Good News

This week brought good news of my cancer marker numbers continuing to fall--at a faster clip than three weeks ago--and of my red blood cell count actually going up--to the doctor's surprise. I credit that to the 4 liver capsules I swallow every day on my naturopath's recommendation. Or maybe it's my daily visualizing a fleet of mini Mini Coopers racing through my bones, stirring up the marrow.

After six treatments, whose cumulative effects are often harsh, I'm still doing well, with more energy than I had back at the beginning. In fact, I have gotten off my duff and returned to exercising. I've added back in one aerobics class a week and one Zumba dance class. The dance class is an energetic blend of latin dances, belly dancing and African moves. I love it and feel proud I haven't had to be carried out on a stretcher yet. In my alternate life I've always been a dancer and an ice skater--something you would not want to witness in real life with a full bladder.

The days fly by. Only rarely do I consider that they may be part of a finite number predicted by cancer statistics. Most days are ordinary in their sweetness. I've started a gratitude notebook, one or two things I especially appreciate any given day. But we try not to make every day so precious that it reminds us continually of mortality. Yesterday Jeff and I were happy enough to be mundanely employed in mopping floors--me--and cleaning the wood ones on hands and knees--Jeff.

The three things I've had to get comfortable with in dealing with cancer are the idea of dying, the idea of living, and the fact I don't know which reality will prevail. My trusty oncology nurse, whose own husband is a colon cancer survivor, says you have to look at cancer like a chronic disease. Like high blood pressure it may always be with you, you have to manage it and you get on with your life.

Love to you all.

Diane, who's getting on with her life

From the beach!

Well, it's a tardy post but you should all know we had a lovely time at the beach after Christmas. Rain jackets were required full time but the weather lifted enough for a walk out to our favorite big sand dune at Cape Kiwanda. Mom made the big tramp up to the top where, as usual, we could barely pull Dad away from the booming surf and Jesse roamed onto the hazardous Cape itself, followed shortly by the rest of us. Alex and his crew but no Mary ;-( , joined us for some serious cards and eatin'. Hope the rest of you had good holidays and are jumping into this new year with gusto.

-nate

Vrooom, vrooom!

Hey y'all,

I'd like you to meet my sweetie-pie brother-in-law, D. E., who lives in an undisclosed town in Western Montana with my sister, Lorie. D. E. drives an 18-wheeler for a living and, like me, detests the sound of a vacuum cleaner. He is also one of the West's best storytellers. Well, as some of you may recall from a blog I wrote a ways back, I've chosen a Mini-Cooper as a symbol for taking control of my life in my current challenge. I once test drove one, and let me tell you, it gripped the road and laid rubber. Last night, in fact, I sent a red Mini through the marrow of every bone in my body to stir up the red blood cells which have been flagging lately. Daughter Valarie thought the visualization might be helpful. Maybe she's having second thoughts about her offer to donate me blood for a transfusion..........

At any rate, back to D. E. He was DISgusted that I would choose such an insignificant car for such an important job as transporting me through the big C. When pressed, he confessed he had never driven one. Furthermore, he said if he ever did, he'd have to wear a paper bag over his head to avoid being seen by fellow truckers, friends, family members. At which point I CHALLENGED him to test drive one.

So, here we have "evidence" of his test drive in his neighbor's Mini. When questioned how he liked the sporty little car, D. E., ever the honest man, admitted he hadn't actually taken the car out of his neighbor's garage! Now, how sporting is that?! When asked why not, he said there was snow in the driveway. Now we've heard everything. Still, I think the masked challenger makes a great pinup on my refrigerator--what do you think?

One thing has me worried--when he signed the picture he wrote Game's On, Sister across it. Do you suppose that means he's challenging me to take an 18-wheeler out for a spin?

Vrooom, vrooom,

Diane

Getting a Bead on Things

Hi y'all,

We're still here! Trying to right the house after the holiday jamboree. Finally got to the bottom of the laundry hamper this weekend. Laundry actually turns out to be a rather soothing thing these days. Besides being nice and toasty when I fold it, it gives me a feeling of accomplishment and without any fuss transports me from the past into the future.

We had our dining room painted a cheery yellow to match the living room while we were at the beach, which has necessitated reframing the 7 paintings hanging there from an art show I did in Salem some time back. And now that we have the "refresh" bug, Jeff and I are scouting upholstery material for the reading couch (last recovered when the kids were small) and for the bench cushion in the entry way. Making such long term investments seems somehow right at the moment.

On the other hand, in the chemo room at the cancer center where I was getting a dressing change this afternoon, the following conversation took place....

Me: I'm trying to decide whether or not to start the adult novel I've taken lots of notes on. I don't know if I'll live long enough to finish it.

