Posts tagged with 'breast cancer recurrence'

The Balancing Act

  • Posted on April 23, 2013 at 1:18 pm

clown_on_tightrope

A balancing act. The challenge of all Stage IV cancer patients.

How do we balance quality of life against quantity of life? How much treatment are we willing to endure to prevent the cancer from starting to grow again?

I am now off taxol, that traditional chemotherapy for breast cancer that can do a number systemically on all cells. I’m still suffering from fatigue and neuropathy in my limbs and digits. Loss of appetite plagues me. And some other effects that it pains me to enumerate.

Each day I wake up determined to do something productive in the morning, because by mid-afternoon I am ready to veg out in front of the flickering screen of images and sounds designed to entertain. What can I get done? Perhaps scan some old photos into my computer and reminisce about the good ole days. Or reach out to prune or reach down to yank weeds in the front lawn so the neighbors don’t wonder why this woman who looks so healthy can’t keep up a perfect-looking landscape. Or maybe do laundry and clean up a few rooms that I use regularly.

I occasionally attempt to make a soup, which may or may not be a smash hit with my taste buds.

The most soothing things I do now are to play ukulele and read or watch DVDs in bed. Or, as happened the other day, accept an invitation from a friend inviting me to a church party.  I wasn’t planning to come to this event as there might be limited seating or the food might not agree with me. There is always some excuse not to attend a function, especially in the evening when I am at my worst. But I am so glad I agreed to accept her challenge. The laughter, the seating that God provided out on the restaurant patio where the weather was perfect, the band that played all the oldies I could sing along to, the dancing (at least my watching it), the small talk, having the guitarist come over during the break and sit right down next to me.  What a trip!

Yes, I do resemble a clown in the circus. I can just hear the hawking: “Come see the skinny lady manage the tightrope act with no safety net!”  Yet, in many ways I do have a net in case I fall. The safety of friends, including one who puts me up and puts up with me when I have to go to the hospital every three weeks and others who invite me to their homes or other places, and the safety of my faith.

At least for now when the sun wakes me up I get up out of bed on legs and arms that can move, get dressed, and scrounge out a minimally appetizing meal even though I’m not hungry. The continual side effects definitely present a challenge, an adjustment, even a game changer. But so far, it’s worth getting up each morning to make a difference, if not in my own life, then in someone else’s.

Do you have activities that keep you motivated and make you feel alive?

Adjusting to Life Anew

  • Posted on March 7, 2013 at 5:30 pm

2013-03-01 17.45.18

“You Can’t Go Home Again.”  In his novel of that title, published posthumously in 1940, Thomas Wolfe exposed a community that shunned its hometown author. Taken in a different context, this message certainly is one I didn’t want to hear in the last few months.

So what has it been like to re-enter earth with a sense of normalcy?

Strange.

When I returned home from my last treatment (after staying with my wonderful friend), I was greeted by the flowering plum tree in my front yard. It’s a welcoming sight, one of hope for the future. The tree was a sign that I needed to take care of my house, purchased last September, because I was going to live there for some time.  So while adjusting to the side effects of treatment, I am taking care of some “honey-do” items. Some of these tasks I can tackle myself, such as unclogging drains and oiling locks. But others require the expertise of the professionals.

A guy who installs blinds came in to give my house a sense of privacy. How the previous owners could live without any coverings on any windows is beyond me.

The cable TV guy connected up my new flatscreen, allowing me to enjoy TV after over thirty years without it. The thrill of watching Downton Abbey has not escaped me.

Then a specialist came around to make my garage door as easy as possible for me to open and close. It gives me a sense of order to have the house secure, yet accessible.

Tomorrow I expect a handyman, recommended by a friend, to take care of a variety of tasks that ordinarily would be handled by a spouse.  We’ll see how many he can take on and what he has to leave for a contractor specialist.

I try to focus on the hope of living in this new abode as I manage my symptoms: becoming cold as the afternoon wears on, tingling in hands and feet, and a general fatigue and achiness that can’t really be described. Food isn’t as enjoyable as it once was; in fact, my taste buds are quite fussy about what goes down the hatch. I also don’t experience hunger. It’s strange not to get body signals that alert me to the need for sustenance.  I have to rely on the clock.

I’m also taking care of needed professional services like eye exams, dental cleanings, tax preparation, and trust planning. All sensible, and collectively reflecting a cautious optimism for the future. I was relieved to discover this week that I don’t have glaucoma; I’m just a glaucoma suspect. Would that I were just a cancer suspect, too, but the diagnosis has gone way beyond suspicious.

