Actually, I am in room 3406 at Presbyterian/St. Luke's Hospital in Denver. But . . . for all practical purposes it could be Cheyenne Regional Medical Center or any other institution occupied by nurses creeping silently by in their crocs and tennies, patients roaming the hallways accompanied by a very quiet, skinny friend and the food and nutrition workers who roll their carts up and down the uneven surfaces of the hallways.
My particular room is neither large nor small. It is neither nice nor dowdy. It is a simple box with windows on one side. The view is of a concrete courtyard and my windows are precisely disected by a yellow refuse tube through which scads of old ceiling tiles, sheetrock and other building materials shoot as the floor above this one is being remodeled.
I finished that first chemo drug on Friday last week and then the second one started. It was called cytoxin. I know how it earned its name. It is highly toxic and after the first dose, the patient has been mutated into a one-eyed, gagging, puking, moaning monster. Not having partied too hard since college (exception WACO - Casper - Jerry Orr, Susan and I shot for shot) I had forgotten the myriad of flourescent colors that enhance otherwise mustard brown bile.
A continuous regimen of anti-nausea drugs has kept the cycloptic puker at bay.
My "birthday" (the day I received the cells from my donor) was at 1:00 a.m. on Wednesday, December 10, 2009. I knew ahead of time that my donor was a 22 year old male. I was worried for quite a while that he would share things in common with my 22 year old son --- particularly a love for independent punk music. Well, the cellls were flown in from Germany, so my taste for music might lean a little more toward techno and my beer of choice may go from a good old red beer to some "dark lager."
One of my coping mechanisms is to visualize with games. When I was having the chemo, I was playing pac man. The chemo were the little men chomping up all my bad cells. Now I am playing tetris where I watch as all the bone marrow building blocks fit down into my bones to settle as a well-functioning puzzle. I also visualize that those cells are giving my body the wherewithall to leave this experience looking like Heidi Klum. The mind can be a dangerous thing,
All in all things are going well. My biggest complaint is being tired. I kept saying I would need a nice, long rest after the election and so it seems I am in the place to get it.
As always, thank you all for your positive thoughts, prayers, and good vibrations. Knowing you are out there pulling for me helps me keep my mission at the forefront of my mind.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Over the River and Through the Woods
Thanksgiving has come and gone. Dylan has been put on an airplane bound for Minneapolis. And I have checked in to Presbyterian/St. Luke's Hospital in Denver. Yesterday was a long . . . and hungry . . . day. No food or drink from midnight on Sunday until nearly 6:00 last night. That was a requirement for the medications used during the installation of a three-lumen catheter in the upper right side of my chest. The procedure began at about 3:00 in the afternoon and I was in my room on the third floor by a little after 4:00 p.m.
Several shots of lidocaine were administered prior to making the incision(s) necessary to install the gizmo. By 8:00 last night, it had still not worn off completely. It was a lot like having one side of your face numb after going to the dentist for a filling. Only this was my right boob that was dead weight and dragging the floor.
At 6:00 this morning, I received my first dose of the first chemotherapy drug. It is called "busulfan" and I will receive it every 6 hours for the first four days. As with my other experiences with chemo, I have tolerated this rather well.
At about 3:15 this afternoon I was surprised by a spinal tap or lumbar puncture. The purpose was to make absolutely certain there were no leukemia cells in my spinal fluid. A dose of some type of chemo (methadexadrone, maybe) was given as a prophylactic measure. If any bad cells still persist, more of that medication will be administered.
The one big plus of being here is that the food is soooo much better than at CRMC in Cheyenne. I have had chicken, fish, and even liver and oinions and each of them was actually good. As far as the liver an onions, it was not a standard meal today at lunch, it was the chef's selection and I had to specifically ask for it. Yes, I am one of the few people in the world that LIKES liver and onions. It was not as good as what my husband cooks, but it was more than acceptable.
The staff here, like at CRMC, is very friendly, caring, and good at their jobs. I miss my 8th floor angels (Kim, Heather, Angela, Cat, Stephanie, Mary, Jackson, and the rest) but I know I am in good hands here as well. All of the docs so far have been male, so Dr. Batezini's reputation as the most beautiful female oncologist is still intact.
