Precious moments

I've been kind of nervous about today.

Last week, I had a couple of tests run to see what kind of condition I was in.  In addition, I had to make copies of the paperwork my oncologist had completed and provided to support my disability retirement application, so I planned to read through that as well.  Today was the day I expected to have to face some hard truths - and I assure you, I was scared.  I spent all weekend planning for the worst so that when I read it I wouldn't be devastated and would be able to handle it.

Because expecting the worst is just how I roll, y'all.  If you expect the worst, then either you're all prepared when your expectation is met, or your happily surprised when it's not as bad.

I'm happy to say, I was happily surprised for the most part.

Not that there aren't a couple of things that weren't happy news.  There appears to be something on my liver that they aren't sure what it is - and I'm pretty sure while I had a teeny spot there previously, this is new.  And my lungs are working at 50% capacity, which isn't good.  But other than that - no masses, nothing else showing up other some slight thickening and a small amount of abdominal ascites.  To top it all off, after 5 days, when we went to drain my pleural effusion, we hardly were able to drain anything.

All in all, it's good news.  Not great, but good.  I'm bummed my lungs are working so poorly, but my PCP wants me to see a pulmonary doctor to see if we can get them working a bit better.  I'm not sure about the "thickening" but I haven't seen a copy of the report  yet, and it's likely that maybe they are referring to something that has been seen before.

Advanced stage cancer patients like myself are always looking for the silver lining.  To focus on the good news, and find a way to accept the not so good news.  When you are constantly facing down the big C, you can either let all the doom and gloom take you under, or you find a way to make the news work for you.  As a glass half full kind of gal, I try to stay realistic but still positive.

I was having a ton of trouble doing that on the Gemzar. I felt so horrible after a dose, and after the shots to boost my white blood cell counts I just wanted to give up.  I was constantly battling the feeling that there was just no point to all this, and that I just couldn't keep fighting.  I spent a huge amount of time near tears, and it took nothing to tip me over the edge.  Pair that with the fact that crying tends to make breathing oxygen through a nose tube difficult, and you have a recipe for "Mysti don't play that."

The hubs and I spent some time in discussion, and after realizing just how much worse my breathing was after the last two doses of Gemzar, we made the tough decision to discontinue that particular drug.  My CA-125 has continued to rise while on it, and although it appears to have finally put a end to the pleural effusions at last, it just isn't worth it.  I'm already afraid that my poor lung function will prevent me from getting on a clinical trial, and I just can't risk it getting any worse.  So that's that.

I haven't had a chance to talk to my doc about going down to MDA for a consultation/see about a trial yet.  I don't see her again until the first week of October.  Her nurse has already told me that they plan on switching me to Doxil since I won't do Gemzar any more, and that terrifies me as well.  Doxil has some wicked side effects.  But I'm thinking that maybe we will hold off on that until after we see the doctors at MDA and see what they might have for me before a decision is made on that.

So that's where we are health wise.  On the homefront, we have had a crazy amount of rain over the last couple of weeks, and my cantaloupe vines have bit the dust due to whiteflies and fungus, and some of the watermelon vines and the cucumber vines are thinking of following suit.  I'm glad I made the pickles I did when I was feeling better because I don't know if I'll make any more.  I'm enjoying the seriously tasty watermelons we've picked from one of our volunteer "I sure don't have any clue what kind it is, but it sure is healthy!" vines, and what few cantaloupe we have been able to save.  We're also sharing with everyone we can because these are big watermelon, and that volunteer vine has a whole lot of melons on it, not to mention the couple we planted have a fair amount on them, as well as the other type of volunteer vine on the far end of the field.

My tomato plants finally put on fruit, and I'm hoping I get enough to make a batch or two of hot sauce.  It would help if it would warm back up around here for a couple of weeks, but we'll just have to wait and see on that.

I totally downloaded an app to create To Do lists on my Kindle in hopes that having a list to work from each morning with get me to do more than see how many episodes of L&O:SVU I can watch each day.  I just feel better if I move around more, so that seemed to help today and I'll just keep that going.

It's just taking things day by day.  Finding ways to make each day have purpose, and to spend time with my boys or my husband when I can.  These days are precious - whether you know how many you have left, or if you are guessing, or even if you just assume you have a plethora of them in your future.  They are still precious - and I'm trying to make the most of them.

Here's hoping you do the same.

Playing Farmgirl

As everyone knows, one of the things I love to do is garden.  This year, the only way we've been able to have as large of a garden as we have is due to my push to adopt no-till gardening several years ago, and my husband's willingness to adopt the "mulch it all!" method this year.  Other than a couple of hours doing a big weeding at the beginning of the summer, it's only taken about 10 - 15 minutes to weed the garden each weekend.

This past weekend, we finally started getting  something back for all this watering/weeding/mulching.  We picked a large bowl of cucumbers, pulled some onions, and about half a large bowl of green pintos.  Woohoo!

Before my diagnosis, I could pick all of that by myself, take in the house and have a batch of pickles and a batch of green pintos canned by bedtime.  I've had to learn to make adjustments since my diagnosis - and since the chemo started hammering on my bone marrow so hard.  So now it takes both myself and my husband to pick that bowl of cucumbers, pull a few onions and that half bowl of green beans.  Then I spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning and snapping green beans, and slicing cucumbers.  Instead of adding onions and salt and draining and canning 3 hours later, those cucumbers had to sit overnight.  Instead of me washing 12 pint jars and 5 quart jars, my husband had to do it so I could rest.

And the pickles got finished Sunday, and I've finally got the green beans in the canner now.

It's frustrating - remembering how doing both pickles and green beans all in one day used to be so easy.  Now if I didn't have my husband to help with washing jars and lids, filling canners with water, and making sure all I have to do is fill the jars (and make a little brine) and put the lids on, there is no way I could do this.  I can no longer gleefully proclaim that I canned it all by myself.  Tonight when I got home, the quart jars were in hot water, the lids were simmering, and after I rested for half an hour or so, I was able to go fill 'em up and start 'em canning.

I'm so very tired of not being able to do the things I took for granted two years ago.

But despite the whining, we did manage to get the pickles done (12 pints of bread and butter!).  I'm learning to utilize teamwork a bit more often, and I'm trying to not be bitter about what I can no longer do on my own.  I will make more pickles - kosher and regular dill, more bread and butter - and I will can more green pinto beans.  We pulled most of our onions, and we won't have to buy those for a couple of months.  This coming weekend, if I feel up to it, we'll dig up our taters and start curing them.  This winter we will enjoy the fruits of our labor.

Even if I contribute less and less labor to it.

When a Chemo Quits Working

So.

Here it is July, and I haven't written anything since April.  I thought it might be time to explain why.

You see, back in April when I was worrying about whether the Taxol was working - it wasn't.  After 2 months of being just under the normal limit number for my CA-125, it went up.  And the next month it went up again, so it was decided that the Taxol was no longer effective on my cancer cells.  Needless to say, I had a minor freakout about it - and I just didn't know how to write about it. First I was waiting for my youngest to graduate high school, then until we told the boys and my folks what was going on.  Then I was waiting until my new oncologist and I made a decision on what to try next.  But it's been too long since I wrote, and I'm feeling the effects.  So here it is.

My new oncologist is a gynecologic oncologist, and she is VERY up on the latest methods/chemos/etc for my type of cancer.  So she decided - even before we realized the Taxol wasn't really working anymore - to take some of the fluid that I'm draining from around my lung and send it off for testing - first to see whether or not there are cancer cells in the fluid, second to see what chemos it responds to.  By the time it was obvious that Taxol wasn't working anymore, she knew that yes - there were still cancer cells in that fluid, and more importantly, she knew which chemotherapies that those cancer cells were responsive to.

