Yesterday I had my first chemo session of what's likely to be the last round ever. Happily, it seems to be less destructive than the first three rounds. I'm mostly just tired today. Deo gratias.
May it be so, and remain so. Ross, pages back you said you were ornery, and (for whatever reason) that word has always sounded to me like a kind of bird -- you know, the osprey, ornithology, the ornery. So ever since I've been imaging flocks of orneries surrounding you, and now I'm hoping they're flapping their mighty wings to drive away the chemo devils. Any word yet on the study?
No. First we have to get permission to apply from UnitedHealthcare (of evil repute and more; they turned down the first lab that my oncologist wanted to use, but we're hoping they'll approve the second one); then it takes a couple of weeks for them to analyse the biopsy samples and see if my tissue are a match.
But I like the idea of flocks of orneries. Thank you!
I am not sure what to type.
It is a privilege to be able to share in this thread and all of your lives.
I read and pray often.
I also take some of your shared experiences away and they influence my daily work.
I am reminded to tell people to live, to explore what matters most for them.
I am reminded of the strength of those I see- and the strength of relationship.
And I am reminded of just how hard and unfair incurable illness can be at times.
Most importantly, I am inspired to improve relationship.
I often have a glass of red, and to be honest, I live near some wonderful wineries and wine regions, particularly full-bodied reds.
I would love to be able to share a glass with you all- and please do know that I often toast your lives -well lived, well loved and truly precious.
Thank you for allowing me to be enriched and blessed through knowing you on screen.
Thank you All.
There are good ships, and there are wood ships,
There are ships that sail the sea.
But the best ships, are friendships,
And may they always be.
Blessings to all, especially those suffering today. I'm not sure how I'm doing, I haven't heard results from the last biopsy yet. The pain never seems to go away, though. I hope and pray that, if nothing else, those suffering may find a small respite from the ordeal. This life business isn't for the weak!
Those I feel most strongly for are the poor kids I see at the cancer centre. In their short lives they haven't experienced anything but suffering from this awful disease. They are the ones I pray hardest for!
Patdys, thanks, from just myself, for your kind words.
Thank you, all. I've been having a rough time with the new chemo, but it's mostly a matter of severe fatigue.
On Saturday morning I awoke with my neck stiff and the vertebrae sort of grinding on one another. I know they're shot through with cancer, so this is probably a symptom of that. Maybe the flock of orneries can do something about it.
Have another glass of red! (Preferably not a cab...)
Pinot Noir, Côtes du Rhône, and Malbec are all serious favorites here at Valhalla West. And orneries are our new favorite avian, although the hummingbirds are much beloved. (The Feline Ministry to the Sick, always on duty, have promised to give said orneries their space.) Vielen Dank! Besten Dank!
Strange that you should mention that. I was almost asleep last night, wondering what an ornery looks like, and decided that a slightly fiercer hummingbird would probably be about right, and how a flock of them nearby (not overhead...) would be almost mesmerising. Then I went on to think about suitable hymns that could be adjusted just a little, and came up with John Bunyan's, "He who would valiant be..." Switch 'ornery' for 'valiant' and it works out nicely. Ah yes... Côtes du Rhône. I know from scientific testing how effective that is, post chemo.
On Friday I am due to see my oncologist to hear if my treatment has worked or not. As you can imagine I am getting nervous about this, and would like it to be over. Five minutes ago I had a phone call from the hospital. I need a CT scan before seeing the specialist; if they can't fit one in before Friday my appointment will have to be delayed. Why have they only thought about this now? Excuse me while I scream!
I'll do it for you.....AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!
That really sucks - hopefully, your specialist can pull a few strings to get you the scan in time. I know how frustrating these last-minute hitches can be...
Meanwhile <votive> that you get Good News. On Friday!
Robert Armin, tell them you will be in at 7 am tomorrow and will wait for an opening. If you don't get in, do it again the next day. They've got to figure this out!
A few years ago I was sitting in one of those bleak little cupboard-sized offices in Christchurch Hospital waiting for the surgeon to tell me whether the lump she had taken out was benign or cancerous. She was less than 5 minutes when nurse slipped in with an apology, and the words, "she wants me to tell you it's good news".
The surgeon came in just a couple of minutes later to confirm what the nurse had said and answer any questions, but I will always be grateful for the empathy shown at that time when minutes felt like hours.
Robert Armin, tell them you will be in at 7 am tomorrow and will wait for an opening. If you don't get in, do it again the next day. They've got to figure this out!
Brilliant idea! (And add another scream to the mix!)
I'm joining in too @Robert Armin. Hope it gets sorted and you get to see the consultant on Friday.
Spare a scream for my brother, the cancer operation was 'a success', but he's been in hospital for over a month with complications and no one seems any nearer solving them. In the meantime his mental health seems to have taken a dive and his wife and ten year old are beginning to suffer from the fall out.