The latest plans I am making are for my cremation. My rationale is that my family doesn’t need to worry about funeral details when they are grieving. Not that I plan to go away any time soon, but it’s good to get it out of the way.

As Thomas Wolfe said in his novel, “Make your mistakes, take your chances, look silly, but keep on going. Don’t freeze up.” I certainly make mistakes and take chances. Don’t we all? And I look silly sometimes, for example when I forgetfully wore my night hat to the dentist instead of my wig.  But I don’t plan to freeze up. I accept social and church invitations and extend my own as much as I can. In fact, not only can I go home again, but, as the songs go, “You’ll never walk alone” and “I’ll never walk alone.” And I know I won’t.

Autumn Reflections: Day Trippers, yeah!

  • Posted on October 29, 2012 at 1:27 pm
Mt. Lassen Peak as reflected in Manzanita Lake

Last Saturday’s forecast promising sunny fall weather in our area proved right on target. Relying on this prediction, my good friend and I decided to take a day trip so I could say goodbye to a family vacation lake house soon to be sold.

Before our trip up into this mountainous region best known for Mt. Lassen Peak, we stopped at the local coffee drive-thru to snag some Oregon Chai Latte, a black tea with vanilla and spices combined with 2% milk.  We wanted to be jazzed as we made our way up the twisting roadway.

On the way, we found a place to pull over so we could explore snow-fed Deer Creek. Climbing down to the water’s edge, we snapped photos of a small waterfall with a backdrop of yellow leaves dangling from tenuous branches. Big leaf maple abounded with its golden leaves, evidencing a decline in chlorophyll production.  Alder and some western dogwood displayed a pink-orange, while the poison oak has transitioned from pink to orange to brilliant red. It’s rare that I see pink in the fall, outside of pink-tober. What a welcome relief! I hope to paint from the photos we took.

A campsite sits on the opposite side of the road, so we crossed over to explore. At the peak of summer this locale must be packed with families eager to have running creek water for cooling off and for children’s play. If only these summer tourists could see the magic of this heavenly place in the autumn, with its vibrant colors and shifting shadows.

When we reached town we found a gift store where we could browse and window shop. We met some lovely women there, taking the time to chat, share stories, and marvel at the myriad of Christmas ornaments on display. I love the fact that we were not rushed in any way. Leaving this shoppe we headed for the realtor’s office so I could sign papers and get key access to the vacation home.

For lunch we chose Knotbumper, a homey restaurant located in town for over 20 years, one to which I’d never been despite all the summers I spent in this area. A wood-burning stove with a glowing belly graced the main dining room, providing atmosphere and charm. As we sat there, we noticed a marked influx in customers, undoubtedly including those who had gotten a late start up the mountain and were now just arriving to enjoy a hearty meal. From the eclectic menu I chose a lunch called Coyote Flats, consisting of a chile relleno casserole, a tasty navy bean soup and some refried beans and a tortilla.

It was the first meal I’ve finished in a long time.

Knotbumper Restaurant

Sample cuisine

We then ventured next door to a place called “Good Vibrations.” No, we didn’t see the Beach Boys. While we were minutes from a lake beach, we were five hours from any ocean. But we did find unique treasures that would make fabulous souvenirs. According to my friend, who lived in this area as a teen, the store’s building was once a restaurant, with an outdoor eating area overlooking a babbling brook. She remembered the history of many of these buildings in town, so she became a tour guide giving me a glimpse into the past.

When our desire for shopping abated, we made our way to the lake house. Having not been there for over two years, I didn’t know what to expect. But it was exactly the way I remembered it. The big river-rock stone fireplace still dominated the Great Room. Furniture stood where I remembered it to be. The decks still looked out on a lake and mountain scene partly obscured by pine trees. The afternoon was so warm and inviting that I was surprised there weren’t any boats out on the lake. But then again, boat rental season is over and homeowners have brought in their docks for the season. Snow still lingering on the ground reminded us of the significant snowfall they had had a week earlier. So while no boaters were enjoying the lake, this was the perfect day to come, before the weather turned again and the days shortened considerably.

After saying goodbye to the house and locking it up, I jumped into my friend’s vehicle and she drove around the peninsula on which the house sits. We noted how close the homes are to each other because land is so valuable. We passed countless bear and moose mailboxes. We passed the now-deserted beach and tennis courts. I marveled how restaurants had relocated even since I had been there two years ago. Changes of ownership and venue are common in this area where the economy depends mostly on summer tourists.