The good news is that I have several options.  There are other taxil chemo agents that I can use later, as well as several other drugs.  She started me off with Topotecan three weeks on, one week off, and Avastin on weeks one and three.  Unfortunately, after two weeks, the Topotecan kicked my blood counts into the dirt, so no chemo last week!  I see her next week and we'll decide if we're going to change to two weeks on, two weeks off or lower the dosage and stay on the three week schedule, or whatever else she thinks might work.

It's unsettling.  Coming at the end of a week that included the Oncology Advisory division of the FDA voting against fast-tracking Olaparib for ovarian cancer treatment (hmph) and a delay of an event I had been hoping to get done next month, it was not what I wanted to hear.  It did explain why I was so tired at the end of the day last week.  Anyhoo - that's where I'm at.  I am happy to say that the fluid around my lungs that had been increasing since the end of Taxol seems to be decreasing just a bit lately - so I'm hopeful the Topotecan is making some headway against the cancer.  My scans in June were still clear, so whatever is going on in there is still pretty small.  I'm not getting my chemo free summer, but having a week off every month will be heaven.

In other news - as I said, the youngest graduated high school.  My garden is growing, my flowers are so pretty and just make me smile every day:

We've had plenty of rain this summer so far, and this morning, our new cow dropped her calf!  So we officially have a herd!

(Click to see cows!  And babies!)

 

The hubs and I took a long weekend trip to Cloudcroft for our anniversary last month, and we're just taking things day by day.  I'm going to try and write more often, but to be honest - when I get home from work I'd much rather work in the garden or yard for a bit before I sit down to catch up on Facebook - or reading, much less writing.  We'll see.  

So here I am - doing my best not to just survive - but to thrive.  So far - so good.

Where's A Holy Hand Grenade When You Need One?

When I looked out my back door this evening, I had no intention on barrelling out of it a scant two minutes later.  All I wanted to do was to watch Buster amble across the field.  But when I looked out of the back door, I saw him.

The Bunny.

Those who have read my blog for a while know of my deep loathing for those little grass and garden nibbling bastards.  They eat my grass.  They eat my garden.  They nibble on my bushes and garlic and trees.  They dig little holes in my yard.  They are a MENACE and I hate them.

Currently, we have a gap in our back yard fence as the Tree Man is supposed to come and dig up the trees we paid too much money for last year that died in the last freeze of the spring.  He assures us that he coming soon to replace those trees, but until then my back yard is wide open to all sort of predators.

Including bunnies.

So when I saw this latest invader sitting in the middle of my back yard, I did what I do most times I see his marauding compadres - I stepped out onto the porch and told him to beat it post haste in a loud and annoyed tone.  He wiggled his nose at me.  I then grabbed a piece of bark that was on my porch and lobbed it in his general direction.  He hopped to the right - just one hop mind you - and continued wiggling his nose at me.

Obviously, this bunny was not intimidated by a woman with short gray hair and poor bark-tossing aim.

So I turned around, slipped on the nearest pair of shoes I could find, and muttered something about "taunting little bastard - we'll just see about THAT."  I vaguely recall hearing my husband asking if I wanted to scare it off or let him shoot it - but I just grabbed the old mop on the porch and charged out after him.

I would love to tell you how he fled from me in obvious fear - recognizing that I was without a doubt the top of the food chain and that his days were numbered.  But that little SOB leisurely hopped into my asparagus bed and I'm pretty sure stopped to have a snack as I came after him.  He had no fear, this bunny.  And he was right to have no fear, because as I tried to chase him through the asparagus bed I realized that the pair of shoes I slipped on were E's house shoes and were about 4 sizes too big.

Go ahead.  Laugh.  Since you are not in the throes of bunny-homicidal thoughts, you can see what's coming.  You have all the time in the world to realize that annoyed and tired woman + too-big house shoes + cocky bunny leads to only one thing.

Yup - as I tried to chase said bunny out of the asparagus bed, I stepped out of one of the house shoes, tripped over border to the asparagus bed, and landed on my knees.  The bunny made his escape and I - well I sat there in the dead grass, hoped I didn't break anything, and realized that shortly my husband was going to come out and find me on my butt.  *sigh*

Never fear - nothing was broken.  Although my pride has taken a beating, and I'm sitting here with ice packs on my knees and very glad that the Tylenol has kicked in, I'm ok. 

As for The Bunny?  The one who was obviously related to that bunny in The Holy Grail?  The next time when my husband asks if I want to chase it out of the yard or let him shoot it?

That little dude is going DOWN.

(For the record, no bunnies were hurt this evening.  UNFORTUNATELY!!!  But next time he won't be so lucky!)

Our Newest Addition

Everyone - meet Buster.

Buster joined the Digby family a couple of weeks ago, at the start of the coldest weather we've had in the boonies.  He seems to be thriving, and this morning he and his mama were pretty close to the house (comparatively speaking anyway) and I was able to grab a couple of pictures.

As you can see, he's totally black, and still a little gangly.  But cute!  As all babies are.

It's fun to have a baby around the place, even if it's a calf, and someday we'll probably change his name to Ribeye.  I'm really quite pleased with how good a mama ole Steak turned out to be - she had Buster completely on her own, and we didn't even realize that she was ready to drop him until Monty couldn't spot her and it was so cold.  He found the both of them down in our "pond" out of the wind. 

Since Buster is so small, he's already figured out how to just walk under the hot wire fence and escape into the neighbor's pasture to hide amongst the weeds to take naps.  When he does this, Steak just kind looks over the fence every now and then, but grazes nearby.  When we had snow the other day, my poor husband, who was not feeling well, had to suit up in his insulated coveralls and hike out there to get Buster back into our pasture because he couldn't figure out how to get back under the fence. 

Hence the name Buster.  As in "get your silly butt back over here buster!"

Last weekend the boys had to walk our fence to pull tumbleweeds off of it so that the hot wire stayed hot, and that's when my eldest determined we had a little bull on our hands.  Now we have to figure out when to get him "fixed" because we're not equipped to raise a bull!  Nope - I'd like a nice docile steer, thank you very much.  One that won't give us too much trouble when it's time to load him up and well - you know.

It's almost time to attempt to start seedlings again.  My husband is contemplating putting our greenhouse kit together this week.  This would be awesome, because while I am quite proficient at starting seedlings, getting them big enough and strong enough to be transplanted is not my forte.  Part of it is not really having a great place with enough light and enough warmth, plus enough breeze to grow them large enough and strong enough without being too spindly and weak.  It would be so cool to not have to buy any seedlings this spring!

I probably should sit down today and figure out my garden plan.  Since I'm feeling so well with this new chemo regimen, I think I might plant big again.  Plenty of tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers, onions, taters.  I might even try eggplant!  And okra - we skipped okra last year, and squash because they put out so much produce and we weren't sure I'd be up to cooking it all the time, and let's face it.  Okra and squash just don't freeze all that well.  I'm thinking this year I can handle it - as long as I don't let my husband plant too many of them!

It's fun to look forward to gardening again!  I'm thinking that looking through my new seed catalogs this afternoon while doing laundry and watching the Olympics is a great way to spend the day.

My husband just asked me how I was feeling.  I told him I was feeling pretty good all things considered - that's when he informed me that it had been 5 days since we drained from around my left lung.  I would have never guessed - I don't feel like I have anything in there!  We'll drain tonight, but I have a feeling that's going down some as well.  Woohoo!

It's so nice not feeling sick.  Not feeling worn out all the time.  Not having fevers every three weeks!  I just hope that the taxol is still working at this different rate - and that the Avastin is doing it's job as well.  I won't know if I'm still making progress until the 21st.  Until then, I'm just enjoying feeling good.

When I'm not trying to get pictures of this little guy!

The Herd

Well - it's been nearly a week since I had my last chemo.   I've felt good and have been able to work all week.  It's been awesome. 

