Cabernet and Carboplatin

Yesterday, my birthday, I had three different appointments at Hopkins. Wound care, echocardiagram, and occupational therapy. Then there are days like today when I am parked on the couch, surfing the web, maybe watching a video or reading a book. Or thinking. I think we all have images of ourselves that are enhanced by how others see us. and I, for one, feel a need to live up to this image. "You're so strong" "You are amazing." And I AM strong. And I AM amazing. But Im also overwhelmed. And at times very sad. The rehab team at Hopkins assigned me a therapist-- how great is that! We do zoom calls every other week. We had a call on Monday and I recounted an incident to her, and described it as a "pity party." After my description of what happened, my therapist had what was really a fairly obvious insight. I wasn't having a pity party; I was grieving. And considering what I have been through, it's not just expected-- it's encouraged. And

I go to Occupational Therapy twice a week, and the last few sessions have focused on my right arm. There a a large plate and lots of long screws starting at my shoulder and working its way down. It is both mezmorizing and horrifying to look at the x-rays. That bone must have been pretty pulverized. At this point the bone is pretty well healed, but the muscles have a lot to say about the situation. I am sure they had to be moved all over the place to get my arm looking like an arm again. Today, my OT,Kaitlyn, started the session with heat. which I think of as my spa time. Parrafin on my left clenched fist, a pad under my right elbow, and another pad on my left upper arm and shoulder. She then went to work on the right arm, using their version of cupping on it. After that, we started me moving the arm-- side to side, up and down. There is one particular spot that does not want to release. But I will keep working. I went back to acupuncture yesterday to see if that could help, and wi

My caregiver, who has been coming on Wednesdays and Fridays, is having a difficult pregnancy and had to quit. Her boss, who runs the small agency has filled in, but Jerry and I are looking hard at what I really need. My biggest issue, and really my only issue, is getting to the portable commode, or if I am in bed, using the bedpan. A friend who works from home is set up to come on Mondays. She came this past Monday and the one time I needed a bedpan everything was fine. oh, and she also made me a sandwich for lunch. She runs a small nonprofit so the bit of extra income is helpful, and she can work undisturbed. If I could find three Annies our problems would be solved. For me, it really is perfect. No one is hovering; no one is trying to invent things to do. I can read, relax, without worry that I have someone in the house to keep busy. I am months away from being able to bear weight on my arms. The frustration is overwhelming. My left leg is kickass strong. That my arms are taking

Who knew having one's chest sawed open would be so tiring. Since I got home on Saturday, I have barely left the bed. This little adventure has definitely pushed back my rehab and recovery, likely by months. No lifting until December, which means no weight bearing, so no crutches or walker. I am doing my best to take this in stride, but it's damn hard. My dear friend Nancy's son Nathan, when he was two or three, had a favorite expression: That Not Fair! I hear that little voice in my head multiple times a day. But then I play the it could be worse game. I could be dead. I could have no chance of recovery. I'm not dead. And to some extent, I will recover. I am honestly unsure how I would cope with another setback. Is it three strikes, you're out? If you count my ovarian cancer, I've used them up. But I think I know better. I don't want to play comparisons or can you top this, but despite it all, my life is pretty good. I have a loving spouse and wonderf