After leaving the peninsula my friend drove me to the area where her family used to live. She pointed out her old house and the school bus route and the school she used to attend. She actually got bored on the bus despite the beautiful mountain ranges appearing from the windshield every day. I can’t believe it would be boring, but when you are a teenager and the route leads to school, the scenery becomes routine fast.

Cascade mountain range seen from the bus

After we dropped off the house key at the realty office, we headed out of town before the melting snow could turn to ice on the road. We were armed with cookies to munch on as our snack. Our first stop was just out of town where we searched for the perfect sugar pinecones to take back. Ponderosa pines are prominent in the foothills near where we live, but the sugar pines with their enormous cones grow much further up into the mountains. What great decorations these will be for Christmas!

Once we got back on the road that followed Deer Creek we pulled over to get a closer glimpse of the Indian rhubarb growing there.  The big, fan-shaped leaves of this plant are beginning to blaze in red. For those unfamiliar with this water plant, it is a slowly-spreading perennial native to mountain streamsides in woodlands in the western United States (southwestern Oregon to northwestern California).  We had missed it on the way up and didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to zoom in on its once-a-year glory.

Indian rhubarb before the fall

When we returned to our home city, I gave my friend a huge hug of gratitude as we parted ways. I told her this trip was the best I had ever taken up to that area. No other mountain drive could compare to this one with a beautiful friend who cares and takes the time to stop along the way and live life in the slow lane.

You see, my cancer has likely returned. This was a perfect diversion, an incredible almost-ending to pink-tober, the month my beloved father died. My wish to all is that you would have good friends as I have in this woman willing to drive me to an autumn retreat while I am feeling reasonably well.

Have you a special autumn spot to which you return to enjoy fall colors?

The Hunt for Pink October: What Helps Cure Breast Cancer?

  • Posted on October 7, 2012 at 4:51 pm

The pink culture that defines breast cancer awareness sears our consciousness this month, with everything from pink helicopters to pink slugger violins to pink sleeves by quarterbacks.

But porn?

I just discovered that the adult entertainment site PornHub will donate one cent to a breast cancer research charity (Save the Boobs) for every 30 porn videos watched.

Seriously?

How generous! How wonderful that women will be exploited so that a penny will go for research for every 30 videos men watch to satisfy their prurient interest.

This is wrong on so many levels. Porn is not just a healthy outlet for men who need sexertainment. It has consequences no matter how you slice and spice it. The sex-slave trade is only one of the many dirty secrets that porn kings want to hide. Titillating videos of this nature are also associated with such unpleasantries as incest, rape, underage sex, and marital infidelity.

Many men have been addicted to porn for years, helpless to stop it no matter how hard they try. Some need more and more thrills to get the same self-pleasuring reaction to the images. Behavior that feeds the ever-deepening addiction can lead sadly to break-up of families. How does family breakup help those with breast cancer? Breakups adversely affect finances, and cause undue stress that depresses the immune system. I should know; I’ve been there.

Such flippant treatment of breast cancer is an insult to women everywhere. It’s belittling to those who’ve had a lumpectomy or mastectomies and/or breast reconstruction. It’s especially an affront to those with metastatic disease in which the cancer has spread beyond the breast to distal parts of the body. It’s a slap in the face to those who have already died from this dreaded disease.

And what about the disfiguring effects of lymphedema, an arm swelling that can occur after breast cancer surgery and radiation? No one wants to mention that ugly little truth, either. Who wants to address how the swelling can lead to complications beyond just cosmetic concerns, such as infections? Who wants to discuss unsightly bandaging?  None of those topics is erotic, let alone stimulatory.

Instead of porn videos, these seekers of thrills should be required to see the The SCAR Project photo display.  According to their website, the SCAR project is “a series of large-scale portraits of young breast cancer survivors shot by fashion photographer David Jay. Primarily an awareness raising campaign, The SCAR Project puts a raw, unflinching face on early onset breast cancer while paying tribute to the courage and spirit of so many brave young women.”

One look at these images will take away the pink glitter people continue to sprinkle on breast cancer.

Being encouraged to watch porn videos tempts men and gives them a convenient excuse to feed their addictions, while hurting their loved ones. Are you fed up with this low blow to the cause? Are you tired of how breast cancer awareness has become a form of sexploitation? Then it’s time to make our voices heard. Join me in putting an end to the porno-pink nonsense that damages our society and putting money into causes likely to effect change.

