New Next Steps

We spent a long, enjoyable weekend running around doing things without specific deadlines and without specific agendas; more than anything else, we were reliving some of the the "good old days" when we found time to run away more than a couple of times a year. Right now, I feel well enough that I hope we can continue to do this more often; we had a blast. First, on Saturday, we visited the Wyandot County Humane Society in Upper Sandusky, OH, a no-kill shelter that generally has as many as 30 equine rescue animals available for adoption. We've decided that Jeb's companion will need to come from there; it's a private shelter operating on grants and donations, and we admire their perseverance in hard times and good times.

Saturday afternoon we visited my friend S in Findlay and puttered around her yarn shop until she closed, when we all headed off to a local apple orchard to see what was available. We were able to get fresh-picked Cortlands and Galas; fall orchard tours and visits are a delight always, and we love to find new ones to explore. We've decided that after retirement we'll just throw the occasional picnic into the car and take off for a quick daytrip whenever we wish - nobody to answer to regarding time; no questions asked, just go.

Sunday we picked up some small pieces of furniture from my friend/sister C2; she's moving and we decided to buy some pieces so she wouldn't have to work around them. We raced home, picked up the car, and headed to Delaware, OH for the All-Horse Parade, part of the Delaware County Fair activities, courtesy our friends J and E who provided brats and trimmings and seats along the parade route for some 30 or so people. It was a blast, even if we didn't get home until 7:00 p.m. I felt tired but at least survived the whole weekend without major relapse.

I'm off the steroids now and the throat swelling and other problems have been alleviated, and I restarted Afinitor tonight. My doctors are watching enzyme levels and other cues like hawks; I'll be starting monthly Zometa injections again soon as the blood calcium level is one of the most critical indicators of overall stamina and health at this point.

Oh well, best just to wait and see what happens. I am grateful for the lovely weekend we spent together, and we are anxiously counting down the days until retirement on October 29. I am ready to have Saint H home, rested and working on projects that he wants to pursue. I'm sure a lovely time will be had by all.

Bam!

We went off to Cleveland for the second treatment yesterday. We spent less time at Club Vampire - no need to search for veins, thank you very much. The trial protocol requires only an hour's monitoring for the second and third treatments in each cycle, so the waiting time was cut by three hours.

I'd always maintained that Benadryl doesn't affect me, when warned of its drowsy factor. I now have to amend that. Benadryl in pill form hasn't affected me in the past, and may not do so in the future. However, Benadryl as an infusion is another matter altogether.

Picture yourself sitting quietly in a chair, talking with your beloved and your friendly nurse. You've got a pile of knitting on your lap and lots of free time in your near future; it's a wonderful prospect provided that you don't get sick or have a reaction to the treatment. Then someone steps up with needle in hand, says, "Here's your pre-medication dose of Benadryl," and it's injected into the line leading to your port and thence directly into your bloodstream.

Suddenly you feel not quite sick, not quite awake and not quite coherent. Your knitting is in hands that don't belong to your body; your loved one is floating away, and your nurse is asking you questions that your brain can't process. For my part, I feel like the inside of my mouth has suddenly been sprayed with glue. I've called into a local radio talk show a couple of times, and find the slight delay between speaking and broadcast to be very disconcerting. Being on Benadryl is a lot like that!

I have to say I've fallen asleep very quickly both times, and suspect that this will become the new normal routine. Likewise, it seems to take a long time for the effects to wear off, but sometime around mid-afternoon I've managed to start feeling normal again, both times. I hope that will also continue to be the norm.

Since we got out early, we managed to squeeze in a visit to Cleveland's fabulous West Side Market. Eleven dollars bought us almost more produce than we could stagger away with; and we didn't even make it all the way around the market. I see more trips there in the future!

My laptop is being evaluated for repair. I hope to have it back soon; friend M has given me carte blanche to use her desktop machine whenever I need to. So email is backing up and I'm not looking forward to plowing through it all when the time comes ...

Quiet Times

Friend C and I have been spending lots of time doing little or nothing, besides sitting-talking-eating-knitting. We've been to one bookstore so far and will head to the glories of HalfPrice Books next week.

Tuesday we cruised through two local grocery stores so that she could pick up some of what she can't get in Australia unless she goes to USA Foods in Melbourne. I ship care packages to her, especially for Certo and SureJel during canning season or powdered drink mixes in summer. When she visited last I'm afraid I got her hooked on pumpkin butter from Cooper's; I'm sure I don't ship often enough.

There are yarn shops to go to as well next week. We've got to squeeze all this in somehow. Funny how quickly the time is flying by, just doing little or nothing!

Tall in the Saddle

Now I understand the importance of "sitting tall in the saddle." Yes, Virginia, you can get saddle sores, and even little ones are unpleasant. Other than that I got home without incident on Saturday, unless you count my friend and sister M's broken rib from being thrown off on the trail ride, and my bout with some stomach flu that hit shortly after checking into our hotel Friday night on the way home ... At least now I'm mostly recovered from both ailments. And we haven't given up on riding; I think we'll take some more lessons and perhaps set our sights on driving lessons too.

