we make for that. There will be negotiations, I'm sure, revolving around that situation. What I do know is that I need to review my flag etiquette now that I'm responsible for the flag pole.  

Time travel

As time approaches to make the trek back to Houston, my own mini vaca comes to a close. I am fully recharged. I had my barn therapy, abundance of loving on my animals on the farm, and comfort that all is well at the Graves Farm. The drive is not too bad really, as I'm reminded often of how close we live to the DisneyWorld of Cancer. We are strapped in tight on this ride, and the rollercoaster has not only climbed that first big loud-ticking-sound climb, but we are in the first free fall heading for the double loop. I'm not so sure that our hands are still waving in the air like we just-don't-care. I'm pretty sure our hands are squeezing the guard rail that's holding our bodies in the ride tightly. Our fingers blue, and our eyes wide. 

David layed low this weekend, all while reporting his hydration and mediation status here and there. He rested this weekend as he gears up for another week of gazing at the ceiling and having first class room service in his chemo suite. I've got the NutriBullet Pro blender in my possession to blend my potions, along with various groceries all in the cooler while driving back to my little Brooks, I mean my big David. I love them both dearly. I will continue to quiz David and monitor his needs as his body takes a beating. As unfair as this all seems, I find peace in knowing this is but a chapter in the book of our lives. I'm going to feel it, live it, and do my very best to make this chapter one we will remember in a positive way. Humor helps. Our community of family, friends, co-workers (who are friends!), and friendly people we meet along the way ALL fill our soul with love, comfort and peace. We also pray for the others in the world who are struggling or suffering, as we are just a grain of sand. Together, we make a beautiful beach. 

Godspeed,

Cyndi

Day Four - ZzzzTown

Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday

On Day Four we arrive at the first official day to only have 1 appt at MDA. There will be many other days like today, but what's interesting about it is that even though there was only 1 appt, it still took a chunk of time from the day, as the bounce back is slow. The accumulation of radiation plus the chemo this week came knocking today. Knock, knock. I tried not to answer the door, but it's a persistent knocking of the new neighbor kids Nausea, Burpy, Fatigue, Dryness and Stomach Upset. Then, more friends arrived that took David's attention away from drinking water, Mr Full-Feeling, and then Mrs Imma Wonky showed up. And lastly, Ms Zz Sleep came knocking. All these new friends took him away to a place he did not want to go. It wasn't a matter of peer pressure, but instead a kidnapping of sorts. Kind of like when you joined band in 9th grade and they came to find you for Initiation. I might even say that these new friends are guilty of hazing. 

Luckily, David's old friend Mr. Omeprazole showed up with his brother Mr P. Bismol who came from far away to bring him back home. Ms. Zofran politely rang the doorbell bright and early Thursday morning, and we were glad to see her. They all tried hard, and we appreciate their effort. It was barely enough old friends for today, but glad they brought David back home, for now.

Now where did I put that comfort zone? 

It's been said that life begins at the end of your comfort zone. I liked that when I was participating in an endurance running race, or pushing myself through an Ironman Triathlon. I intentionally would push myself to my own personal edge and loved doing so. Now though, stepping out of what's comfortable and into a new reality is like going skydiving (because your best friend wants to) and you're unsure if you know where the pull is for the chute - after you already jumped. They showed you what to do, remember? But finding it in a time of free falling is a little different. As David and I move into the beginning phases of I don't want to drink more or I'm not hungry right now and it's week one, we talk about what this looks like. We have the conversation with self-awareness that we are now in this moment. I know you don't want to drink more right now. What sounds good? (He can still taste and smell right now). Nothing really, he answers. My brain spins in a thousand motions from nurse, to friend, to wife, then to caretaker. We start with various antacids, zofran (this morning) and general OTC meds to calm the feelings and beginnings of what chemo brings. It's time to think about making that smoothie. Bland please. David is not a bland kind of guy. He does have his wedge pillow set up, his humidifier by his bedside to keep his nose moist along with nasal rinses and nasal gels. He's putting his moisture eyes drops and ointment in his eyes. And a blanket the thickness of grandma's bedspread - and he's still cold. It started and here we are. 

