Next week marks the halfway point of treatment already, and with it comes a Cat Scan to determine the effectiveness of therapy thus far. Booked for December 6th, we'll learn soon after whether the chemo is doing what it's meant to, with the hope of shrinking the size of lesions and masses which have taken up residence in my body for the past six years.
One thing I've talked about in past posts is a blood test called the CA125 or tumour marker, just one indicator of disease. Last November when I got very sick, it was over 1600 (the average healthy person is about 35) but by the time I finished chemo at the end of April this year it was down to 66, an incredible feat. Since September, when we started tracking the CA125 again it has slowly been climbing to 198 and, most recently, to 264. This is the first time it has been trending upward despite being on chemo. Be that as it may, I'm surprised at my calm reaction to the information. After all, it's one indicator and I'm practicing leaving all such matters in God's Hands. Let's wait until we get the result of the Cat Scan and a discussion with the oncologist. Stay tuned for a further update. Otherwise I've been feeling surprisingly well with lots of energy to catch up, get things done and keep up the pool time.
Well, we're sure glad we got to St. Jean to visit our friends Mary and Frank mid November. Frank was admitted to Hospice Care on November 22nd and passed away on November 25th. A visit could so easily have been postponed for any number of reasons. Rather, we are left with the warm comfort of having spent time with chosen family one final time. We will travel back to St. Jean next weekend for a low key visitation and goodbye.
The Saturday after our visit, my son Matt called to ask if I'd heard about MaryAnn. No, I couldn't imagine what he was referring to about this very long time family friend. While we haven't connected closely for several years, it was one of those feelings when we saw one another five months ago, the years melting away like a late spring snow. As though all was fresh and new, she touched my arm, suggesting we get together soon. I totally agreed. I only wish we had. Matt was calling to tell me MaryAnn (our age) had passed away the day Mike and I went to St. Jean, after only five weeks of illness. We, along with so many others were in total shock on how such a wonderful, caring Mom and Grandma, could leave so quickly. The following week was sad with visitation and funeral for one of the nicest, kindest people we've known. It was a privilege for me to be an altar server at MaryAnn's Funeral Mass at our church, on my birthday. I'm glad I reached out to the person who schedules servers for funerals as I hadn't received the email for MaryAnn's.
On the Wednesday prior to the funeral, I kept getting a nudge to stop in at the house, one I could find in my sleep from all the visits we shared when the kids were younger. I thought of the hundreds of times I'd passed by the side street leading to their place yet had not turned in. Well, Wednesday I did turn in. Taking a deep breath I walked up and rang the door bell. All was quiet, almost too quiet. No one home? Possibly. Certainly not full up with family at that point. Next, Dave opened the door, ushered me in and we sat for the next two hours as though our last visit had been the day before. I'm so very glad I paid attention to the nudge. Just to give you better context, Dave was a pallbearer for my husband Rick's funeral, in November 2002. Lots of water under the bridge between our families.
They spent years coaching hockey together and many a Saturday night we'd get together for Hockey Night in Canada while MaryAnn and I did crafts, especially tole painting of one kind or another. I promised to hold up my end of the agreement to visit and we will keep in contact with Dave.
Just this week our Church held a memorial service for those who'd lost loved ones this year. Back at the end of October I'd received a letter of invite for just last evening to join in the celebration. Right on the letter it said we were welcome to invite other family members and friends. It's been on the calendar all this time and yet I went to the event honouring my brother Andrew, on my own. Almost as soon as the singing started my heart almost broke on not having invited Matt and Jaclyn to join me since Mike had another commitment. Oh, how badly I wish I had thought of it! What a missed opportunity for us to get together once again to acknowledge the loss in our lives. I am still shaking my head at myself on this one. I almost wonder if I've become so accustomed to just skipping off to church for this function or that event, on my own, and added the date to the calendar without a second thought. Clearly huh?!?!
