Five Years of Moments

When I first learned my breast cells were on a path to destroy me, thoughts of living to see tomorrow were bleak. I scrambled to purge and pack my belongings so my husband wouldn’t have to deal with them after I died. I worked on completing projects that I had been putting off finishing until life slowed down. Staying home was a choice because I was preparing to die. Leaving home to have fun, I thought, would be wasting my limited time, hours lost that I couldn't get back. 

Amazingly, here I am five years after my first treatment (May 6th, 2013) for stage IV breast cancer. The thought I might die tomorrow still enters my mind at times, but my thinking has became more optimistic. As time moved along, I began thinking I will be alive tomorrow. In fact, on days when I am feeling well I believe I will see tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. I have even entertained the thought I will be sitting at this same desk, in this same chair, writing about my 6th year of treatment for my disease. 

Over these five years I have allowed myself to relax and not think so much about dying. Staying busy has helped since it keeps me focused on other aspects of my life. Watching a television show that really adds nothing to my life except some laughter or some information about the world used to feel like I was throwing away my limited time. Now, I can watch because I have given myself permission to recuperate from work and the stresses of daily living. 

I am certain I am feeling this way because I am tolerating the treatments, my cancer is quiet, and my quality of life is allowing me to live almost as if there is nothing wrong with me. Perhaps and most likely, the biggest reason I am able to relax more today than five years ago is because my most important work is nearly finished. My youngest daughter who was 10 when I was diagnosed stage IV is now 15. A lot of relief goes with that.

Three weeks ago, though, reality slapped me hard in the face reminding me I am physically fragile. It reminded me that my rejecting the thought I could die tomorrow—or today—is fantasy. My “not dying today” mantra that I happily tell myself is in fact a lie. 

On that Sunday, I arrived at my treatment center for TDM-1 (Kadcyla #67) hoping for an event free appointment. I didn’t want to be denied treatment like I was at my last scheduled treatment. My platelets and absolute neutrophils were low. The platelets were 68,000 in 1 cubic millimeter (normal between 140 and 440,000) which is low but not so low I cannot receive treatment. But, in combination with my absolute neutrophils at 1.7 (normal range is 2.0-7.5), I was refused treatment. That day, I returned to my car and drove those 2 hours and 15 minutes home in disappointment. Thankfully on this treatment day, my platelets and absolute neutrophils were back in a good range. But, something else was amiss.

“Are you noticing any dizziness, lightheadedness, or shaking? What have you eaten today?”

“No, I feel okay. I ate a banana and drank coffee on my drive here.”

“Your glucose level is a 37.”

“What is it supposed to be?”

 “Above 70.”

“Oh.”

“The on-call doctor has spoken to your oncologist and the decision was made that you can be treated, but you can’t go home today. That glucose level is dangerous, and we can’t let you drive.”

At that moment, I felt afraid. I thought I could die . . .  today. 

Would I get to go home, ever? I am not prepared. It wasn’t supposed to end this way.”

A team of detectives, endocrinologists, were assigned to my case.

From Sunday afternoon to Wednesday evening, I sat in a hospital room waiting to find out what might be wrong. Blood tests were done to see if my adrenal glands were producing the correct amount of cortisol that works to control blood sugar levels. (Cancer can metastasize anywhere, so there was concern that my adrenal glands could be diseased. A CAT scan was done to look for metastases in my abdomen and pelvis—it was clear!) Another adrenal produced hormone, AC, was checked, too—it was a little low. With the AC hormone level low, I panicked a little. A tumor in my brain could be the reason my glucose had dropped so low. Since I am a stage IV patient, the doctors were concerned about the possibility of a tumor(s) inhibiting the function of the hypothalamus and pituitary gland that signal the adrenal glands to release its hormones. Scanning my brain was not ordered, though. The doctors wanted to do another test first.