Fellow cancer patient: With chemo brain you forget a lot, so it won't matter if you don't finish reading it.

Me: Actually I meant to write it.

My nurse: I certainly wouldn't decide on the basis of cancer. You're not going to die anytime soon, and besides, you could walk out the door and get run over in the parking lot, like Dr. Rushing (my oncologist) who found himself spread eagle on a lady's hood in the hospital parking lot last week in an attempt to avoid being run down.

Fellow cancer patient: I think you definitely should get started writing.

My nurse: Besides, if you die before you finish it, you'll be dead anyway and it won't matter.
............

:~) I love my cancer nurse. She used to be in the Army. She always sets me straight.

Hugs to all,

Diane

Little holiday snippets

Last week. Mom and dad hop off the max line and meet me in downtown portland for a marvelous Christmas visit to a department store--their gift. I try on outfits--a classy dress with nobby fabric...a suit that I wish looked good on me but just doesn't "do it"...two shirts dad brings over himself...we finish with a pair of slacks, drapy sweater and a cheerful undershirt. Then we head into a nearby coffee shop for hot cocoa and a slice of gingerbread. It's cozy and stuffy and humid with melting snow and exhausted breath from our fellow coffeshop patrons. We watch cars slip and slide on the street outside; we eavesdrop on two policeman watching their fellow officer deal with a car stuck on the max line.

Christmas Eve. Dad is redecorating the tree, with a present for mom. Single sheets of paper, a picture of a hot rod car on one side, a calendar month on the other. (We learn later--a year's worth of dates to the theater.)

At the coast. I awake and head upstairs. Mom's still in bed, cuddled in the master bedroom of the rental, with windows on nearly all sides. She's wearing her lightblue beanie hat. It's soft and gentle and makes her seem so small. I savor ten minutes with her, all to myself.

Everything so precious.

Valarie

How about that Wonderland?

Snow is falling on snow here. The Scion parked out front sports a 16-inch crown and all the neighborhood evergreens preen in their albino furs. Are we ready for Christmas? Welllll. Sort of. Nathan pulled an all-nighter last night and is toiling away at the dining room table on part of his proposal for his dissertation, due "before Christmas". I hope that means before we need the table for dinner which is always lamb piroshkis made by the three musketeers and some black bean soup this year made by yours truly.

After dinner, doors close throughout the house, folks yell, "Stay out" and "Who has the tape?" and there's much flurry and snipping of catalogs and scribbling of pictures to represent presents still residing in stores, and much composing of tags that give a hint of what's inside a box, but not too easy a hint. We're lucky to finish before Christmas day. Last to bed is Mr. Claus, who fills the Christmas stockings to overflowing with toothbrushes and jars of olives and trail mix and whatever else occurred to him as he raced down the aisles of Fred Meyer. Somewhere in the midst of all this we read aloud Astrid Lindgren's Christmas story, The Runaway Sleigh Ride, about family and how every child counts.

For Christmas breakfast we always have a Port Townsend Sunrise, dreamed up during our magical years in Port Townsend. Here's how it goes: Crowd a cookie sheet (if there are six of you or a smaller pan for fewer people) with slices of bread. Cover with slices of orange cut crosswise (the sunrise). Sprinkle with walnuts and chopped dates. Put lots of eggs in a blender and fill to the top with milk. Add a little cinnamon and salt and pour the blended mixture over the bread. Bake at 375 till the milk-egg mixture has set (20-30 minutes) and serve with warm applesauce poured over the top. Yummm. Yum.

Weather permitting, the Hamms will caravan to the beach to spend a couple of days with brother Alex and his family in a 3-story rental with a hot tub and a view of the ocean. Whatever your holiday plans are--and staying home with a warm afghan and a good book also sounds good, I hope I can trust you're spending time with someone you love appreciating what means the most to you this season.

With love from the Hamm household,

Diane

Is It Cold or What?

I don't know what it is about these cold, clear days that makes me feel like tap dancing across the stage of my life. Maybe it's all that light that makes me shoot into action like the amaryllis my friend Gina gave me at Thanksgiving. Or maybe it's just the exhibitionist in me soaking up all the accumulated sunshine of you all's loving concern. At any rate, (and I'll whisper this is order not to tempt the fates) i'm feeling great this week. I've been able to get lots of good hours of writing in and have a good appetite--trying to stop the weight loss.

We're looking forward to the return of the kids for Christmas, too, and to some special time shopping with each of them. Who could say we're not blessed to the hilt. I hope you all are keeping warm and energized and not too harried with extra demands of the Holidays.

From under the mistletoe, a kiss from

Diane