You know what else is awesome?  We have a calf!  Yes - that's right - the cow formerly known as Steak had her baby this week.  I had hoped to share cute calf pictures with you, but our mama cow is keeping that baby on the edges of our property and it's been too cold for me to walk out that far.  I'm hoping that maybe my husband can get some pictures today as he works on building their barn. 

(Yes - I know we're building the barn after the calf was born, but better late than never, eh?)

Our calf was born at the beginning of the coldest three days we've had out in the boonies, which had us worried to death about it.  We weren't sure that it was staying warm enough with the wind, and that silly mama had them out on the pasture, not in the empty pond where they would have been out of the wind.  But since the calf was up and moving, and the hubs had seen it nursing, we kept our fingers crossed it would make it through the first night, and it did.  So we might not be the worst cattle ranchers ever after all.

I have no idea if we have a he or a she calf.  Since I haven't been able to get a good look at the baby, and my husband stated he had no interest in trying to determine which it was as long as the mama cow is being so protective, I don't know if we'll ever know.  I'm sure at some point it will become more obvious.  I'm just hoping it's before the calf turns into an onery bull and it's too late to make him into a steer!

If anyone has any great advice on how best to care for a mama and her calf, feel to share.  We're clueless and just hoping that the cow formerly known as Steak has good mama instincts.

In other news, the chickens seem a little miffed that the cattle (ha!  now that we have two, it's a herd!) are getting all the attention these days.  I'm pretty sure the roosters were giving me the evil eye when I was out trying to get a look at the calf the other day.  Pfft.  Guess they should have tried harder to provide me with baby chicks last summer, huh?

It keeps crossing my mind how much Evie would have enjoyed barking at the baby.  I miss that dog.

I finished Beth Moore's Believing God and am trying to figure out which one of her books to read next.  I have Breaking Free, To Live is Christ, When Godly People Do UnGodly Things, and The Beloved Disciple.  Which do y'all recommend next?

Tomorrow I go in for chemo again, and most likely my first dose of Avastin.  I'm asking for prayers that I tolerate it well, and that it doesn't cause my blood pressure to go up, my nose to bleed, or my bowel to perforate.  I'm so hoping that I'll be able to feel as well as I did this last week.  Even if I don't, this has been a week of blessings.  I hope your week has been a happy one as well!

It's The Little Things

When you deal with a chronic disease as I am, eventually you find yourself being happy about the weirdest things.  Sometimes it's having a day without pain.  Sometimes it's being able to navigate your way through a difficult problem at work without having to ask your friend that works in another department 40 questions because your chemo brain isn't blocking all of your intelligence.

Sometimes you're happy that the barium you had to drink for your CT scans put an end to that almost constipation problem you've been struggling with since you started chemo again.

Yes.  That's right.  I said it.  For the first time ever, the barium got things 'moving well' shall we say.  Who am I kidding?  Let's be clear.  I might as well have had a cleanse.  I guarantee they got a good look at my colon today because there wasn't anything in there to block their view.  Nope.  Hell - they could do another one tomorrow and STILL have a great view because  dayum - I'm empty!

See?  It's the little things.

It's kinda bizarre that I'm discussing such things on a public blog.  I never used to discuss such things.  I remember the first time my husband asked about the last time I had taken a crap and I looked at him like he had lost his mind.  Why in God's green earth was he asking about THAT?  We didn't discuss bowel habits in my house growing up.  Unless you were my dad.  I'm pretty sure we all knew way more about my dad's bowel habits than we ever wanted to.  But isn't that true of most families? Anyway - I certainly saw no reason to discuss my bowel habits with my BOYFRIEND - it didn't matter how long we had been dating.

Now look at me.  HA!

But that's the thing - with ovarian cancer, the fear of an obstruction is a very real thing.  I've been SO lucky that I haven't any any bowel involvement with my cancer - no tumors that we've ever known of, no bowel resections during my de-bulking surgery, no obstructions - partial or otherwise.  Many women do have bowel involvement and have to have large portions of their bowel removed, or colostomy bags.  We're constantly on the watch for the signs of an obstruction - because that could mean that the disease is progressing.  That a tumor has worked its way into the bowel.  Or that one has developed and grown large enough to compress the bowel or colon...

So - I'm sorry and I hope you weren't eating when you started reading this.   If nothing else, take the time today or tomorrow and see what you can think of to be happy about that you don't have the nerve to share with anyone else.   Then share it anyway and see if anyone still thinks you're inspiring.

Muahahahahaha!!!!

(No - really - I wasn't trying to ick anyone out.  But if I'm going to be honest, I  might as well be honest about everything, and this is totally a big topic for many of us with ovarian cancer.  That dreaded obstruction is often what finishes us off - eventually there just isn't anything else to be done.  So forgive me for being tickled that for once I don't have to worry about taking stool softeners or fiber capsules for a day or two!)

In other news, the cow formerly known as Steak is eagerly looking forward to the arrival of Son of Steak.  I believe she is also eagerly looking forward to her new half barn that MDH is going to build for her.  At the moment, that barn consists of 9 poles set into the ground, one of which is a good foot shorter than the other two in that particular row because MDH didn't stand outside and watch the men who were setting the poles in the ground.  Now he has to decide whether to try to raise that one pole up a foot, or just to cut a foot off of the other two.  I vote for the cut - not that he always listens to me.

The hubs has also decided that since our Java hens were such crappy mamas, they have a future in our freezer and he will be buying a new breed of chicken to replace them.  As long as he doesn't replace my Americaunas that lay the blue and green eggs, that's fine with me. And of course, as long as he is the one who gets them prepped for our freezer.

Dove continue to line up on our back yard fence and our back yard trees - taunting the hubs who did not get to go dove hunting this year.  He's also figured out just when he can hunt geese and woe unto any Canadian geese that fly too low over Digbyland.  They just might find themselves being marinated in Fred Meske's secret goose sauce!

In another couple of weeks it will be time to start seeds around here for the garden. Every year I start seeds, and every year I'm lucky if 2 out of the 30 - 60 seedlings I nurse make it into the garden.  Or survive the garden.  But this year I'm determined.  I will have heirloom tomatoes!  And cucumbers so I can make pickles!  I will!  Maybe.

So that's what's going on in Digbyland - what are you up to these days?

(By the way - my scans are still clear. Woohoo!)

Hairology

As I mentioned before, my hair started falling out while I was in the hospital this last time.  It hasn't been as traumatic or heartbreaking as it was the first time.  Honestly, this time it has been just annoying.  Hair is getting everywhere.  I had just had the thought a week or so ago that we were to the point that we weren't really vacuuming up much hair these days since we lost Evie so long ago.  Trust me - as thick as my hair came back, I am certainly making up for it.

I had thought to try brushing my hair out really well each morning and evening, to get all that was loose out and maybe the constant drift of hair around me wouldn't be quite so bad.  I tried that this morning before I got into the shower - hoping that maybe I wouldn't stop up the drain.  Uh - no.  So much came out while washing my hair that all I needed were a couple of little ears and a tail and I would have had a good sized mouse.  Or two.

Ew.  Totally making the hubs clean that up.

When I checked my head after my shower, I realized I now had bald spots, and gave up on the idea of waiting another day or so before having the hubs buzz it off.  Now I have returned to my little old man (only now with receding hairline!) look for the duration.  I kept waiting for the tears to come, but honestly?  I'm just glad my scalp doesn't hurt all the time!

I mentioned on Facebook that I am grateful for perspective.  When this happened last fall, I had such a hard time with it.  But this year, it just doesn't seem like that big of a deal.  Maybe it's because I know it's going to grow back.  Sure - it'll be whiter.  Maybe curlier.  Hopefully still thick.  But it grows back.  If looking like a little old man with a receding hairline is what it takes to get back into remission, so be it.  I'm down with that.