Before the trip to cancer island, while we were still on the boat enjoying the breeze and warm sun, we talked about this moment. How we will communicate with each other. How we will shift the self care from him, slowly more to me. How to let go of the old us and move to a new version of us. It's happening and we see it and acknowledge it. The recipe for our success, from this early vantage point, is to communicate as clearly as possible, listen to each other, and explain our thoughts so that we do not throw verbal punches that are not productive. So, I watched as we talked about what was unfolding today, and we both are trying hard to set the best tone possible for this expedition to hell and back. Both silently wishing for that boat to take us off the island. 

I got this

Okay, I might not get it right all the time. But I've got it. Or I will get it. And it'll get better. What does make it better is the daily conversations looking into each other eyes listening. David is wonderful at explaining what his day was like. He's great at recalling what was said and who said what while inside the huge walls of clear, thick, shiny glass at 1515 Holcomb Dr. 

He explains to me in detail of what it looks like while looking into the laser of the radiation machine. Cyndi, the star in the middle is blue, and that's what shoots towards me. While it's shooting the radiation into me, the what-looks-like little doors open and close, changing shape, forming new designs, like it's morphing this way, then that way. He's fascinated enough that he shares a picture with me so I'll know what he looks at each day. Well, he's not really supposed to be looking at that, but he glances at it now and again because he's fascinated with the way it moves.

Gaze not stare

David is still being schooled for his (in)ability to stare properly in radiation class. Don't stare so hard. Stay focused on one spot. Look gently ahead. Today? It was "gaze, not stare". I hope he gets this figured out before the final exam in 6 weeks. 

Who's in Control?

I've been meaning to provide an update on the Yoga Therapy Study we are enrolled in. I've got my yoga mat and I'm ready. The phone rang the other evening, and it was The Study People calling to tell David he's been assigned to a group. I'm thinking: Oh goodie! I heard David say, Uh huh, Okay, Uh huh, Okay, thanks for calling. He hung up and smiled. He was so proud to announce we have been assigned to the Control Group. The Control Group will be the people everyone is "compared to". We stay the same, and we do not do the yoga therapy. We complete all the surveys like everyone does, and answer the questions given. Yes, David and I both still participate. We each get a gift card to Target for $20 every time we answer a survey. But no yoga. No goat yoga either, for sure. I am a little sad that we won't have free yoga. Especially yoga that is catered to head and neck cancer patients. David, on the other hand, is thrilled. 

Blend In

On my way to do some damage at Smoothie King tonight, I was thinking about the ingredient requirements I would need to pick for David. Let's see, low (as little as possible) sugar, bland, high ice/water content, some fruit is okay, and be cautious of the ones with caffeine (diuretic) or yogurt (too much sugar). I mulled the menu over like I was loading my shopping cart online and not buying any of it. I'm stealing all their fabulous ideas off the menu and then picking the ones I would actually get him tonight. Once completed, I left with not only something David ended up drinking tonight, but many options for the smoothies I'm going to make him myself. I got a NutriBullet Pro and will load it with lots of ice along with things he likes and also things he doesn't like and won't know is in there. He used to tease me about blending up a quesadilla when I'm old and can't chew. Funny how life is. Little did he know then that the day would come when I could actually use my witchcraft to create potions. It's not funny to mention that him losing his smell and taste only works in my advantage. That's not nice. 😏   

Just a guess

I'm going to take a guess that Friday will bring us both a vivid awareness of what this all really means. Time is not really on our side. They say it is, but whoever 'they' is, is not at MDA right now. I'm also going to guess that David will be feeling a little IDGAF-ish tomorrow. Just a guess. That's not his normal Friday feeling, but tomorrow is not a normal Friday. I am thrilled that we learned so much this week, and that God is easing us into this. I appreciate that He did not just throw us off the cliff. Instead, God is showing us the way with baby steps and we are most grateful. We are grateful for the ways that He's allowing us to move through this. God has seen millions of people through this process, we are not the first nor will be the last. Our pain is never wasted. It's merely a lesson for us to use wisely. No pain, no gain, so cliche yet still holds water. Go big or go home. Can we pick go home - and take a nap. And home is Houston for us right now, and it feels good. I'll see our "real" home late tomorrow night as I make my way back to Gunter to check on the projects, farm animals, barn and house. David will remain in Houston to rest and drink lots of fluid. Right, honey? Lots of fluids. 💖

