Cabernet and Carboplatin

So much better today. Along with chemo-lite came anti-nausea drugs and steroids. The steroids perk me up, wake me up, and make me hungry. I felt human today. And a blessedly short day at Hopkins. Home by one pm. I made myself some soup and read a bit. And actually thought about dinner. I had made pasta sauce last week and it was in the fridge, so I had dinner planed. I had used San Marzano style tomatoes. Key word: style. I miss San Marzano tomatoes. I would buy pounds and pounds at the San Rafael farmers market and cook up pots of sauce. The best sauce. Tonight’s wasn’t bad; just not San Marzano. I threw in some frozen chicken meatballs, took a baguette out of the freezer and opened a Napa Cabernet. I used lentil pasta, which we like pretty well. After dinner we gave poor Stella her fluids. I feel bad that I don’t give them to her every day, but last week, it just wasn’t in the picture. This week she will be well hydrated. It feels so good to feel good.

I know I can’t wish my life away but I keep hoping for a better day. I thought it would be today. But not so much. Last week was my triple-play chemo week and it did me in on so many levels and in so many ways. Feeling sick all week, and getting dehydrated enough to pass out on the way to and from the bathroom. Again, Jerry was there to help me. I don’t really remember what happened but there is a big knot on the back of my head and a destroyed lamp for evidence. I am working hard at drinking more water and eating more. I’m not generally hungry but I know I’ve got to eat. After blood work today Jerry and I stopped at the Golden West in Hampden for lunch. Considering I was not the least bit hungry I did well— an un-chicken sandwich and fries. I ate almost all of it. Yay me. This week I have also been plagued with constipation. I feel like I’m trying to pass boulders. Upped my laxatives which has helped. And water. More water. Next week will be the opposite. I did have a bit of a r

Anyone who has known me well has known about Fernando. He was a big tabby cat I adopted years ago at the Baltimore Humane Society. He was a therapy cat at a traumatic brain injury unit at a hospital; he would get in bed with anybody. He was amazingly intuitive. He was my soul mate. When he died I mourned him like no other. It has been years and I still miss him every day. Right now our household has four cats, ranging in age from 21 to 3. Stella, 21, is our hospice girl. She gets her own room and a heated bed and fluids for her failing kidneys. We’ve had her for a year. She was surrendered to a shelter and there was no way she was going to live out her life there. Then there is Boo, who came a couple years ago with her sibling Sully. We had Sully only nine months and he was a sweetheart. Boo, at 14 is a scardy cat but very sweet. Sophie, a tiny orange girl arrived recently. She is about six and a love bug. A friend had to move and couldn’t take her, so here she is. We love her. T

This is my “bad” chemo week. The Carboplatin is rough and makes me very sick. But they added another drug to the regimen— a steroid that seems to be helping. Yesterday wasn’t great, but not nearly so bad as the last time. I was really not looking forward to today. The first round left me debilitated. I could barely hold up my head. And when I heard that the effects were cumulative, I was really dreading today. Fortunately, I had an acupuncture appointment today, and the effects of those seem to be cumulative as well. Every treatment leaves me feeling better. So much that, when we got home I was hungry. My friend Sarah had made me some soup and that sounded perfect. Oh, and it was! Full of tomatoes and vegetables and deliciousness! Helps keep me hydrated as well! So right now, I feel so content. And ready to fight another day.

On so many levels. Yesterday was marathon day. Pre-medications, three chemo drugs and a two- hour observation. Also saw my doc in the morning who didn’t have much to say. I get my best information from my clinical trial nurse. Amy is a goddess. I email her and she gets back to me in five minutes. She is compassionate, realistic and honest. I love her. So Jerry and I sat in comfy chairs for hours, ate breakfast and lunch and surfed the web. Lots of additional fluids with the drugs so I get up to pee a lot, which is good for the circulation. My nurse was chatty in a good way, and we enjoyed talking to each other. Everyone enjoyed meeting my South African penguin, Dr. Cabernetska, who oversaw my treatment. She was a gift from a group of friends. A group of us who have gone through difficult medical procedures have penguins. A club no one wants to belong to, but once in, happy to have this symbol of love and closeness. But back to stinky. Chemo pee is stinky. Chemo sweat is stinky. I a

So yesterday, to take the sting out of the incessant shedding, I had my head shaved with clippers so I still have a fraction of an inch of hair. It was neither delibilating nor exhilarating; it is just “there.” Not sure what I was expecting. The tiny shards will likely continue to shed, but at least I won’t have to worry about clogging the shower drain. Sundays and Mondays are my best days, physically, no matter what the week’s regiment was, so why do I feel like shit today? Not physically. Except for not being hungry and a few aches, I am physically fine. I just feel so at odds with myself. Is it depression? Is it sadness? Is it confusion? I’m not sure I know. Maybe it’s a combination of boredom and inertia. I feel good enough to do something, but I don’t want to. Jerry and I will go to a movie later, And that will help. But here I sit on the couch, unmotivated. I could bake. I could do laundry. I have a kitty leaning against me and right now that doesn’t even give me any solace.