The next test would determine if my pancreas was working and that I didn’t have a rare condition of non-diabetic hypoglycemia. I was told I could drink water but eat no food until testing was stopped. The fasting could last as long as 72 hours. In the end, luckily, I was allowed to stop at 57 hours. Yep, you read that right—57 hours with nothing to eat—a record for me. On the third day, I was feeling not as hungry and had some energy I was not expecting. Turns out, my pancreas works! And, my liver did its job too as it responded to my starvation—gotta love those ketones giving my body some needed energy. My glucose levels rose and remained in the high 70’s. My adrenal hormone that was low will be checked again at a later appointment. For now, concerns about any brain tumors have been put aside.

Being in the hospital—the first since my diagnosis—reminded me that my fantasy of many tomorrows is just that . . . a fantasy. The only certainty I have—that anyone has—of being alive at any given point in time is the one being lived at this moment. 

Each moment I have lived that has turned into five years of many moments has been wonderful. I feel so lucky to have lived each one. As soon as the fear and worry of my dying on that day subsided while I sat in that hospital bed, I returned to thinking I will be alive today and tomorrow because that is what I want to believe. I want the carefree bliss of imagining the next five years of many moments, still writing, still enjoying living. It may not happen, but for now, I am going to keep believing it will even if it is statistically and probably a lie.

Bing images

Thankful for a Thankless Job

My new job is a thankless one. Much of it involves having to continually remind the 4th and 5th graders in my care the school’s basic behavioral guidelines. Seemingly, they did not learn to respect the school’s property, themselves, and others in their earlier grades. These students are in my class because of some academic challenges, but these challenges could be remedied, I believe, with some stricter behavioral rules and expectations found outside of school. If these simple rules aren’t followed here, what rules are being broken beyond the schoolhouse doors?

Teacher burn out, want of higher pay, societal ills . . . come see my classroom for a day. It will all make sense.

I have had some mean comments made to me like: “You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my mom!” “You’re old.” “You’re ugly.” And, “Get your wrinkly hands away from me.” All that spewed at me by an eleven year old child. A child with no boundaries about what he should and should not say. A child who doesn’t understand he is taking valuable learning time away from his classmates with his disruptive behavior. Even if I knew the intricacies of his life outside of school, I am certain I cannot give him what he needs in a class of 20 students that I manage alone since the lead teacher resigned two weeks ago. 

Then there are a few girls who struggle for power. They try to control the classroom and to control their sometimes friends/sometimes not friends. They yell demanding respect while giving no respect to anyone.

I tell these children: walk down the hall quietly; respect others; don’t call each other names; treat the classroom equipment with care; keep your feet on the floor; please stay in your seat; please pick-up your trash . . .

Why can’t they get these simple rules? It blows my mind!

My body has no more to give the world when I finally reach home. Yet, I get up and do it all over again the next day.

Besides the additional income, and the thrill I experience when a child finally understands what to them seemed incomprehensible, those four hours telling kids to be quiet during homework, drilling three times nine, or learning about idioms, I almost forget my diagnosis. That alone is reason enough to keep going to a thankless job; one that I am thankful for. 

1,800 Miles of Summer

Sometimes cancer sits in my mind quietly. Those are the best of days. With my scan results bringing good news at the end of June, my summer hopes became plans.

Kay and I

Before launching into my biggest plan of the summer, I took a short trip--well, two hours one way--to see a friend who was staying in North Myrtle Beach. Our history goes all the way back to the late 80's. Shortly after she moved into my apartment, we became friends. Sharing the same birth date in November was a bonus to our relationship. On the day we turned 21, we waited till 12 am to go to a bar and have our first legal drink. That day would not have been the same if Kay had not been a part of it. Our recent time together was short. Nevertheless, I enjoyed every minute.

As the end of July approached, I had everything in place for our grand trip taking us through several states. The reason for this trip came as a result of my daughters, having just graduated from college, heading to their first post-college jobs. They were moving far away from home, and I was determined to take part in it.

Leaving the men at home to work and take care of our many animals, the girls and I embarked on this whirlwind of a trip. Before going directly to the places my daughters needed to be, we took a few detours. One to see an old friend and another to spend some time with my sisters and their families. First, we headed southwest to Atlanta, GA then north to Georgetown, KY, on to Cleveland, OH, east to Washington DC, and finally, we traveled south toward home. With dozens of hours passing and many miles of road under us, our journey was executed with only a few unexpected events along the way.

