Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow?

A week ago, after swimming, I sat in the locker room combing out my hair.... literally.

As I combed, more and more hair came out in the comb.

It took me a few minutes to realize what was happening.

A few weeks ago, I commented to my oncologist that my hair did not seem to be falling out and, perhaps, I would not lose my hair this time either.

"Don't count on it," he responded, matter-of-factly.

I still have not figured out what I want to do.

I am reluctant to just "shave it all off," since I have met women who did not lose their hair with Taxol.

Some women just lose the hair on their heads; others keep the hair on their heads but lose their eyebrows and eyelashes; other women lose both; some women lose ALL their hair (including the hairs on their arms and legs).

I had always thought that I would be one of those bold women who just shave everything off. You know, the "get them, before they get you" approach.

If I knew for certain that I would lose it all, then that is what I would do. But I don't.

So I am waiting is out. Holding on to what is left. And wondering, if it all falls out, will I ever have red hair again....


Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

No Way to Avoid the War

Last night, I went to a shiur (Torah class) in honor of my friend's mother, who passed away suddenly, a year ago, from lung cancer.

The shiur was given by a neighbor and friend, AK, who just returned from three years of shlichut (serving as an emissary) to the Jewish community in Memphis, Tennessee, USA.

He dedicated the class both to my friend's mother and to all our soldiers, who are fighting in dangerous enemy territory.

There is no where you can go without talking or thinking of the war. (our good friend is live blogging the war here) Many of our friends and our friends' sons are serving in the army or have been called up from the reserves. (read my friend's moving blog about her soldier son here)

Other friends are living under daily bombardment. Some have chosen to take refuge with family or friends in other "safer" areas of the country. Most of our friends do not want to leave their homes. (you can read about how my friend from Be'er Sheva is dealing with the situation here) One friend, who lives in Ashdod, recently wrote to us:

I am afraid to say that we were lucky, since you don't know what
will happen next, but the apt on the 9th floor you've seen on TV
today, which was hit by a Kassam [rocket], is next to our building.

My son was home at the time and he didn't even hear the siren,
only the boom. We live in a 2 story bld. Fortunately we don't
appear to have any damage to our house."

Let us hope for a quieter next few days or weeks.

At the end of the shiur, it was inevitable that someone would ask the speaker if he received a "call up" to serve in the army. (All Israeli men are in the reserves until they turn 50. Every year, they spend a month in the army, practicing and retraining.) Apparently, the army felt that three years was too long to be away. "My entire unit has been called up, except me," he explained, adding "I am not too comfortable with that."

To which, one of the women in the shiur responded, "I bet your wife is!"



Please pray for peace and the well-being of our soldiers.

Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Hanukkah 2008 -- an overview

I just noticed that I never posted this! As Hanukkah was only a week ago, I thought I'd share with you just how crazy our Hanukkah was.

On the first night of Hanukkah (Sunday), nobody was home at the same time! It was disappointing not to start the holiday together. (I posted about that already, see here)

On the first day (Monday), the younger kids had school, Y was home, Moshe was sick (still) and we discovered that MD had strept throat. Again, not a very auspicious way to begin the holiday!

On the second night (Monday), we had a family get together with my in-laws (Moshe's parents, his sister and her family, and his sister's best friend, who is like part of the family) (MD was on anti-biotics for less than 24 hours, so we did our best to make sure that he did not touch anything that anyone else would touch)

On the second day (Tuesday), I had chemo (posted about the here). Moshe was still home sick, and all the kids were home for Hanukkah vacation. The younger two were supposed to have school, but, at the last moment, their school decided to start vacation with all other elementary schools. Had I not had chemo, I would have been happy for an extra day with the kids. But this left my kids home, on their own (a sick father does not count), with nothing constructive to do while I was in chemo. You can just imagine how their spent the day.

On the third night (Tuesday), I was exhausted from chemo. Everyone was home for candle lighting, which was nice. Afterwards, our youngest went to a sleepover party, our eldest ran away to youth group, and I am pretty sure that our son went to youth group too.

On the third day (Wednesday), Y went off on a two day seminar (I posted a bit about that here), and the two younger ones were home. We had a quiet day together.

On the fourth night (Wednesday), my eldest was gone (on the seminar), but the other two were home.

On the fourth day (Thursday), everyone slept in! We had a slow and easy day. Outside, the weather was cold and rainy. Inside, we were cozy and warm.

On the fifth night (Thursday), my younger two were home for candle lighting, but then my youngest went to another sleepover party, and my son went to youth group. My eldest came home late, and then ran off to her youth group.

