Happy Anniversary

 

A year ago, this date, I was injected with a cocktail of poisons designed to kill any remaining breast cancer cells.  It was the first of eight monthly injections.  Turned out, it was the last round because it nearly killed my cancer’s host. 

I’m still struggling with the after-effects of the chemo and the sepsis that took advantage of a staph infection lurking in my body after Covid-19 and mastectomy surgeries from almost twelve months earlier.  According to the infectious disease expert (part of the team trying to keep me alive), I shouldn’t be here. 

When I let myself think about what all has happened since mid-December last year, depression settles in. I wonder if maybe it would’ve been better to let sepsis win. 

Then I remember the advantages I’ve had, the breaks, the unimaginable gifts of good fortune that have allowed me to live on, no matter the miseries, the pains and the permanent changes to this 75-plus-year-old body.  And I feel ashamed of myself for the tears, for isolating myself from family and friends…for forgetting the blessings of life.

For, I am still here and that is what matters.

I am still here.

 

 

 

I won the lottery!

 

Uh, the tooth fairy lottery, that is.

For years I have worn dentures, the result of years of childhood neglect and lack of funds to have dental work done as an adult.  However, more than twenty-five years ago my ex-husband worked for a company whose employee benefits included a great dental plan, so he and I both got our teeth fixed.  The new smiles did not save the marriage, sadly, and when we divorced the dental plan went with him.

Not long after he left, the dentures began falling apart.  I used super-glue to reset the teeth, not perfectly but they looked good enough.  The teeth continued to fall or break out until I stopped trying to repair them.  I also stopped smiling as broadly as I used to do because I was embarrassed by how unsightly my grin had become.

Above is how I've looked for at least twenty years.  Only my family has seen this smile during that time.

At the dentist this morning for the final fitting.  There will be minor adjustments before I can have them forever in a few days.  Hot diggity-dog!

Rachel and Lydia

 

 

Someday I will write about Rachel and Lydia, who were brought into this world the same day and time that I was, through the generosity and long struggle of my mother's body.

I made it to what would have been our 74th birthday today.  They didn't, having been removed last month.  I don't even know what happened to their bodies, but am ambivalent about their loss.  Phantom pains from where they were make me groan in pain and tears flow in sadness for a few seconds.  The weirdest thing about that is I reach out to comfort them only to pull away in shock when I realize there is nothing there anymore.

Well, nothing but sixty-seven metal staples and red, angry wound borders. 

So it goes.

What a Year, So Far!

 It all began with contracting Covid in December.  I thought I would dodge that bullet because I had so far.  Daughter and I were diagnosed the same day and quarantined at her house.  I have no furnace yet and this is the second winter I've "vacationed" with her - a blessing, especially considering Covid.  Missed a lot of work (no pay) which ate into my funds for a furnace.  But we survived!  Dodged a bullet after all.

Our quarantine period ended New Year's and the next day, respectively.  I had a small relapse a few days before which slowed me down a little.  On Jan3, I developed serious shortness of breath, went to an urgent care facility which sent me to the local ER.  Waited four hours to be seen (Covid hit our town in waves, particularly among the No-mask group who got together in large groups to celebrate the holidays.)  I think that, since I had already had the virus, the staff (understaffed) triaged me to the bottom of the list.  Doctor finally came in and diagnosed pleurisy: my lungs were clear, heart was real good, nothing to worry about.  Prescribed an NSAID for discomfort and inflammation, sent me back to daughter's apartment.  

Next morning, I awoke gasping for air, in unbearable pain.  Returned to urgent care, where I collapsed against daughter.  (Thought I was dying!)  Taken to a different hospital, scanned, found lungs and right leg were full of clots.  One in left lung was "of significant size" with two smaller ones partially blocking the descending pulmonary vessels.  I returned to my room, was placed on a heparin drip, three liters oxygen and advised to lie still for awhile.  Okay, no argument from me!  I was prescribed a blood thinner which I might have had to take for the rest of my life (but don't!).  That meant I would have a life after the hospital!  

Another bullet dodged!

The day before I was released, my PCP came in with more information from the CT.  There were large nodules in my thyroid and an unclear shadow in my left breast.  The doctor in CCU advised I make appointments as soon as possible, especially a mammogram.  Fortunately, my primary at the VA had already scheduled an annual mammo for the first week in February.  She added a thyroid ultrasound for the same week.  All good, dog!