Now I have to decide for Monday - bare head with my buzz and receding hairline, or break out the scarves?  I have a feeling it will be a last minute decision.

Today I'm going to watch Mid-Size University hopefully kick some butt on the football field, and do some laundry.  The hubs wants to cook burgers on the grill one last time before it gets so cold later this week, and we might put up the last of the tomatoes as stewed tomatoes.  I also would like to go out and see what my english peas are up to today.  All in all, it's great to be out of the hospital.

Even without any hair.

Finding Silver Linings

This is my 100th post.

It's only taken me over 6 years to get to 100!  Well - that and cancer.  Let's face it, I didn't start blogging on a regular basis again until I started fighting cancer. 

Last week, my husband and I went down to Houston for a consult at MD Anderson.  We were hoping that I might qualify for a clinical trial - we had always said if I recurred, we would go there.  So - we did.

To be honest, down deep, I hoped I would go down there, and the doctor would tell me "Don't worry!  We'll cure you!"  I know it wasn't a reasonable hope, but there it is.  Needless to say, that wasn't what he said.  He did tell us that all of their clinical trials at the moment required coming to MD Anderson weekly.  We are 9 hours away from Houston, so that wasn't an option for us.  So he told us about several different second line chemo options, and gave us his recommendation for which one he would put me on if I was being treated down there.  He is supposed to send that to my oncologist here, and I meet with him in a week or so.

I have very mixed feelings about going back on chemo.  On one hand, I'm ready to start doing something before the cancer gets any worse.  My ascites in my abdomen is starting back up, and the fluid around my left lung is increasing.  The doctor in Houston was able to actually feel nodules during my physical exam.  I don't like sitting here knowing that it's growing unchecked at the moment, gnawing away at my insides like a rat that's found its way into a bag of grain.

That doesn't mean that I'm excited about being on chemo again.  Although this new regimen is supposed to be less harsh on my body - not as much nausea, I might not even lose my hair although it may thin - fatigue is supposed to be a big side effect.  I don't feel like I have that much energy right now, so that's a worry.  And any nausea is going to suck.

I try to look for silver linings.  While nausea sucks, maybe then I'll lose some of this weight I've gained back since I was able to eat everything again.  My hair came in so thick that a little thinning will probably just make it look like it did before I lost it all.  One of the new chemo drugs is supposed to work well on ascites, so that should go away quickly, and maybe I'll even get to where I can get this last catheter out. 

Most of all, I can continue to fight this lousy disease off.  Maybe - because I'm Stage IV - I can't be cured.  But as long as I can fight, I can live with stable disease.  I can learn to live with cancer. 

On the home front, my youngest was nominated for homecoming court this year.  While he wasn't elected king, we still got a kick out of him being nominated.  He looked very handsome at the pep rally last week, and he managed to make his mama both cry and laugh within two minutes.  I'm so glad I'm still here to enjoy his senior year. I'm bummed however, that every. single.one of the pictures I took of him at the pep rally were blurry.  My only hope is that the mom of the girl he was paired with will share her pictures!

The garden is winding down.  I'm happy to report that I indeed get 1st place in the biggest watermelon contest at the fair this year.  Our entry was 40 pounds, and I'm already plotting how to grow one even bigger next year.  But there is one goal met, eh?  We didn't get as many potatoes this year as we did last year, but we did get some.  The black eyed peas are just about dead, and the green beans are debating how much longer they're willing to put out.  Our cantaloupes, after producing a ridiculous amount of large tasty melons, suddenly died out in about 3 days...some sort of powdery mildew looking stuff wiped them out.  I almost ate so much cantaloupe that I got sick of it.  Almost.  I've always loved cantaloupe.  We did have to share with friends - when you are picking 7 or 8 large cantaloupe a day, there's no way you can eat it all. 

We still have a few watermelons we need to eat, and our peas and snow peas are growing quite well.  We noticed yesterday that the peas are blooming and making peas, so I'm really looking forward to having fresh peas in a few weeks.  If you've never had fresh peas from the garden, you have no idea what you're missing!

So - wish me luck as I start this whole crazy battle up again.  I'll take any prayers, good wishes, happy thoughts and positive energy you can spare.  Because I'm not ready to give up by any means.

I'm determined I'm going to live with cancer.  Whether cancer likes that or not.  Bring it, bitch. 

I ain't skeered.  (much)

Being Aware

I haven't written lately.  Here it is, September, Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month, but I haven't written.  I should have.  I should have been writing about the things I've been trying to do to raise awareness for ovarian cancer - making bracelets, having an awareness get together at my office for other ladies in my college, attending the Teal Out pep rally at my son's school and speaking, getting his school to have an ovarian cancer awareness football game, raising funds for ovarian cancer research, and even getting that game mentioned on the local news. 

It's been crazy busy, and so gratifying.  Thanks to some help from wonderful ladies at work and in Hicksville, we raised over $500 for ovarian cancer research.  Seeing everyone wearing the Team Teal tshirts for the pep rally and game just about undid me.  My son's speech at the pep rally literally brought me (and just about every other mama there) to tears.  So why haven't I been blogging about all this as I went?

Because my CA-125 went up. 

I'm no longer considered in partial remission.  At my check up at the end of August, it had gone up to just a few points over normal.  When we re-tested last week, it jumped another 26 points.  Scans have been done, and those were clear (woohoo!) so whatever is going on in there is smaller than a centimeter.  But something is going on.

Recurrence less than 6 months from the end of chemotherapy indicates platinum resistance.  And that makes my cancer a little harder to treat.  I have an appointment with my oncologist this coming week and we'll know more then. 

I've always known that recurrence was a real possibility for me.  Those of us with ovarian cancer that don't recur are the exception.  In a way, I had been preparing for that since the beginning.

I just hoped it would be a little later on, you know?

When I first learned that my count went up again, I spend my afternoon worrying about what it meant, then came home and broke down.  I try to keep a brave front going the majority of the time, but sometimes you just need to let it all out.  So that evening, while my son was at band practice and my husband wasn't yet home from work, I wept and wailed and felt sorry for myself.  My poor husband came home when I was almost done, and he did his best to comfort me.  To be honest, I'm not sure I really wanted to be comforted at that point.  I wanted to just take the time to feel bad, to mourn my dreams of a long first remission, to find some way to come to terms of what this first recurrence will mean for me 

Does that make me selfish?  Whiny?  Maybe.  I think sometimes those of us with cancer feel like we have to be so damn brave and noble all the time.  You know what?  I didn't want to be brave. Or noble or a freakin' inspiration for anyone.  I just wanted to be healthy.  I just wanted to not have any freakin' cancer, damit.

Being an inspiration is over-rated y'all.  You know what you have to do to be an inspiration?  Have something god-awful happen to you.  So. Not. Worth. It.  If I had my druthers, I much rather be a nobody.

But we don't get to pick and choose with cancer.  Oh sure - some cancers are directly related to lifestyle choices you've made.  With ovarian cancer, not so much.  It most likely was destined to be because of who my family was.  Since it's so hard to detect, and there is no screening, it's just the luck of my draw. 

Just when my hair gets long enough that I start thinking of getting it shaped and colored, it may end up falling out again.  Or it may not - depending on when my doctors decide it's time to go back on chemo, and on what chemo they decide to do.  Luckily there are lots of different treatments out there, even for us most-likely platinum resistant folk.  This is no where near the end, but just a new chapter.  And I am gearing up to kick cancer's butt - again.

So that's what's going on with me. 

