January 13, 2010
Sunlight in a cloudless sky is beginning to warm up our world at last! Yesterday there were great “plopping” sounds as the piles of snow held on top of the branches of the Austrian pines gave way. The small cedars with their tops almost bent double from the weight of the ice coatings are standing straight again, and that is a pleasing sight. I was afraid that after such a long time, they might be permanently misshapen. The morning’s walk was pure pleasure since I didn’t have to wrap myself up in so many layers, and breathing wasn’t impeded by the dreadful cold. We did the entire path, and I noticed that across the pasture, there are great swaths of snow that remain pristine and unbroken by any creature’s passage. Most of us use the walkway carved by the snow blower, and the deer follow just a few routes across the pasture from the hilltop forest to the streams in the wetlands. Today I saw the tiny tracks of voles on top of the snow, and these went in circles and loops, like very delicate embroidery patterns, beginning and ending at apparent clumps of grasses under the snow.
Yesterday we made a return trip to the Oncologist. These have become infrequent because I am no longer in chemotherapy, and there are no new treatments. It was good to see him again, and to be remembered by all the nurses – everyone greeted us with delight. What was different this time was the presence of another doctor who is in training to become a GP in a town in the middle of the state where doctors are desperately needed. Our oncologist said that this man was seeking out learning about MDS, since the occurrence of the illness is increasing, and therefore, with my permission, would be visiting with me about the whole experience. I am an anomaly – entirely unique in that I went through three courses of Vidaza, never reached remission, live with a white blood cell count that looks terrible, indicating no immunities at all (but I have had illnesses and eventually I do get better again), and am just now beginning to need red blood transfusions. When the oncologist rejoined the conversation, we had a good discussion about the best approach to pain control. A blood sample has been sent to the Med Center in Omaha for analysis to see how far the blasts have increased. With that information, there can be some fine tuning of the medications that will work most effectively.
I have had some depression because of the pain, and no amount of “Get a grip”, “Others have it worse”, “You have a good life”, etc., can keep the darkness from creeping in. The good news is that light returns through faith (The prayer that is as short as “Help!”), Charles (always present with patience and good cheer), Alphie (the great beast that looks at me with woeful yellow eyes and conveys, “Let’s go for a walk now”) and meds (those small bits of material that slip down the throat and in a short while dim the cries of the stem cells in the bone marrow). It is life, and in my case, it is a miracle. Thanks be to God.