Here's to the most amazing weekend for everyone,

Cyndi

 

Day Three - Three Things

Bloghap, Blogcident and Blogaster

Before I begin, I just wanted to apologize for the post yesterday, as it posted, then reverted back to a rough draft, and then a repost again of the final post. Geezz, seems my finger hit the 'revert' button. Any IT group would tell me it was user error. Their right. It's me. I'm her. It was a ID10T error. Thank you for your patience. Now if I could just find that 'revert' button on my life for a minute, I'd probably hit it, too. 

Keep your sunny side up

David shared with me this morning the 3 things that travel through his mind while the radiation machine sings its song, all while he's lying flat on his back staring up at the radiation machine sunny side up. He's not one to start a conversation like this regularly, but he did, and it warmed my heart to hear words from his soul that he often times keeps hidden from the outside world. (Thank you for sharing, David 💖 and I'll share the share, Sweetie). So, he reviewed these 3 things with me and on Day Three it seems appropriate to make a note of them. He started first with:    1) His primary fear (at this point) is actually not the diagnosis of cancer, and not the fear of treatment, but of the possibility of reoccurrence later on. He goes on to say that the unknown of the reoccurrence is what bothers him the most. SNUC is reported as an aggressive and fast growing cancer that is known to reoccur. Living life with a certainty of reoccurrence, along with the uncertainty of when it will strike is like a storm that follows you around waiting for the day you forget your umbrella and rain jacket. It's a dark cloud above you that no matter which way you walk/run/jump, it stays right above your head lurking. No one with cancer gets the Guaranteed Freedom Pass but some cancer's risk of reoccurrence is higher than others. David is hoping for the pass.    2) Secondly, David said he has a personal goal of dodging the need for a feeding tube. Granted, many cancer patients in treatment will need a feeding tube to see them through, esp for head and neck cancer patients whose radiation is directed all around their throat area. A friend who also recently had a head and neck cancer/treatment compared his swallowing to the feeling of swallowing knives. He opted for the feeding tube when the time came, and had good reviews about how it helped him. Granted, nobody wants one, that is, until it's absolutely needed. And you don't want to wait until it's absolutely needed because you don't want to wait too long. But in David's mind, he's going to do his very best to stay hydrated, as dehydration is your first class ticket to a feeding tube.     3) And thirdly, David said he thinks about hope. He hopes that this cancer treatment is his one and only. No one ever knows for sure, but he's holding out hope for that - and many other hopes and dreams as well. But he says that as the radiation machine's ticking and tocking noises flow into his ears, he lays there with great hope that this process will be what he calls his One and Done. He's holding onto hope tight, as we all are. Even Dr Hanna, his medical oncologist who knows SNUC inside and out said, "I'm hopeful that this radiation and chemotherapy will knock out all remaining microparticles of your cancer, and leave you with a life of seeing this all in the rear view mirror". If Dr Hanna has that hope, we will cling to it tight as well. And we thank Dr Hanna for giving that hope to us. There's peace inside hope. 

What's up, buttercup

Today's activities included only two appointments. What?! Only 2 today - and a sneak peek into tomorrow shows only one appt - his radiation. All the initial appointments and baseline measurements of eye sight, hearing, and oral/mouth/teeth have been completed. With exceptions here and there, our future plans are radiation every day, chemo once a week and follow up appts weekly with his radiation oncologist and his chemotherapy oncologist. They will make sure he's doing alright and guide us in his care to see him through this. We have the initial directions and instructions on how to mange what's coming up, but I think we all know this is a slippery slope. Still in week one over here and living the high life. Caution Caretaker Thoughts Ahead: But I see the edge of the slippery slope, and will watch my step carefully. I'm new at this, and my ego (not my friend) tries to create doubt about my ability to take care of the Future David. It's like the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. You can do it....no you can't....yes you can.....don't listen to them. To combat that, I'm like a sponge over here soaking up everything David says after his appointments, looking at all the paperwork, and listening to every word. I'm watching him care for himself with his self-care routine/rituals written neatly on the mirror. And I'm constantly thinking about the people who have paved the way before us. They have already been in our shoes here on cancer island. I think about the caregivers I've known, and set my intention to be like those who were positive and strong. Doubt is also not my friend, and while we are in the calm before the storm, I stay calm just knowing that God is here and watching over us. 