Since my van's odometer shows a number close to 330,000 miles, we decided to rent a car--a brand new black Kia Sorento. The pick-up when I pressed the gas pedal was appreciated, but this old body of mine was wishing I had the familiar seat of my van putting me at just the right height for the sun visor to keep the blazing ball of fire in the sky from hindering my ability to see all that was before me.

Me.....Meredith

Our first stop, Atlanta GA, is the home of a woman I met during my first chemotherapy infusion in 2009. She was a fantastic walking partner—fast was her only speed. As we walked she lent me her ear while I lent her mine. We shared our fears, struggles, and laughable moments through chemo and beyond. Almost a year ago, she moved away from Wilmington, and I had not seen her since.

After an evening of pizza and conversing, we settled in for a good night sleep. The morning brought hopes of a good day for travel. Meredith prepared coffee, and we spent time enjoying the morning air from her back porch. Her breakfast sandwiches were eaten and time passed too quickly. A few pictures were taken, our farewells were said; Kentucky was waiting.

As we drove my youngest daughter saw unfamiliar landscapes that brought awe to all of us. Living near the coast, land is mostly flat so mountainous views bring lots of oooh’s and ahhh’s. Such amazing work has been done by people constructing roads and buildings on the sides and over the tops of mountains. We marveled at the beautiful fields that could be seen for miles upon miles. Where we call home there are miles and miles of farm land, but it is not always easily seen. After a few acres, without the benefit of being atop a mountain, trees eventually obstruct our view.

Debbie and I

We reached my sister’s home about an hour behind schedule—not bad I thought. Upon arrival our adrenaline raised a little as we prepared for what we were about to do. My sister and her family live on the side of a hill with a waterway below—actually just one continuous mountain if you consider how high we were above sea level. The decent of her driveway is quite unnerving if you don’t do it often. The small hump at the top sent our vision over the treetops. Then the nose of the car began to point downward—yikes! Thankfully, our brakes were in peak condition so we didn't slide into her garage.

Debbie took the picture.
Trevor was at work during these pictures.

Dinner was prepared that evening and good conversations were had by all. The following day we went into town to see my sister's dog grooming shop. It was beautiful. Funny way to describe a fur-cutting assembly line I know, but it was BEAUTIFUL!—clean, organized, ready for business.

Throughout that day our children were getting along splendidly making this visit one of the better ones.

Next, as was planned, we moved all our things from this sister’s house to my other sister’s house so we could spend time with her and her family. She lives in the same Kentucky town so it was an easy transition. We had plans to go to the zoo, but with the temperature in the upper 90’s and the threat of rain we stayed inside. That evening everyone moved to her backyard for some good fun playing corn hole--basically horse shoes with bean bags.

Donna and I

The following evening my sister treated the kids to roller-skating. I sort of regret not participating, but I had a nagging thought, What if I break my leg or worse. So I refrained. Instead my sister and I chatted while watching the kids and her husband cruise along on their wheels. Well, most everyone cruised. My youngest daughter had never been skating before so her cruising was stop and go. That didn’t prevent her from enjoying herself despite the many bruises inflicted to her knees with each fall.

Cousins (and one boyfriend)

Bing Images--Cleveland's Chandelier

Cleveland, OH was our next destination. It would become the new home for my eldest--by 20 minutes--of my twin daughters. As the miles increased on our odometer, the sites of the Cleveland area came into view. Gone were the rolling hills of Kentucky and Ohio. What we saw were acres and acres of concrete roads and buildings rising out of the land. Steel production and other industry were evident everywhere. All of that was forgotten though when we reached the district where she would be working. The efforts to bring theater to Cleveland and energize the city were visible. One odd attraction is an enormous outdoor chandelier in the middle of the theater district. It is certainly unexpected but eye-pleasing nevertheless.

