Sunday, August 1, 2010


A wonderfully pleasant, sunny afternoon. Once again, low humidity. I’m updating my blog while seated comfortably on our patio.

A bee has appeared, and circles my laptop.

I’d better not tempt fate. Time for me to close down shop and retire indoors.




Thursday, July 29, 2010


Perhaps my luck has changed. The week so far has been quiet. No crises! I am hoping conditions stay this way until my stem cell procedure commences two weeks from today.

It’s a chemo day today. The center is almost empty. Extremely unusual. I wonder why. Have all these people been cured? Or have they passed on? I wonder what is in store for me.

Some who come here are angry, feeling as if they are being warehoused, waiting in lines, and having trouble finding a seat. I guess they view it as mistreatment by a heartless system.

I have a different take. The crowds here remind me that I am not alone. The fact that treatment is available is a sign of hope, a sign that not many years ago did not exist. What's more, so many here look and seem like they are having a tougher time than I am. I feel for them. But I also realize that I am making progress, and that hope lives on. It reinforces my positive attitude.

Afterwards, I run errands, and then drive to Esperance to visit with my daughter, and my brand-new granddaughter, Sarah, and to drink my weekly cup of coffee made in her Keurig. No greater incentive to heal exists than one’s children and grandchildren. Sarah deserves to have a grandfather that attends her high school graduation. I plan to be there.




Monday, July 26, 2010


A chemo day. Eyes are much improved, but still not totally right. I don’t mention it to the doctor.

An evening visit from some wonderful friends: Nancy and Ralph D. They bring a tasty dessert, which we eat at the picnic table by the river. The special homemade blueberry sauce is unbelievable! What’s more, they also bring, without forewarning us, dinner for tomorrow and beyond! Chili, and a special corn bread. A wonderfully generous gesture, and very helpful during this trying stretch. We owe them a ton of thanks.

We spend the evening in the man cave till dark, watching the small boats speed by, and talking of the old days. Unusual this summer: temps this evening are moderate, and humidity very low. A great visit.




Sunday morning, July 25, 2010


Warm and humid again.

Our great friend Joe F is in town, and we are all celebrating the baptism of his grandchild. This will be a great opportunity to see old friends and relax.

But should I attend? The swelling is slightly improved, but still very evident and uncomfortable. My eyes are badly bloodshot.

I decide to go at the last minute. My affliction will be camouflaged by a pair of sunglasses.

The ceremony takes place at St. John’s Episcopal Church in Troy, where Nurse Cratchett and I were married, two weeks shy of 15 years before. Then we adjourn to the Fairways in Mechanicville for a wonderful lunch and celebration. It is a great opportunity to see old and dear friends like Joe and his wife Janet (plus their children and grandchildren), Peter and Sue M, Nancy B, Donna VZ, and Penny C, and it picks me up.

I’m glad I decided to attend, but it’s a bit of a tough day.





3 AM, Sunday, July 25, 2010


I awaken in the middle of the night with a strange feeling. I check myself out in the mirror in the bathroom. My eyes are swollen, almost totally shut!

Why?

Could it be from the bee sting? Have I eaten something I shouldn’t have? Is it a medication conflict? Could it have been the fan I placed near me to keep me cool during this warm and muggy night?

Who knows? I spend most of the rest of the night placing bags of ice on my face in an effort to reduce the swelling. What would the doctor say this time?





Saturday, July 24, 2010


We spend a pleasant day at the family motel and cabin business in Indian Lake, in the Adirondack Mountains. It’s great to see Donna’s mother and brother. Donna cleans, and I run errands. Her brother, a talented “culinary artist,” sends us home with a container of homemade spaghetti sauce and some venison steaks. I already know they will be delicious. One doesn’t stay skinny for long with his cooking skills challenging your will power!

My side hurts, right where the horse fly bit me. I look at it in the mirror. The bite is infected! Obviously, my compromised immune system has been unable to help it heal.

We decide to stop at MediCall in Clifton Park on our way home from Indian Lake to get it treated. No sense in taking any chances in my condition.

The doctor doesn’t take long. The wound is drained. He then uses a pair of pliers to pull two stingers from my side. It was not a horse fly after all. Two bees had stung me, at the same time and in the same place!

I am prescribed an antibiotic to fight the infection. Nurse Cratchett grows concerned. She is not a fan of antibiotics, and wonders if they are truly necessary in this case, especially with the possibility of drug conflicts. A quick call to my wonderful pharmacist sister quells our fears.





Thursday, July 22, 2010


Chemo day. At least I thought it was.

I inform my oncologist of my recent adventures. Swollen throat and numb face. He looks at me like I have two heads. Nothing like this has happened to him in the three decades of his practice.

Chemo is cancelled.

We need to learn if the numbness is caused by a lesion, perhaps in my neck or skull, growing and pressing on certain nerves. An MRI is scheduled immediately, next door. An hour in “the tube.” We finish, and I head for home.

