Habits

Today for the first time in a very long time, I went for a jog.

And I sat down to this blog.

Last year was one of chaos for me.  

Last summer, my father went in for a routine surgery that turned into something he's still dealing with today, namely a nightmare.  My sisters, my mother and I lived at the various  hospitals and nursing homes he meandered into and out of.  We didn't know if he'd make it.

Then, in the midst of all this, I came down with what I came down with, namely cancer--but the "best" kind. 

Other major life changes happened last year, but I tell you all that to say this:  I neglected jogging and blogging for a long time.  Way too long.

I confess that I hate jogging, but by forcing myself to do it--however minimally--each week I could eat and drink whatever I wanted, seemingly, and everything balanced out.  (Where everything equals the scales, my health, how I felt, etc.)

Back when I blogged regularly, my children were still in school, and each evening the way I unwound was to sit at my desk and spew forth whatever happened to be on my mind. It was my mental exercise.

The past year's events wreaked havoc on my jogging and my blogging, two things I used to force myself to do whether I felt like it or not.

Since returning to work from coping with Hodgkins lymphoma, I now have Mondays off.  Today for the first time since 1982 2017, I walked--WALKED--six miles.  I used to jog six miles several times a week back before these major life events happened.

I'm out of shape physically and mentally bloggily (just invented the word), but I shall make jogging and blogging regular habits again.

Happy August.

Still Here

In spite of all outward appearances, this blog has been picked clean by turkey buzzards who circled over its dead carcass for months. is not yet dead--nor am I!  (Click for sound of applause.)


After many months of wearing a bath robe all day resting and focusing on getting better, I finally am.

As of this moment in time, my scans have all come back clear of Hodgkins lymphoma, and if all goes well/clear for the next two years, I am pretty much good to go--at least on the lymphoma front. One of the unintentional benefits of doing so many scans is you discover things you didn't know you had, such as an ascending aortic aneurysm.  For now, nobody seems to be concerned about that, so I'm pretending like I don't need to be either.  I've definitely sharpened my denial skills in the past year, that's for sure.

In addition, I gained weight and lost hair, sadly. But I can work on losing the weight and finding the hair.  Actually, it doesn't sound very good to find hair, so let's say that the hair will grow back instead.  There.  Better.

Although I've been away from this blog for a while, lots has happened.  For example:

• In the spring of this year, this dead blog turned ten years old!
• My son graduated from UVA and is now living in Costa Rica working for Global Leadership Adventures as a camp counselor of sorts.  
• My second child completed the second year of architecture school at UVA with good grades.
• My father, although weak, is back to cutting grass and chopping wood and conducting perimeter checks of Waverly Lane on his golf cart. All good.
• My mother, not without some health scares of her own, has had good test results lately.
• I am back to work four days a week but squeezed in an End of Chemo Celebration Trip to Moab, Utah, with my blog friend Lauren.  We went on a jet boat tour of the Colorado River, went on a slickrock jeep tour, ziplined, and toured Arches National Park as well as Dead Horse State Park.  I highly recommend a trip to Moab for an unforgettable experience.

My intention is to return to blogging somewhat regularly, but it all hinges on my home internet working properly.  My internet is free of charge thanks to a deal my parents worked out with a local provider who put a tower behind their barn.  It's been spotty service at best here lately.  But assuming I have time to take pictures and my internet is up and running I hope to get back into a routine of some sort here on this crusty old blog.  

In the meantime, thank you for reading.

Checking In

These first three pictures of farm-raised oysters were taken around Thanksgiving, which coincidentally is about the last time I've posted to this blog.

I've been focusing on getting better and surviving chemo treatments.  So far, I've completed eight of the twelve which are necessary. My interim PET scan, which shows the size and locations of the various tumors present thanks to my Hodgkins lymphoma, came back clear after treatment number four, which is great news.  (I still have to complete the full twelve rounds of chemo though.)

In the mean time, I've taken off work, because between the commute and the brutality stress and length of the workday, I was just too exhausted and couldn't handle trying to get better and maintaining my normal routine.  So I am officially on leave until I feel better enough to return, and I'm very grateful for that.

Otherwise, I've just been taking life one day at a time.

We had a few snow episodes in January and endured some pretty brutal temperatures.

The other day, some swans came up the creek and into my cove.  I can't recall ever seeing swans in the creek or the cove, so it was a special treat.

They're much bigger than you think.  

These few unrelated pictures are all I've snapped in the past several months, mostly because it's been so brutally cold and I've been so brutally tired I've just not mustered the energy to go out and snap. 

Hopefully that will change.

I hope all is well in your world.  Happy Belated New Year & 2018.

The Glebe

The other day on a whim, I took a much-overdue drive down the Glebe.

I rarely go down the Glebe, really, because I don't have any particular reason to.  But when I do, I always stop to take pictures of this soybean field and the little barn in the background.

Well, we all survived Thanksgiving.  My father is home and recovering nicely from all his health woes, although last week he was readmitted for a fever.  Thankfully they were able to control the situation, and he could return home in time for a fabulous Thanksgiving feast.

I completed my third chemo treatment last Wednesday, which means I have nine more to go.  So far, I continue to feel OK relatively speaking.  My hair has started to fall out, but thankfully I have so much of it, there's plenty to go around.  It's possible, although I'm not clinging to the notion, that I won't lose it all.  But if I do, I do. 

Aside from surviving, I've been trying to work when I can, although the commute and the stress of my job make for long days. It's shocking to realize the Christmas season is upon us once again, speaking of stress...I don't have the energy to battle with my huge artificial tree, so I am going to have to do something different this year.  What that is, I've not yet figured out. But it's going to involve a smaller, easier tree.  (Is there such a thing as an easy Christmas tree?)