Several shots of lidocaine were administered prior to making the incision(s) necessary to install the gizmo. By 8:00 last night, it had still not worn off completely. It was a lot like having one side of your face numb after going to the dentist for a filling. Only this was my right boob that was dead weight and dragging the floor.
At 6:00 this morning, I received my first dose of the first chemotherapy drug. It is called "busulfan" and I will receive it every 6 hours for the first four days. As with my other experiences with chemo, I have tolerated this rather well.
At about 3:15 this afternoon I was surprised by a spinal tap or lumbar puncture. The purpose was to make absolutely certain there were no leukemia cells in my spinal fluid. A dose of some type of chemo (methadexadrone, maybe) was given as a prophylactic measure. If any bad cells still persist, more of that medication will be administered.
The one big plus of being here is that the food is soooo much better than at CRMC in Cheyenne. I have had chicken, fish, and even liver and oinions and each of them was actually good. As far as the liver an onions, it was not a standard meal today at lunch, it was the chef's selection and I had to specifically ask for it. Yes, I am one of the few people in the world that LIKES liver and onions. It was not as good as what my husband cooks, but it was more than acceptable.
The staff here, like at CRMC, is very friendly, caring, and good at their jobs. I miss my 8th floor angels (Kim, Heather, Angela, Cat, Stephanie, Mary, Jackson, and the rest) but I know I am in good hands here as well. All of the docs so far have been male, so Dr. Batezini's reputation as the most beautiful female oncologist is still intact.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Let the Games Begin!
The election is over. Had a recount. Might have a challenge filed. Fabulous turnout (103%). Anyone freaking out over that stat? It's totally real because Wyoming is one of about eight states that allows election day voter registration.
So, now on to the next chapter in life . . . stem cell transplant. I received word yesterday that I will be admitted to Presbyterian/St. Luke's Hospital in mid-town Denver on November 30 or December 1. Approximately 7 or 8 days later, I will receive the stem cells from my donor. I know nothing about him other than he, too, ate dirt as a kid. Apparently there is some virus that is commonly found in dirt and I needed a donor who had also had that virus, so I am fortunate there are still people in the world who weren't carefully watched as children.
At first blush, the 30th of November seems a long way into the future, but I have to focus on the reality that I have only 13 days to accomplish a long list of back-burnered "to dos." Like cleaning out those closets that have been on that list for at least 5 years . . . filing all the bills from the early 1990s that have been cluttering up my home office . . . ironing all the items that have been hanging on my gas pipe in the basement for at least 3 years . . .
Seriously, it's not QUITE that bad, but bad enough. I have been at the office every day for the past four weeks, so there really is a lot of deferred cleaning, laundry and ironing to get caught up. Husband Steve, bless his heart, has done a fairly good job of keeping the top layer of dust from building up too much and has cooked some wonderful meals during these past weeks. I wuold like to smuggle him into the hospital as my personal chef, but I'm pretty sure that will not be possible.
I will find out what all will be possible next Wednesday. I am scheduled to have my final consultation and consent meting with Dr. Rifkin. I think at that time I get a tour of the isolation area at the hospital and find out their do's and don'ts. I just wonder if they are ready for my list of do's and don'ts . . . like do feed me decent food . . . don't wake me up at 2:00 a.m. just to take my blood pressure and temperature . . . do let me have my computer . . . don't interrupt a telephone meeting just to ask how "we" are doing . . . and above all else, DON'T TREAT ME LIKE AN INVALID!
I am woman, hear me roar.
So, now on to the next chapter in life . . . stem cell transplant. I received word yesterday that I will be admitted to Presbyterian/St. Luke's Hospital in mid-town Denver on November 30 or December 1. Approximately 7 or 8 days later, I will receive the stem cells from my donor. I know nothing about him other than he, too, ate dirt as a kid. Apparently there is some virus that is commonly found in dirt and I needed a donor who had also had that virus, so I am fortunate there are still people in the world who weren't carefully watched as children.
At first blush, the 30th of November seems a long way into the future, but I have to focus on the reality that I have only 13 days to accomplish a long list of back-burnered "to dos." Like cleaning out those closets that have been on that list for at least 5 years . . . filing all the bills from the early 1990s that have been cluttering up my home office . . . ironing all the items that have been hanging on my gas pipe in the basement for at least 3 years . . .
