THE TREATMENT STARTS
I can't begin to thank everyone for cards, e-mails and food deliveries. My doctors tell me that my state of mind, while intangible, is important. The support I have received has been overwhelming and immensely helpful.
Among others, my friend Carrie Rosenthal, who lives in Atlanta and who has been a friend for nearly 40 years, flew in to be with me. My children and grandchildren were all here this weekend. Warren, Laura, Austin and Nate flew in from California; Deborah, Chuck and Annabel drove down from Dallas; Keith and Brennan live here. Having all the family together was a major psychological boost. The kids are absolutely wonderful.
I can't begin to thank everyone for cards, e-mails and food deliveries. My doctors tell me that my state of mind, while intangible, is important. The support I have received has been overwhelming and immensely helpful.
Among others, my friend Carrie Rosenthal, who lives in Atlanta and who has been a friend for nearly 40 years, flew in to be with me. My children and grandchildren were all here this weekend. Warren, Laura, Austin and Nate flew in from California; Deborah, Chuck and Annabel drove down from Dallas; Keith and Brennan live here. Having all the family together was a major psychological boost. The kids are absolutely wonderful.
Mae Stoll, who lives in Austin, cooked for all of us Saturday night.
So many of you brought us wonderful meals. Gail Miller is the most efficient organizer. I really don't know how to thank you all.
I am feeling better, but I am still very tired and simple things like putting food on the table is a major effort. My doctors tell me it is a combination of lengthy surgery and stress at the particularly awful diagnosis. But I am better. I have moved to our upstairs bedroom, I no longer need a walker and I really hope to be able to shop and cook soon.
Dr. Kit Fox, the surgeon, was well pleased with the surgery. My staples were removed from my head on 24 March. You don't appreciate washing your hair until it is too hard to do so. I no longer look like I have zippers in my head.
I started the radiation and chemical treatment Monday, 30 March. But the first step was having a mask made the week before. It is molded to fit on your face then during treatment, it is fixed to the table. They put radiation through the mask for 15 to 20 minutes. During the treatment, it is sometimes dark, sometimes you see blue, sometimes you feel movement. The goal is to be very still, while they put radition in your brain. It is a very strange sensation. It is not painful, but it is not particularly pleasant. I get to repeat this process every day, five days a week , for seven weeks.
Unfortunately, I got an allergic reaction to the iodine dye they used to make the mask on 23 March. I could not open my eyes, and my face and mouth were a mess. But it is slowly getting better.
I take chemotherapy by mouth--every day for seven weeks three hours after I have had a meal. I am told that my chances of nausea are reduced if I take it at night on an empty stomach. I take it at bedtime. So far so good.
We went to M.D.Anderson, the premier cancer center in Houston, 25-26 March. The person we talked to there said exactly the same thing everyone is saying here. He was just more harsh and the prognosis was more painful to absorb. When the news is really awful, I have a tendency to switch off. Barbara Panzer, our friend and travel agent put us up in a wonderful Starwood Hotel. It made an unpleasant day a lot more comfortable. But most important is that the consulation gave the comfort that we had chosen the right therapy. Basically, the treatment for the first round is pretty uniform. What no one knows is what to do is when the tumor grows back. Unfortunately, it always grows back. The issue is the lenth of time before that happens.
My challenge right now is to live the short-term. I hope you all help me enjoy the days, weeks, months, and I hope years ahead.
Thank you again for giving me the support that has given me the strength to move on.
Michele
I am feeling better, but I am still very tired and simple things like putting food on the table is a major effort. My doctors tell me it is a combination of lengthy surgery and stress at the particularly awful diagnosis. But I am better. I have moved to our upstairs bedroom, I no longer need a walker and I really hope to be able to shop and cook soon.
Dr. Kit Fox, the surgeon, was well pleased with the surgery. My staples were removed from my head on 24 March. You don't appreciate washing your hair until it is too hard to do so. I no longer look like I have zippers in my head.
I started the radiation and chemical treatment Monday, 30 March. But the first step was having a mask made the week before. It is molded to fit on your face then during treatment, it is fixed to the table. They put radiation through the mask for 15 to 20 minutes. During the treatment, it is sometimes dark, sometimes you see blue, sometimes you feel movement. The goal is to be very still, while they put radition in your brain. It is a very strange sensation. It is not painful, but it is not particularly pleasant. I get to repeat this process every day, five days a week , for seven weeks.
Unfortunately, I got an allergic reaction to the iodine dye they used to make the mask on 23 March. I could not open my eyes, and my face and mouth were a mess. But it is slowly getting better.
I take chemotherapy by mouth--every day for seven weeks three hours after I have had a meal. I am told that my chances of nausea are reduced if I take it at night on an empty stomach. I take it at bedtime. So far so good.
We went to M.D.Anderson, the premier cancer center in Houston, 25-26 March. The person we talked to there said exactly the same thing everyone is saying here. He was just more harsh and the prognosis was more painful to absorb. When the news is really awful, I have a tendency to switch off. Barbara Panzer, our friend and travel agent put us up in a wonderful Starwood Hotel. It made an unpleasant day a lot more comfortable. But most important is that the consulation gave the comfort that we had chosen the right therapy. Basically, the treatment for the first round is pretty uniform. What no one knows is what to do is when the tumor grows back. Unfortunately, it always grows back. The issue is the lenth of time before that happens.
My challenge right now is to live the short-term. I hope you all help me enjoy the days, weeks, months, and I hope years ahead.
Thank you again for giving me the support that has given me the strength to move on.
Michele
4 comments:
Michele, You are in my thoughts and prayers every single day. Your grandkids are, of course, gorgeous. They look like good medicine. I have a card for you that I have been carrying around in my purse for three weeks. I WILL get it in the mail but in the meantime, sending every good thought in the world your way.
XO Peggy
Michele,
My thoughts are with you and your family. I was so sorry to hear about the ordeal you are having to go through.
Denise Geleitsmann
(Ken Ashworth's niece)
Michele,
It's Tweed. I am praying for you. We all miss you at the league. I just read your last post and it appears that you full of courage and resolve. It is so good to be blessed to have such loving and caring friends and especially family. Sharing joy with just the simple things as hangin' out with the grand kids. They are so full of life and that can't help but be contagious. You know we are all here for you. Keep us posted. You're a gem.
Dear Michele, I should have some info on the Outstanding Portfolio winner for you very soon. I'll send you that in a private email.
Looks like you have a full-time job again-- getting well! And once round 1 is finished, I shall pray that the round 2 experience is decades away (as well it may be).
I would sign off by saying "take care of business" but I know you're already doing that, so here's a hug: {{Michelle}}
Talk to you soon as things settle down here at school. Susan Gunn
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