I particularly like to read The Pink Underbelly during October as the author points out all the pink inconsistencies that abound. In her latest post she describes Dr. Susan Love’s recent initiative: The HOW Study. This study is designed to find out the causes of breast cancer so we can prevent the disease from occurring. According to Dr Love’s website, some 280,000 women were diagnosed with breast cancer last year. Of those, 40,000 women will die from the disease this year. Let’s get these statistics under control, not by watching porn, but by embracing worthy studies like this one. Another organization of value is The Army of Women. I’ve participated in several Army of Women studies and will continue to do so every chance I get, because I believe they will make a difference.

Down with pink! Instead, I’m seeing red. Let’s neutralize the color of the hunt this month by avoiding all causes that sport “tatas” and “boobs” and supporting causes that matter.

Texas Fun – Deep in the heart

  • Posted on September 16, 2012 at 9:41 pm

My recent visit to Texas confirmed the cliche that everything is bigger there.  My time spent in this special state well exceeded my expectations, which were already big.

After my son Josh picked me up at the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport two weeks ago, we sped away to Waco, home to Baylor University where he’s a senior. That night we caught the last half of the first Baylor football game of the year.

The next morning, Labor Day, after I enjoyed a tasty breakfast at the hotel, we headed off to Homestead Heritage at Brazos de Dios near Elm Mott, TX.  That particular day they celebrated a Sorghum Festival with demonstrations in so many ancient crafts: blacksmithing, weaving, grist milling, pottery making and farming. Complete fun, and an escape from all things California.

Hungry, and unable to wait 1.5 hours to get a seat at the Homestead Heritage cafe, we made our way to Cracker Barrel, where we had to wait only 20 minutes for a table.  No worries. We easily spent the time scouting their gift shop for the perfect birthday present for his girlfriend. Only a mom could help him solve this problem.

After a lovely lunch we took a break to read in the campus library for a couple hours–I with my i-Pod reading “Invisible Man” and Josh with some kind of textbook.  Eager to meet his roommates, I implored him to take me to his apartment where his friend told me they would be.  They are just as charming as Josh’s description of them, polite and modest.

Off we then headed to buy us some bubble tea (with black tapioca in the bottom). Mine, an almond concoction, was divine in every sense of the word. We took our drinks over to a famous suspension bridge that crosses the Brazos River. Following tradition, Baylor students throw corn tortillas over the side to see if they land on a concrete pier. If not, the ducks dive and swoop for them. Everyone wins.

Next on the whirlwind tour was a visit to a local park laced with trails and views. Josh coaxed me into climbing the 89 stone steps of Jacob’s Ladder. The problems?  I’m out of stair-climbing shape, the temperature well exceeded 100 degrees, and almost every step was higher than a standard step. The next day my legs paid for it, but it was worth the exertion. Anything to have fun with my son in the sun.

The next park destination was Lover’s Leap, which overlooks the river. A fun place to take photos of the view–and of us!

The afternoon wasn’t complete without a kayaking excursion. The Baylor Marina sported all kinds of water craft that day when the students were off from classes. We headed out onto the river and explored inlets. A thoroughly magical excursion, especially when I thought I might never kayak again because our lake house must be sold.

The day still hadn’t ended.  We feasted our eyes and taste buds on a local Thai restaurant, a favorite haunt of Josh and his girlfriend. The evening wouldn’t be complete without topping it off with a frozen yogurt complete with delish condiments: fruits, syrups and candies. Fun stuffed us to the gills!

We ended the night watching the movie “Madagascar” at his apartment, a flick requested by yours truly. When he took me back to the hotel, I still had energy for a short swim and hot tub immersion in their indoor facilities.

If this wasn’t heaven, I don’t know what is.

The next day Josh had classes, so he picked me up late morning and we ate lunch at the college dining hall. This place was food court heaven, with any type of cuisine you might desire. Taking advantage of this rare opportunity, I filled my plate high with salad, main entrees, and wraps. Then I went back for a big bowl of soup. You’d think I were a starving refugee.

After lunch Josh dropped me off at Common Grounds, a popular coffee and music hangout adjacent to the campus. I reveled in the funky nature of my environs and the college conversations all around me.

When Josh picked me up he gave me a leisurely tour of the campus, including the building where he spends most of his time. Of course we had to make our obligatory trip to the college bookstore, where I purchased a Baylor University Mom decal. Then we stood in line for root-beer floats at the afternoon Dr. Pepper Hour.

