A Good Start

As Momzy would say, it looks like 2011 is off to an auspicious start. Yesterday I joined Phil, Ellen, Jon, and Penny on a hike in to the Skookumchuk Rapids. At first it seemed like a foolish idea given my state of health, but I was determined to give it a go. I brought along a book and a thermos of hot chocolate in case I had to return to the car ahead of the rest, but all that extra preparation turned out to be quite unnecessary. I set my own pace and managed just fine. Didn't reach for my inhaler once! Even so, it was very nice of Jon to drive me back o'er the last quarter mile or so. Here's the happy crew during our picnic break overlooking the rapids.

Looks like the dogs were more interested in lunch than a photo op! And they didn't care about the sea lions frolicking in the water or the eagles flying overhead. In fact, the silly pups slept through one of the most thrilling moments of the day when a young eagle swooped down on Penny's car en route up to the rapids - the raptor was so focused on a still-warm roadkill lunch that it nearly flew into our windshield! A stop at the Fibre Works Gallery/Studio near Maderia Park topped off the wonderful day. Boy, did I sleep well after all that activity.

Talkin' 'Bout a Resolution

I for one am certainly pleased to have seen the last of 2010. Especially given the last days of the year were so downright nasty. After Momzy and I battled the flu bug, all of our holiday guests decided they need to experience the same, um, liberating event. Heard several other folks here on the Coast also received a virus or two over the holidays. Hope all are feeling better now and we all enjoy a healthier 2011.

Speaking of the new year, this seems like as good a time as ever to talk about the tradition of making resolutions. I admit to having a great deal of difficulty adhering to the usual diet and exercise-type resolutions. I've never smoked, so that one doesn't really count in my case. Given my tendency to embrace more atypical aspects of life from time to time if not most of the time, I have opted to be much more realistic this year when it comes to resolving to do anything. So, here are a few of my goals for 2011:

Relive My Childhood:
Okay, not all aspects of it, but certainly the fun bits. I've lived this long in spite of a candy-based diet in my youth - if nothing else, returning to that regime will sweeten my already saccharin personality. I'll explore the limits of my body parts - how many times can I make strange noises with my armpits without stopping? Perhaps I'll actually learn to "play" Flower of Scotland with my nose. Maybe I'll try rollerskating again. And read under the covers using a flashlight. It's been ages since I've tried out a swing - maybe this is the year I gather the courage to conquer the rope swing at Hotel Lake. I'll take time to ponder the stars, catch snowflakes and raindrops on my tongue. Perhaps I'll visit the old neighbourhood or get together with childhood friends. Thanks to Wayne Wou for asking about my memories of growing up in Sapperton (research for an upcoming book) - a real catalyst for thinking about those bygone days.

Acquire a New Skill:
If I hadn't forced Momzy to endure two years of accordian recitals when I was a kid, I might venture in that direction. Since I've been there and done that - and the compulsory ballet lessons - I'll have to find something else worth my time and effort. Taxidermy, while useful in some circles, doesn't have much of a place in my life as I like most of my critters lively and happy - unless they are properly prepared portions of a meal. Perhaps I'll take up chess or dominos, or learn to write in Sanskrit. If I become at least partly fluent in Middle English, I will be better able to converse with my friend Jon. Hmmm. Crossed kayaking off my bucket list last year - thanks for Ellen's lesson on the Saint John River. Might give sailing a go in 2011.

Break a World's Record:
The Ariadne Women's Chamber Choir of Sudbury, Ont., recently took its act two kilometres underground in Vale Inco Ltd.'s Creighton Mine in Sudbury - setting the new world record for the deepest a cappella performance. Anyone who has heard my vocal abilities knows I'm not about to challenge that record any time soon, but there must be something else I can do. Since I don't like Coke, I should have little trouble surpassing John Burley's collection of 600 un-opened bottles. Staff at the Tripsdrill Amusement Park in Cleebronn, Germany, created a sock line with more than 10,000 pairs, measuring 2,324.08 metres (a world record for the longest sock washing line) - I don't knit fast enough to make that many pairs of socks in my lifetime let alone have time to hang them on a line! Pendleton Weaving Mills unveiled a 453-foot jacquard blanket, the longest seamless blanket on record - I don't weave fast enough to challenge that record (Penny will tell you I've had the same blanket warp on my loom for the past 3 years!). For the record, I'm very willing to be part of group challenges such as the longest human shoulder massage chain (currently 710 participants), largest group of hokey pokey dancers (500), longest conga line of people wearing wellies (208)... Will have to think a bit more re this one. Maybe the largest ball of tin foil or rubber bands needs a new challenger.


