July 8, 2006
(Michael Smith / AP )
Overcast skies have kept this day in July cool and still. There is a waiting for some sort of front to shake the waters from the clouds with even the restless willow trees standing motionless. Our yard is dominated by the yellow flowers of midsummer – large sunflowers near the bird feeders, blackeyed susans, yellow cone flowers, partridge peas, and lilies. Now the large moths and butterflies are making their appearances, with the tiger swallowtail holding the position of most dramatic in size and color. We watch parent birds impatiently moving away from the fledges – from the frantic “Here you are, sweetie” shoving of food into the demanding beaks, there is now a sense of “Go away – it’s over, you’re on your own.”
We’re getting ready for a road trip to Colorado where we will meet with the children and grandchildren and have good times together for a few days. Each morning I am feeling incrementally better as the body deals with the last “brutal wash of noxious elixir”. (John-paul’s words) I have instructions, telephone numbers, and sacks full of medications. It makes me smile to think of the term “traveling light” when one carries an entire satchel dedicated to such things.
This week has been dreary since it has been like many of the weeks earlier in the year. The Neulasta shot, probably combined with the other chemicals within, has been particularly trying with lots of bone pain, nausea, and fatigue. There is the mindset; “I am in remission, I am better, this part is over, etc.,” which has me expecting good days rather than the present state. More patience is required and more time will need to pass, then surely, the gloom will depart. Meanwhile, I sit about thinking that if I had the energy, I should be doing basic laundry, cooking, cleaning, or at the very least, writing uplifting poetry. 
The pair of swallows that I convinced Charles should be permitted to nest above the entryway door to the third floor living area have now completed rearing their babies, and we no longer have very anxious birds flying in and out of the porch area. The swallows aren’t too messy until the eggs hatch, then the debris is astonishing; we had heaps of bird droppings there in front of the door, and a total covering of the doorbell. Talk about daunting! I felt that the insects that were devoured made the final cleanups worthwhile, but for just a bit, I was glad that no friends came to visit through that door; there would have been quiet conversations just outside our hearing about Charles and myself “losing it” as we increasingly enjoy our country living. 
It is the last day of the sixth round of chemotherapy, and now there will be respite! We found little spaces on the upper arms for the final injections, and the Neulasta shot also had its place; the latter has come charging forth with fatigue and nausea, so the afternoon was spent lounging about contemplating the good tomorrows. I will have the weekly blood draw to monitor the Coumadin needs for the blood clotting potential, as well as to keep track of the blood counts. The visit today to the oncologist’s office was one in which little vignettes of lives played out within earshot. The nurse came to the woman sitting next to me and told her that regrettably her blood counts had gone down again, and blood transfusions would need to begin. The receptionist could be heard asking about how long the bleeding had been going on, and after a pause, saying, “Oh please, don’t be sorry, you mustn’t be sorry. . . you are not a bother. . . you just need to come in as soon as you can.” The elderly man sitting near me in the chemotherapy room sounded sad and defeated and afraid in his conversation with the nurse who was trying very hard to distract him from the present needle and drip. Meanwhile, a little song was running through my head repeating over and over again, “It’s the last day, it’s the last shots, it’s the last day, etc.,” and I was sitting there with a grin that I couldn’t quite erase. 
Alphie decided to remove the large Bird of Paradise plant from its pot yesterday. Charles had it standing on the driveway as one of the lovely growing things he puts out to soften our entryway, and this is the second time that Alphie has done this to the poor plant, not doing it any favors. It is bedraggled and not blooming so this time, after repotting it, Charles put it out of reach. We cannot think why Alphie decides to yank and shake, but we suspect that he does it because it’s there, and for his little doggie brain, that’s reason enough.