Sit down, no more questions

As mentioned (above) before I went off on a different tangent, Day Three consisted of 2 appointments. Radiation and then audiology. The audiology appt was the one that was missed on Monday (Day One) that was so jam packed. It's done now though. And radiation went, uh, let's just say, okay. As the days progress and David's getting in the flow of the radiation department, he's noticing a few key nuggets there. First, the fewer questions you ask the better off you are. 1 question per day is tolerable, and 2 questions is two too many questions. He's creating a databank in his head of who the nice tech's are there and who the not-so-nice ones are. He's learned you are not to be late there. They don't do well with late. And late is considered anything later than 15 minutes BEFORE your appt. Note to self: arrive 30 minutes early every.single.time. They even wrote their direct phone number on a card for him to call if he's 'going to be late'. The funny part about that was that they wrote it in black sharpie with big bold numbers like a 1st grader practicing their numbers. Clear, concise and large. I'm surprised they did not pin it on his shirt and send him home. They probably know he won't be able to see it as well....with time. His left eye is a little wonky after only a few radiation sessions. They have been around this block a time or two. The radiation department reminded me of the tiny Key West airport we were trapped in years ago, and after about 8 hours of waiting to board a plane that never arrived, the attendant got on the Loud Speaker and announced for everyone to "Sit Down! No more questions!". He had had enough of the whole 18 inpatient passengers asking over and over what the status was. And everyone sat down. No one asked any more questions. The plane arrived about 2 hours later and it was silent the whole time. David has learned to stay in his lane during radiation. Do as they ask and try not to ask a question. 

Run Wild

While discovering what it's like to learn a new city, I found that running around the area is one of my favorite ways to learn the street names, find restaurants and see what is nearby. Our apartment complex backs up to the Bayou Greenways, and it is one of many options to move about the area.I can go straight out of the apartment and over to the trail system lickity split. 

And the bonus of it all is the porta-potty right there AND I can recycle my things in that blue waste bin right at the entrance ramp to the concrete trail system. 

So many wonderful things about the Bayou Greenway. Well, except maybe the tents with people sleeping in them under the bridges. I'm never sure if I should say Hi or what. I don't know what the protocol is when I pass them in their home. So I say Hi because it's what I want to do. 

I typically take Maybe and Sugar with me to run (and the running cart) so they can ride when they get tired of running. How are they doing with this move? The story I tell myself is as long as they are with us, they are okay. It's not an option for them to stay at the farm on their own, so the apartment life is something they are adjusting to, like we are. They are great car riders so they go everywhere with us, as they wait in the car patiently for us to return whenever we go in a store or restaurant. If I ever thought Sugar was attached to me at the hip, this temporary move to Houston has created a brand new co-dependency relationship for us. I'm feeling like that's not a good thing but luckily there's therapy for that. 

Din Din

By far one of the best things that we've done in Houston so far was Date Night on Day Three. We went to Tiny Boxwoods restaurant. They have expanded to several locations in the Houston area with extensions of this amazing place calling their satellite locations Tiny #5, etc. We ate dinner like kings and queens and topped off the meal with their ever famous choc chip cookies (with ice cream and choc sauce). Please believe me when I say the BEST choc chip cookie e.v.e.r. I don't know how they do it, but they do it so well. Luckily, you can buy their cookie dough and try it at home. That will likely be in our future. Thank you to Dr P and Danielle who treated us to this extravaganza and while living in Houston themselves some time ago, found this place to be a personal favorite of theirs. We appreciate them sharing it with us, and they were there with us in spirit as we dined and relaxed on the patio. It was magical. 

Brooks Baby

We are, of course, missing our new grandson, Brooks. He turned 3 months old already. Mom and dad are busy trying to live life, work and keep a tiny human alive. We miss you guys!

Little Bo Peep

I'm happy to give an update on our 5 sheep who are doing fabulous. 