Or perhaps I'll leave the concept of New Year's resolutions to the experts.


Jay Leno
Now there are more overweight people in America than average-weight people. So overweight people are now average… which means, you have met your New Year's resolution.

James Agate
New Year's Resolution: To tolerate fools more gladly, provided this does not encourage them to take up more of my time.


Leonard Bernstein
From New Year's on the outlook brightens; good humor lost in a mood of failure returns. I resolve to stop complaining.

Mark Twain
New Year's Day… now is the accepted time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving hell with them as usual.

Four more sleeps

Christmas is coming! Ack! Have much to do to make up for the "time out" while I was sick this past week. Turns out a flu was the cause of my grief and, thankfully, not the gall bladder. Spent part of last night in St Mary's ER with Momzy who was hit by the same bug. The attending doctor and nurse told us they had the same thing - violent vomiting and diarrhea that lasted four to 12 hours. Apparently there is a lot of this going around at the moment. Like me, poor Momzy got very dehydrated and couldn't keep any fluids down so they put her on an IV of saline to bring her levels back up. She left the ER much perkier than when she went in. Let's hope that's the end of all of that. Now, on to the Christmas baking. Anyone have a spare cup of dark rye flour for my flat bread?

Gall? Me?

The vomiting and diarrhea of Sunday/Monday may be behind me (so to speak), but I'm not feeling a whole lot better. Finally dragged my aching body to the doctor this am. Dr J is away, so I met with a locum. He suspects an issue involving my gall bladder so has ordered an ultrasound. The order is marked "urgent" so I should have it in the next day or two. In the meantime, I'm laying pretty low. Little appetite, lots of discomfort (no pain) and general aches, so I'm heading back to bed. Hate to think the gall bladder - or any other organ - is involved. For once, I'm hoping I have the flu. In any case it sure beats having the measles like I did one Christmas when I was a kid.

Bad Night

Call it a not-so-gentle reminder that all is not as well with me on the molecular level as it might be.

Picture it (or not, especially if you are reading this during breakfast, lunch or similar happy time). I had just slipped into freshly cleaned jammies, was snuggling into my cozy bed for some much welcomed sleep when the mid section of my body suddenly woke up. Without any prior warning (aside from a very delicate belch), I embarked on a program of projectile vomiting and diarrhea that would last from 11pm to 6am. Things would just settle down when they started up again in earnest with each episode being worst than the one before. Trust me when I say I have renewed respect for any parent who has experienced an exploding diaper or a very, very sick child with tummy issues. Without being too overly graphic, things got so bad at one point that I scrambled to fashion a pair of diapers from a green garbage bag so I could at least lie down between each eruption without causing any further damage to my newly renovated house. (Sadly, that new house smell is no more.) Suspect the root cause of my malady lay in a bag of potato chips - although it didn't smell or taste rancid and the best before date is long into the future - or something else I ate yesterday. Regardless, aside from the events that lead to my hospitalization in March, I cannot recall ever having such an experience. Today I plan to devote as much time as possible to laying in bed as it is still the most comfortable position at the moment. Hope to catch up on some of that missed sleep. Momzy will be pleased to know that I am taking every opportunity to drink plenty of water - amazing how quickly the body becomes dehydrated.

Let's hope the rest of the week is far less dramatic.

Capecitabine

My oncologist has sent me some more information about Capecitabine (Xeloda), the Plan B drug she told me about a couple of weeks ago. The information comes from the BC Cancer Agency Drug Manual, a more reliable source than Wikipedia and other online medical advise sites where I gleaned my initial information.  That is not to say the information from any source is particularly appealing. The BCCA information lists side effects in the order in which they might occur. The least savory of the lot - the hand-foot skin reaction - appears at the top of the list, with nausea/vomiting, diarrhea, sore mouth, decreased white blood cells and platelets, and fatigue falling further down the list (in the order that I have written them here). Apparently my skin will be more susceptible to sunburn as well. Hair loss, it seems, is a very rare side effect of this drug.