Thyroid ultrasound and mammogram led to biopsies early May.  Thyroid came back benign, to be followed up with an endocrinologist.  Another bullet fell to earth.

Breast biopsy returned cancer diagnosis.  Uh-oh.  Didn't dodge that one! 

I go in for bilateral mastectomy tomorrow morning  The next bullet (that I know I'm facing) is metastasis, which we will know about after surgery.

Never mind all of that, though.  The absolute worst thing so far this year is the loss of our brother, Thomas Leonard McLemore, the second of our mother's kids.  Mac was kind-hearted, a much-loved and well respected man in his community.  His death has left many family and friends still reeling. To say he will be missed is an understatement.

He was a decorated Navy veteran (and the reason I enlisted) whose service in Viet-Nam exposed him to the brutalities of war and poisons like Agent Orange.  He was being eaten alive by skin cancer from AO exposure.  He lived with massive clots in his legs which eventually prevented him from standing on his own.  The last four or five years saw him home-bound in a wheelchair or seated on his recliner.  He couldn't stand or walk far without assistance.  His leg injuries from several conflicts in Viet-Nam were the source of the clots, but Mac refused the recommended amputations.  When an aneurysm in the lower aorta was discovered, an endovascular aneurysm repair (EVAR) was installed.  A second stent and a third followed.

Mac was 72 years old when he died on January 16 from a self-inflicted gunshot wound, the only bullet he couldn't miss.

Like I said, what a year.  So far.

Dadgummit! Dadgummit! Dadgummit!

 

 Late last week, my daughter came down with bronchitis.  Our family CRNP listened to Kareema's symptoms and prescribed a 5-day antibiotic regime, which, in the past, has always worked licketty-split to knock out infections such as this.  (Kareema is prone to bronchitis, every year about this time.)  On Friday, after there was no improvement, our doctor asked how soon could she get to urgent care.  I waited out side for her.  

Doc did a covid swab and told daughter to finish the antibiotic.  She (doc) would call as soon as the test results were in, in 3-5 days.  Doc called today; daughter tested positive for Covid.  I could hear her ask Kareema how I was doing.  I had a cold, with low-grade fever, started Saturday night, but nothing else.  Doc wanted me to stop by for a swab right away.

I knew it was only a head cold. 

I was wrong.

Dadgummit!

We thought we were safe because we diligently followed the CDC protocols.  For the most part, we were...until we weren't.

We will continue to follow CDC guidelines.  Donovan, who is in a tech school, will not be allowed near us for two weeks.  He planned to come home for ten days, but cannot now. We all are disappointed but realized it's better if he doesn't.

My "cold" started Saturday afternoon, so, technically, I am now Day Three into this new adventure.

I wish you all a Covid-free holiday season, on through to the end of this mess.

Bless you all!

Martha

No Words of My Own

 Emmolation of America

  Another four o'clock in the morning; can't get to sleep yet.  I try not to watch news stories; can't fix anything.  I stare out the windows of my daughter's fourth-floor apartment, watching the night trains roll by  The apartment shakes from trains on the closest track, twenty yards from the building.  I feel detached, isolated; numb.

Jumbled thoughts rule my brain; nothing makes sense, there is no order to any of it.  Everything is raw, bloodied and bruised.

I seek solace in music.  Solace isn't the right word: distraction, probably.  This morning the song is "It's Been Burning for a While"  by Chris Pearce.

Outside the morning bird choruses are beginning; time to go to bed.

1030AM, with first coffee of the day before I go vote: WORDS OF WONDER

On a Different Note

 

Thank you, Mr. Bush 

 There are times when partisanship has its place, but now is not that time.  Now is when we need encouraging messages from anyone who can put party politics aside and reach out to all of us, regardless of where we live.

I found this video clip this afternoon and was lifted by George W. Bush's message.  I hope that you might also find it encouraging and find hope in what he has to say.  This how I think a president should speak to us, to help us reunite and work together to rebuild our country.

(In case any of you wonders, I consider myself a Democrat, though I tend to vote for the person and not the party.  I voted for GWB the first time he ran because I didn't want anyone connected to the Clinton administration back in the White House.  Then I listened to Barack Obama's keynote address at the Democrat convention and realized he had to be president, even though he wasn't running that year.  I wrote in his name in 2004; was thrilled the following election to help put him in office in '08.)