On the fifth day (Friday), my two girls went off to a gymnastics workshop at Wingate (my youngest went straight from the sleepover). The girls came home in the early afternoon. We prepared for Shabbat and then hurried to Neve Daniel, for my nephew's Bar Mitzvah.

On the sixth night (Friday/Shabbat), we had to light candles that would burn long enough (we light candles before Shabbat/sunset, but they need to burn for at least 20 minutes after sundown), so we lit tea lights. Only Moshe lit this time, but all our kids were with us. Friday night we had dinner with our hosts. Moshe and I know the wife from our childhood; she is from our home town. And Moshe went to elementary school with the husband. We have stayed there before, so the kids know their kids and get along. Dinner was really nice. After dinner, we went to an Oneg Shabbat (a special get together, to celebrate Shabbat), to celebrate my nephew's Bar Mitzvah. That night, my youngest was very sick. She woke up several times in the middle of the night. At one point I used guided imagery to help her relax and go back to sleep. Then she slept until the morning.

On the sixth day (Saturday/Shabbat) we went to shul (synagogue) to hear my nephew read that weeks Torah portion. He read exceptionally well, loudly and clearly and at a good pace. Then we went to my sister in law's for lunch. We were almost 30 people! She has ten kids, my other sister in law has 7 kids, there were two other families, and us. It was very nice. I crashed after lunch. I was in the middle of playing games with some of the kids, and I excused myself and went to lie down on the couch. Within seconds, I was fast asleep.

On the seventh night (Saturday), we attended the celebration of my nephew's Bar Mitzvah. As soon as the speeches were over, we went home, because my youngest was really sick. We arrived home very late, so only Moshe lit candles.

On the seventh day (Sunday), Moshe took my youngest son to meet his scouts group for a two day hike, then Moshe went back to the doctor with my daughter. The doctor took one look in my daughter's throat and said "her infection is so bad, I do not see white dots, there is just one giant spot!" She started antibiotics immediately! She was so sick! Yet, when she came home, she still wanted to go shopping. I said no. (posted about that one too, see here).

On the eighth night (Sunday), my son was still on his hike, but the rest of us lit candles together. It was nice.

On the eight day (Monday), I finally took my girls shopping. They had a good time and I got most of what they needed (though not everything). I got home, exhausted. (and still lived to post the tale here)

The next day, Tuesday, life returned to "normal." The kids went back to school and I went back to chemo.

And now, a week later, it all seems so long ago!

Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Friday Fever

(This was written on Friday, but I couldn't post until now for technical reasons)
----------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't really use thermometers. If someone has a fever, I usually can tell, just by touching their forhead, if it is low or high. The exact temperature is not really that important. For myself, I usually can tell by the way I am feeling, though it is less reliable. Up until Friday, I did not think it really mattered.

Friday morning, I woke up feeling sick and miserable. My head was stuffed and I just felt awefull. Had it been any other day of the week, I would have just stayed in bed. But with two kids on antibiotics for strept throat, I did not want to take a chance of getting worse over Shabbat. So I dragged myself out of bed and asked Moshe to take me to the doctor.

The doctor on call checked me thoroughly. Unfortunately, I had a fever 38.7, and my white blood cell count was slightly low. The doctor gently directed me to go to the emergency room.

"But I just have a cold!" I protested.

"I know," he answered sympathetically, "but you also have a fever."

"I'm going to cry," I announced, sniffling.

"You are allowed to cry," he reassured me.

The doctor agreed to call my oncologist for a second opinion. To my chagrim, without any prompting, I could tell that my oncologist was instructing him to send me to the hospital.

I cried.

Moshe took me to the hospital.

On the way, I realized that I might not get back home in time to cook for Shabbat. I called my friend and asked if she could get the chickens from my house and cook them for us for Shabbat.

At the hospital, my oncologist came by the emergency room (it just so happened that he was on call today). The intake nurse had already taken my temperature, which was normal, when we spotted him.

"Can I just go home?" I asked, pleading.

"You have to follow the protocol," my doctor explained.

They would be doing a chest X-ray (to check for pneumonia), blood cultures, and blood tests, and a doctor would see me.

"But I just have a cold," I protested weakly. I could tell already that I was doomed to be there for several hours. "I just want to go home," I pronounced, to no one in particular.

The doctor walked us to the X-ray. On the way, he looked at me sternly, "I told you that if you have a fever, you need to go to the emergency room." I had not understood that this applied, even when other factors could explain the fever (like a simple virus). "What is the minimum fever?" I needed to know. 38 and above. (I would not have thought that 38 was significant enough to warrant notice.)