Soon enough, it was time to be dropped off at the campus Starbucks while Josh attended his last class of the day. Sipping a skinny vanilla latte, I listened in on various conversations as I tried to read my book. Soon Josh came and we went out for TexMex at a dining establishment with hubcaps on the ceiling. We finished the night watching “Madagascar 2″. What else could we watch but a sequel?

The next morning, after a hearty omelet breakfast at his dining hall, we headed for Dallas, for my lymphedema conference. More on that experience in my next blog post.

For this post I decided just to focus on the time Josh and I could spend together. I had been looking forward to this trip for two years, since the last National Lymphedema Network conference in Orlando.

And it finally came to be.

The campus visit was far more than this mom (with all the physical and emotional pain she has experienced over the past year) had anticipated. I probably gained five pounds in two days. But I was deep in the heart of Texas, where my son resides and my heart belongs. Where bluebonnets spring up along the roadside at certain times of the year. Where else would I want to be?

Where do you enjoy going when you take a trip? Do you often see family?

Short But Sweet: An August rendezvous with my three sons

  • Posted on August 20, 2012 at 7:59 am

My sons don’t visit often. Their phone calls are sporadic, their Facebook messages even less frequent.

So when my college senior son Josh called to tell me he and his new girlfriend Jen were coming to visit me from halfway across the U.S. before his fall semester began, my mothering excitement kicked into high gear. I hadn’t seen him since January, and had yet to meet his charming companion.

Since his older brother Andrew lives only three hours from me, he volunteered to pick up Josh and Jen from the airport and transport them here and take them back. With gas prices what they are, I gratefully accepted his kind offer.

While my oldest son Cliff lives in the same city as I, he stops over only on holidays and when his brothers are in town. He’s a busy guy.

As befits this special occasion, I tackled with gusto the challenge of entertaining guests.  What mother doesn’t want to be remembered as the hostess with the mostest? Strolling to the corner market with cell phone in hand, I snagged a bottle of vanilla extract to complete the ingredients for zucchini bread. The squash I picked a few weeks ago would not be going to waste.

With the two loaves safely in the oven, I cleaned and organized the flat I call home, hanging pictures that had been languishing in closets, dusting off monitors and printers, and generally making the place sparkle. I even cleaned the inside and outside of my car.

When the time came for them to arrive, I was ready for a snooze.

Cliff rang the doorbell first. As soon as he stepped inside, he commented on the welcoming smell of the zucchini bread filling his nostrils.  After he and I caught up on our latest doings, we headed for the community pool, waiting for his brothers to arrive.

And what a reunion it was when they did show up! A whirlwind of activities and social events.  We played our favorite game Boggle until the clock struck 11. Each day we splashed around and horseplayed in the pool to cool our heated bodies. On the first morning after their arrival, Josh cooked us up a delectable breakfast of spinach-mushroom-feta omelets with toast and fake bacon, complete with orange juice, seasoned with love. At dinnertimes we found ourselves at restaurants with old friends.

Everyone wanted to meet Jen. Hours flew by, without much time remaining for private conversations and catching up. But I guess that’s what phone calls and Skyping are for. When Josh and Jen craved some alone time to hike and shop together, Andrew and I headed for my storage unit to clear out some of his belongings. Then he treated me to the cinematic sensation of “Dark Knight Rises”. John joined us later that afternoon for more rounds of Boggle. Word challenges made me glad that I still had my unabridged dictionary that must weigh 10 pounds. Pretty soon my mind was mush. But theirs kept going, finding words as obscure as “rebuker” and “regrounded.”

The last evening was topped off with a trip to Baskin-Robbins where the five of us licked up double scoops of our favorite flavors. We sat outside in the lingering warmth , laughing and reminiscing.

The final morning arrived much too soon. I got up at 5:30 to see them off to the airport, which is 1.5 hours from where I live. I toasted bagels for them and handed over the last two pieces of the zucchini bread for the road. This baked good was an incredible hit.  The spectacle of young men devouring my tasty treat would have made my home ec teacher proud.

After downing some OJ, they rushed off into the sunrise. Leaving me to look out my window with longing.

The whole visit ended as abruptly as it started. Where did the time go? Where did their childhood go? I spent the day they left with my girlfriend, restrained from crying by engaging in retail therapy and watching three Hallmark movies. Then we took an evening walk. What are girlfriends for, anyway? We both needed distraction that day, and we succeeded.

The blessings from this visit are countless. My youngest son was only three when I first got cancer. Now he’s twenty. I’ve lived to see him find a delightful, charming girlfriend, and watched my boys grow up into fine young men out on their own, still solicitous of their mother. Nothing could be sweeter.