While taking in the sights of the rest of the city, two billboards caught our attention:

Bing images--Donald Trump and Ted Cruz

The bottom line says:
We are not going to live forever
so why should the earth.

The Republican convention had been held there just under a week before we arrived so billboards such as these should not have been a surprise to me. But, I was surprised.  I don't believe I would ever see billboards such as these where I come from. We had to drive pass them one more time to make sure what we saw was ACTUALLY what we saw.

Excited is one way to describe how my daughter was feeling as we toured her new home. The living accommodations, I found were beyond my expectations. I felt comfortable leaving her there, but I couldn't hold back a few tears as we said our goodbyes on her new front porch.

After moving her things into her new home which she will share with 15 other people also working for this theater production company, we headed to our nation’s capital. Despite some rain limiting our visibility, Pennsylvania, Maryland and Virginia were beautiful from the viewpoint of the roads we traveled. The greenery of the farmland was spectacular.

My second daughter was due in DC the following day for training in preparation for her new job. The group would fly to Japan the day after to spend the next year helping Japanese children learn English. There was no way I could take her to Japan, so I had to accept that Washington DC was my stopping point.

As we were approaching our exit for the hotel we had booked in Virginia, we heard the sound of metal scraping against metal on the right side of our car. Feeling a jolt, our car was pushed slightly left. It took me a few seconds to adjust my brain to what was happening. We had been hit. The gray Toyota Camry that side-swiped us sped up and moved in front showing no sign of stopping. My daughter sitting next to me called 911 while I pursued the car to get the car’s plate number. I blew the horn hoping to get some kind of reaction from the driver. Mostly I blew my horn because I was mad. I had done my best NOT to damage this car and this person changed that. How careless and all in an effort to not have to get behind me as a line of orange barrels forced traffic to merge into my lane.

As I followed the hit-and-run offender my daughter read the tag number to the operator. The 911 operator insisted we stop following and pull over, so we did. Our location was relayed to an officer who arrived quickly. Behind him another patrol car parked. The first officer gathered all the information. Then after asking me to follow him to a safer area to park, he asked that we wait. He and the other officer left to find the driver. There we remained going over in our minds and to each other what had happened. Once the two men returned, I was given the driver’s insurance information and a few other details that my insurance company would need--incidentally the driver lived close by. I asked the officer what the driver said about the accident. His reply was, “She doesn’t remember hitting you.”

“What? How? I said.

“Around here a lot of people say they aren't aware they hit someone." Based on our conversation prior to my question, his response suggested to me that where he once lived, in South Carolina, people didn't drive like that. The officer ended our conversation by telling us to be safe. I closed my window, put the car in drive and began listening to the familiar voice of the GPS guiding me to the hotel.

Although I was determined to give the car back to Enterprise Rent-A-Car unscathed, this incident again proved that most things are out of my control. For now my insurance company will be investigating the accident. Hopefully they will find her responsible, and her insurance company will pay for the damages.

Weary, hungry, and thankfully unhurt, we made it to the hotel parking lot as the midnight hour approached. It was much later than we planned, but we made it.

On the final day of our trip, we went to Dulles International Airport to see my daughter spend her last few hours on US soil; for now Japan would be her new home. As she was walking to greet her group and my youngest daughter and I were walking back to the car, she turned in our direction. We turned at the same time finding her smiling face and her hand waving goodbye. Those moments when goodbyes are necessary, I try so hard to make them a permanent visual memory. Because living is fraught with uncertainties, the "what ifs" pounded inside my brain. It was hard, but we waved back.

My youngest and I, settling back into the car less weighted down with suitcases and people than when we started, began our drive home. Movement for a long while on an interstate in Virginia was slow. We never saw an accident, but there must have been one. Traffic was inching along on another roadway as well making sitting exhausting. This was all unexpected since it was not rush hour traffic. It was a Saturday for crying out loud!

Once we were in North Carolina we sailed home. “Nothing could be finer than to be in Carolina”--to use a line from an old Dean Martin tune--describes exactly how we were feeling. A familiar world met our eyes. After nine days of traveling and approximately 1,800 miles later, we made it home.