It is the hand-foot skin reaction that scares me most. As I've said before, I care far less about the length of my life than the quality of it. Should I beat the prognosis and live well past the one year I should have remaining (statistically speaking, as soon as the cancer entered my lungs I was only expected to live another two years max), I'll be damned if I want to spend the entire time confined to my bed, comfortable as it may be. As long as I continue to feel as good as I do at present, I intend to do some serious traveling. Also plan to do more work around the garden and in the art/craft line while I'm still able to do physical stuff and activities requiring fine motor skills. These are, after all, the activities that bring me so much joy. None of these things will be possible if my hands and feet are numb, swollen, and painful. The "management" suggestions given in the BCCA bumpf state that I should avoid tight-fitting shoes and apply liberal amounts of Bag Balm to the skin of the affected areas once the hand-foot thing kicks in. That's a mighty flimsy band-aid treatment for the problem, if my previous experience with Taxol is anything to go by.

Still feel I've made the right decision for me re "taking a break" for the time being. If the pulling in my left side becomes more pronounced (i.e. if it starts occurring regularly and not only when I turn at certain angles) or if shortness of breath becomes as much an impediment to activity as it did in the early spring, I might be tempted to seek advice about other potential treatment sooner rather than later. I will, however, admit there is a very faint voice in the far recesses of my ever-greying grey matter that whispers that the present plan of foregoing treatment might not be in my best interest. A very, very faint voice. In any case, at this time I am not the least bit interested in sourcing alternative treatments - although I thank everyone who passed along info re the pureed asparagus diet, some treatments that are being pioneered in Eastern Europe and South America, etc.

When people look at me, they don't see someone who is terminally ill. I certainly don't feel it - although it must be said that I've never been terminally ill before so am not entirely certain how one is supposed to look/act/feel in such a situation. It's sort of like asking someone how they feel on their birthday, as if they somehow transform into a more mature or aged being once the clock strokes midnight. Heck, I can't honestly say that I feel a whole lot different now than when I was 42, 32, 22, or 12 - aside from the arthritis that has invaded my knee, the expansion of my waistline that makes it impossible to wear my high school prom dress (yes, I still have it!), and the unbelievable unmentionable affects of gravity on an ever-aging body. Maybe that's what it's all about! The butt stops here! Or is it here? With my luck, my butt will continue growing long after I cease breathing - unlike nails and hair (sorry to shatter any delusions of folks believing in that urban myth). I seem to remember someone saying noses and ears continue to grow throughout our lives, too. That explains so much, doesn't it? And then folks wonder why I live alone. I mean, really!

Back to flaky me

Finally have a date to see the dermatologist re whatever on my back had the surgeon so excited a couple of weeks back. Won't be able to see her until early Jan, but since I've opted to visit her office near Lions Gate Hospital, I can get in a full month sooner than if I waited for her next visit to Sechelt. Something tells me that all those summer days basting in the sun a la Johnson's Baby Oil have finally caught up with me. Either that, or my increasingly dry skin is more problematic than I suspected.

Speaking of dry skin, the area under my left eye is positively flaky - even more than my general personality, and that's saying something. I'm talking about flakes bigger than anything found in my favourite childhood breakfast cereal (obviously I never chowed on Wheaties). The area extends from my tear duct to the middle of my eye, and from the outer rim of the lower lid to the middle of my morning "bags". Fortunately, I chose to wear round-framed glasses, so the unsightly site isn't overly obvious to anyone paying me a passing glance. But it's darn irritating, and it brings with it a rather dull ache. It's like the lid is bruised from the inside. Looks very much like eczema. I've had this before, but this time no amount of moisturizer or steriod cream is making a bit of difference. Will consult Dr J if it doesn't clear up in a couple of days.

Other than that, I continue to plod along. Do notice that I've developed something of an attention deficit of late. Can't seem to do just one thing at a time, and don't seem to finish much of anything that I start. Part of the problem is that if I don't do something the moment I think of it - or at least write down that it should be done - I immediately forget about it. Gag! Is age catching up with me, too? Say it ain't so!