a rough spot

I have been reminded by some of my friends that my blog needs to be updated. How true! The thing of it is that I have dedicated this blog to point out the positive – that I have lived with cancer for over a year and a half, and for the most part very well. There have been rough patches, which eventually get resolved. I don’t like to write when I’m down.

I am in a rough patch right now. My oncologist knew, and I knew, that the last scan would be bad. And so it was. The cancer was still there, and had not been reduced. That is so discouraging. So now I am on a heavier soup of chemo, which brings with it the heavier side effects. Losing hair, nails effected, and the coughing is back, which affects my sleep. I am very tired.

And then this February’s snowfall is enough to make anyone depressed.

There are positive notes. Not is all gloom and doom. My husband takes such good care of me. I have found a driver for those days he is not available. My church circle meets at my house so I have company at least twice a month, and one or two stalwart friends make it over from time to time.

And my precious grand daughter, who is a freshman at Pitt, comes for the weekend every two or three weeks – even in all the snow! Last weekend she was here to keep me company, cook us a wonderful eggplant parmesian dinner, and do her laundry.

the next step

Jan. 25, 2010

. Today my life was dominated by a full body PET scan at Jefferson. I have reason to believe the results will not be good and will result in some heavy duty chemo, and this is upsetting.

Larry left me off at the hospital at 8 am and, after registering, I went to the multi test room for a double blood draw – for the Nuclear Medicine people and for Jalil.

And then the long walk down to Nuclear Medicine. Luckily I had my oxygen pack with me.

At the nuclear medicine center I sat and waited for nearly 45 minutes for the infusion center to send down someone to access my port. She was a chipper young blond who wanted to know what was good, but in my mood, nuttin was good. She did complement my hairdo.

Once my port was accessed, they poured in the radioactive dye and had me nap for an hour. And I really fell asleep.

Then I was wheeled (by wheelchair) to the outboard trailer that holds the CT/PT machine, followed my a cluster of executive types, evaluating the system.

Up into the trailer, down on the flatbed, and at a very slow pace, rolled through the machine. I was very good and still and did not cough once.

Back at the nuclear medicine center, the infusion girl was waiting to de-access my port, and then I was free to go!

It was nearly 1 pm and I was famished.

We stopped at chilpotle grill on the way home, and got a basket to share. A good lunch for the both of us, rice and vegetables and beef with sour cream and guacamole over all.

And then I slept. I just couldn’t get enough sleep!

on Love

Our discussion group had an interesting topic this month – on love, lust, sex and how science has changed them.

Let me speak on love, and the curative power of love. A power that science, with all its instruments and theories, cannot quantify.

I sincerely believe that the power of love has made it possible for me to be here, a year and a half after I was given only months to live.

Let me try to explain.

Too often, we take our friends for granted, and then in an instant they are taken from us – – and we cry out, “But I didn’t have a chance to tell him how much he meant to me, how much I loved him!” or “what an impact she had on my life.”

Cancer is a generous disease, it gives us the time to show how much we care. When we leave, we leave behind no regrets, no missed opportunities to reach out to family and friends.

I have been surrounded by love this last year, from so many Sunnyhillers, by my family and friends, by my neighbors. They have shown their love through hugs and attention and by 100 kindnesses. This love has come not only from those I always counted as friends, but also from so many others. They have provided me with rides when I could not drive, meals when I could not cook. I have been given me an encouraging word and a pat on the back when I needed them.

And my husband has been so wonderful. He has become a soul mate and help mate and is there for me. He is both a pusher and a puller. He pushes me when he thinks I am up to a task, and pulls me along when I’m not. He nags that I should get out more, eat more, do my breathing exercises. On mornings when I can’t bend over to tie my shoes, he is there. And many an evening I am not up to cooking, he takes over in the kitchen. He drives me when I am not up to it, and lets me go when I can. He encourages me to be as strong as I am able. And all this is love, better shown than said.

thanksgiving video

Going home for the holidays means traveling across the state to our son's home in eastern Pa. He makes the best roast turkey on his Weber Grill. We made this little video 2 years ago and put it up on YouTube. It has received over 9,000 hits during those 2 years and gained another 1,500 over this Thanksgiving holiday!

feeling well, looking up

I had a six month's check up with my primary care physician and reported to Larry when I got home that he, the doctor, thinks that my recovery has been nothing short of remarkable.

Later, that evening, I heard Larry singing in the shower -- something he hasn't done for over a year!

the plot thickens

We drove to Connecticut for the weekend; I needed to clear up some problems with my cemetery plot there. I am in the surprising position of having two plots in that cemetery and telephone communication has been a frustrating exercise.

We were raised in Westport; my parents are buried in the town cemetery, and Larry grew up on the street adjoining it and used it as a playground. It seemed the appropriate place for us to have our own COMDEN plot.

PLAN A – in 1986, with an unexpected bonus weighing down my pocket, I decided to buy a Willowbrook plot. I was spending a lot of time with my mother-in-law in CT that summer, and one day we went over to select a plot. One had just opened up that was perfect! In the older section, within sight of their old house, and a short walk from my parent’s grave. And the price happened to be just a little more than my bonus. I bought it. I filed the papers away, sure that I was set when the time came to need it.

When my cancer was diagnosed, I brought out that file and began to outline plans to have my ashes buried there. Alas! A big monkey wrench was thrown into my plans – by Larry Comden who pointed out that it was an awfully expensive practical joke (I planned to have our epitaph read: And we couldn’t afford to live here. True. Then he said, ‘your plot is for full burial and we plan to be cremated. True. Then he said, “I don’t want to be buried in Westport”. In 22 years, I had never asked.

And, although he was the objector, it was up to me to sell the plot. I learned that the cemetery would not buy back the plot. I didn’t trust the on-line broker who promised to sell it – for a hefty fee. What to do?

PLAN B - By summer I had come up with Plan B: I would donate it to the local UU Church who would know how to advertise its availability and could keep the $3000. Donation to a worthy organization, problem solved!

Not quite. I was presented with a phone tree and picked the business manager as the appropriate person to approach with this donation. I left a message. There was no call back.

Then I sent a long email to the church, explaining who I was, what the plot was and why I wanted to donate it to them. Still no response.

Finally, thinking that they were perhaps on vacation, I asked Rod to contact their pastor, which he did and received an enthusiastic reply and a promise that the business manager would get in touch with me. But they did not respond, not even a “thanks but no thanks”.

PLAN C - During all this time I gave a lot of thought as to why I wanted to be buried in Westport, why Pittsburgh, my home for over half my life, was not to benefit from my ashes. Willowbrook is a beautiful, well kept cemetery, and I know most of the sections in it very well. It holds the bones of my parents and their friends, and of my friends parents, and of the business men in town, and my doctor and dentist. Some of my teachers. The librarian, some of the town cops. It is a comfortable place. I visit it each time I go to Westport. This was where I want to go. I also want a Comden presence in the cemetery; Larry’s parents were important in the town the many years they lived there (they are buried in Long Island). PLAN A would have covered both points. But why waste the space of a double plot for a single cremation?

I called the cemetery back and offered an even-steven trade – my double plot for a single cremation plot. The manager countered - I could have my urn buried on my parent’s plot, and add a footstone with my name on it, and they would try to sell my double wide, double deep, excellently located piece of ground.

So that is where it stands. And I like the thought of returning to my family fold. I am trying to talk my sister into joining me. And, if it hasn’t sold by the time I die, it will be back to PLAN A which I will also have set in place.

It was a trip worth doing, and we had several visits with friends still there as a bonus.