Not even zucchini bread.

What have been your sweet moments in life? What do you do after the people you love so much leave and you know you won’t see them for some time?

No More Prescription Drugs: A holiday or a forever?

  • Posted on August 14, 2012 at 10:06 pm

I’ve stood before more pharmacy windows in my fifties than most people have seen in their eighties. And I don’t use drive-up windows. I’m perfectly capable of standing in line. Can I finally ditch these drugstore visits (except for an occasional antibiotic or eczema cream)?

Since 1996 I’ve been on some kind of oral prescription drug. That’s when breast cancer entered my consciousness and daily vocabulary. That’s when blood draws on my right arm were as common as robins in our backyard. But maybe I’ve seen an end to these drug banes to my existence. Finally.

The first pill I popped was tamoxifen, a drug prescribed for five years to keep my hormone-sensitive cancer at bay. When I stopped that drug in 2001 the doctors prescribed Fosamax (alendronate sodium) so that I would not experience bone degeneration due to the premature menopause caused by chemo. Every two years I underwent bone-density scans (Dexascans) to determine how my hip and spine were faring. The dreaded word “osteopenia” entered my vocab, but I refused to let it defeat me. More recent scans have revealed that my hip and spine are in the normal range for my age.

Yippee! That’s the best news I’ve had in a while.  According to my doctor, that means I can take a holiday from Fosamax for a year or two.

But only a holiday?

I demand more than just a four-day weekend (figuratively) to be away from this drug. Not only is it accompanied by some nasty possible side effects (including localized osteonecrosis of the jaw and the possibility of fractures), but it may only work for the first two years according to my oral surgeon.  A blood test will tell me if I’m even a candidate for some upcoming oral surgery that I need.

But the bottom line is that I’m sick of taking any kind of prescription drug. To underwriters for insurance company policies, being a cancer patient on any such drug is anathema.

Enough already.

So am I done then with oral drugs? Only time will tell. I may have to fight my primary care physician when he tries to convince me in a few years that I’ll be a stooped-over lady by my seventies. I have not lost any adult height in all these years. What makes him think I will slouch? I’m taking calcium and Vitamin D plus a multivitamin and I’m walking or running every other day and lifting weights. I eat a healthy diet. So what is the resistance? Why all the push to take prescription drugs?

I feel free as a bird without a prescription. Almost like a kid on a bike without training wheels. On my own.

And that’s the way it should be.  If I don’t reach all my reward points at my local pharmacy because I don’t take prescriptions anymore, so be it. I’d rather not have things circulating in my system than save a few dollars on some drugstore merchandise.

Have you taken a bisphosphonate to prevent or reduce osteoporosis? How do you counter the possible onset of osteoporosis?

Newcomers Club: the Ultimate Welcome Wagon

  • Posted on August 8, 2012 at 6:46 pm

“A single rose can be my garden… a single friend, my world.” Leo Buscaglia

Welcome Wagon is the world’s largest welcoming service to the new homeowner, providing a plethora of products designed to help customers build their businesses. Each year, they reach out to millions of new homeowners with the Welcome Wagon Gift Book.

According to their website, Thomas Briggs, a marketing wizard in Memphis, Tennessee, founded Welcome Wagon in 1928. His inspiration?  Stories of early Conestoga “welcome wagons” that would meet and img1 greet westward travelers, providing fresh food and water for the journey. Envisioning Welcome Wagon as a modern version of this quaint hospitality, he hired friendly and neighborhood-savvy “hostesses” to deliver baskets of gifts supplied by local businesses to new homeowners. Over a cup of coffee, these women would inform new home buyers of local activities in the community while handing out gifts and coupons from local commercial entities.

The idea caught on across the U.S., making new homeowners happy to receive discounts and discover businesses in their local communities.

Enter the Newcomers Club for women. I joined one last November after moving to my new “rural city” in California. For only $20 per year I enjoy monthly “coffees” at members’ houses, monthly lunches for a nominal fee, and monthly activities based on interest. For example, the club features groups involving game-playing, book-reading, gardening, movie-watching, local exploration, crafts, genealogy, and epicurious tastes. Something for everybody. And if a woman wants to start another group, such as golf or ukulele practice, she need simply suggest it to the Board while finding sufficient people to populate it. The sky’s the limit.

But there is a hitch. The meetings are generally held on weekdays, at times when most full-time working women cannot attend. All the women in our particular club are retired or have part-time jobs that don’t interfere with their favorite activities. The demographics of our group make babysitting services unnecessary.