The oncologist calls later in the afternoon. No growing lesions. The cause of my still-improving swollen throat and numbness lies elsewhere.

Then the good news. Today’s tests show that there is no residual myeloma found in my latest blood sample. Eureka!

At least on the main challenge, the cancer, we are seeing dramatic improvement.






Wednesday noon, July 21, 2010


Two heroes arrive for lunch. It’s Val D and Sue N, both of whom have done so much for me already. They worked hard on the arrangements to purchase the new picnic table, and on its delivery. It was an unbelievable gesture.

Now they are doing even more!

Val has arrived with a magnificent sweet-potato-and-bacon casserole. Sue has brought huge, delectable tuna sandwiches, filled to over-flowing. I’m told all I need to supply is beverages. I can’t hope to match the culinary talents of Sue and Val, but I can do drinks. We spend a wonderful early afternoon seated at the new picnic table, telling tales, reliving the old days, and watching the yachts float by. My swelling is improved by this time, and I pass inspection. The pressure of the last few days evaporates, and Val and Sue put me at ease.

Thank God for good friends. Val and Sue: you are appreciated. You did more today than you might think!




Wednesday morning, July 21, 2010


I realize something is wrong the moment I awaken.

My throat is swollen, almost to the point of not being able to swallow. Not sore, but swollen. What’s more, the lower half of my face is numb.

What’s happening?

The immediate question is whether or not this is serious enough to report to the emergency room, or schedule another appointment with my doctor. I decide to wait, to see if it improves as the day progresses. I wonder if I am making a mistake. Is this a chance I should take?

Slowly, during the course of the day, the swelling and numbness are reduced. I decide against a doctor visit. No idea of the cause.





Tuesday evening, July 20, 2010


They say that laugher is the best medicine. It must be true, since I read it in the Reader’s Digest.

Then this evening is a terrific tonic. Patti L and Terri M show up at our doorstep with a pizza. We sit at the new picnic table, under the tree, near the river. Terri spins her yarns, and my sides hurt with laughter. Patti and Terri are wonderful at keeping me upbeat and positive, and we have a fabulous time. But it makes me realize even more how much I will miss my workmates.

Thank you Terri and Patti for the lift you gave me during what has begun as a challenging week.





Tuesday afternoon, July 20, 2010


My primary care physician, Dr. Ryan, was kind but firm. My blood sugar readings today are quite a bit lower than they were yesterday, but still too high. My “a1c” test was high, as well. This is a blood test that takes a long term scan of one’s sugar levels. If these readings continue, my stem cell procedure, still slated at this time for August 12, might be delayed. Time to get serious.

A new sugar medication, Glipizide, is prescribed. Use the meter four times a day. Keep records. Watch your diet. Concentrate on foods with low glycemic indices.

It’s going to take a major adjustment in my lifestyle to win this one.





Monday afternoon, July 19, 2010


I let my guard down.

I had been warned. My medication might push my blood sugar levels sky high, the doctors had said. I was told to monitor it carefully. And I did. For the first few weeks of my treatment. Having repeatedly found levels to be good, I let my attention slide.

A phone call from the oncologist, not long after my blood test and chemo treatment at the center. Blood sugar now over 370! Below 120 or 130 is the goal. I blew it!

I schedule a quick appointment with my primary care physician. He has his opportunity to chew me out tomorrow afternoon. I’m ashamed.




Sunday, July 18, 2010


It’s always a pleasant visit to Ann and Sandy’s home. A picturesque drive through the rolling Washington County hills. A site with a spectacular view. A warm, sunny afternoon, but with moderated humidity, a rare day in recent weeks.

I truly enjoy coming here. We talk about so many topics. Books, politics, travel, music, art, home decorating. I enjoy hearing of the various projects on which they are working. I’m always overwhelmed by Ann’s hand-painted icons. And Sandy demonstrates an all-too-short piece on his new clavichord, tucked in a cozy outbuilding.

Next, we eat a terrific, home-cooked lunch. These folks have fun at home, a place that they have made interesting for themselves and their visitors. A bit later we adjourn to lawn chairs in the shade of a mammoth maple. I enjoy two bottles of Sam Adams Seasonal. Then Sandy serves up his latest invention: an afternoon pick-me-up that he claims heightens his senses and his talents, perhaps even to the level of Bach. He blends a half-glass of coffee ice cream with a topper of iced coffee.

He’s right. It’s powerful stuff. This is the best I’ve felt in months! We hate to leave, but it’s late Sunday afternoon, and a long week beckons.




Thursday, July 15, 2010

Donna and I relax on the patio in the dusk and shoot the breeze. Horse flies buzz us, and take a few bites. One nip is especially painful, on my left side, through my shirt. We decide to retreat, and retire indoors.

I didn’t realize horse flies could be so aggressive. Note to self: avoid them in the future. That’s what your screen house is for, stupid!