Cabernet and Carboplatin

The more I walk, the better it gets, or one would hope. At least my right leg is doing well. It has mostly healed from my Mexico City fall, and I am back to walking around the house sans cane. Unfortunately, the more I walk, the more my left leg, with its 22-year-old knee replacement, is not happy. It gives, which contributed to several near-falls in Mexico City, and may have resulted in that pretty bad fall I took. It also locks, clicks and is altogether not a happy knee. A couple weeks ago I saw a physican's assistant and today I saw an orthopedic surgeon. Unhappy with previous x-rays and a CT scan, he accompanied me back to x-ray, and he had them take quite a few until he was satisfied. When we got back to the exam room he showed me what he and the PA had suspected: the plastic piece in the replacement had worn down, causing me trouble. We discussed options: the first, which I am starting immediately, is wearing a brace. He admitted though, that this would be a temporary

And not nearly traumatic as the last time. While I tripped a couple of times this week, today I took an actual fall. We were headed to the Anthropological Museum and my foot got caught in a grate. Down I went. I laid there for a minute and could tell I couldn't walk. Len had reserved a wheelchair for me at the museum, and Lisa went in to see if she could bring it to me at the base of the plaza where I took the fall. Moments later she returned with the wheelchair, and while still in a lot of pain, I managed to climb aboard. At that point I could barely breathe, but I was convinced I would start to feel better in a bit. As Jerry pushed the chair around the museum the pain did begin to subside. I am thankful that this museum is fairly new, and it is equipped with ramps and all things accessible. Our amazing tour guide, Emanuel, made sure I could see evetything. He was incredible and I learned so much. We stayed and had a great lunch at the museum and then called an Uber. A museum

While I am getting more and more independent and mobile every day, my biggest challenge continues to be the shower stall. I need a shower easy to get into, hand-held, with a stool, which is specifically why I reserved this particular Airbnb in Mexico City. Bars by the toilet, while not totally necessary, would make life easier, and everything on one floor. Ideal. While Aero Mexico says it has WiFi on flights, it did not work on our flight, wnd so I settled in to watch a film I had downloaded. Wicked Little Letters with Olivia Coleman was great fun. But partway though the flight Lisa texted us asking if we had seen the message about our Airbnb. I explained WiFi wasn't working (though texting was for some reason) so no. She told us there were torrential downpours that day and our apartment had leaks, but they had another apartment in the building, with the plan that we would stay in it for two days and then move to the original apartment. At this point what could we really do bu

My urologist called me this morning and told me the cancer had not spread to the lining of my bladder. So no more chemo, but I will have to be checked with a cystoscopy every four months. I am so incredibly relieved. My understanding is a cystoscopy should be fairly simple without the kind of lingering effects I had with the surgery and chemo. I was not feeling great for a few days, but by Friday evening felt good enoigh to go to Blue Pit for jackfruit barbecue. And Sunday I spent the day at an off-site Barcs event. While I was at the shelter Sunday before the event I met a little old lady kitty named Macchiato. She was skin and bones, scruffy, but had the biggest purr when she got out of her little bed to greet me. At 18, she likely does not have a ton of time left, but I was determined she was not going to die alone in the shelter. If her pleas for a rescue went unanswered, I was going to bring her home. But this must be a week for good news. A rescue is picking her up today. A

Today I had my bladder surgery. I was my surgeon's first patient of the day, which meant getting to the hospital at 6 am, but it also meant I'd get out early, which was good. But, as usual, everything took longer than imagined, and it was not without its little twists and turns. Seems the staff assigned to me had never had a patient with a removable leg. Patients normally walk to the OR. One staffer seemed a little flummoxed, but another got a transport wheelchair and off I went. All were impressed at how easily I climbed on to the operating table. The surgery went well, but I admit I was in more pain than I had imagined, particularly because I was not prepared to get a dose of chemotherapy after the surgery. It was infused directly into my bladder, and then I had to wait an hour. That's when the drugs came in. After oxycodone, fentanyl and zofran, I was in far less pain, but pretty loopy. Despite that, I do remember what the surgeon said. Which was-- until the path

This week, six years ago, I had my last chemo. It seems like a lifetime ago. My check-ups have gone from every month, to every three months, and now to every six months. A big Woo Hoo. Also, just about this week two years ago was when I got hit by a bus in London. I went from not being able to walk or use my arms to where I am now-- walking with a cane and even driving a car. I'm back volunteering at the shelter and taking Pilates. A couple of weeks ago I starting getting pretty bad heartburn, which I had six years ago. It led me to a gastroenterologist who ultimately diagnosed my ovarian cancer. So when it returned, I made an appointment with a gynecological oncologist who scheduled a CT scan. The good news was there was no ovarian cancer recurrence. The not so good news, or should I say the up in the air news, was that the CT scan showed a mass in my bladder. A small mass-- only about a half inch-- but a mass nonetheless. Today I saw a urologicsl oncologist. I was hoping he