Seriously, it's not QUITE that bad, but bad enough. I have been at the office every day for the past four weeks, so there really is a lot of deferred cleaning, laundry and ironing to get caught up. Husband Steve, bless his heart, has done a fairly good job of keeping the top layer of dust from building up too much and has cooked some wonderful meals during these past weeks. I wuold like to smuggle him into the hospital as my personal chef, but I'm pretty sure that will not be possible.
I will find out what all will be possible next Wednesday. I am scheduled to have my final consultation and consent meting with Dr. Rifkin. I think at that time I get a tour of the isolation area at the hospital and find out their do's and don'ts. I just wonder if they are ready for my list of do's and don'ts . . . like do feed me decent food . . . don't wake me up at 2:00 a.m. just to take my blood pressure and temperature . . . do let me have my computer . . . don't interrupt a telephone meeting just to ask how "we" are doing . . . and above all else, DON'T TREAT ME LIKE AN INVALID!
I am woman, hear me roar.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
The Twilight Zone Draws Nearer
Election Day is finally here. It's almost 2:30 in the AM and I haven't been able to sleep for the last two hours, so I said to myself, "Self, get on up and do something constructive." Instead, I decided to post a little update.
A couple of weeks ago I underwent all the necessary pre-transplant tests and all was well except my thyroid. I guess it's a little sluggish. (AHA! So there is a reason I have an a$$ the size of Texas!) So far, two potential donors have been tested and eliminated for not having had some particular virus. BUT . . . yesterday I received the email that the donor they "have been looking for" has been found.
The potential dates for the actual stem cell transplant are November 24, December 1, or December 8. The part of me that has been working 10 hours a day during the week and several hours on the wekends for the past several weeks is thinking the sooner, the better . . . I need a nice, long rest. The part of me that wants all the ironing caught up, Christmas presents bought and wrapped, and the house detail cleaned is thinking WHOA! . . . too soon.
I thank the good Lord for giving me these past 10 or 11 months during which I have been able to return to life as it was before leukemia. And I pray to Him to give me the strength to get through the next few months with dignity and courage. But, most of all, I beg the election gods for no recounts, no challenges, no equipment failures, no voters with black helicopters circling their heads and most of all, to be in bed by 11:00 tonight.
I hope all who read this get out and vote today.
A couple of weeks ago I underwent all the necessary pre-transplant tests and all was well except my thyroid. I guess it's a little sluggish. (AHA! So there is a reason I have an a$$ the size of Texas!) So far, two potential donors have been tested and eliminated for not having had some particular virus. BUT . . . yesterday I received the email that the donor they "have been looking for" has been found.
The potential dates for the actual stem cell transplant are November 24, December 1, or December 8. The part of me that has been working 10 hours a day during the week and several hours on the wekends for the past several weeks is thinking the sooner, the better . . . I need a nice, long rest. The part of me that wants all the ironing caught up, Christmas presents bought and wrapped, and the house detail cleaned is thinking WHOA! . . . too soon.
I thank the good Lord for giving me these past 10 or 11 months during which I have been able to return to life as it was before leukemia. And I pray to Him to give me the strength to get through the next few months with dignity and courage. But, most of all, I beg the election gods for no recounts, no challenges, no equipment failures, no voters with black helicopters circling their heads and most of all, to be in bed by 11:00 tonight.
I hope all who read this get out and vote today.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Getting Ready for the Second Go 'Round
Have the last six months been the dream or the reality? With the exception of the routine blood tests and periodic bone marrow biopsies, life has seemed almost normal. I get up, get ready, go to work. I come home, eat, and go to bed. Can anything be better than that?
Actually, life has been pretty darned good. There have been lots of family gatherings with the children and grandchildren as well as extended family. The young adventurer, Dylan, even returned from Minneapolis for a couple of weeks this summer. His visit was a true joy with the exception of what he left behind. Dylan --- exactly WHO spilled the mocha, java, moo latte, with extra whipped cream or whatever in the back seat of my vehicle? Would the words "drive the wreck or walk" get your attention for your next visit?
