Cani e porci hanno il proprio blog, quindi anch’io!

Pigs and dogs have their own blogs, why can't I?

L’orto di Bruce

June 26th, 2007

Il pollice verde di mio marito si mostra al suo meglio in questa foto del suo (nostro) orto…verdure biologiche che nutrono i nostri corpi e i nostri spiriti… e poi: la mia parrucca rossa in aprile con il mio bambino….la nostra pedalata nella contea di Santa Barbara in maggio con la peluria bionda che appena spunta.

GardenRed Wig and SandroSanta Barbara May 07

The Countdown Starts June 25th….Il conto alla rovescia comincia il 25 giugno

June 25th, 2007

14 to go after today’s treatment. Whenever you find me again complaining, will my friends please remind me of today, when I saw a young mother coming in with a girl who must have been no older than 5 or 6: thin, but not too sickly, sparse blonde hair, which had obviously just recently (re)grown to be just about 2 inches long, a big pink ribbon around her head, a bright summer floral voile shirt, a shy but big smile on her face and a not too prominent scar in the back of her head…they were looking for Diana “the therapist” who, when she came out, ran toward the little girl and hugged her tightly. The girl reciprocated her embrace and was so happy in her bright pink-ribboned head, and somewhat enjoyed the compliments everybody was giving her, but seemed not quite so sure what to make of them. Will my friends please remind me of her when I feel poor-me-depressed, will you remind me of her when I talk about what I haven’t accomplished in my life, will you remind me of her when I complain about pain or the tediousness and fatigue of the daily radiation therapy routine, will you remind me of her smile? Thank you in advance.

Oggi e’ cominciato il conto alla rovescia. Mi mancano 14 sessioni. La prossima volta che mi lamento, pero’ chiedo che i miei amici mi ricordino di oggi, quando ho visto una giovane madre entrare in ospedale seguita da una bimba di non piu’ di 5 o 6 anni, magrina, con capelli radi che ovviamente erano appena (ri)cresciuti a una lunghezza di 3 o 4 centimetri, un fiocco rosa sulla testa, una camicetta di voile a fiori, un sorriso grande e timido sul viso e una cicatrice non troppo vistosa sulla nuca…stavano cercando Diana, “la terapista” che, nell’uscire, e’ corsa incontro alla bambina e l’ha abbracciata forte. La bambina ha ricambiato l’abbraccio con contentezza. Sembrava felice in quel suo vistoso fiocco rosa, anche se pareva non fosse sicura di come prendere i complimenti che tutti le facevano. Mi ricordino per favore i miei amici di questo giorno quando mi sentiro’ depressa e patetica, quando mi lamentero’ della stanchezza e noia dei trattamenti quotidiani di radioterapia, quando parlero’ di cio’ che non sono riuscita a concludere nella mia vita, mi rammenterete del sorriso della bambina col fiocco rosa? Vi ringrazio in anticipo.

Great Day Today!

June 15th, 2007

Sandro, Kristin, Jordan and Cassidy came with me today to my radiation appointment. It was the kids’ first day of summer vacation and Kristin and I thought that we would give them a treat, ha ha! We all rode the train to LA and when we were at Kaiser, the technicians were super nice and they brought the kids in the radiation room, showed them the machine, the laser beams, the computers, the cameras. The kids were amazed and very curious. They loved it that they could see me from a TV screen while I was being zapped in the other room. After that, we took the metro again and went to Hollywood to do “the tourist thing” on Hollywood Blvd. Really, we only stopped at the newish mall, where the Kodak Theater is and the kids had a blast going through the interactive water fountain. They were drenched! Then they played for what seemed like forever jumping after images projected on a piece of floor. We had lunch at CPK, under a warm California sun and in the shadow of the Hollywood sign. After that, we found a bowling alley and we bowled for quite a while. As a warning: never willingly take me as a bowling partner. I ended up last, after all the kids, with half the score as the littlest one. My ball kept misteriously leaping into the gutter. I swear there must have been an invisible hand pushing it to the left or right! We had a fantastic day. Sandro fell asleep in my arms on the way back. Life is good.