Out here in the boonies, the tomatoes are finally ripening, so I've been making hot sauce and canning it, as well as canning green beans and black eyed peas.  The cantaloupe is finally ready, and they are HUGE and oh so tasty.  I tell ya - west Texas grows some awesome cantaloupe.  We grow an heirloom variety and save the seeds.  If you are ever wondering what a good heirloom cantaloupe variety is to grow in this area, we highly recommend Hale's Best.  We literally have to use the largest 18 quart Tupperware bowl to keep it in, as many of them are nearly a foot long.  Since you can't really can cantaloupe, we are eating it with every meal, as well as enjoying fresh green beans, peas and tomatoes.

We are already eying a couple of our watermelons - we'll have to decide later this week which one is the biggest so we can enter it in the fair.  Last year, before I got sick, one of our watermelon's got third in the biggest watermelon contest.  This year, our volunteer (as usual) watermelon is a different variety, and those suckers are getting big.  I'm hoping for first this year!  I'll also be entering one of my jars of jelly because it was so darn pretty. 

The chickens went on an egg laying strike last week.  We're not really sure what their problem is.  I suggested to the hubs that we inform them that fall is a great time to put chicken in the freezer if they're not fulfilling their egg-laying duties.  I'm not sure why he keeps rolling his eyes at me.  It started when I began referring to the cow as Lactation. Wait until he hears that I've named the roosters Fricasse, Nuggets, and Fried.  Heh.

Tonight I'm watching some pre-season hockey, after enjoying some college football earlier in the week.  Our Mid-Size University has a new coach this year, and he's been doing really well so far.  It's fun to watch those games again.  Unfortunately, Hicksville lost their game last Friday.  My son took it very hard, but we were playing the #3 ranked team in the state.  To me - the fact that we had such a great response to the Team Teal concept made it a win in my book.  As I've said before - Hicksville folk are awesome.  I love their heart.  I'm so glad we moved out here.

It's good - this Living in Hicksville.  I intend to keep on doing it.

Oh No He Di'n't...

Dear Daddy Longlegs -

WTH dude?  I thought we had come to an accord?  You stay in the high corners of the ceiling, and eat all of the flies and gnats and skeeters you and your family can handle, and I would leave you alone to complete all that circle of life shit.  And it was working - I left you alone.   Let your little wispy webs exist high up and out of way where I can't see them, and only my mother-in-law looks.  She only comes down once every three years, so we were good.  We were happy.

So why the HELL would you choose last night as the time to weave a web across the doorway to the living room?  AT FACE LEVEL????

Buddy.  It is ON.

Remember Bill Murray's character on Caddyshack?  He is my hero.  I will clean every corner, every crack, every crevice in my house to avenge myself of having to start my day doing the heebie jeebie dance after walking through that.  I am not above delving into the use of chemicals to make sure that my house will be web free. If it comes to using explosives, I'm not afraid.  You betrayed me.  And you. Will. Pay.

I know what you're thinking.  You're sitting up there in the corner laughing, thinking there is no way I can obliterate all of your many children and grandchildren.  You see all of my husband's cutter and think there is no way I can thoroughly clean you all out.  You underestimate who you are dealing with here.  I'm a Taurus.  We invented stubborn.  Not to mention determined.  Have you not been paying attention this last year?  I beat CANCER bitch.  I can take out an army of spiders.

IN MY SLEEP!!

So I advise you get your webby ass out of my house.  You have until Saturday.   After that?

Bring it.

Two Down...

Today I had one of my pleural catheters removed.

Last November, I had two pleural catheters put in when they installed my chemo port.  They did this because I had so much fluid around my lungs it was hard to breathe.  For a long time, we had to drain every day.  Then, as I went through chemo, the fluid lessened, and we went to draining every other day, then every three days.  Sometime last spring, the fluid around my right lung reduced to the point that I've only been draining that side once a week.  A few weeks ago, it became obvious that we just weren't getting anything measurable out of that side.  So - today the surgeon removed it.

Last November, when I got out of the hospital, I had 3 tubes in my body (I also had an abdominal drain that was removed several months ago).  I was weak and could barely walk.  I couldn't sleep without being on an incline.  Hell - until we got a hospital bed installed at home, I slept in my recliner.  I was on IV nutrition twice.  And at times, I wondered if I would ever get back to normal.

Well - normal isn't what it used to be.  But I'm down to one tube.  I have hopes that someday I won't have any tubes.  That's what awesome in my world today.

It's been crazy busy at work lately, and this probably wasn't the best time to have to take a day off.  But I wanted that tube out so badly, even though I knew it would make my job a little bit more crazy tomorrow.  I have another oncology visit on Thursday, and that doesn't help matters.  But it is so worth working a couple more 11 hour days to be a step closer to tubeless.

I attended a cancer support group this month, and I found that to be really helpful.  I'm not sure why hearing the stories of a bunch of stage III and IV survivors helped me so much, but it did.  I even met another ovarian cancer survivor - one that has many years of remission.  If anyone out there is wondering if they should go to one of those meetings - do.  It's worth it.  The next meeting is on my son's birthday, so I'll miss that one, but I'm looking forward to the one after that.

Next month is Ovarian Cancer Awareness Month.   A week or so ago, one of my staff was sweet enough to nominate me to win a cake from a professional bakery on Facebook, and we won!  I've requested an awareness cake.  September 5th is my son's birthday, the 6th is National Wear Teal Day, so we're going to have a little teal event at work with that cake.  If there's anything left, then I guess J gets a teal cake for his birthday.  (Oh I kid.  I'll get him his own cake, or big cookie or whatever he wants.  He's turning 18.  18!!)

On the 13th, Hicksville's football team will be wearing teal athletic tape, and I will be sitting at the booster club table, handing out symptom cards and selling bracelets to raise awareness.  A sweet Hicksville lady has designed a teal tshirt that we're going to sell so folks can wear them to the game, and raise a little more money for ovarian cancer research.  On the 14th, I'm hosting a "Teal Fest" at my house to raise a little more.  No idea exactly what we're going to do that evening, but there will be wine and good food, and good company.  Well - I hope good company! 

I probably won't raise thousands of dollars.  I may not even raise hundreds.  I'm starting small with this fundraising thing.  It's a brand new thing to me.  But I feel like I have to.  Like I'm almost being called to.  It's like I figure maybe this is why I got cancer - maybe this is why I survived when so many don't.  I could be just fooling myself, but I've always thought if I can make any kind of difference from what I went through, it'll be worth it.  One way or another.

In other news, Fricasse and the rest of the chickens have finally stopped sitting on their eggs.  Eventually we'll get the two different breeds we have separated.  Wilbur, the wild hog we attempted to raise to adulthood, gave in to the heat.  We are so not hog breeders.  Lactation and her pregnancy seems to be progressing well, but we noticed this evening that she's developed a pretty bad limp.  We're not sure what happened to her and we're hoping that it's not too serious.

The garden is doing very well - we're starting to get some tomatoes, eating green beans during the week, and I actually canned some black-eyed peas last weekend.  Good Lord willing, we should have home grown cantaloupe to eat before too much longer, and I've got my eye on this year's entry into the biggest watermelon competition at the fair.  Last year I got third.  I'm aiming for first this year!  I also made grape jelly a few weeks ago that was turned out *gorgeous* - so I'm going to enter that in the fair too.  Winning the bell pepper division last year turned me into a fair ribbon junkie.

All in all - just another fine day in the boonies. 

Contemplating the Mundane

The last two days have been lovely out in Hicksville.  I've woken up to temps in the 60's, rain yesterday and clouds today.  It makes it so much more pleasant to pull grass and weeds in the garden.  This morning I was pulling wheat from the hay around my potato plants.  I pull it, twist the roots off and feed it to Lactation.  She loves getting something besides dried hay and the tops of weeds.  Yes, it's a pain to have to pull the wheat when you use wheat straw as mulch, but taters seem to grow so much better mulched in like that.  The only sounds were my roosters crowing and the neighbor's donkeys braying.  A peaceful contemplative morning.