A few months ago I blogged about three local explorations sponsored by the club: a local trip to Table Mountain to see the wildflowers and a local trip to a cemetery and winery/monastery. All these excursions, as well as a local bike path tour, invigorated me.

Today a new adventure awaited–an ice cream social at a spectacular residence sporting a lovely flower garden, pool, orchard, and vegetable garden. This morning, after we had said our “hellos”, we headed out to pluck ripe fruits and vegetables straight from the trees, bushes and vines of her lush gardens. I ended up with a large boxful of green and red peppers, tomatoes, plums, peaches, nectarines, zucchini,  string beans, strawberries, and grapes. The woman of the house would have let us pick the honeydew, cantaloupe and watermelon if they had been ripe.

When I brought the box inside the house, an acquaintance asked, “What are you going to do with all that produce? You live alone.”

“That’s a good problem to have,” I responded, as I loaded the box into my car. No guilt washed over me. The hostess told us that nothing in her garden was off-limits. Everyone who wanted produce received more than her share of it.

After we returned from our forage into her bountiful backyard farm,  we chatted up a storm until the announcement of ice cream reached our ears. The line for sundaes, heavenly concoctions of whatever we wanted, snaked all around her kitchen island, almost into her great room.

Since our hostess is the club photographer, we sat in front of her T.V. set with our sundae bowls to enjoy some photo montages she created and put to music.

There’s nothing like a Newcomers Club to make you feel welcome and loved in your new community. You can see if there is one in your community by consulting the Newcomers Club worldwide directory. If a club doesn’t exist in your area, you can contact the local Chamber of Commerce to see what can be done to remedy the situation.

While the Welcome Wagon serves its business purpose, the Newcomers Club fulfills the need for social interaction. At the club we don’t deliberately promote businesses, but we do share what we know about local activities, shops, cultural events, restaurants, etc. These tips have proven invaluable, especially to people who don’t know the area very well.

The beauty of these clubs is that once we qualify as members (living in the community for less than four years), we can stay in the club for life. Some of our “newcomers” have been club members for over twenty years. And for me, it’s nice to join a club where the defining interest is not a health-related issue such as breast cancer. While several of the women members do have a history of breast cancer, that fact is not foremost in their minds, and not a reason to join the club. It’s incidental. We make friends because we are neighbors, a village of people who want to meet others, make new friends, and support and encourage each other the best that we can.

Nothing wrong with that.

Now I just need to find freezer space for all my produce goodies. I’ll make way. That’s what casseroles, soups and smoothies are for: medleys of yummyness.

And tomorrow I head over to a club member’s house for our friendly monthly Scrabble challenges. Let the games begin.

Have you had a visit from the Welcome Wagon? How do you meet your neighbors, friends, and locals with common interests when you move into a new community?

Acupuncture Juncture: Pins and Needles

  • Posted on August 2, 2012 at 6:10 pm

 It is easier to find men who will volunteer to die, than to find those who are willing to endure pain with patience. Julius Caesar

As many of you who read my blog know, I’ve battled chest pains on and off for the past year. Cardiac problems and cancer have been ruled out as causes. Thank God.

While the pains subsided last November, they reared their ugly head again in March and apparently have no intention to quit. The diagnosis now appears to be Tietze’s syndrome, a type of inflammation in the left chest area characterized by swelling, redness and heat. It may be due to repetitive microtrauma to that area of the body caused by athletic overuse. I had been an exercise junkie for some time, and this may be the price I’ve paid, complicated by lymphedema and radiation to that side of my body.

Translation? No fun.

The treatment recommended by my first doctor involved popping over-the-counter ibuprofen pills three times a day up to a maximum daily dosage. Unfortunately, this non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drug didn’t touch the pain. Nerves in that area of the body registered such agony in my brain that I had a hard time drifting off to sleep. Application of ice packs and heat pads only provided temporary relief.

The second medical professional I saw, my primary care physician’s assistant (PA), prescribed physical therapy. After observing my slouching in the waiting and examination room, the PT thought he had the answer: I just needed to improve my posture, as the slouching exerted undue compression on the cartilage. So he designed exercises that would help me straighten my back. Some of the exercises he prescribed exacerbated the problem. After the four visits recommended, the treatment didn’t alleviate the discomfort or the swelling. I abruptly discontinued the sessions, especially since I had to pay $75 out of pocket each time I came to the clinic.