FUORI UNA, NE MANCANO 29

June 5th, 2007

Scrivo questo sul treno che mi riporta a Long Beach dopo la mia prima sessione di radioterapia. Stamattina, dopo aver lasciato Sandro all’amico che lo porta a scuola due/tre volte alla settimana, sono tornata a casa per un po’, ho fatto colazione, ho incominciato a ripulire e poi sono partita. Alle 9 e 20 salivo sul treno per Los Angeles e tiravo fuori il computer. Prendere il treno (che per metà è in superficie, per l’altra metà è una metropolitana) nella California del Sud è abbastanza insolito. La gente non usa mezzi pubblici se ne può fare a meno. Ma per me è di una tale comodità che ne vale assolutamente la pena. Stamattina ho preso la coincidenza sbagliata a Los Angeles, ma me ne sono accorta abbastanza in fretta, sono scesa e ho preso il treno giusto. In cinque-dieci minuti ero all’ospedale, quasi esattamente all’ora giusta, e in altri quindici minuti o meno ero fuori. Una volta che hanno fatto il check-in mi hanno fatto andare in una sala d’aspetto e in pochi minuti mi hanno chiamato per il trattamento. Sono andata diritta a spogliarmi in una cabina, ho messo la vestaglia da ospedale e sono entrata nella sala delle radiazioni. Mi hanno fatto sdraiare su una piattaforma, mi hanno allineato con la macchina (una roba enorme con uno schermo che ti gira intorno mentre si posiziona per spararti i raggi X), mi hanno detto di rimanere immobile e, dopo aver fatto un paio di radiografie per essere sicuri che fossi in posizione perfetta, mi hanno zappata. Non ho sentito niente, tranne il rumore della sirena di sicurezza che suona ogni volta che in una stanza si fanno raggi (penso che sia per avvertire chiunque si trovi nei paraggi che in quel momento in quella stanza si stanno emettendo radiazioni). Insomma, una procedura indolore. Dopo il trattamento, mi sono messa la crema all’aloe che mi hanno consigliato per minimizzare le scottature, e mi sono avviata alla stazione della metropolitana. Super-semplice. Per sei settimane questa sarà la mia routine. Sicuramente mi romperò le balle a un certo punto, ma almeno il mercoledì e il venerdì ho due amiche che verranno con me. Altre vogliono venire anche altri giorni. In ogni caso penso di portare sempre il computer per non restare a mani vuote. E poi ho sempre i miei libri, no?

ONE DOWN, 29 TO GO!

June 5th, 2007

I am writing this entry on the train, on my way back from my first radiation treatment. I’m loving it! I take the Blue Line from Long Beach, change in LA to the Red Line (yes, there is a subway in LA), which leaves me a block and a half from the hospital where I get radiation. This morning I was a little late, as I stepped on the wrong train initially, but then I was in and out of the hospital in less than 10-15 minutes. And the train ride gives me the chance to catch up with email, blog etc. For six entire weeks!

Latest

May 25th, 2007

Pain in the underarm and numbness of extremities has subsided. Mood is improving. Radiation therapy will start beginning of June and they’ll zap me with the full dose, targeting both the skin and the chest wall. Will get scans, ‘rehearsal’, tatoos on June 1st then on to 25-30 daily treatments. Don’t look forward to having my skin charred, but at least it won’t be painful, since I’m all numb in that area. Now biggest challenge will be to learn to live with the constant fear of recurrence, without letting that fear ruin my life. I have great models (my online breast cancer support group) to learn by, but I also know I’ll have to do the journey myself. Cancer sucks!

Ultime notizie

May 25th, 2007

E’ da molti giorni che mi sento in forma. Ho ancora, ma intermittente, dolore alle vene, con formicolii delle mani e a volte dei piedi, ma tutto sommato sto proprio bene. I primi di giugno incomincero’ la radioterapia. La radiologa ha deciso di darmi la dose piu’ forte, sia sulla pelle che sulla cassa toracica. Il primo di giugno andro’ a fare le prove e mi faranno dei tatuaggi per essere sicuri di puntare i raggi x sempre nella stessa direzione e dagli stessi punti. Non sono particolarmente contenta di dover fare 6 settimane di radiazioni, che mi daranno bruciature al seno (cioe’ al finto seno, visto che non c’e’ piu’ niente li’ sotto!) e forse renderanno necessari altri interventi chirurgici per trapiantare pelle piu’ elastica, ma ho chiesto parecchie opinioni e, per lo meno qui negli USA, tendono ad essere aggressivi e bombardarti di trattamenti quando sei “giovane” come me. Comunque penso che paragonata alla chemio, la radioterapia sara’ una passeggiata. E visto che non provo nessuna senzazione dove mi hanno operata anche se la radioterapia mi brucia non sentiro’ alcun dolore.

D’umore sto bene. Dopo l’ultima chemio e’ stato difficile riprendermi, e quando uno sta veramente male subentra la depressione, ma e’ passata. L’unica cosa che so non passera’ e’ la preoccupazione costante, la costante ansieta’ che il cancro ritorni e che dovro’ rifare la chemio…purtroppo dovro’ imparare a vivere con l’ansieta’ e non lasciare che mi rovini la vita.

Latest medical info

May 16th, 2007

Ok, I’ve been having this pain in my right underarm at night that spreads to the arm and ends in a tingling/numbing sensation in my right hand…and then I have tingling in my left hand, occasionally in my feet too. I’ve been trying to get hold of my onco but we’ve been mostly playing phone tag. Francesca thinks it could be an inflammation of the veins caused by chemo, but says I might need some tests. Right now I am enjoying not seeing doctors, or taking medicines, though, so I refuse to get worried.