I'm not going to church these days - not because I have anything against church, but because I only have so much time to work in the garden.  It's too hot in the afternoons and evenings, so Saturday and Sunday mornings have to do.  I do my talking to God during these mornings in the garden, praying for my loved ones, my friends, and in general.  I miss seeing everyone at church, but it doesn't feel right to go to Family Night when I haven't been to church in weeks. Once it cools off, I'll be back.

I had my followup with my new gyn on Friday.  I didn't realize how nervous I was about that visit until I heard her tell me "I don't feel any masses, or nodules.  As a matter of fact, everything feels normal.  No enlarged lymph nodes, nothing."  The wave of relief that washed over me made me realize just how much worry lives at the back of my mind. 

I'm grateful to be feeling so well.  To be able to make jelly and freeze corn, to weed and harvest my garden, to shell black eyed peas and snap green beans.  Still haven't gotten into the swing of cleaning the house every week, but I do keep up with laundry for the most part.  I know I'm lucky, and every day is a gift.  But it's so hard to stop worrying.  To wonder at every ache or twinge. 

To try and keep my mind off of worrying, I'm trying to be more pro-active.  I'm working to get the only home game in September designated Ovarian Cancer Awareness night.  The coach has agreed to have the boys wear teal athletic tape.  The booster club has agreed to let me sit at their table and hand out symptom cards.  I'm thinking of selling ribbons or bracelets or something to raise some funds for ovarian cancer research.  While at my new gyn's office, she told me that someone from my surgeon's office was organizing a Ovarian Cancer Walk that I'm thinking of participating in.  It won't cure me, but at least I feel like I'm doing *something*.  And maybe, just maybe, there will be some woman who reads the symptom card I'll be handing out and recognizes that she might want to see her gyn the next week instead of assuming that there's nothing to worry about it.

I tried a counseling session, and I'm just not sure that's what I need.  This week I plan on going to a cancer survivor support group meeting - hoping that talking with others that have gone through what I have will help.  I haven't had as many blue days, but they still crop up.  It may end up just being part of my new normal, but I'll attend that support group meeting just in case. 

What seems to help the most is talking with my friends, my husband.  I seem to head to that blue state when I'm not talking to people, trying to be "brave" or "tough."  I do better talking about things, and not dwelling with might have beens.  I'm also learning to ration my time on Inspire.com. Too much time there has me wondering when I will recur, instead of wondering if. 

It's the busiest month of the year at work, and after a full day there, I'm not always in the mood to do much when I get home.  I tell myself day after day I'm going to blog when I get home, but most days I just want to rest when I get here.  So far the hubs isn't minding being the one to make supper most days, but I'm not sure how much longer that will last.  One of these days I'm going to get organized again.  Really!

Until then, it's mornings in the garden, and waiting for football to start up again.  Mid-Size University has a new coach, and we can't wait to see what he can do.  Hicksville football is in two-a-days and my youngest has decided to play his senior year.  Senior mom and dad shirts are ordered already, and we're ready for our friday night lights. 

Just like normal people.

The X Files

Early in my first pregnancy, I lay on our couch one night with my hand lying on my still flat stomach, watching TV.  I had just started noticing a slight rounding of my stomach - a hint of the expansion that was to come.  I don't remember what I was watching, but I do remember what I felt.  It felt almost like a gas bubble - a soft, barely perceptible push against my hand.   It was the first time I had felt my baby move, and in that moment he became completely real to me.  Before that soft movement, I knew I was pregnant, knew I was going to have a baby, but it was all kinda abstract.  Once E pressed against my hand, it all changed in a moment. 

That was my moment - not shared really with anyone.  While I told my husband about it later, that moment was all mine.  It wasn't when he felt the baby move for the first time - that happened later.  It was mine.

On my way home today, I felt a gas bubble that almost felt like a baby moving inside me.  Since I lost my omentum during my debulking surgery last October, I can feel gas as it moves through much easier than I could in the before.  If it's moving through my small intestine as it tries to bulge through my incisional hernia, I can really feel it.  Today it struck me how similar it was to that first movement of my son all those years ago.  And how last fall, it all changed in a moment as well.

It's an apt comparison.  After all, my cancer is like an alien I grew in my belly - something foreign and new, cells dividing and multiplying and changing my body.  More like a mutant - those dividing cells abnormal and lethal instead of having a fund super power like laser vision or the ability to control the weather.  Even more like a parasite - living off my body, taking over my abdomen, doing its best to displace what was me with its malignant replacement.  My own version of the X-Files.

There is a tendency to try to personify cancer - to infuse it with personality traits, labeling it evil or wicked.  The truth is - it's just cells gone wild - rapidly multiplying instead of showing its neutrons off to the other cells to see who can collect the most strands of DNA like chicks on Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras.  My cancer can't even be blamed on my wild impetuous youth - there aren't environmental factors that contribute towards ovarian cancer.  I can't blame spending too much time in the sun, or smoking too many cigarettes, or drinking too much booze.  I just may have ovulated too much.  Not much I could have done about that.  I had my two kids, and I chose an IUD rather than birth control pills because I didn't do well on the pill.  Not that they're sure that ovulating every month for years on end causes ovarian cancer - they just think it might have something to do with it.  But they don't know. 

They just don't know.

I haven't been blogging much lately.  I'm still fighting the blues that seem to have decided to hang out in my head this summer.  Don't worry - I have an appointment with a counselor set up, and it's not ruining my summer.  I spend my weekends working in the garden and spending time with family and friends.  I'm not depressed - just a little unsettled, a little unfocused.  More likely to lose myself in a book or a TV show or a movie.  Then I don't have to think about the friends that have lost parents or husbands in the last few weeks - and how I've been too cowardly to reach out to them during their bereavement. Or think about what comes next - or what might be growing in my belly or around my lungs while I'm taking this chemo break.   I know I can't run from those feelings and thoughts forever.  But right now, that's what I'm doing.  I'm hoping talking to someone will help me deal a little better.

I'd really like to stop comparing my gas bubbles to mutant alien parasites, ya know? I'd like to find a way to stop trying to figure out why me?  Why not me?  I'd like to stop constantly worrying that every ache, or pain, or itch means the cancer is growing again, that I'm platinum resistant, that I won't get my 10 or more years. 

It's one of those things that cancer survivors have to figure out - how to return to their lives After.  How to live every moment, and not worry and obsess.  You would think being in remission (even if it is just "partial") I would be partying it up.  I don't know how to do that.  I'm trying to figure it out.  I'll keep y'all posted.

Until then, I'll just keep taking it day by day as much as I can.  So here are a few things that help me remember how lucky I am:

One of my crepe myrtles, and Grandma's cast iron bench.

My favorite roses.

My other favorite roses.

 

And my garden doing its thing.

It's not a bad life, eh?

Living the Good Life

We've had rain out here in Hicksville lately.  Wonderful glorious rain.  Our fields are a pretty green color you can only get from weeds.  Ah well - so far, the cow seems happy with them.

Speaking of our cow - we used to call her Steak.  Because we're warped.  But now the hubs sent her off to get knocked up, and we're pretty sure she obliged, so she needs a new name.  I've considered Lactation, but only if you say it with a slow southern drawl.  Go ahead. Try it.  Makes ya feel a little like Scarlett, doesn't it? 

I say pretty sure, because we don't know how to tell if she is really knocked up or not.  I googled how to figure that out a minute ago and I would like to say oh HELL NO.  I'm not stickin' my arm up any cow's booty.  [shudder]  Just the thought wigs me out.  So I guess we'll just wait and see.  She's getting mighty rotund and spends alot of time laying around waiting for someone to feed her fresh green stuff or cow bon bons or something.  Maybe we'll have a cute little calf to get entirely too attached to so it'll never be sent to processor after all.