The X-ray technician was a friendly guy, with long curly hair. He made me laugh.

When I came out of the X-ray room, my oncologist was gone. We went back to the main area of the emergency room.

We returned to the comfortable chairs and waited.

I called Y and asked her to take care of what she could at home (the place was a wreck and I could tell that I would not be back in time to clean it up).

A few minutes later, another friend called. She heard we were in the hospital (her daughter was with Y when I called), and offered to cook some food for us. "A friend is already making us chicken and rice," I told her, "but we would love salad or vegetables." And with that, I stopped worrying about what we would eat for Shabbat.

I was still sitting around, waiting for someone to take my blood. (When the intake nurse tried to take my blood, she hurt me. To her credit, when I asked her to "please stop and get someone else," she immediately took out the needle. That said, I still have a huge bruise where she was poking around).

At 2:00, I went to the head nurse and suggested that it would be a real shame if I ended up staying in the hospital all Shabbat because they did not take my blood in time. She agreed and stopped what she was doing to help me. She used a blood pressure band to build up pressure in my veins, then found a vein in my hand. The needle hurt less than I though it would. In a few minutes, she was done.

The nurse advised me to sit patiently for 1/2 an hour, until the bloodwork is done, and then to come be "pushy."

I sat back down and drifted off to sleep. (Let's not forget that I was not feeling well)

Finally, the doctor called us in. The main blood work was done. My white blood cell count was slightly low and I had a virus (I knew that). I wondered if my count was low because of the chemo or the virus. Both, she explained, and advised me to check my blood count again on Sunday. She asked us to wait until all the test results were complete and then we could go.

It was after 3:oo when we were finally able to check out.

We got home less than 1/4 of an hour before Shabbat.

Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Here We Go Again....

A few months ago, Tzameret, one of the many leadership training groups in Jerusalem had a local congress for high school kids. Last year, Y's junior high school sent her as one of their representatives and she had a great time. There were religious and secular kids from junior high schools throughout Jerusalem, and it was an opportunity to discuss ideas with all sorts of different kids (not to mention, a chance to see friends from other schools). Y wanted to go this year too. But, since her school is full of leader-types, there were more kids who wanted to go than there were spaces available. So the seniors, who were in charge, made a raffle, and Y's name was not chosen.

Not to be deterred, Y offered to help distribute the information packets to the girls who would be attending the congress. As an aside, she asked if one of the girls could not go, could she go in their place. In the end, two of the girls could not attend, and Y was invited to attend. This year, again, she had a great time.

A few days ago, one of the girls in charge called to invite her to the national congress, in Tel Aviv. Y was less enthusiastic, but still agreed to go.

Then, last night, she approached me to discuss whether or not she should cancel.

This time, I was not emotionally invested in whether or not she attends. True, I think it is a good opportunity. But she has great classes today, including theater (which is her passion), and it is a shame for her to miss them. So, I just listened to her internal debate over the issue.

In addition to other considerations (missing school, missing swimming lessons, etc), Y was apprehensive about going somewhere new, with girls she did not know so well.

We had been down this path before.

This time, I was going to let her make the decision on her own. Besides a few reassuring comments, I basically just listened. The conversation was much shorter, and calmer than our last one. (Though not specifically referred to in this post, this issues were quite similar)

After a few minutes, she reticently decided to attend.

Still, I was not surprised to hear Y's screech this morning. I do not know what happened, but she was shouting something about not making it on time and not wanting to go.

It is amazing how calm one can be when one is not emotionally invested in an issue.

This time, I was not going to come in and "save the day." (like I did the last time)

I called Y into my room and encouraged her to take deep breaths and try to calm down. I pointed out that the group buses never leave on time. I also suggested she wear a simple and easy outfit that I knew she liked (if she took the time to deliberate what to wear, she would miss the bus for sure).

Sure enough, my daughter pulled herself together, got ready and caught the next public bus (that would take her to the group bus).

About twenty minutes later, she calmly called to update me. It was 7:59, and she was still on the public bus, at least 15 minutes away. Her friend had relayed to her that the group buses would depart no later than 8:05 (yeah, right). I had several suggestions for what Y could do, but she had already done them all! (I was so proud) Y was very non-challant. "Either they will still be there when I get there, or they won't," she declared, matter of factly. I could not tell if she would be upset or relieved to miss the bus. She seemed quite fatalistic about it.

As we were about to hang up, I suggested she try calling the girl who had recruited her in the first place. That girl, it turned out, was on the same bus as Y!