While elderhosteling I was taken off Nexavar, just in case the additional physical activity led to problems with hand/foot. Nothing arose; we'll see if there's any difference in my scans in two weeks (I hope not).

Saint H is in Columbus tonight; we're continuing his one-night-weekly stay to save money on gas, and to save wear and tear on my sweetheart. I've decided that I'll have "movie night" here with the cats when he's away. Tonight we hunkered down with The Hunt for Red October, one of my favorite movies - I would guess that I've seen it 30 times but I always enjoy it. Duke was satisfied with popcorn (he's easy).

Spirit Willing, Flesh Weak

I'm at the camp I never had as a kid: an Elderhostel in Abingdon, Virginia, learning the basics of horseback riding. So far we've covered grooming and tacking up and basic riding commands - I can walk, trot, and post, woo-hoo! Today we learned the basic barrel riding pattern, at a walk thank goodness. I was to go on a short trail ride this afternoon but was striken with nausea from heat and sinuses, and so am preparing to stretch out for the rest of the afternoon.

On the whole I've had a lot of fun and am looking forward to a half-day's trail ride tomorrow, but I'm annoyed that my body has given out on me. I wish I had done this twenty years ago, before cancer stripped me of my strength. On the bright side, though, I'd held up pretty well until this afternoon; I'm not hobbled and stiff. I know for certain that I'd not have been able to do this a year and a half ago, so am happy to have gotten this far with it.

I haven't decided if riding is really "me", but at least I know how and I can ride if I want to!

Numbers Game

Last week at our renal cell support group, we heard from Dr. David Sharp, an oncologic surgeon specializing in renal cell carcinoma, and specifically robotic surgery for tumor removal. He looks like he is 12 but has been in the business at least that long ... At any rate he quoted the most recent statistical estimates for renal cell: 2008, expected case discoveries, 54,000. 2008, expected deaths, 13,000. Mind you, when I started on this journey in 2000 the annual expected case rate was 38,000 and the expected death rate was 12,000. So in a few short years the reported incidence has increased by roughly 30%, and reported deaths have increased by about 8.3%. What's interesting about RCC is that it's generally an "incidental finding", that is, one goes to one's physician for something else and RCC is identified through nonspecific tests. It often shows up in CT scans for back pain, for example.

Discovered tumors also tend to be smaller than eight years ago, and the rate of partial nephrectomies has gone up as a result. Partial nephrectomies certainly lead to a better post-operative experience for the patient. Do I think that RCC is increasing in the population on its own? I'm not certain - I suspect that given better diagnostic tools, we may just be finding it more often, and earlier. The relatively lower increase in death rate I think can almost certainly point to better treatment options. It's a cliche, of course, but I think "living proof" applies here.

This beautiful piece of abstract art arrived at our house yesterday. It's an untitled work; perhaps it should be called

CAUTION: Remove hat before placing head under mower.

Saint H's beloved beat-up straw hat was knocked from his head by a low tree branch while he was mowing the lane yesterday. We suspect duct tape will fix it right up.

Slow down!

I've been volunteering with a local adult education program for about 18 months now. We just finished our spring offering of classes, we've sent the fall brochure text off to be prepped for printing, and we're starting to plan next spring's classes.

I can come up with lots of ideas for classes; that's one of the benefits of volunteering, as things I want to learn about are included in the program. I also get a chance to teach knitting classes (thereby exposing more people to my mania).

I'm pleased by the program's success and I'm glad that I can contribute to it without jeopardizing my health. But sometimes it seems like it's become a year-round task; I'm glad that we're taking the month of July "off" from official duties.

Saint H and I celebrated Memorial Day by going out for a drive to the western part of the county. There's a sizeable Amish community out there, so there are lots of hayfields and pastures. Where there are pastures, there are grassland birds and, if the pastures are large enough, there might be bobolinks. We did, indeed, spot a few in one pasture where we've seen them for over a decade now. What a comfort that they come back!

"Incurable Disease"

Yes, both Saint H and I have fallen victim to an insidious disease: tractor sickness. You may recall that last year I found, and bought, a Ferguson disc and a 3-point post auger at an auction, for use with our beloved Emma. We went further, then, and joined Ferguson Enthusiasts of North America and dutifully read the "Ferguson Furrows" newsletter. We generally look at the articles and check the events schedule, realizing dimly that this illness is managed only by occasionally seeing other patients and the inoculant, the tractors themselves. The newest issue had a terrible effect on us: several Ferguson items for sale in Mansfield, Ohio, just a short drive away.

We called. We drove. We drooled. We wrote a check. We added a Ferguson side delivery hay rake, a Ferguson 2-bottom plow, a Ferguson cultivator, a Ferguson tractor jack, and a Ferguson belt pulley to the collection. As we drove home, Saint H said only, "I'm stunned to find all that in one place." Amazing to think that, once we get it home, it will all be in our place.

