April is Not So Cruel
I can't remember a time in my life when I have ever been so affected by weather. Winter was exceptionally and brutally long this year--our first decent day was Tuesday. Today was supposed to be mild but raining--but it is balmy and clear with big fluffy white clouds. Another day when the dogs and I might walk a bit. (Although maybe not. I have to run some errands and that might take what energy I've got.)
I have the windows open again today and despite the shortness of breath and mild nausea that always occur after chemo, I am buoyed by the sun and the air. No wonder people go to the beach. I liked to hike before but I didn't love it. Today, if I could, I'd spend the whole day in the air. Post-remission euphoria, I guess. My own personal parole coinciding so neatly with spring. It's supposed to rain and maybe snow a little on Saturday but next week, more mild temperatures and balmy days.
I feel a little fragile emotionally, as if this joy might give way to exhaustion. But so far it has held up and I intend to inhabit it as completely as I can. I'm feeling my way back out into the world.
I have the windows open again today and despite the shortness of breath and mild nausea that always occur after chemo, I am buoyed by the sun and the air. No wonder people go to the beach. I liked to hike before but I didn't love it. Today, if I could, I'd spend the whole day in the air. Post-remission euphoria, I guess. My own personal parole coinciding so neatly with spring. It's supposed to rain and maybe snow a little on Saturday but next week, more mild temperatures and balmy days.
I feel a little fragile emotionally, as if this joy might give way to exhaustion. But so far it has held up and I intend to inhabit it as completely as I can. I'm feeling my way back out into the world.
posted by Maureen McHugh at 9:41 AM
9 Comments:
Mary Turzillo here.
Congratulations on your remission, Maureen! Wow! And the weather plays right along --
Geoff is limping around with a hole in his leg that looks like a velociraptor took a chunk out of him. He sees the surgeon next week to find out if the margins were clear. Melanoma is a weird disease; it often recurs as late as ten years later. My friends in Florida thought he should go on an interferon regime, but we couldn't find studies that indicated that it provided superior outcomes. So Geoff decided against that. And the surgeon he's seeing, who is well-known for melanoma treatment in Cleveland, agrees. Interferon, despite being derived from one's own immune system, is not entirely benign.
Meanwhile, I follow with interest his "twin" in melanoma, an Australian rugby player named Steve Larkham, who had a melanoma on his leg removed almost the same time as Geoff's.
Geoff is one tough hombre. Despite general anesthesia Monday, he got up and delivered a presentation to Fairview Park Library on the future of space exploration. He has taken only one pill of the pain meds they gave him. The wound is about six inches long (it was four by four, but they close it diagonally), and it hasn't gotten infected. Surgical glue -- Geoff is very fascinated by the medical technology.
He was particularly delighted that they accidentally left a sensor on his back for us to play with when he got home.
My lowest moment was being invited into the little room where "the surgeon will speak with you," and I noticed a generous supply of tissues on every end table. But my fears were groundless, and he's up and prancing around. He even wore his patient bracelet for three days, just to show off.
So -- two pleased ex-cancer patients! Life is good --
Mary T.
Mary Turzillo here.
Congratulations on your remission, Maureen! Wow! And the weather plays right along --
Geoff is limping around with a hole in his leg that looks like a velociraptor took a chunk out of him. He sees the surgeon next week to find out if the margins were clear. Melanoma is a weird disease; it often recurs as late as ten years later. My friends in Florida thought he should go on an interferon regime, but we couldn't find studies that indicated that it provided superior outcomes. So Geoff decided against that. And the surgeon he's seeing, who is well-known for melanoma treatment in Cleveland, agrees. Interferon, despite being derived from one's own immune system, is not entirely benign.
Meanwhile, I follow with interest his "twin" in melanoma, an Australian rugby player named Steve Larkham, who had a melanoma on his leg removed almost the same time as Geoff's.
Geoff is one tough hombre. Despite general anesthesia Monday, he got up and delivered a presentation to Fairview Park Library on the future of space exploration. He has taken only one pill of the pain meds they gave him. The wound is about six inches long (it was four by four, but they close it diagonally), and it hasn't gotten infected. Surgical glue -- Geoff is very fascinated by the medical technology.
He was particularly delighted that they accidentally left a sensor on his back for us to play with when he got home.
My lowest moment was being invited into the little room where "the surgeon will speak with you," and I noticed a generous supply of tissues on every end table. But my fears were groundless, and he's up and prancing around. He even wore his patient bracelet for three days, just to show off.
So -- two pleased ex-cancer patients! Life is good --
Mary T.
Mary Turzillo here.
Congratulations on your remission, Maureen! Wow! And the weather plays right along --
Geoff is limping around with a hole in his leg that looks like a velociraptor took a chunk out of him. He sees the surgeon next week to find out if the margins were clear. Melanoma is a weird disease; it often recurs as late as ten years later. My friends in Florida thought he should go on an interferon regime, but we couldn't find studies that indicated that it provided superior outcomes. So Geoff decided against that. And the surgeon he's seeing, who is well-known for melanoma treatment in Cleveland, agrees. Interferon, despite being derived from one's own immune system, is not entirely benign.