The future, I'm afraid, is not so rosy. My last two biopsies have turned up a new condition, myelodysplasia syndrome --- not quite as nasty as the acute myeologenous leukemia, but nasty enough that I am facing a stem cell transplant. The truly ugly part is that it looks as though the stem cells will have to come from an unrelated donor. Not that I mind getting an infusion of stem cells from a 40ish red blooded American male, it's just that the possible complications are greater than with a transplant of one's own stem cells.
Nothing will get too far underway until after November 4th. I absolutely MUST be able to stay the course at work and complete my duties as chief election officer for the County. The upcoming election is too important and will be too exciting to sit it out in a drafty hospital gown while reclining in a less than Temperpedic bed surfing limited cable channels.
If there is anyone out there in the blue nowhere who still reads this, I will try to be more faithful about writing in the coming weeks and I will make sure I use this as a means to keep friends and loved ones posted about the transplant process and progress.
Actually, life has been pretty darned good. There have been lots of family gatherings with the children and grandchildren as well as extended family. The young adventurer, Dylan, even returned from Minneapolis for a couple of weeks this summer. His visit was a true joy with the exception of what he left behind. Dylan --- exactly WHO spilled the mocha, java, moo latte, with extra whipped cream or whatever in the back seat of my vehicle? Would the words "drive the wreck or walk" get your attention for your next visit?
The future, I'm afraid, is not so rosy. My last two biopsies have turned up a new condition, myelodysplasia syndrome --- not quite as nasty as the acute myeologenous leukemia, but nasty enough that I am facing a stem cell transplant. The truly ugly part is that it looks as though the stem cells will have to come from an unrelated donor. Not that I mind getting an infusion of stem cells from a 40ish red blooded American male, it's just that the possible complications are greater than with a transplant of one's own stem cells.
Nothing will get too far underway until after November 4th. I absolutely MUST be able to stay the course at work and complete my duties as chief election officer for the County. The upcoming election is too important and will be too exciting to sit it out in a drafty hospital gown while reclining in a less than Temperpedic bed surfing limited cable channels.
If there is anyone out there in the blue nowhere who still reads this, I will try to be more faithful about writing in the coming weeks and I will make sure I use this as a means to keep friends and loved ones posted about the transplant process and progress.
Friday, March 7, 2008
Good News and Bad News
One should never have to start their week by going to see a doctor, especially an oncologist. But, sometimes one just doesn't have a choice.
My week started with good news and bad news. The good news was really good and the bad news was just sort of discouraging. The leukemia is still in remission with no apparent signs of relapse. That's the good news. My bone marrow still has not started to produce effectively, so I am neutropenic and anemic again.
Neutropenic means being really, really careful that I don't get any type of infection or start running a neutropenic fever. It also means no fresh fruits or vegetables again. Oh,yeah, and still no raw eggs! Damn, I miss those eggs!
Worst of all, it means running around with a mask on and looking like some sort of thief or fool. But the other option is going back on house arrest and since I just barely have started to get back into the routine of the job I love, I have chosen the mask. If I am going to have to wear it for long, I need to devise something more stylish than the regulation hospital pale blue fan fold jobby-do.
I also need to stay the course at the office, because everyone else is falling apart. My right hand, the indispensable Valerie, is playing nursemaid to her husband who just had his second knee replacement in about three months and my Chief Deputy, Rhonda, finally went to have a bunion removed from her foot, only to find out that she also had no joint in her big toe. Yesterday they put in plates and screws on top of removing the bunion. I expect she will become very good friends with her percocet over the next few days and I doubt she will be rolling in with her little leg cart for at least a week.
Well, it's time to get ready to head to the office. At least it's Friday, which means I can wear jeans and I don't have to try to stuff my enlarged bottom into suit pants today. Thank goodness for small delights! And thank God for the big ones!
My week started with good news and bad news. The good news was really good and the bad news was just sort of discouraging. The leukemia is still in remission with no apparent signs of relapse. That's the good news. My bone marrow still has not started to produce effectively, so I am neutropenic and anemic again.
Neutropenic means being really, really careful that I don't get any type of infection or start running a neutropenic fever. It also means no fresh fruits or vegetables again. Oh,yeah, and still no raw eggs! Damn, I miss those eggs!