I saw Dr. McDorky the other day. He pumped me up with some more saline solution. Now my fake breast contains 440 cc of salt water (I read a cancer survivor’s 8-year old called it ‘tears’) and it’s disproportionately and visibly bigger than the breast remaining. It’s not the first time. It needs to be like that, says Dr. McDorky, in order to allow for the skin to tighten during radiation, and with post-radiation deflation hopefully get soft again. Who knows. McDorky says that the final results are all to be seen: different bodies respond differently to treatments.

Next appointment: radiation onco who insists that I call her by her first name. I’m thinking they are going to give me the famous defining breast tatoos…three or so blue dots tattoed in strategic spots on your chest, that allow the radiation oncos to aim the radiation beams to the same locations every time. Then radiation will start end of May/beginning of June. Five days a week for six weeks.

Back from camping trip

May 16th, 2007

I’m back from the camping trip the three of us took to celebrate the end of chemo. We arrived in the Santa Ynez river valley when it was almost dark, but we still got 1/2 hour of light – enough to at least set up the humongous tent we bought…The tent sleeps eight, but boy was it nice to have that much space so that I could actually find my clothes (our previous tent was for 2 people only)! Then we headed off to find food. By that time it was already past nine and, we looked and looked, went up to Solvang, supposedly a touristy area, to find absolutely *no* restaurant open! By 10 we were desperate and starving, our 8-year old Sandro patiently trying real hard not to fall asleep. Finally we found a Domino’s open and we sat in their waiting area gulping down bad pizza with gusto. That night my “boys” slept peacefully, while I struggled to get unhooked from Ativan (the anti-anxiety med my onco put me on while on chemo – ok, bad timing on my part!) and didn’t get much sleep. Plus I started having this tingling/pain sensation in my right arm (chemo arm – gotta check with my onco). But the following day we headed off to Solvang and took a fabulous bike trip from there to Los Olivos, through Central California’s Santa Barbara County’s vineyard-filled hills. Stunningly beautiful. We stopped at a cafe in Los Olivos to eat delicious panini, walked around a little, me and Bruce dreaming about tasting some of the wine, but no kids allowed – sorry! Then biked back, all downhill, realizing only then that the previous 5 1/2 miles had been uphill and that Sandro had done it without gears! He’s a brave little boy indeed!!! Back at camp we had a nice dinner together, then played games by the fire. At night, I still didn’t sleep. On Sunday we woke up at 5:30 to drive Bruce to Santa Ynez where he participated in the first Santa Barbara County 1/2 marathon – parts of the proceeds went to the Breast Cancer Fund, which is devoted to identify and advocate for the elimination of the environmental causes of breast cancer. My boys surprised me with a Mother’s Day card and gift early in the morning. While Bruce was running, Sandro and I had a nice breakfast of waffles and crepes with fresh strawberries – yummie, then proudly watched papa’ cross the finish line in 88th place (15th in his division). On our way back to LA we even had time to stop and play some minigolf in Ventura, and shop for Sandro’s shoes at outlet stores. I was glad Sunday night to be in my bed again, though, where I finally enjoyed a good night of sleep. It’s good to be home!

Reproduced With Permission from the Author

May 10th, 2007

Useless people
July 17, 2000
Useless people!–who needs ’em?
You know the types.
They ignore your existence,
wait for you to contact them,
fail to respond in a timely fashion when you do,
act to others as though they care,
while snubbing you when no one’s around.
Or they send one card or one email
or call once
and then disappear.
Token people,
they have taken themselves to the periphery
of your life.
Perhaps you should send them a note:
“Since you have ignored my existence
during this critical period of my life,
you have taken yourself to the periphery of my existence.
I see no reason to retrieve you from that territory.”
But that makes YOU seem petty,
when in fact it is they that are unspeakably small
and unsatisfactory.
If they were students in a course,
you’d give them an “F.”
They’ve failed to show up,
failed to do all homework,
failed to learn anything,
refused even to ask how they could do better.
Fortunately, there are people in my life
who’ve made the grade,
who’ve cared enough to be there through thick and thin.
I’m grateful for them
and for people who’ve risen to the occasion when
I had no reason to expect they would.
But the toads and slackers who’ve been endlessly
lazy
uncaring
uninvolved
have managed to let me down
when I’m fighting a battle for my life.
Shame on them,
and shame on me if I don’t figure out
how to process this in a way
that leaves me calm and serene.
These people aren’t worth my rage.
They have qualified as barely human
in their detachment
and do not deserve any further involvement on my part.
Copyright 2000 Marcy Manning