This is the type of illness I can enjoy!

Sit Down!

Last week Saint H took a day off from work, combined that with the weekend, and spent 3 days in a class with master chairmaker Michael Herrel, who has done work with the This Old House crew in the past. Saint H has some work to do (fine shaping, finish sanding, and dyeing to bring out the grain of the poplar, maple, red oak and black walnut parts) but I'd say this is a pretty good result for 3 days' steady work.

Tomorrow I head to Columbus for a make-up appointment with Dr. SC at OSU. I had to cancel twice last month, once because of weather and once because of flu. When I called to reschedule, Dr. SC's scheduler John told me "I have a note here to call you. I'm to make certain that you are feeling okay, find out how you're faring on your present regimen, and see if we need to take a more active role in your care." He seemed pleased that I'm not at death's door (we always share some good laughs when I call). For myself, I'm very, very pleased to know that Dr. SC is keeping tabs on me. I haven't "needed" his services for well over a year but we still keep in touch, and he has always been interested in my care and well-being. Shouldn't all doctors be like that?

Seventeen and Counting

Yesterday was our 17th wedding anniversary. Amazing how fast the years have gone by; it doesn't seem possible that it's been that long. Time truly does fly when one is having fun.

We had a quiet Thanksgiving at friends D & M's, playing Texas Hold'Em poker and Trivial Pursuit until midnight. Their family includes a 13-year old fanatic poker player who can barely be persuaded to eat before the cards and chips come out (he won, of course). It reminds me of holidays at my grandparents in the 1960s when we would all crowd around tables in the living room to play a card game called "Oh Hell." I don't remember the rules but suspect these are close to what we played. Maybe we kids liked it because part of the game included swearing, something of a rarity in my family (at least at the time).

Saint H was deemed healed and given a release to return to work. He put in the full week this week. Jamie drew a scaled-down version of her masterpiece for him, and several others of the kids presented him with drawings. I know they all missed him (I certainly missed having him here).

Not having any of my own, I wonder how someone's serious illness is presented to children. I've no doubt there are all kinds of child-rearing advice books that give the basics, but I know I'd be at sea trying to explain it. I'm glad that I don't have to try.

It's clouding over and getting quite chilly, and it's supposed to rain and sleet tonight with rain all day tomorrow turning to snow on Monday. Now that's a lovely weekend forecast! We know the front is coming and the cold is here at last, as Saint H reported seeing 20-30 sandhill cranes gleaning soybeans in a field on his way home last night. They're finally on their way south, probably to Texas, to overwinter.

Out of the Mouths of Babes

I've mentioned before that Saint H works in a child care center at OSU. Friday he got a packet from the office containing get-well cards and drawings from the kids.

The teacher added Jamie's explanations to her drawing: "The doctor cutting out Harry's tatendix", on the left, is wearing a "mask". Saint H is smiling on the table: "These are the straps. They strap his legs down so he can't move them when the doctors cut him." The nurse, at the right, wears a "stethoscope" and carries an "otoscope". She says, "Don't touch his intestines, they have stuff on them." She has 2 boxes of stickers. To the nurse's left, "Jamie visiting Harry" says "OK". To the nurse's right, another one of the kids, Enrique, is also visiting.

I laugh every time I see it, especially for the wisdom of the intestines "stuff." Saint H laughs too, albeit rather gingerly.

Many of the kids' parents are on the OSU medical staff, so I wouldn't doubt but what "stethoscope" and "otoscope" fall into Jamie's vocabulary.

The doctor must have been pretty good - I didn't see any strap marks.

I've been picked!

I've never been asked to do a blog meme, but yarmando picked me to "open the book you’re currently reading to page 161 and read the fifth sentence on the page, then think of 5 bloggers to tag."

I'm reading several at the moment so I picked up the closest one that wasn't a cookbook: Owen Gingerich, The Book Nobody Read: Chasing the Revolutions of Nicolaus Copernicus.

"I explained to my hosts that in addition to trying to figure out what to do about the faulty facsimile, I hoped to explore the Wittenberg University archive."

Long ago at Indiana University, I was privileged to take Analytical Bibliography, taught by the fabulous Josiah Quincy Bennett at the Lilly Library. My first professional job was in a rare books and manuscripts repository. I decided to move on from that, but am still easily seduced by books about books. This one is a challenge to Arthur Koestler's claim (in The Sleepwalkers, 1959) that nobody read Cupernicus's De revolutionibus. The author tracked down 600 extant copies of first- and second-edition to see the annotations.

So who do I tag? I don't know many bloggers and I doubt many of the ones I know read my blog. Yarmando, I'm borrowing a couple of your friends, whose blogs I read, dammit. That'll get me a few.
1. Swanknitter
2. Micah
3. Matt