We still don't have any baby chicks.  A few hatched, but none of them lived very long because apparently Java's are crappy mama hens.  Now I have four more hens setting, but they haven't had a rooster on that half of the coop for weeks, so they're pretty much wasting their time.  I'm going to have to get some eggs that might actually produce chicks and move them over there.  Otherwise those poor hens are going to start doubting their ability to hatch chicks, and the last thing I need are neurotic hens.

My garden has been loving the rain we've had lately.  The green beans have tiny little beans growing, and I actually found potatoes under some of the volunteer potato plants.  I've found some green tomatoes.  My onions seemed to have all died out.  I'm not sure why - they were getting watered, and we had mulched them in, but I can't find any of them now.  So they either died, or the evil bunnies that inhabit our land snuck in and ate them all.  Bastards.  Unfortunately, the weeds and native grasses have enjoyed the rain as well.  I've spent the last couple of weekends pulling weeds and grass and mulching. 

We don't have but a few weeks left of summer - and it makes me sad.  Just when I start feeling like myself again - waking up to have my breakfast on the back porch, then spending a few hours in the garden.  Sometimes I almost forget what I had been doing over the last nine months.  Sometimes I fool myself into thinking it was a bad dream - or that it happened to someone else.

Then I bend over to pull a stray weed out of the lawn, and the fluid around my left lung follows gravity and ow.  Or my incisional hernia feels like my intestines are about to pop out.  Then I remember that I'm not the same person I was a year ago.  Now I'm a cancer survivor.  Now I have limits to what I can do.

It's better than the alternative.  I'm alive.  And I'm living my life.  Spending time with my husband, and my kids when they have nothing better to do.  Someday I hope it won't hurt when I bend over to pull those weeds.  I won't have to have a cart to sit on as I roll around the garden and pull grass.  I won't have to hold my hand over my hernia when I sneeze because I have a fear that my intestines are going to shoot out across the living room.  (No - I have no idea what hyperbole means.  Why do you ask?)

Another friend of mine will be laying her mother to rest tomorrow.  I never met her mom, but she sounded like a wonderful lady.  Skin cancer took her.  I don't know why I went into remission and she didn't.  I hate that my friend lost her mama.  Yet I'm glad my boys didn't lose theirs.  I'm glad I can call myself a survivor.   I wish her mama could have too.

Things are good right now out in Hicksville.  We're going to try to enjoy the last few weeks of summer.  I hope you do the same.  Live deliberately.  Embrace each moment.  I'm determined to do that myself, and to not let myself get caught up in the daily grind again.  Now I know all too well - you just never know how much longer you have.  And like they say - no one says "I wish I had worked more."

I'm pretty sure no one says "I wish I had stuck my arm up a cow's booty when I had the chance" either.

I Get By With a Little Help From My Friends

This morning I had my breakfast on the back porch, as I did so many mornings last summer.  I listened to the birds chatter to each other and to our roosters greeting the day.  It was a still, perfect beautiful morning.

I needed that today.  Lately it seems as if I'm surrounded by sadness. Three funerals today that I should have gone to.  The mother of a friend is now on hospice.  Another friend just lost a dear friend of hers to MS.  A former classmate's wife just diagnosed with late stage ALS.  And last night a two year old little boy drowned in our community.  It's just too much.

I'm not sure why all of this seems to happen at once.  Why bad news seems to come in clusters.  I just know that I don't handle it as well as I used to.  Last year I would have tried to go to at least one of those three funerals.  This year - well, I haven't been able to attend a funeral since my diagnosis.  I feel cowardly for not going.  But it's just too close to home for me right now.  I don't want to go and imagine my own funeral - and I know that's what I would do.     

I try to remember to pray for all of these people every night.  I try to focus on just how blessed I am right now - it could be so much worse.  But the sadness comes at me from every direction.  I know that it just might be time.

Time for what?  Time to talk to someone professional.  I've been struggling a bit with feeling a bit blue lately.  It's probably pretty normal - after all, I just spent months fighting off a wicked disease that was aiming to kill me.  I was so focused on that, and now it's like I'm just trying to figure out what's next.   The blog has been a huge help - I've been able to write through so many of the things I've been going through.  But I'm feeling a little overwhelmed these days.  At my monthly oncologist visit last week, I asked for a referral, and I will be getting something set up in the next few weeks. 

So many of us feel like we can't go to counseling - that it makes us look weak.  I'm trying to not think of it that way.  One thing I learned throughout this journey is that I can't do it all myself, and it's ok to ask for help.  It doesn't make me weak to do that.  It makes me smart to not try to do it all on my own - and to know when to ask for help.

And in the meantime, I'm going to try to enjoy the peaceful still mornings.  Right now we have a hen setting on eggs again, we're pretty sure our cow is going to have a calf of her own in a few months, the garden is growing well, and a big rain is predicted for next week.  Life goes on.  That's what I need to focus on. What we all need to focus on.

Life goes on.

Old McDonald Had a Farm....

I might have mentioned before that we live in the boonies.  It's not as much the boonies as it used to be - we've had all sorts of families move in around us in the last few years.  And while I might rail against their pointless and wasteful pole lights and over-watering of their lawns, it's not too bad.  Since we live in the middle of our 15 acres, we still have some elbow room.

On that elbow room we have a cow and some chickens.  Some of those chickens are currently broody and sitting on eggs.  They've actually hatched a few chicks, but sadly, none of them have made it.  We don't know if one of the hens sitting is killing them, or if it's too hot, or what, but I'm getting pretty tired of finding cute baby chick bodies.  If anyone has any bright ideas on what is happening to our babies, let me know.

Our cow just recently came back from visiting my cousin's herd.  His herd has a bull or two, so we're hoping she got herself knocked up.  The only problem is that if she is knocked up, she probably won't be dropping her calf until February or March.  March won't be too bad, but February is an awfully cold month for new calves.

We might not have planned this very well.

Face it - we're amateurs at this homesteading stuff.  We've finally gotten the gardening side down pretty well, but we're still learning when it comes to livestock.  When our banty hens hatched some chicks a few years ago, we only lost a couple of chicks.  Those were good mama chickens.  These "heritage" breeds my husband wanted don't seem to be doing as good of a job.  And we're clueless when it comes to cows and calves.  It's a new adventure for sure, but one we like to think we're ready for.

So  wish us luck.  It can't be any more frustrating than trying to type on my new laptop and constantly having the cursor jump to somewhere two paragraphs up because the base of my hand rested too long on the touchpad.

Stupid technology.

What new adventures are you exploring this year?

Leap of Faith

After a west Texas spring that lasted all of 1 week, summer has finally arrived here in the boonies.  And that means it's time to garden.  We planted onions, potatoes and cabbage earlier in the year, but now it's finally warm enough to plant the warm weather veggies.  Tomatoes have gone into the garden at last, and in the weeks to come we will plant peppers, green beans, black eyed peas, cantaloupe, watermelon, squash, okra, cucumbers and of course - more tomatoes.

It may seem like a lot, but my husband and I love garden fresh veggies.  Right now we're in the midst of enjoying home grown asparagus any time we want it, and canning the extra.  Fresh green beans or black eyed peas are a treat that everyone should try at least once.  And oh my goodness, how I love home grown cantaloupe and watermelon.

I haven't purchased hot sauce in years.  I much prefer to make my own from home grown tomatoes.  Not to mention my Uncle James only speaks to me because I make him chow chow in the fall.  (Oh I kid.  He still spoke to me last year when I wasn't able to make him chow chow due to a lack of green tomatoes.  He said "where's my chow chow girl?" at Christmas. ;-))

I look at gardening differently this year.  For me, it's an act of faith.  I have faith that I will be healthy enough to take care of the garden while everything grows - weeding, watering, harvesting.  I have faith that I'll be healthy enough to enjoy those fresh green beans later this summer, and those home grown taters this fall.  Faith that I'll have the strength to can the extra harvest.

