Crazy Days: I don't have time to be sick, there is too much to do!

5:00 in the morning, I woke up coughing my head off. Finally, I got out of bed to take some cough syrup and suck on a heavy duty cough drop. For lack of anything better to do, I surfed the web while waiting for the cough syrup to kick in.

For those of you who don't know me so well, I am definitely a night owl. I NEVER get up that early in the morning!! In fact, I often sleep 'till 9:00, and that has nothing to do with chemo!

By the time I was ready to go back to bed, the kids were up and the house was rocking!! I lay down in bed and waited for the quiet.... then.... ZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzz

At around 10:00, someone called (the nerve!!) and that was it, I was up.

Then, the big question: do I teach swimming today??

I did not feel well, but I hate cancelling class. And I already cancelled swimming for next week (I am going away, on the Beit Natan winter retreat)

I kept putting off the decision, thinking that maybe I'd feel better in a few hours. Meanwhile, I spent the time taking care of paperwork that had been piling up. (there is still a lot more to go, but I did enought to feel productive!). Luckily, I could do most of the work sitting down.

I finally decided to consult my GP. He is always advising me not to go in the water when I am sick (and I almost always badger him with questions until he cedes that it is probably ok if I do it anyway).

Wouldn't you know it? When my doctor called me back, he said it was ok for me to go in the water! He said it sounded like I have sinusitis that is getting better by itself. While there is a chance that going in the water can make it worse, if that happens, he'll just treat it with antibiotics. He told me that it might take another week before I feel better and suggested that I do not limit my activities.

What a dilemma!!

By the time I decided that I should follow my instincts and cancel class anyway, it was too late. Trying to do the juggling to cancel class was more difficult than just showing up and teaching! So, I went.

Like always, once I got in the water and started teaching, I felt better! But, I must admit that after 45 minutes in the water, I started to get a bit chilled. And by the time I was done with my third class, I was downright cold!

I took a quick break, and stood under a steaming shower for 3 minutes. I would have loved to stay longer, but I did not want to keep my kids waiting (especially since I did not want to stay too late).

Today, thank God, I brought a robe to wear so I would not get chilled when I got out of the pool to teach my advanced swimmers.

I was also really disciplined and talked really quietly during all my classes, so as not to strain my voice even further. (I have a voice again, but it still hurts a bit when I talk)

Unfortunately, my kids were less than cooperative today, and I did not have the patience to deal with them. Why is it that it is harder to teach my own kids than anyone else's?!? When I tell other kids to do things, they do it. Today, my kids argued with every single instruction! (ok, not all my kids, and not with every instruction, but you get the idea!)

After swimming, I raced home, to get ready for a Bat Mitzvah.

We ended up arriving almost an hour and a half late. The Bat Mitzvah was in The Gush, in Alon Shvut. We have known the parents, S&DK for many years. Over the years, we have stayed in touch, often meeting at political demonstrations and Manhigut Yehudit conferences. It was a very moving to be a part of their simcha (celebration). Besides shared political convictions, we share a more difficult experience.

After I was diagnosed this time, I decided that I would daven (pray) for other cancer patients. For many months, I davenned for DK's father, z"l, who passed away just over a year ago.

Sharing an illness creates strong bonds. To some degree, it gives you a glimpse into the depths of another person's soul. There are feelings we all experience, that are an inevitable part of dealing with a terminal disease.

Though I do not talk about it often, death is a shadow that is ever-present in my life.

I like the new terminology, that cancer is a "chronic" disease. But, let's be honest, it doesn't get better. (at least, not yet... not until we get that miracle)

But tonight was not a sad night. Tonight was a joyous celebration of life and coming of age.

May we all merit to share many more happy occasions together!!



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

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Shabbat

Shabbat was pretty quiet.

Moshe and I were both getting over colds, so we kept things pretty simple.

With no guests, and Y at a friend's (see previous post), A and MD got some extra attention.

MD spent a lot of time playing with his "Diablo" (never heard of it? see here). He even taught his sister how to juggle with it!

I basically slept all Shabbat.

Our Shabbat Seudot (meals) were very nice, and I managed to stay at the table (awake) for the entire meal. I have not done that in a while.

Despite needing to rest a lot, I found some time to read to my kids, which I also have not done in a while. I read the first two chapters of one of my favorite books: Follow My Leader, by James B. Garfield. I remember this book as being really influential. It will be interesting to read it again as an adult.

I feel a lot better, but, unfortunately, I still do not feel well. I am still very tired (despite not receiving chemo this week).

And I am still, as we say in my family, "a pony" (i.e. I am a little hoarse).

The doctor said that my voice will come back quicker, the less I use it.

Hah!

What can I say.... it is hard for me to keep my mouth shut! ;-)



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

With love and optimism,
RivkA

The Next Generation

On the first day of school, a girl from her class approached Y and said "I hear your mom blogs all about you and your family. My father blogs all about me and my family too. You have my sympathies." (loosely quoted from my sketchy memory, but you get the drift)

Three days ago, my daughter called me to ask if she could spend this Shabbat at her friend's home with some other girls from their class. When I asked where she wanted to go, she answered "to A; you know, her father also blogs...."

It is so bizarre when our virtual worlds and our real worlds collide....



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

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Chemo Day -- Herceptin: YES, Taxol: NO

Apparently, a "little break" is one week.

I received Herceptin today, but no Taxol. My next Taxol treatment will be next Thursday.