Luckily, Bo Peep is not looking after them, and our friends who have them are the most amazing people that we appreciate and adore. The horses are settling over at the farriers place for which we are most grateful.

The caretaker we hired to come and feed (morning and night) at our farm for the chickens, guard dogs and barn cats has everything under control in the barn. We also have someone hired who is rebuilding our front deck this week, and also having a flag pole installed on the property as well. Life is still moving forward on the farm. I plan on driving back to check on things this weekend, while David stays in Houston and catches up on some work. I'll be taking back things we didn't need here in Houston and trading it for some of the things we do need in Gunter.  And my primary goal for this weekend will be to dispense heart worm preventative medication to everyone. It's a monthly ritual, and this weekend is the weekend for it. 

While we finish the week strong, we are sending you all love and peace in your lives. I know you have many things happening in your own life, and we are hoping that you are able to stay safe, feel loved and know that we are thinking of you all. 

Grace and peace,

Cyndi

Day Two - The Doing

 

The only way out is through, apparently

In a very short time here, David and I have both come to the realization that saying and doing are two completely different entities. It's not that we didn't know this already, but the ah-ha moment was in the self-awareness of watching it happen in life right before our eyes. There's no looking away from this, as it's literally under our nose. Saying the words that we are going to move through cancer treatments vs actually going through the physical motions of cancer treatments is our newest transition. Talking is always easier than doing. That's why humans tend to not realize their dreams They talk about their dreams. It's easier to talk about our dreams, and that in itself can be fulfilling. Realizing our dreams....that's another story which does not include hitting the big red Easy button. 

This concept is in full motion for us right now. We are going from talking to doing. No, it's not a dream of ours to be here doing this, but nonetheless it's life unfolding. And the only way out is through it.

Don't look back, you're not going that way

Day Two's line up included: Labs, Radiation, then Chemo. Getting labs at MDA is like being in the drive thru at Chick-fi-la. It's a symphony of people working in unison in an effort to provide a service, all while minimizing wait time. Genius - and particularly in heath care, much appreciated. 

David had his labs drawn and results are provided not long after that. Once again, this process could be a musical titled, 'The Wizard of MDA' or "Little Shop of Labs' or 'My Fair Cancer'. Okay, I'll stop. 

David's kidney lab value's will be watched as his body begins to process toxins intentionally dripped into his veins. Liver enzymes monitored. Hemoglobin and hematocrit observed for anemia, among other values that will be tracked over time. His chemo will be held if his ANC is less than 1.5, or his platelets are less than 150 or his hemoglobin less than 9. If his creatinine increases by .05 over baseline, it's a yellow flag or if it's greater than 2 the flag goes up again for an alert. Labs will be collected before each chemo day, but not as closely watched for his radiation. 

Another important lab value for David is his blood sugar. Since he's diabetic this will be a challenge. Stress, diet changes, and eating of ones feelings (usually sugar) all contribute to an increased glucose level. I know David probably feels like a 7 year old boy arriving home with his report card when he walks through the door with his lab results. I'm at the door with my arm and hand extended, glasses on the end of my nose ready to inspect. I never said marrying a nurse would be easy, but it's times like these he'd rather sneak in and throw his report card, I mean, labs results in the trash. 

Since his glucose level came back at high, we knew we needed to take action early on. Yes, he had a pop tart for breakfast and as a diabetic, that's okay only here and there. But right now is the time to cut sugars, decrease stress as much as possible and gear towards healthy eating. I'm thinking once he can't taste/smell (pretty soon we are told) I'll be able to tempt him with foods that he ordinarily might not prefer. A girl can hope.

Every.Single.Day

Labs completed and David is heading to his home away from home away from home the Radiation Dept. This time, he knows what's coming. He heads to his cubby, just kidding, it's not kindergarten, but the process is similar. He pops his mouthguard in (I'm making it sound easy wink wink it's not), then the technician puts his mask on (watching his eyes) quickity quick. The symphony continues even in the radiation department with a technician on each side of him saying 'move up' 'more' 'that's good there' 'now find the spot on the ceiling' and so on and so on. They have no spare time, and will spend the majority of the time just setting up patients for the 15 minutes of radiation. All while David is staring straight up at the ceiling, gently of course, and trying not to choke on his spit with his mouth and tongue strictly positioned by hard plastic. 

