Ode to Shadow

Wolves were my favorite wild animals until I started learning about bats. They still draw my awe for their extreme wildness, their power, their beauty, their sense of community, their important and necessary part in the food chain, and their struggle against all odds to not become something of myth and legend. So when I met one, well he was really only half wolf, I fell in love instantly.

His name was Shadow and he lived in Canada with his people in their home on the edge of a wildlife refuge. This place was so remote it was only accessible by boat despite being completely connected to the mainland. They didn't breed him, (it's illegal to own or breed wolves or part wolves in the US, but I'm not sure what Canadian laws are) they merely provided an excellent home for a creature that would otherwise have been destroyed. Shadow was so gentle and kind and proud and protective that the only thing wolfish about him was his body.

My dad was staying at the home of Shadow's people to take care of him and his pal Bear (dog had huge paws!) while they were on a safari for a month. The whole family went up to visit Dad and once there I pestered my dad to tell me all he knew about Shadow. He told me stories about Shadow chasing away skunks, vandals, coyotes, and even a bear. Every time a boat passed too close to the dock he'd jump up from his place just inside the front door and run as fast as a greyhound down the dock. To see that massive black dog fly down the dock was impressive; to hear him bark was down right bone chilling.

Even as old as he was he still protected his home with all his energy, and that was despite nursing an injured paw. When my little niece stepped on it accidentally he jumped up and barked in her face. Just one bark, one loud, bone chilling wild wolf bark. He couldn't help it, and you'd do the same thing if someone stepped on your injured foot. She couldn't help but be scared, and started to cry. Her mom picked her up and sat with her to calm her down and Shadow followed them and sat at their feet with his head between his front paws. Once my niece calmed down and understood why he had barked she got down and sat next to him to pet him gently. He put his big ol' wolf head in her lap and looked at her with his soulful eyes begging her to forgive him, and I walked away with tears in my eyes.

I spent a good deal of my time up there hanging out with Shadow. He made a nice pillow and liked that I provided a shield from the wild and crazy youngsters running around. As you can see from the picture, when he lay down and stretched out he was almost as big as I was. In the other picture he is sitting in his spot with a full sized couch behind him. I just found out recently that he passed away, so this is my tribute to the gentle wolf that stole my heart.

I'm Tired of This

It's late, or early, and I can't sleep. What's worse is I also cannot write. I'm tired. Tired of posting these silly updates on my cancer saga that no one reads. So I'm done. I mean I'll still post because I'm addicted to this self-indulgence, but no more play by play accounts of chemo and life with cancer. I figure I'll have cancer-related news from time to time, but mostly I'm going to focus on more entertaining things.

Calling it quits

I've finally quit my job. It was just too difficult for me to continue such a high pressure job. My boss was frustrated with me. I was frustrated. It was just a bad situation. In the beginning the job was a great distraction, and it kept me upbeat and positive. It has become a major source of stress and that was beginning to have an effect on my health. Finances will be tight, but Peter and I think we can do it, at least for a little while.

This is my life.

The holidays were rough, but I made it through. The last CT scan showed improvement, but Dr. Lee's not ready to call it quits. So, there's still no end in sight. It's finally beginning to take its toll on me. My mind doesn't work as well as it used to. My body is worn out. I've tried to keep these posts positive for the most part, so I've left out a lot of the unpleasant details. Truth is I'm sick and tired of being sick. On top of the treatments, my body has been forced into menopause resulting in hot flashes, night sweats, and all the other wonderful things I didn't expect to experience until much later in life. The weight gain as a result of the steroids (they control nausea) is depressing, and I can't really exercise because my heart has been weakened by treatment. The acid reflux is god awful, I swear one good belch and I'll spew acid. I get up, I work, I come home and crash. This is my life now. I sigh. Forgive me for my self-pity. It's been an especially difficult week.

One year later...

My next chemo treatment will be this Friday, December 15th, 2006. Almost to the day one year ago I had my first chemo treatment. When Dr. Lee told me the treatment of my cancer would be very aggressive I didn't imagine I'd still be doing this after an entire year. Just thinking about it makes me feel exhausted. I honestly don't know how I've managed to come this far. All I know is that I've had a lot of help along the way and for that I am very grateful. I just had another CT scan today; hopefully it will show that the cancer is completely gone. Then I might be finally able to stop this marathon of chemo treatments.

Thankful

Going into the next round of treatment I'm a bit worried about how I'm going to handle Thanksgiving. Between going to Peter's family gathering and then attending my family gathering on Sunday I just don't have a good feeling about this. Whenever I'm not in my own home my recovery from treatment is much harder. I think it's because I'm just not comfortable in other surroundings and I get easily overwhelmed by large groups. So Thanksgiving this year is going to suck, but I have something to be thankful for…life, (and not feeling nauseated around the turkey).

My poor heart!

I've hit another snag treatment wise. My heart is not taking Herceptin well. It was a risk when I started treatment. The susceptibility of my heart (due to sickness as a baby) was one of the major reasons why we chose Taxotere over Avastin. Now that my heart is struggling we'll be watching that very closely. If it gets too bad I'll have to stop Herceptin for a time until my heart can recover.

What happened was I was rushing from the bus stop to the hospital for an appointment with Dr. Lee. It's a long walk and I was late so I was moving as fast as my tired ass self could go. I was out of breath, flushed, and hot but to me it seemed perfectly normal considering I hadn't moved that fast for that long in quite awhile. Dr. Lee and his nurse, Peggy, were taking my heart rate every 5 minutes. It was not going down. I was fine to the naked eye but my heart was definitely not fine. I was sent to the ER to get me hooked up to heart monitors. Everyone was rushing around me like it was a code or something. It might have been now that I think about it.

I got a lot of questions from different people and none of them like my answers. How do I feel? Fine. Is my heart racing? No. Am I out of breath? No. There were a lot of concerned looks and murmurs then they all left the room like a flock of birds squawking at one another. I was bored so I got out the crossword puzzle book I carried for bus rides and started working away. Occasionally the monitors I was hooked with would go off and the birds would all come back. Fluttering around and asking questions. Are you sure you feel okay? Yes....should I be?

The answer was no. I should definitely not be working on a crossword puzzle in the ER while hooked up to heart monitors that keep beeping in alarm. Okay, I said, now I don't feel well.

I was in Ventricular Tachycardia, V-Tach. My heart was beating fast and erratically. I should have noticed. I should have felt light headed, out of breath, and I definitely should have noticed that my heart was beating way too fast and way too hard. I didn't, which means I have a-symptomatic V-Tach and that is a very bad thing because my body should be trying to warn me that I might be dying.

I spent the night in the hospital and met a lovely cardiologist, Dr. Hall. She's my height and has a warm smile. I had an ultrasound of my heart. The tech said I had a pretty heart. She explained that most of the hearts she looked at were damaged and didn't light up the screen so much. My heart lit up the screen so much she had to turn the light down. Dr. Hall came in with her diagnosis. My heart was weak from the chemo and Herceptin. It had to work overtime to pump the blood out of it.

The medication they gave me keeps my heart fairly consistent when I'm at rest, but any exercise can cause my heart to beat even harder, so hard that it might stop. The only way to be sure that doesn't happen is not to exercise. Not a good thing for my ass that's for sure. Nothing more than casual walks for me if I want my heart to be "Zen-like." That's what Dr. Hall told me I needed to be.

We also learned that my original heart capacity was likely at the extreme end of normal. I probably had a heart capacity closer to Lance Armstrong than the average person. It's all speculation, but I should have had symptoms long before now unless my heart was pretty strong to begin with. For a woman who had life-threatening heart problems as a baby this was remarkable to hear.