<votive> #teamrossweisse and all who post here,
They can't do the scan before Friday. So now I am waiting for a scan, and then another appointment with the oncologist. Sigh. And there are things that make me think I'm doing well, and others that make me think the reverse.
And the problem with testing on Fridays is that you have to wait ALL WEEKEND for the damned results! {{{Robert Armin}}}
Oh, Sarasa! I am so sorry.
I had my second chemo infusion of the latest round. At least this week things went quickly, unlike last week. I'm pretty tired, but a friend came over this evening to help me with a bottle of Côtes du Rhône and some chat. Then she helped me into the anti-lymphedema Michelin Man suit. God bless her.
CT scan on Friday afternoon! Now to hear when I can see the specialist. But, as one friend observed, the fact that the medics are so relaxed about this is an indication that they're not worried. At the start of all this, they wasted no time.
That's actually quite a valid point, though I know only too well that it's not necessarily that comforting...
My brain tumour was diagnosed in early December 2015, but it was early May 2016 before I went into hospital for surgery. They had told me it was probably a 'simple' meningioma, probably non-malignant, and they were right.
Experience counts! But it was a loooong 6-months' wait (with increasing disability the while).
<votive> for Robert, for the CT scan, and for a good news bulletin from the consultant a.s.a.p. thereafter.
BTW, and pace Rossweisse's lovely friends - yes, worth their weight in whatever-the-most-precious-metal-in-the-multiverse actually is.
Comments
Bravo, Robert!
But I like the idea of flocks of orneries. Thank you!
Next time we sing "On eagles wings" in church they'll be wondering why I'm laughing to myself. Thank you for that - a satisfying image.
The only good thing I remember about chemo was when they piled on warmed blankets during the infusion - it felt so good!
It is a privilege to be able to share in this thread and all of your lives.
I read and pray often.
I also take some of your shared experiences away and they influence my daily work.
I am reminded to tell people to live, to explore what matters most for them.
I am reminded of the strength of those I see- and the strength of relationship.
And I am reminded of just how hard and unfair incurable illness can be at times.
Most importantly, I am inspired to improve relationship.
I often have a glass of red, and to be honest, I live near some wonderful wineries and wine regions, particularly full-bodied reds.
I would love to be able to share a glass with you all- and please do know that I often toast your lives -well lived, well loved and truly precious.
Thank you for allowing me to be enriched and blessed through knowing you on screen.
Thank you All.
There are good ships, and there are wood ships,
There are ships that sail the sea.
But the best ships, are friendships,
And may they always be.
Those I feel most strongly for are the poor kids I see at the cancer centre. In their short lives they haven't experienced anything but suffering from this awful disease. They are the ones I pray hardest for!
Patdys, thanks, from just myself, for your kind words.
Prayers.
On Saturday morning I awoke with my neck stiff and the vertebrae sort of grinding on one another. I know they're shot through with cancer, so this is probably a symptom of that. Maybe the flock of orneries can do something about it.
Have another glass of red! (Preferably not a cab...)
(Is pinot noir ok? #homedelivery)
That really sucks - hopefully, your specialist can pull a few strings to get you the scan in time. I know how frustrating these last-minute hitches can be...
Meanwhile <votive> that you get Good News. On Friday!
A few years ago I was sitting in one of those bleak little cupboard-sized offices in Christchurch Hospital waiting for the surgeon to tell me whether the lump she had taken out was benign or cancerous. She was less than 5 minutes when nurse slipped in with an apology, and the words, "she wants me to tell you it's good news".
The surgeon came in just a couple of minutes later to confirm what the nurse had said and answer any questions, but I will always be grateful for the empathy shown at that time when minutes felt like hours.
Spare a scream for my brother, the cancer operation was 'a success', but he's been in hospital for over a month with complications and no one seems any nearer solving them. In the meantime his mental health seems to have taken a dive and his wife and ten year old are beginning to suffer from the fall out.
<votive> #teamrossweisse and all who post here,
Sarasa - so sorry to hear about your poor brother and his family! I wish for some insights and help for him soon.
Oh, Sarasa! I am so sorry.
I had my second chemo infusion of the latest round. At least this week things went quickly, unlike last week. I'm pretty tired, but a friend came over this evening to help me with a bottle of Côtes du Rhône and some chat. Then she helped me into the anti-lymphedema Michelin Man suit. God bless her.
b
Ross - it sounds like you have some wonderful friends
My brain tumour was diagnosed in early December 2015, but it was early May 2016 before I went into hospital for surgery. They had told me it was probably a 'simple' meningioma, probably non-malignant, and they were right.
Experience counts! But it was a loooong 6-months' wait (with increasing disability the while).
<votive> for Robert, for the CT scan, and for a good news bulletin from the consultant a.s.a.p. thereafter.
BTW, and pace Rossweisse's lovely friends - yes, worth their weight in whatever-the-most-precious-metal-in-the-multiverse actually is.
Personally, this thread makes me suspect that what is most precious in the multiverse is actually mettle rather than any metal. Of course, YMMV.