Faith that I'll be here.

There - I said it.  Once upon a time, not too long ago, I couldn't imagine trying to garden this summer.  There were days I didn't think I was going to ever get any strength back, much less enough to take care of a garden.  I'm still not all the way back - but I'm on my way.  I'm so grateful for that.  And even though it's been a struggle, and I still tire easily, I know now that it won't always be that way.  I know that eventually I'll be able to bend over and pull weeds without feeling like I'm drowning.

Until then - well - that's why I have children.

Letting My Light Shine a Little

Yesterday, I skipped church.

One thing I haven't talked a lot about is my faith and where it all fits with this cancer journey of mine.  The fact is - I 've always been one of those folks who figured my relationship with God was ... well, between me and God.  I've never been one of those who wishes everyone a blessed day, or beat everyone over the head with my particular brand of religion.  I'm just not geared that way.

I was raised in a variety of religions.  My mom was a Methodist who married a young man who wanted to be a Southern Baptist preacher.  Although he decided when I was a baby that ministry wasn't where he wanted to spend his life after all, we still went to Baptist churches for a significant part of my childhood.  At some point, he and my mother decided they weren't happy with the direction the Baptist church was taking them, so we began our family's search for something else.

It was an adventure, let me tell ya.  From the big fancy church where ladies in high heels and exquisite hairdo's danced in circles and the preacher ran around the sanctuary hollering "The King is coming!  The King is coming!" to the little hippie church that you got to by going down an alley near Mid-Sized University and in the yellow door then up the rickety stairs with earth mama types nursing their babies, candles in wine bottles everywhere and singing Kum ba ya....we tried 'em all.  In the end, we ended up going to a non-denominational church.  It had a little of the raising hands in praise, a little speakin' of the tongues, and a little of the newer gospel songs that were being written left and right in the 70's.  (Am I the only one who's childhood soundtrack includes the songs from "Come Together"?  And I don't mean the Beatles song.)  It was different from what they were raised in - but it touched their souls.  They felt God there....and they taught me that's where you go to church.  Where you feel God.

My husband and I have tried a few different churches in our life together.  But I never found one that really touched my soul until we started attending the Methodist church in Hicksville.  It's different from what I was raised in - but it touched my soul.  I found a place that soothed me in a way I didn't even realize I was missing until the first service I attended and they sang the doxology.

It may not be for everyone, but it works for me.  And that's kind of how I view religion.  There are so many different flavors because we're all so different.  What speaks to me may not speak to you.  My husband attends the same church I do, but for him, where he really feels God is out in nature.  I'm good with that.  I know he attends for me, but if he doesn't feel like going, I don't hold it against him. 


I believe in God.  I believe that He's helping me in this journey.  I believe He hears the many prayers that have been said on my behalf.  I believe He doesn't care where those prayers come from - whether its from the Methodist church, or the Baptist, or the Church of Christ, or Catholic or Pagan or the church of williewonkas.  He just hears the prayers.  Knowing that comforts me.  I'm not asking that it comfort you - unless you also believe.

And if you don't?  That's cool too.  I'm not a big believer in assuming my spiritual path is the only path.  There are many paths - and I think they're all valid.  Your mileage might vary.  

I skipped church yesterday because my son had a friend spend the night, and we were all up late.  I don't think God holds that against me.  I think He knows my heart.  He knows this week will be a tough one for me as I wait to hear my CT results.  I think He's holding me up.  I know having my faith helps keep me strong.

And that's all I'm going to say about that.  I hope your faith - in whatever you choose to believe in - keeps you strong as well.  I hope it soothes your soul in some way.  I hope it gives you peace.

Most of all - I hope it makes you feel as loved as it does me.

Braaaiiinnnsss.....I Want Braiiiiiinnnnnssss....

Yesterday was a good brain day.

Since I started treatment, I don't think as well as I used to.  I used to be pretty sharp.  For the first few months after my surgery, I was on so many medications, my brain was a  little foggy.  It was hard to concentrate.  I didn't really read anything but Facebook posts for over two months.  For me, that was beyond weird.  I'm a reader.  I was always reading a book or magazine.  It took awhile before I was able to concentrate well enough to read magazine articles.  Then I worked my way up to "fluff" novels - the kind you don't have to think too hard with - no complicated plots to try to remember.  I finally worked my way up to the Game of Thrones series - then I knew I was ready to go back to work.  Try reading those books back to back and keep up with who is doing what to whom.  That's a pretty good sign your brain is working again.

Since I've been back, one of the things I've struggled with is concentration.  Most days I do pretty well.  But every so often - usually within a week or so of chemo, and certainly the days right after chemo - I have a foggy day.  A day where if a faculty member asks me a question, I let them know that I don't know, but I'll look it up.  I know I won't be able to look it up that day....most likely if I happened to remember where to look it up, I might not understand it fully anyway.  I've actually put off doing a project for my boss because I knew it was one that I needed a sharp day to even understand what she wanted....and not every day is a sharp day.

It's frustrating.  I had heard of chemo brain during my treatment, but actually experiencing it is unsettling.  Sometimes it's just taking longer to figure something out.  Sometimes it's searching for a word.  Sometimes it's using the wrong word.  And sometimes it's looking at a form you've completed dozens of times and thinking you're doing it correctly, then having it come back with instructions on how to do it right.

Yeah - that's embarrassing.  I'm sure folks in other departments around campus are getting annoyed at getting screwed up stuff.  It hasn't happened *alot* - but the fact that it's happening at all bothers me.  So - I look up directions on how to do stuff that I used to not think twice about.  I make my to do list more often.  I go through my email even more often to make sure I don't miss deadlines.  I try to remind myself that it's all part of the process - the process of getting better, of recovery.  And it won't be this way forever.

This morning I had CT scans to see where we are at with my cancer.  I've had the 6 carbo/taxol chemo treatments that are the standard front line of care for ovarian cancer.  I still have some fluid around my lungs, so I don't expect to be considered NED (aka  - no evidence of disease) just yet.  But I'm optimistic that I'm close to that.  That my cancer has responded well to chemo, and maybe I just need one or two more treatments to finish it off.  I'll find out next Wednesday.  Y'all keep me in your prayers until then.

Now - for something non-cancer related!  My youngest son J competed in the District/Area track meet for his school a few weeks ago - and placed 2nd in District and 4th in Area!  We are so proud of him.  This qualified him to go to Regionals for the first time.  That was the goal he had set for himself, and I'm so glad he reached it.  Unfortunately, he had a bad day throwing at Regionals - nerves I guess.  But next year he'll be a senior, and he has this experience to learn from. 

If I haven't mentioned it before, we have a cow and chickens on our place out in the boonies.  Currently Steak (our cow) is off at my cousin's place meeting some boys.  We're hoping she's playing the hussy and getting herself knocked up.  Ha!  Maybe once she's had a calf, I'll change her name to Lactation.  (Yes - we're terribly inappropriate in our naming of livestock. We are rednecks.  We don't hide that.  We wear it like a big ole badge!)

I'm currently considering names for the chickens - right now, Fricasse, Parmesan, and Korma are my favorites.  Let me know if you have any suggestions - I've got 13 chickens to name - 3 of 'em roosters. 

It looks like we're expecting yet another freeze tomorrow night.  I have 8 tomato plants that are trying to find a way out of the house.  And I'm about ready to hunt down Mother Nature and provide her with some damn Midol because seriously?  It's May.  There is no need for this freezing crap in May. 

See?  Life goes on.  Even with cancer.  In SPITE of cancer.  Because that's the way it should be.