There's a Lot Going On

This mountain is no joke

Dear Friends:

Thanks to so many of you for checking in on me in recent weeks. I’ll keep this blog fairly short, and soon you’ll know why.

You may remember that the last time I wrote I was back at the Stanford Hospital dealing with some kind of infection — most likely pneumonia — in my right lung. What we thought would be a short visit, which included a healthy dose of antibiotics, turned into a two week stay (just like Princess Kate!) that involved an array of pulmonary specialists, surgeons, generalists, and lots of others. My case was complicated — was the source of my pain pneumonia or cancer mets, or a combination? It was all hard to tell.

I steadily improved, and came home on July 17. But I came home depleted and distressed, knowing that just days later I would need to start chemo again. And oh yes, it was also time have a check in on my brain to see if all was well in that department.

My brain MRI revealed a classic case of how you see the world. The hard news is that one small met was discovered. That’s not what we wanted. The more encouraging take is that it’s located nowhere near previous activity, and it’s easily treatable with one round of radiation. There’s also a case to make that the met was there back in the spring and was too small to detect. So my conclusion? We have a little cleanup work to do, which will happen this week at UCSF.

I resumed oral chemo in late July. This drug has a kick — lots of fatigue and a general sense of lousiness — but I muscled my way through it. So what do you do after a grueling string of days in the hospital and a chemo round and a slightly scary brain MRI? I think we all know. You head to Hawaii.

The kids and I set aside a string of days and I felt well enough that some relaxng time in the middle of the mighty Pacific made good sense.

It was all going so well. A beautiful resort, perfect weather, books, long chats, and hearing Connor’s tales of playing pickle ball for the first time.

And then. Another lousy turn. One afternoon, there was a loud banging on our door so I popped quickly thinking something was wrong. But since my red blood counts are low because of chemo, I can sometimes get a little dizzy when I stand up. I never stand up fast, and now I know why. With the banging getting louder I leapt up, took a step toward the door, passed out, fell backward, and landed on my left arm. Ouch doesn’t really cover it.

Another ambulance, another ER visit, another chapter of this is ENTIRELY TOO MUCH. The Xray revealed a small fracture in my humerus bone; I was discharged with a sling, pain meds, and sincere “So sorry about this!” well wishes from a lovely Hawaiian ER crew.

This is the part of my blog where I normally come in with a thoughtful point of view or a question or two worth pondering. But this little avalanche on my mountain is basically just that: a lousy series of weeks. Plus I’m writing this all with one hand, so even if I did have a new musing to share I barely have the dexterity to put it into words.

Trying to make the sling fashionable. It’s a tall order.

So I’ll conclude with this. This mountain still has miracles and trails to follow, and brave kids who have been in way too many ERs this summer, and a sister who shows up to help with everything from opening bottles to cooking fajitas.

And sunsets. The very best in the world. You simply have to stop, breathe, and gaze.

Keep climbing,

xoxo

P.S. — thanks to all who have read The Brave In-Between. What a joy to receive so many encouraging notes. Some have asked how they might help during avalanche times. Gift the book to others! It’s a book about staying alive, yes. But far more than that, it’s about being alive.

P.P.S — the banging on our hotel door? It was a frustrated guest on the wrong floor. :(