Anyway, that's about it from my neck of the woods.  I hope all is well with you.

Iris and Lenja

About a week ago, my college friends Iris and Lenja came to Mathews for a visit.

We met at UVA in August 1982, which astonishingly means we've been friends for over 35 years.

(Thirty five years?  How is that even possible?)

Lenja (pronounced Len'-ya, rhymes with Kenya) lives in Cambridge, England, 

and Iris lives in McLean, Virginia.

During their visit we went to Bethel Beach and later had lunch in the Court House at Southwind.

It was warm enough to sit outside.

It was a wonderful visit.  We're already planning our next reunion, which may include a hiking trip through Portugal--once I'm done with my chemotherapy treatments next year.

Speaking of chemo, it's going reasonably well.  I've had two treatments thus far (one every two weeks) representing one complete cycle.  I'll need five more cycles, meaning I should be done in April.  Aside from some exhaustion, I really can't complain at all.  My white blood cell counts are very low, though, which just means I am more prone to infections and have to take precautions.  I'm supposed to steer clear of crowds and sick people and wash my hands frequently. 

Staying away from crowds is thankfully not a problem here in Mathews. 

Not a problem at all.

I hope all is well in your world.

Then and Now

These were taken five years ago.

October 2012. 

Three years before my car accident.

And five years before being diagnosed with Hodgkin lymphoma, also known as Hodgkin's disease.

I know I didn't have cancer two years ago because courtesy of my car accident--which included my very first helicopter ride-- I learned then that I only had some broken ribs and a punctured lung.  They did every test known to man to be sure they knew what they were dealing with.  

But my PET scan this week revealed I have cancerous lymph nodes in my neck and near my lungs, spleen, liver and pancreas.  So between October 2015 and now some stuff was going on.  Where stuff equals Life Stress and obviously something else that triggered cancerous growth.

This week I start chemotherapy, which I confess I am dreading.  It will last six months.  The particular chemo cocktail for Hodgkins is ABVD.  Google it.  Or don't.  Halloween is just around the corner, there is no reason to seek out additional things to be afraid of.

I'm relishing these last few days of being CBW before chemo.  Also, my father is home from the hospital and was tinkering around the barn today.  That in and of itself is a miracle.

Life is good.  

If not great.

Bethel Beach

These were taken on a day in September right before I had the surgery to remove the lymph node that would come back positive for Hodgkins lymphoma.

We were (and still are) in the throes of my father's illness, and I had taken off work to have one day to myself, where I told myself it was OK if I didn't drive to see my father, and it was OK to have a minute to myself before my own surgery.

Doesn't this wooden piece look like a mini heron?  No?  That's what I saw.

Back then, it was minute by minute, day by day, on my father's situation.  To a lesser extent, it still is, but he's doing much better as of this writing.  He's in a rehab facility in neighboring Gloucester, expected to cross-your-fingers return home Monday.  But when I took this precious time to get away from everything, I knew at any moment the phone could ring or ding with a text announcing something was not right.

I toted a beach chair and my camera and breathed in the warm salt air as I walked down the beach.

With every step of my bare feet in the sand, the exhaustion and stress just fell off.  

With every exhale I felt better, even if I knew reality didn't match up with this little escape.

I remember seeing someone in the "parking lot" and I asked, "Is it crowded today?"

They laughed for a second and then wondered if I were serious.  "No, it never gets crowded here."

"I know," I said.

I plopped down in my chair for about thirty precious minutes before I received a text that I was needed at home.  A piece of equipment that my father needed for his wounds was in the back of my car, and I needed to report back quickly.  (He was using the hospital-issued one but was being discharged so needed the rented one we had.  Where one= wound vac.)

This short-lived respite from all that stress was very much welcomed.

Later I learned about my own situation:  Hodgkins lymphoma.  If one had to pick a cancer to have, this one is a good one in that it's highly treatable and in most cases curable.  However, no matter what, I have to go through chemo.

So far, I've had a MUGA scan. I call it a "Make U Great Again" scan,  but it's really a test where they inject you with nuclear stuff to take pictures of your heart to see if there are any abnormalities which would complicate the burden of chemotherapy, since the drugs I'll be taking are harsh on everything, including the heart.  I passed the MUGA scan with flying colors.  Thank you, long distance running.

I also had a pulmonary test, where they make sure your lungs are OK.  Check.

Next up, I had surgery to implant a port, which goes just beneath the surface of the skin, into which all the BAD  TOXIC drugs will go to attack the cancer.  It saves my poor arm vessels from multiple sticks.  The port surgery was actually easier than the lymph node removal. 

Tomorrow I visit a second oncologist just for a frame of reference.  Tuesday, I have a PET scan, where I'm injected with more nuclear stuff to determine how far the cancer may have spread.  Thursday I have another visit with my oncologist to talk about next steps, which may include a bone marrow biopsy but will definitely include the chemo schedule.

Right now I am just taking each day as it comes and each thing as it hits me.  I'm having to rethink things, such as the ability to do as much as I've been doing.  For example, after all these years I finally realize it's time to Surrender Dorothy on the house.  I couldn't keep it clean even when I was well.  No way am I going to clean anything when I'm not feeling great.

And by the way, I do feel great.  If not for all the stress of these past many months, I'd never know anything was wrong. 

This blog was never intended to be a cancer blog--although I did create it and maintain it all these years to escape the stress I was going through but never talked about.

I think Mathews is the perfect antedote to stress, and I intend to keep taking pictures and blogging when I can.  But I may also break my own rule and occasionally talk about the stress I'm going through, including this fight I'm up against.

I'll win, I don't have any doubt. 

Love,
CBW