Worst of all, it means running around with a mask on and looking like some sort of thief or fool. But the other option is going back on house arrest and since I just barely have started to get back into the routine of the job I love, I have chosen the mask. If I am going to have to wear it for long, I need to devise something more stylish than the regulation hospital pale blue fan fold jobby-do.
I also need to stay the course at the office, because everyone else is falling apart. My right hand, the indispensable Valerie, is playing nursemaid to her husband who just had his second knee replacement in about three months and my Chief Deputy, Rhonda, finally went to have a bunion removed from her foot, only to find out that she also had no joint in her big toe. Yesterday they put in plates and screws on top of removing the bunion. I expect she will become very good friends with her percocet over the next few days and I doubt she will be rolling in with her little leg cart for at least a week.
Well, it's time to get ready to head to the office. At least it's Friday, which means I can wear jeans and I don't have to try to stuff my enlarged bottom into suit pants today. Thank goodness for small delights! And thank God for the big ones!
Monday, March 3, 2008
And there will be one child born in this world to carry on
On Monday, February 25th, the newest member of our family came into the world. Her name is Madeline Savina Fleenor and she is the cutest, chubbiest, sweetheart of a baby girl. Of course, she looks more like a month old baby than a newborn. Perhaps that's because she weighed in at 9 pounds, 7.3 ounces and was 21" long. She now holds the record for all our babies. Her daddy was close at 9 pounds, 6.5 ounces. Her brother Jameson is enthralled with his "Banana Girl" which is the name he gave her months ago when he found out he was having a baby sister. As his mother got ready to leave for the hospital, he asked if after Banana Girl got out of her stomach, would she be putting Banana Boy in? I guess he still wants a baby brother.
I go see the beautiful Dr. Batezini this morning. It's been about a month since I had my last bone marrow biopsy, so I expect today I will finally get the results and the appointment is not just so I can check out her shoes!
Everything has been going so well, I almost dread this appointment this morning. I am slowly getting a little more energy back. I can go all day without feeling like I'm going to keel over if I don't get a nap. I can stay up past 7:00 p.m. on occasion. I'm back to getting up in the morning between 4:00 and 5:00. I even have all my Christmas decorations down and packed away and there were times when I felt GOOD that I still had a piece or two lingering until Independence Day!
I need to be given a clean bill of health today so I can help the elections staff get ready for the May 6th specific purpose optional tax election and then it's on to the primary and general. Those are the days that I have to be at the office putting on the first pot of coffee no later than 5:45 a.m. Of course, there was that one time that I raced into the office at about 6:15 a.m. without a shower, no makeup, and hair looking like a spent dish rag because I forgot to set my alarm. There's still plenty of talk about that in the office.
I hope anyone and everyone who reads this on occasion is doing well and finding the new year treating them right. I want to again thank everyone for their concern, prayers, and good thoughts during these past several months. I know in my heart that it was because of all of you that I am still kicking today!
I go see the beautiful Dr. Batezini this morning. It's been about a month since I had my last bone marrow biopsy, so I expect today I will finally get the results and the appointment is not just so I can check out her shoes!
Everything has been going so well, I almost dread this appointment this morning. I am slowly getting a little more energy back. I can go all day without feeling like I'm going to keel over if I don't get a nap. I can stay up past 7:00 p.m. on occasion. I'm back to getting up in the morning between 4:00 and 5:00. I even have all my Christmas decorations down and packed away and there were times when I felt GOOD that I still had a piece or two lingering until Independence Day!
I need to be given a clean bill of health today so I can help the elections staff get ready for the May 6th specific purpose optional tax election and then it's on to the primary and general. Those are the days that I have to be at the office putting on the first pot of coffee no later than 5:45 a.m. Of course, there was that one time that I raced into the office at about 6:15 a.m. without a shower, no makeup, and hair looking like a spent dish rag because I forgot to set my alarm. There's still plenty of talk about that in the office.
I hope anyone and everyone who reads this on occasion is doing well and finding the new year treating them right. I want to again thank everyone for their concern, prayers, and good thoughts during these past several months. I know in my heart that it was because of all of you that I am still kicking today!
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