Meanwhile, I follow with interest his "twin" in melanoma, an Australian rugby player named Steve Larkham, who had a melanoma on his leg removed almost the same time as Geoff's.
Geoff is one tough hombre. Despite general anesthesia Monday, he got up and delivered a presentation to Fairview Park Library on the future of space exploration. He has taken only one pill of the pain meds they gave him. The wound is about six inches long (it was four by four, but they close it diagonally), and it hasn't gotten infected. Surgical glue -- Geoff is very fascinated by the medical technology.
He was particularly delighted that they accidentally left a sensor on his back for us to play with when he got home.
My lowest moment was being invited into the little room where "the surgeon will speak with you," and I noticed a generous supply of tissues on every end table. But my fears were groundless, and he's up and prancing around. He even wore his patient bracelet for three days, just to show off.
So -- two pleased ex-cancer patients! Life is good --
Mary T.
surgeon he's seeing, who is well-kMary Turzillo here.
Congratulations on your remission, Maureen! Wow! And the weather plays right along --
Geoff is limping around with a hole in his leg that looks like a velociraptor took a chunk out of him. He sees the surgeon next week to find out if the margins were clear. Melanoma is a weird disease; it often recurs as late as ten years later. My friends in Florida thought he should go on an interferon regime, but we couldn't find studies that indicated that it provided superior outcomes. So Geoff decided against that. And the nown for melanoma treatment in Cleveland, agrees. Interferon, despite being derived from one's own immune system, is not entirely benign.
Meanwhile, I follow with interest his "twin" in melanoma, an Australian rugby player named Steve Larkham, who had a melanoma on his leg removed almost the same time as Geoff's.
Geoff is one tough hombre. Despite general anesthesia Monday, he got up and delivered a presentation to Fairview Park Library on the future of space exploration. He has taken only one pill of the pain meds they gave him. The wound is about six inches long (it was four by four, but they close it diagonally), and it hasn't gotten infected. Surgical glue -- Geoff is very fascinated by the medical technology.
He was particularly delighted that they accidentally left a sensor on his back for us to play with when he got home.
My lowest moment was being invited into the little room where "the surgeon will speak with you," and I noticed a generous supply of tissues on every end table. But my fears were groundless, and he's up and prancing around. He even wore his patient bracelet for three days, just to show off.
So -- two pleased ex-cancer patients! Life is good --
Mary T.
Mary Turzillo here.
Congratulations on your remission, Maureen! Wow! And the weather plays right along --
Geoff is limping around with a hole in his leg that looks like a velociraptor took a chunk out of him. He sees the surgeon next week to find out if the margins were clear. Melanoma is a weird disease; it often recurs as late as ten years later. My friends in Florida thought he should go on an interferon regime, but we couldn't find studies that indicated that it provided superior outcomes. So Geoff decided against that. And the surgeon he's seeing, who is well-known for melanoma treatment in Cleveland, agrees. Interferon, despite being derived from one's own immune system, is not entirely benign.
Meanwhile, I follow with interest his "twin" in melanoma, an Australian rugby player named Steve Larkham, who had a melanoma on his leg removed almost the same time as Geoff's.
Geoff is one tough hombre. Despite general anesthesia Monday, he got up and delivered a presentation to Fairview Park Library on the future of space exploration. He has taken only one pill of the pain meds they gave him. The wound is about six inches long (it was four by four, but they close it diagonally), and it hasn't gotten infected. Surgical glue -- Geoff is very fascinated by the medical technology.
He was particularly delighted that they accidentally left a sensor on his back for us to play with when he got home.
My lowest moment was being invited into the little room where "the surgeon will speak with you," and I noticed a generous supply of tissues on every end table. But my fears were groundless, and he's up and prancing around. He even wore his patient bracelet for three days, just to show off.
So -- two pleased ex-cancer patients! Life is good --
Mary T.
I kinda like the idea of Persephone getting turned out with a new suit, twenty bucks, and a bus ticket. Hope you enjoyed the day.
thanks. I am glad to read your tale and happy for your good news. My husband survived Hodgkins in '96 and now, after surviving hepatocellular carcinoma and liver transplant, is being treated at UH for type B non-hodgkin's lymphoma. The diagnosis was 2/22 and he started chemotherapy this week. He is my hero and this go-round I am very afraid of 'open communication' dampening his enthusiasm for life, but this one has got me reeling and not knowing quite where to turn. My sister just turned me onto blogs and I am glad I found yours. Again thank you and all my best wishes.
Mary Turzillo again.
Sorry my post turned up five times. I didn't mean to do that.
Hey, you have a great blog here! I'm definitely going to bookmark you! I have a tommys book mark site/blog. It pretty much covers tommys book mark related stuff.
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