I was a little nervous about skipping the treatment, but my oncologist was pretty insistent. When I pressed him about it, he offered to give it to me if I was willing to sign a waver, taking full responsibility for any possible complications. I politely declined, to which he responded "I thought that's what you'd say."

So, I will focus on kicking this cold, which is pretty much taking up all my energy and then some.

I felt a bit better this morning, but by the time I got home I was wiped. I went straight to bed and slept for three hours!

At least I got the Herceptin. (This dose was the free dose provided by Roche)

We still hope to make an evaluation before I am due for my next dose, in three weeks.



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

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Cancer vs. The Common Cold

It occurred to me that having a cold might affect my ability to receive chemo tomorrow.

I emailed my oncologist, who wrote back: "come and we will decide tomorrow--sounds like you will get a little break"

What does that mean?

Do I have the nurses open my port as usual?

I am scheduled to receive both Taxol and Herceptin. If "we" (and by "we," I mean "he") decide to postpone treatments, do we postpone both medications? By how long? A few days? A week? What is a "little break?" (To me, a "break" would be at least a month! We know that is not happening, as we have already established (here) that we can not postpone the Herceptin by more than a week)

Last week, my doctor told me that we would evaluate the efficacy of my treatments in the next two weeks. How does postponing treatment affect our ability to evaluate if the drugs are working?

All these questions, just because of a stupid cold, from which, we agreed last year (see here), cancer patients should be exempt!

It seems that when push comes to shove, the common cold trumps the cancer card!



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

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Sick Again

I have a cold… again.

I made the mistake of going to the doctor... again.

I did not have fever this time, so I though I was "safe." I just wanted cough syrup, so I could sleep better. (Besides, I was wheezing, and it sounded spooky)

I might have slept in anyway, but Moshe woke me because he and Y were going to the morning walk-in-clinic and it made sense for me to go with them.

The first thing the doctor on duty did was take my temperature, which was normal. (told you so!)

So, imagine my surprise when the doctor sent me to Maccabi (my health care supplier) for blood work, cultures and an x-ray!

"But I have no fever!" I protested.

The doctor was unmoved.

I grasped at straws, and asked him to try calling my oncologist for confirmation. My oncologist did not answer the phone. The doctor left a message (that helps... NOT).

I asked how irresponsible it would be to just ignore his advice.

As my father always says "If you have to ask, you already know the answer."

Now, it is true that going to Maccabi was certainly faster than going to the emergency room. And, given that I was finished with everything in less than an hour, it might very well have been faster that going to the oncology day ward. BUT, what I really wanted was to go home and go to bed.

Do I really need to do this every time I have a cold?



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

With love and optimism,
RivkA

Haircut

I was hoping that I would be lucky this time too.

Despite a few days of hair loss, most of my hair remained on my head during the past year or so of chemo. So, when my hair started falling out this time, I hoped that it would stop after a few days. (Never mind that my doctor said it would probably not fall out last time and that it probably would fall out this time -- feelings are not rational)

It has already been two weeks, and every day I comb out more hair.

A few days ago, I posted here about losing my hair. I cross-posted on Mothers with Cancer (here). My friend, Mary Beth Volpini, commented on the post:

I read a great saying a long time ago …
”If you don’t know what to do…don’t until you do.”

The simple truth of those words touched my inner soul.

I was not yet ready to say good-bye to my hair.

I was torn. Though I was not yet ready to "cut it all off," I wanted to save part of my hair. I wanted to save my braid, which was getting thinner and thinner every day. I did not want to wait too long.

The other night, I watched several YouTube videos of women with cancer who shaved their heads.

Several mothers chose to involve their children in the shaving/cutting. I thought this was a great idea. When I first suggested it to my girls, they were appalled by the idea. I let it go. Not every good idea is good for every family.

Today, after swimming, I had to ask a friend to help remove all the hairs that fell off and stuck to my back. That was it. When she asked me "why don't you cut it short?" I realized the time had come.

On our way home, I mentioned to A, who was the only child with me, that I wanted to cut off my braid tonight. We talked a bit about our feelings.

"It makes me sad," A said sweetly, "I like your hair."

"Me too," I admitted.

We were quiet for a few moments. Then I asked her, "Would you like to help me cut it off?" Without hesitating, she answered "yes."

When I got home, I told Y that I was going to cut off my braid and that A was going to help cut it. Then I asked her if she wanted to help cut it off too. To my surprise, she also answered yes right away.

I then asked MD, who answered just as quickly "I am not part of this." We all laughed.

I told Moshe, who asked, surprised, "You want to do this now?"

I was hurrying to get ready for a simcha (celebration), but the timing was right.

"I want to do this now," I answered, definitively.

I got our our barber shears and gave them to Y, who began cutting off my braid. Then, she passed them on to her sister. While A was cutting, Y came around to give me a hug. I felt surrounded by love and caring.

It took less than five minutes. I combed my fingers through what was left of my hair.

"It looks cute," Y said. Then she noticed that the ends were not even. She took the shears, studied my face, and evened out the ends. "There," she stated when she was finished. "You should put in some clips to hold the hair out of your face," she added, and ran to get some for me.

And then it was done. I went to get dressed for the simcha.

"Nice haircut," said one of my friends, later in the evening, noticing the short ends sticking out from under my scarf.

I smiled, and she realized why I cut it.

"Still," she said, acknowledging the loss, "it looks good on you."



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

With love and optimism,
RivkA