Fifteen minutes later, Y called to tell me that she was on the group bus, and could not find her friend, who must be on another bus.

I offered a few words of encouragement ("you'll meet new friends on the bus") and reminded her that she would meet her friend from school when they all got off the busses in Tel Aviv.

"Yeah, yeah," she sighed, clearly ready to get off the phone. She knew what I would say. She had heard it all before. (She remembered this) She was not especially worried.

My daughter was not calling for my assistance or my problem solving skills. She was not calling to complain either (well, maybe a little). Mostly, she was just calling to let me know. She was calling to share.

That is why I am here.



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

P.S. She had a great time!

The Power of Appreciation

Last week, I was due to receive all three of my treatments on Hanukah: Herceptin, Taxol (plus four premedications), and Zomera/Denosumab. Though I let everyone know that I did not want to come for chemo two days running during Hanukkah, I knew that possibility existed.

When I found out that I also needed to do a full body X-ray (which is done every 25 weeks for the Zomera/Denosumab study and takes around 20-minutes) my hopes for one chemo day flickered, then waned.

But, it was Hanukah, after all.

My hope flickered again, then got stronger, as I noticed that everyone was doing their best to try and help me finish all my treatments in time.

In the end, I finished all of my treatments in one day!

When I got home and hugged my kids, I was overwhelmed by gratitude.

I wanted to do something to show my appreciation to the oncology staff.

I decided to make a "Certificate of Appreciation." It was a bit challenging for me to make it in Hebrew, especially since I wanted the wording to be an accurate reflection of how I felt. But I did it.

Then, I left it at home this Tuesday, when I went in for my next treatment (just Taxol).

I thought I would at least say thank you to the staff, but I got caught up in the details of the day and did not remember until I was finished and on my way out. I realized that I could not leave without expressing my thanks.

By this point, I know that things don't happen on their own in the chemo ward. There is so much that goes on "behind the scenes." The nurses work especially hard to make sure that we receive our treatments and the care that we need.

So I went back, and found the four nurses who helped me so much the week before. One by one, I told each nurse how much I appreciated the efforts that she made to ensure that I finished in one day.

Two of the nurses were clearly moved, much more than I expected. Their reaction made me realize how powerful appreciation can be.

I have been in chemotherapy for almost a year and a half now. Most of these nurses have been my health care providers and support team for the entire time. I was not always appreciative of their efforts or their bedside manner.

In the beginning, I was confused by often contradictory behavior. I could not understand why the same nurse could be so kind one moment and so impatient the next.

Over time, I learned to recognize when the nurses were busy, rushed or pulled in a thousand different directions. I learned to ask questions during the quieter moments, like when the nurse is opening my port (and only the two of us are in the room), or at the end of the day, when most of the patients have already left, and the ward is calmer and quieter.

I also learned that the nurses know all about us. They do their homework, they talk to the doctors, and they make sure that we get what we need, even when they are understaffed, overworked, and underpaid.

And they are a tremendous source of knowledge and support.

Most days, I just take it for granted that they will do what they need to do. But, last Tuesday, I could not help but notice that every one of them was really trying to accommodate my needs. I felt like I had an entire support staff taking care of me.

One of the nurses, when I thanked her, looked at me blankly at first. "For what?" she asked. When I told her, she laughed and said, "That's history; it's already forgotten." After all, they have done so much more since then.

"Well, I did not forget," I answered back, laughing along with her, "For me, it was a big deal."



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Chemo Day -- my last Tuesday

It was difficult to say goodbye to the many friends who only come to chemo on Tuesdays.

When I arrive, so many friends great me with smiles and hugs. They know me and I know them. I will miss seeing them every week.

Transitions are difficult for me.

That is one of the things I learned about myself from my son. We both feel comfortable with the familiar.

In time, I am certain that I will build similar relationships on Thursdays.

Still, those relationships take time and energy to build and foster.

I know that I have helped to contribute to a more positive environment in the chemo ward.

Over this past year and a half, so many people (patients, patients' families and friends, nurses, etc) have told me how much my smile helps to brighten their day, and how much they miss it when I am not there.

Part of me feels that maybe God wants me to spread joy and happiness on Thursdays as well.

If so, that certainly gives a higher meaning to changing the days.

Feeling that there is a purpose also mitigates some of the stress and resentment. I do not want to change days. But, if there is something good that will come from it, then that makes it easier to accept.



Please daven (or send happy, healing thoughts) for RivkA bat Teirtzel.

With love and optimism,
RivkA