Last Round of Chemo

Spent 9:30-5:30 at the hospital yesterday peppering my oncologist's Physician's Assistant with questions, getting blood drawn, waiting through a 1-hour backup to get chemotherapy, sitting on an IV drip for 4+ hours, then going down to the film department to pick up a copy of my last CT scan (3/10). Brother Bob S. accompanied me throughout, unfailingly good humored and patient as a saint. I am bouyed by waves of support from him and all those who called me the night before, sent cards and good wishes, including my 93 year old friend from Northern Ireland, John McLarnon.

I went to bed last night about 10:30 and decided not to set my alarm; the upshot was I slept til almost 10:30, which I apparently needed to do. I am back on Lorazepam, being chock full of steroids once more; will wean myself off steroids by the weekend, then begin to wean from Lorazepam early next week. I am scheduled to go in for rehydration tomorrow morning, and possibly again next Tuesday -- whatever it takes to minimize the side effects that dragged me down after the last round of chemo.

Next steps: there will be a CT scan at the end of April to see what's happening with the tumors. They expect to see shrinkage and scar tissue, and there probably will be no way to determine whether the spots are scar tissue or tumor other than to watch and wait. Another CT scan in three more months may tell something or not. So this is my big opportunity to rest in the unknown, which in reality is what all of us are resting in all the time, whether or not we are aware of it or acknowledge it.

Meanwhile my travel plans are shaping up nicely: Mexico in May, Portland and Seattle in July, Ireland and Greece in August-September. I hope to start working again in May and June, since I'm running out of the receivables from last year that have supported me so far this year. Looks like there are three possible assignments, and if these pan out, they should keep me going for a while.

On the pulmonary rehab front, I'm still in negotiations with the Rehab Institute of Chicago. I wiggled my foot back in the door, trying to persuade them to let me take the classes but not the physical therapy, which I believe I can mostly do myself. It involves strength training and breathing exercises, and there's a great deal of info available on the web about this. Another Plan B option is to investigate pulmonary rehab programs at other facilities that don't bill it as physical therapy, but as something else that my insurance will cover. In short, I'm not worried about it too much right now, I'm sure something will pan out.

Meanwhile the sun is out and the weather is warming, and I'm going to take the opportunity to enjoy a walk through my neighborhood and look for more signs of spring. In my backyard tulips, hyacinths, crocuses are all struggling to make an appearance. Inside the apartment, the last of the lilies is pouring forth a lovely scent, and an amarylis is blooming nicely, in company with a Christmas cactus Kate brought over.

I'm feeling blessed and relieved right now that the last treatment has been received, and all I have to do is allow healing -- create the conditions in which it can occur -- just like watering and fertilizing flowers, and ensuring them adequate sun.