It is an odd feeling when you realize the hair on your sweater doesn’t belong to one of the cats. It has started. My hair is falling out. I knew it was inevitable and ultimately I will be okay with it. But it makes me feel vulnerable. And identifiable. There goes the chemo patient. My next step is to make an appointment with my hair stylist and have her shave it off. Get it over with. And start a new phase. I am one-sixth of the way through my treatment. I have a long way to go, and I hate it. It is ironic that I have to do something that makes me so sick to get better. But today, aside from my hair falling out, has been a good day. I spent most of the night awake from the steroids that are part of my treatment, but it was not an anxiety-filled wakefulness. I have good thoughts on these nights. My mind is racing, but I’m happy. And I know once I crash I can nap. So it’s all good. This morning I met my friend Sarah at a coffee place down the street—Order and Chaos. We had good

A group of friends had a trip to Philly planned for this weekend and asked us to go, and I thought since it’s a “light” week it would be an opportunity to see how I do with some travel. Seven of us piled into Jerry’s van and headed for Philly. Our first stop was lunch at the Redding Terminal Market. It was packed, but I managed to nab a table for Jerry and me. He got us sandwiches. Oddly there didn’t seem to be a ginger ale to be found. No matter, I ate my entire sandwich— Turkey— and it was huge. It’s an odd sensation making sure I eat enough. I feel that my life has been ruled by Weight Watchers. But since the surgery and the start of chemo, life has changed. I’ve got to keep my health and my white count up. After a tour around the market we drove to our hotel and checked in. Everyone but Jerry and me went to a museum. I napped. It was raining and I have great respect for my stamina. Napping and lying around for the afternoon was definitely in order. That evening, we headed over

Word is slowly trickling out among my friends and acquaintances regarding my cancer, and everyone is very supportive. Jerry and I are handling it pretty well, and we plan to keep doing everything we can to enjoy life. I sent out a couple of “here is what is going on” emails, but invariably, I forget someone who should be included. I am in a Facebook group of people with ovarian cancer, and they are encouraging me to “come out” on my page. Their rationale is the more support the better, and cancer is nothing to hide. In theory I agree with that, so why do I feel so strange about making such a post? I don’t think I can put into words why I am so conflicted about this. So, this is where you, my friends and blog followers come in. I would love to hear any arguments, pro or con. Thanks.

Last week, Thursday was an awful day. Nausea, and feeling like I had the flu. Today is so different. It is likely because the only chemo drug I had this week was Taxol. Still took my anti nausea meds, but other than being tired (which might be a side effect of the meds) I’m good. One side effect of taxol that certainly is a new one for me is a change in bowel habits. (I told you TMI!) I have spent most of my life constipated, but no Miralax for me right now! I’m happy to say that life feels pretty darned close to normal. My hair hasn’t fallen out yet, I’m eating well, and yes, still enjoying a small glass of wine in the evening. Last night it was a 2008 Wellington Victory Reserve. Seemed kind of fitting. I am going for victory. Our stock of Wellington is dwindling, but as long as I am enjoying wine, I want to drink the good stuff in the cellar. Peter Wellington retired, and what will be called Wellington in the future will not be the same, so once the Wellington we have on hand is g

Last night, being a Monday, was my pre-chemo have a great dinner night. I have been exhausted from a hideous bout of TMJ— worst stress induced pain I can imagine, but otherwise I was feeling pretty good so wanted to have a special evening. I have yet to use my Instant Pot for anything but risotto, but I have to tell you, if that’s all I use it for it is so worth having. Risotto in six minutes? Yes, please. Well six minutes of pressure cooking, though prepping it really doesn’t take that long. Jerry worked with me because I’ve been kind of weak and tired, and he, as usual, was an excellent sous chef. He chopped and sautéed an onion in the pot, while I grated Parmesan in the food processor. Then in went the rice and white wine. Once that was absorbed, the ridiculously easy part— added the broth, closed the lid and let her rip! Meanwhile Jerry sautéed chicken sausage and mushrooms. Once the rice was done we threw that in. Yup. Done. I went downstairs to pick a wine and thought a love

When I had my first knee replacement, my surgeon called me his poster child. I walked out of the hospital unaided, did everything my physical therapist told me to do, and was cycling hundreds of miles within months. Same thing with knee number two. So I just knew I was going to kick chemo’s ass. Unfortunately, it was my ass that got kicked. On Thursday and Friday, after Tuesday’s first chemo, I was nauseated, exhausted, achy and feeling defeated. I had an acupuncture session on Thursday, and I think it helped a bit— enough that I could get down a cup of chicken noodle soup. And on top of everything else I have a killer earache that is likely coming from a tooth. Today, I wasted no time and took an anti-nausea drug first thing. And I ate oatmeal and drank a cup of black tea. Coffee does not appeal to me right now, but it usually doesn’t when I don’t feel well, so no longing looks at my over the top coffee makers. I promise you— I will be back! The caffeine in the tea seems to h

So, the night before my first chemo, Jerry thought pizza would be just the thing for dinner, and he was right. I had no idea how I would react to chemo— would food taste different? Would I even want wine? So out of the freezer came a Trader Joe’s margherita pizza. I sautéed red onion, mushrooms and garlic and threw that on top and into the oven it went. I headed down to wine storage and picked out a Ridge Paso Robles Zinfandel. Despite its youth (2015) somehow I knew it was going to be just right, and it was. Ridge Zins seem to be good no matter what. It filled my mouth with deep fruit and made the “night before” more bearable. Miraculously, I slept well until the phone alarm went off at six am. My daypack was prepacked with a new shawl, ginger cookies and candied ginger, and I slid in my iPad. Despite my nervousness, I ate some Greek yogurt and granola and we headed out. First stop was my doctor, and despite the early hour, he was running behind. The waiting did nothing for my conf