So much more has gone on these past two weeks, but I really want to share with you a story from earlier yesterday which actually began on Wednesday. It too, carries a very profound, I'm glad I did. On reflection it's almost like the divine puppet masters of our lives knew exactly what was to unfold and orchestrated things to fall into place exactly as needed. What in the name am I talking about you might wonder. Well, it's got to do with my oldest acquaintance time wise in Kingston, our very first neighbour Geneva. We reconnected, last year, also after a number of years, only this time I'm glad we have remained in contact. I have written about Geneva in a previous post, where I learned she had been diagnosed with ALS about 18 months ago. Between visits and emails, time has marched on with a recent request from Geneva for help with getting to and from physio. Only a couple of weeks ago, Mike bundled her up and got her downtown for treatment and home again. I hadn't heard from her so decided not to let too much time pass and emailed asking if I could visit. Sure was the response and we had the date of this past Wednesday about 11:00 before I went for chemo.
While there Geneva was thinking she and I could start work on a 'knot quilt' which is quite easy and can be fun to do, especially having someone to work alongside. It turned out though, an hour had passed and I had to get on my way, when off handedly I offered to come by again tomorrow (being yesterday) without even knowing what was on the calendar. My mental capacity has become quite reliant on the written notes rather than keeping all such things in my head like I used to. Anyway we agreed 2:30 would be a good time and we could work on the quilt. Geneva could go to physio with her nephew using the Access Bus, have a rest and be ready for my arrival to play.
Well, I got there just after 2:30, only to learn Geneva and her nephew had arrived not too long before me, and were upstairs navigating a return to her current confined living space of her bedroom and en suite bath. Ok, well why is Geneva sitting on the floor at the top of the stairs on a bath sheet? I must tell you in the midst of all this, the Stair Lift Company was expected on Wednesday to install a lift to wrap around both landings on the stairs. As at the time of writing they were yet to come. It turns out, after a very lengthy delay in getting to physio and back, she simply could not help in navigating the last two steps. Geneva's idea was to slide her across the hallway carpet to the wood floor in her room before attempting to get her into the hospital bed now in her room. She hugged herself, her rugged 6 ft. something nephew (a firefighter I later learned) took hold of the towel and dragged her down the hall and propped her against the bed. According to Geneva, I couldn't have come at a better time to save her a lot of pain and distress in being hauled onto the bed and rearranged into some manageably comfortable position. While I held her knees bent, Bill stood on the bed and using the straps of Geneva's 'transfer belt' pulled her up in one fell swoop. This of course, after being coached on getting the bed to its lowest level, as flat as possible to make the transition as smooth as possible. It seems within minutes we had her comfortably in place with lots of laughs along the way. Poor Bill had another commitment and had I not offered to drop over, Geneva may have had to be alone for a short time before her daughters got home from work. Thankfully I could stay and visit. And laugh. A lot.
Once settled, I brought out a dollar store purchase of 2 hairbands, one with reindeer antennas and one with Santa. She chose reindeer and so we put them on to carry on our visit, agreeing the quilt making will simply have to wait for another day.
We did a debrief of the entire episode and here's a small glimpse from Geneva's side of things. She found the towel 'ride' safe, secure and wrapped in love compared to all the other trips down the hall filled with pain. She felt she could move fast and with no effort at all. It was such a contrast of the terror of going up and down stairs with increasing loss of motor control. We happily chatted about how we can live life in the midst of terminal illness, and how similar our views are on what we'd like to have happen 'at the end' in terms of funerals and the like. At one point Geneva's two daughters Maria and Anna Louisa joined us, both personal support workers and we had a warm and almost joyful chat about our plans while their little dog nuzzled between us, the entertainment for the visit.
Geneva shared the challenges of the day and how things ended up the way they did and we all laughed about how everything was as though it was set up for us to all be in position to do what needed to be done. I can't tell you how close and comfortable we all were despite knowing both of our 'best before dates' might come up sooner than we'd like or hope. We are both though, leaving it in God's Hands to do as He will.
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| The Terminal Twins |
Until next time, enjoy each day as it comes your way and try to keep in mind 'I'd like to say I'm glad I did rather than I wish I had.'
Take care, hugs and God Bless,
Liz
dobbsjones@gmail.com
"Prayers wrapped in faith and sent with love are the greatest gifts we can receive."
