Riding the Tide...

I'm admittedly riding the tide of comfort that came from the knowledge the chemo is working. Without speaking to any doctors, I do not know whether or not there is a real possibility of cutting the number of chemo infusions short. It seems likely. I believe I would be continuing with the high-dose Vitamin C. Uncertainties are what life is made of...the bottom line is: ovarian cancer no longer residing within is the goal of the chemotherapy regiment. The probabilities of that goal being bet have become great with the CA 125 level in the normal range after two treatments. The goal of the Vitamin C infusions is for my body to get through chemotherapy as unscathed from it as possible. So far, so good on that, too.

With the good news as my backdrop of daily life today, I simply felt more relaxed. As I drove to my counselor's office, I could not frame up any problems. I realize I'm on a path and there are many unknowns. I am doing what I can to change all identified concerns and must push past worry for those for which I can see no solution at this time. I addressed some of my struggles in conversation with Carol and we chuckled quite a bit together today. Laughter or tears? Each have a role in life. Each can be viewed as healthy responses at a given moment, and each allow relief. I must say, I love to laugh and most of my days have at least a spot or two of laughter, particularly when I interact with others.

Ah yes. I have written in previous blogs about how during this particular chapter, I have found myself strongly craving face-to-face interaction. I have relished the visits of friends. I have found comfort in telephone and skype conversations, too. Tomorrow I look forward to both a visit and a couple of conversations. Becky and I have not seen each other in a long while and she is coming over to visit! And the woman who I enjoyed interacting with at the Cancer Society "Look Good...Feel Better" workshop reached out to ask if we might come up with a social meet-up time. We shall speak about that tomorrow. I'll talk with Ed who will be returning from NYC before Sunday's sunrise! On Monday, I will meet, in person, the cancer mentor assigned to me. She is a survivor of a gynecological cancer and has been cancer free ten years! I also have some errands to accomplish in the same vicinity as she and I will be meeting for tea. And before I know it, it will be Tuesday morning and I will be going to get my third infusion.

As I think ahead to what that means, physically, I think about my port. How can I possibly discuss it in a way that it can be understood by someone who has not seen nor had one? It is a plastic netted, circular, bulbous device that was surgically implanted beneath a flap of flesh and skin above my right breast. The wound subsequently healed and the unit really cannot be seen, although there is a definite puffiness that protrudes above the normal line of my body in that area. And if one knows to look, one can see the tube, straw-like as it is, that goes from the port site to the jugular vein. The port accepts a short, stubby needle that is attached to plastic line that connects to a line draping down from a bag of whatever substance is being infused. When the needle is inserted, generally with a fast thrust, it can hurt quite a bit...or not. I have experienced it both ways. There appears to be some correlation between whether or not I have remembered to use the numbing cream, Lydocaine. The two times I have forgotten to apply the cream and cover the area with a small piece of plastic wrap, I have been sprayed with a numbing something-caine, and it has not quite worked as well as the Lydocaine that sits on the skin above the port site for about an hour prior to the needle insertion. There is also variance in the amount of discomfort I experience post infusion. The port felt "used up" after getting the ~ 6 hour chemo infusion series and then returning the next day for a 3 hour Vitamin C infusion. Currently, there is a bruise on the area and it remains a bit tight and sore two days after Wednesday's Vitamin C infusion.

Do I consider it a big deal? Not so much. It is a part of the path...the path leading to balance in my to-be cancer-free body. Although my sincere hope is for no one reading my blog to ever have ovarian or any other kind of cancer, the probabilities may not favor such a wish. There is a great chance someone reading this will at least know someone else who will encounter such a diagnosis. My wish is that what is read here will shed insight into what might be encountered or what should be sought out. I reveal my emotions, my concerns, my treatment milieu, my physical sensations and challenges and my everyday life stuff in writing this blog. Sometimes I struggle...and sometimes I am successful in being in the moment, largely grateful for life itself. Coming from a place of gratitude, life is richer, anyhow.

I'm tired. I have watched a couple of Big East Conference basketball games and it is bedtime.