Cabernet and an Allen Wrench

The last time I marched was in 2017, right after the election. The Women’s March was empowering and left me with a lot of energy and hope. But unfortunately, Ovarian Cancer sapped away my physical energy, and I was with my friends in spirit when they marched for Climate Change and a few other issues. The past two weeks brought more protesting, more marches, and once again, I was a spectator. While I have been NED (no evidence of disease) for two years — wow!— the PARP inhibitor I am taking keeps my energy and white count low. So coupled with the risk of getting the Corona Virus, I stayed home while some of my friends hit the street. This past Saturday, I was on my way to Johns Hopkins to pick up the drug that is keeping me NED, when we were stopped by a large group marching down Greenmount Avenue. It was a diverse crowd of young. And old, black and white, carrying signs and chanting. And I was grateful to see most were wearing masks. I was happy for our timing. We got to sit for ab...

I don’t think any of us could have predicted we would have our life out on hold for such a long length of time. And I know I could never have predicted my reaction. I know I am luckier than some of my friends who are living with active disease. I am on a maintenance drug that messes a little bit with my blood count and energy, but other than that I am as normal as it gets. So why am I so frightened? As another friend wrote, I did not go through hell to survive cancer to be taken out by the Corona virus. I am afraid if I contract COVID-19 it will kill me. Maybe this is rational; maybe it is not. Jerry and I go out for a walk every day. If someone is coming the other direction I walk in the street. I don’t think that is unreasonable. We did a big shopping trip to Trader Joe’s this week, and with an every other Saturday delivery of produce, I don’t think I need to go shopping for another couple of weeks. And I think I will stick to Trader Joe’s because they are limiting the number o...

Hard to even know where to start. As someone, for the last two years, who has been keenly aware of my immune system, it has been interesting to see the rest of the world stocking up on wipes and hand sanitizers. No worries here. We have a good supply on hand. Not that I have needed it much since I have mostly been in the house, sitting on the couch, listening to endless news reports. There have been some positives in all of this— dolphins swimming in the Venice canals, air quality getting better. But the negatives are taking a toll on my psyche. Business, especially restaurant workers, who have become friends just by me being their customer, are suffering. And I worry about them. A lot. I am doing what I can do— getting takeout and buying gift cards, but I am not sure it will be enough. After this is over some will cease to exist and that makes me very sad. The restaurant owners in Baltimore are doing some amazing things— they are working together to keep their employees fed and a...

Yesterday was the memorial event for one of my best friends in the world who died about a month ago. Jacqui had endometrial cancer, what I would call a first cousin once removed from ovarian cancer. Similar symptoms, similar treatment. The thing is, Jacqui was getting better. Her oncologist, who does not see the world through rose-colored glasses, was incredibly pleased with her progress. Her tumor had shrunk immensely and the future was looking much much brighter. And it showed. Jacqui’s eyes were brighter. Her appetite picked up. She was making plans for travel. She was seeing a future. And then she didn’t have one. I am not going to go into what I think went wrong. Legal reasons. Privacy. But let’s just say it has left me angry. And this anger is not likely to go away any time soon. Jacqui was one of those people who had many many friends. Once you knew her, you couldn’t forget her. She was the person you knew you could call in the middle of the night if you needed her. She wa...

We said goodbye to our 24-year-old cat Stella on Thursday. It was obvious to us that it was time for her to leave us. All the sparkle had left her eyes and she showed little interest even in her favorite treats. Her legs were shaky and it was clear she was unhappy. She was diagnosed maybe a year ago with chronic renal failure, something many old cats succumb to. I had gone through this with several other cats and knew the drill. Special foods and subcutaneous fluids every day. I still had really good needles from my last go round, so I ordered fluids and got out the old IV stand. We were good to go. The fluids tend to make a cat feel better and I never had trouble administering them. But Stella hated it. As soon as we began she started working to wriggle the needle out from between her bony shoulders. After going through this for maybe about a week, I looked at her and said, Enough. I adopted Stella when she was 20, so I knew my time with her would not be measured in decades, or eve...

Today is quite an auspicious day for me. Two years ago today, I was at Johns Hopkins Hospital having my ovarian cancer surgery. I was “optimally debulked,” meaning the surgeon was successful in removing my tumors completely, along with cancerous lymph nodes, omentum, and any other cancer cells he saw, which I guess were scattered around my abdomen, colon, and rectum. Debulking is such an odd word, though I guess it is pretty descriptive, particularly when I think about how large those tumors were. To my knowledge the term is not used for tumor removal of any other type of cancer. At least according to Mr. (or is that Dr?) Google. And yes. I had to go back and correct what autocorrect thought should be “debunk,” not “debulk.” When my surgeon told me of the successful surgery, I naively asked him if I would need chemo. He looked at me as if I had lost my mind. His response was something like, “uh, yeah. You’ve got Stage 3 cancer.” How little I knew then. Now I probably know too much. ...

Or at least I hope so. And honestly, I believe so. While on vacation I drastically lowered my dose of Lynparza to just 100 mg a day, taken before bed. My energy level soared. But then I came home, went back on my 400 a day and despite getting a great night’s sleep, by 10 am I was ready for a nap. So with a CA-125 of 9 (yay!) I went to see my oncologist today ready to discuss lowering my dose, but before I could even bring it up, she did. We discussed the fact that no one really knows what the best dose of Lynparza is, but she feels it is so effective I could look at lowering my dose. She suggested 100 mg in the morning and 200 at night. I readily agreed. We also discussed my weight gain. While I had gained quite a bit of weight pre-diagnosis, I am still tipping the scales at close to 20 pounds more than before the tumors started to make me look like I was six months pregnant. I know from years of being a Weight Watchers lifetime member the only way I lose weight and keep it off i...