I am recovering just fine. I still have a bump on my head which annoys me but I have started back with my personal trainer Laurie. It’s been great as she pushes me along and I feel like I am walking with more balance and sureness. Its hard when you can’t feel the bottom of your feet, damn neuropathy, so flat surfaces are best but I’m gaining more confidence. Enough about that!
The news in my world is full of a woman’s recent astonishing pronouncement that she was cured of MBC. The woman did a very arduous trial at NIH with harvesting her immune cells and having them reintroduced. She has been NED for two years. Although that’s great it represents only one person. The other two patients with MBC in the trial died and two years is hardly long enough to determine she is truly cancer free. I wish her the best of course, but I worry about headlines making the general public think hey, MBC is curable. It still isn’t and 113 people die every day in the US. We need a lot more research and attention.
In my personal world we finally had the head coconut’s bridal shower! One more thing to knock off on the road to the wedding. It was lovely and fun, a kind of floating cocktail party with lots of different foods to sample and the bride and groom looked very happy. So did the little coconut or bridgezilla as we like to call her!
Next up was a lovely wedding down the Cape at a gorgeous county club on a perfect day. The bride, who I have known since she was in second grade, looked amazing and so happy on the big day. It was perfect……until it wasn’t. Tim suddenly left the cocktail hour saying he wasn’t feeling well and needed air. We were outside, how much air do you need? Then lots of worried looks rippling through my friend group. By the time we sat for dinner, Kelsey appeared to say she was driving Dad back to my brother’s house nearby. Oh,ohh. Tim’s doctor was seated next to me and headed out to examine the patient. My friend Brian assisted me outside to find the group huddled around Jeepy and Dr. Dave determining Tim needed to go to the Cape Cod Hospital ER. Yeah, fun times. What followed was a round robin of people vying to take him until I put my foot down and said yes, I would take him and they could all go back to enjoy the wedding. Yes, me, I would take him. After lots of questions about my capabilities, off we went. I can do stuff under pressure!
The hospital was big, clean and quiet, everyone humming along. It wasn’t long until we were admitted to a big room, met with nice nurses and a PA. I had to encourage Tim to stop making jokes and tell them his pain was an 8 so they would take him seriously. This isn’t my first rodeo. The PA asked if I was a doctor, then a nurse. He was buffaloed by my knowledge of procedures and medications. Look, I am a professional patient, what can I say? Tim was undressed, examined and had his blood drawn in no time. I took off my high heels and asked for socks, pulled on a sweat shirt over my swanky dress and settled in. We watched the Hunger Games followed by the Wedding Singer and then he went off for a CAT scan. Around midnight the cause of his trouble was surprisingly discovered–he has a large kidney stone! By then the pain meds were kicking in and he was more comfortable. We were discharged around 1:30 AM and headed to my brother’s house just as Kelsey and Evan arrived from the wedding. I realized I had not eaten or had anything to drink all night! Yikes! Hydrate!
Tim is now home waiting for a urologist appointment, not feeling great but walking around. It was a terrible Father’s Day–he definitely needs a do-over when he is better. He also hates being a patient rather than a care giver, hilarious.
Apart from our personal woes, I am so saddened by the suicides of two people I admired very much. Depression does not discriminate and no one is impervious. It’s okay to ask someone who seems off, if they have thought about hurting themselves. Talking about suicide does not make someone want to suddenly do it, they may already be struggling with it and welcome the opportunity to talk about it.
Concerning me even more this week is the separation of children from their parents as they attempt to enter the country from Mexico. This has to stop. We, as Americans, are better people than this. Tearing young children from their mothers is the cruelest penalty and the surest way to leave lasting trauma. Children do not belong in settlement camps or tents. They belong with their parents. Write your congressman or even better, call, and let them know how disturbing this is!
A friend from Rhode Island with MBC has entered hospice and is saying goodbye right now.
This song is for her and the immigrant children and the families of suicide.
Hold your loved ones tight!
Barb and the Kidney Stone