The schedule for David, anyway, is radiation every day Monday through Friday unless it's a holiday. Holidays mean you get to skip that day, but have to make it up the following day with 2 radiation treatments - morning and then again in the afternoon. So a holiday is like a snow day in elementary school. It's great on the day of, but going back the next day just means more work. 

David is learning the tricks of the trade up there and it's only Day Two. There will be more to learn, but he's off to a good start. He said yesterday was like the first day going to junior high, and today was more like the first day of high school. You have more of your $hit together and care a little less about getting lost. He knows now to carry his Check-In Card which all patients use to scan at the kiosk upon entrance to the department, and it tells the nurses and technicians you are there and ready. 

He's also realizing what his forehead looks like as he makes his getaway from the mask and mouthpiece after his radiation treatment.

It's a combination of looking like SpiderMan and a honey baked ham all at the same time.   

Chemo Day

Each week, to add a little extra torture to it all, David has chemotherapy. Typically, it will be each Tuesday after his radiation. His labs are evaluated closely to see if he can have his chemo that day, and then he's off to his fancy-pants chemo infusion room. **A side note I wish to interject here is that when I've had treatments at Texas Oncology, the Infusion Room is nothing like at MDA. Rude.

David usually texts me during his time while at his appointments at MDA, and it's insightful to hear and see the flow of it all. It's also the only way family can support each other since only patients are allowed inside. It's our way of staying connected during the unknown of it all, and provide him support while he's there. 

His chemo of choice is Carboplatin. Well, not his choice, but someones choice and that someone is a very educated and well respected chemotherapy oncologist by the name of Dr Lu. After at least 5 passes at checking, double checking and triple checking the IV medications to be administered, IV in and ready to go, it's time to start the 3 course meal via IV. First course, Zofran 8 mg which today, he only gets 1 dose, This is his anti-emetic to keep the nausea at bay. Second course, Decadron 10 mg as the steroid used for inflammation. Thirdly, the main course of Carboplatin. Caution documentation tells us this is a hazardous drug and a vascular irritant. I think that's a given, don't you. They've named this 3 course meal Cycle 1. David will have Cycle 1 for awhile, until he moves to Cycle 2 around mid Feb. Not sure what the courses are for Cycle 2, but that's for another time. 

Back home jiggity jig 

With Day Two under his belt, David made his way home. As the evening went on, he begin noticing small changes creeping up. The congestion that they said would start accumulating in his nose, the crusting that develops in the nose, and a higher alert of his self-awareness with his body. We talked about our day, ordered food (to be delivered - thank you, Dr Waheed for that!) which we've never done since Pizza Hut in college. Then, we decided to watch the Pixar's movie, Soul. 

Have you seen Soul? So many relatable quotes from that movie, right? I loved the quote: "A spark isn't a soul's purpose". What? Did they read Eckhard Tolle's book, A New Earth? Didn't we just have this conversation in the last blog post that our roles are not our purpose. The irony gave me chills. And the quote in particular that made me laugh (there were many) was: "Can't crush a soul here, that's what life on earth is for" as 22 says that to Joe. Mic drop.

Here at the apartment, we have TV that has Disney, Hulu, HBO, real tv channels and so many others that I don't have room to list them all. This is a haven for David. It's going to be a wonderful place to recover all while watching just about anything your heart desires. I know it makes his heart happy. 

Date night 

So while David has his taste and smell, we are having a date night tomorrow night to celebrate life. Well, and celebrate his birthday early, too. On Jan 19th, David turns 63 year young. We will be going to Tiny Boxwoods (Thank you, Dr P and Danielle!) for a delicious 3 course meal that does not include having an IV. We will once again say a pray for peace, healing and patience. It's our 3 course prayer. God has a plan, and we need to be patient and listen. Silent, so we can hear what is being spoken in our hearts. Silent and listen. Different words using the same letters. Both of which take the greatest discipline to do. 

Vibrant love to you all,

Cyndi

P.S Shout out to Dr Pahlavan and Danielle for the treat to Tiny Boxwoods. I hope the nursery next door isn’t too loud 😉