At my most recent visit with the PA, he expressed disappointment that the physical therapy didn’t help. But he wasn’t about to give up. And I respect him greatly for his persistence. His next suggestion: acupuncture, which is among the oldest healing practices in the world. For the uninitiated, the term describes a group of procedures whereby anatomical points on the body are stimulated. The acupuncture technique most studied involves penetrating the skin with thin, solid, metallic needles that are manipulated by the hands or by electrical stimulation.

Years ago when I was part of a breast cancer support group, some of our members used acupuncture to ease the side effects of their chemo treatments. I might have explored that avenue had I not held a busy job as an attorney at the time. I also feared that I might develop lymphedema from the needles placed on the arm on which surgery was performed.

Because the pain has radiated to my back and side, I am now at the point where I will try any modality suggested by a respected medical practitioner to get the pain under control.

The atmosphere at the community acupuncture clinic relaxes me and soothes my soul. I’ve had three sessions now, shoes off, lying with eyes closed in a recliner listening to Chinese instrumentals softly playing in the background. Each time I am there I have drifted off to sleep, which in itself is a blessing after enduring night after night of sleep deprivation. At this juncture, I can’t say that the treatment is working. The acupuncturist told me I would have ups and downs in my pain levels, but the idea is to see gradual relief over a course of a few weeks.

Here’s hoping the needle sticks will do the trick.

If not, the PA said he has other ideas in his virtual black bag. His solutions do not involve cortisone shots, which have their own problems. Maybe he’ll have me see a chiropractor. All I know is that he has not given up hope that I can lick this. And I hope he never does.

Have you tried acupuncture or acupressure for treatment of pain or for relief of side-effect symptoms related to cancer treatment? If so, what has been your experience?

Stress and Bone Mets – I read the news last week, oh, boy

  • Posted on July 25, 2012 at 2:22 pm

I read the news last week, and boy! was it dreadful!

Vanderbilt University has done a study that finds that stress fuels breast cancer metastasis to the bone.  The authors conclude that efforts to reduce stress and depression might be just the ticket to ward off a Stage IV diagnosis. Just what I need to hear as I go through the terrible stresses of a marital breakup, a heartbreaking event that has exacerbated my chemo aftereffects: lymphedema, mitrial valve prolapse, anxiety, Reynaud’s phenomenon and costochondritis. What other “itis” or “edema” or “ectomy” or “lapse” will I suffer through next?

My latest stressor came last week when I was declined once again for regular medical insurance. The kind that most people in the U.S. take for granted (if they can afford it). I’ve also been declined for long-term care insurance. The latest reason for the health insurance decision?  In my application I reported too many medical conditions on top of the cancer. Duh!  The long-term effects of chemo on those who have been treated for breast cancer are still being discovered. Why the discrimination when all of my manifested conditions (including stress, which exacerbates everything) can be traced back to my diagnosis?

The less-than-helpful telephone drone from this insurance company explained to me from his high throne of twenty-somethings that people get declined for regular medical insurance if they have “cancer or AIDS or something drastic.” Thanks, buddy!  It’s nice to learn that my condition warrants a drastic label as serious as HIV.

When I inquired if I could get into the high-risk pool (I’m already in a pool but hoped this new pool would be cheaper), the rep told me I had to be coming off a group plan with COBRA. I have been off COBRA for years.

“Next!” he probably said to himself. “I’ll make my quota of answering 100 phone calls in an hour if I cut off this woman now.”

I wish I would have had the instant opportunity to fill out a survey about this insensitive soul so I could turn him in to his employer. I could still register a complaint, but somehow I don’t think it would make the necessary impact on someone who thinks he’s immortal.

The promising news from the Vanderbilt study on stress is that a simple beta-blocker like denosumab or propranolol might prevent cancer metastasis to the bone. Medicines such as these have been used for some time to control blood pressure. But before we rush off to our doctors demanding that we be put on yet another anti-cancer medication, we need to know that this is a preliminary study, done only in mice.  And we need to recognize that beta-blockers have their own unique set of side effects.

In the meantime, we can play our part by maintaining a healthful lifestyle: a healthful diet, meditation, imagery, journaling, stretching, laughing, connecting with supportive friends and family members, and keeping or taking up aerobic exercise routines. I’m doing all I can. I must push forward and remember that these studies are for our good and may lead to a breakthrough in our treatment.

I just wish reading one study after another about what leads to recurrence didn’t put me into such a tailspin. Onward and upward!

Have you ever been declined for medical insurance because of a pre-existing condition? How do you handle stressors and depressing events in your life?

 

Top