Writings of Constance Ore ( 1937 – 2010 )

In great indecision about the trip to New Zealand, on Sunday, I asked for a sign, and the next day, I had a cold. I did comment to God that I didn’t really expect a sign of that nature, but had hoped for something like a cloud formation that said, “Don’t Go” or “N.Z.” Anyway, on Monday, I came back from the doctor armed with antibiotics for a week and also with a white blood cell count that was still very low, and told Charles that I had determined that it just wouldn’t work to travel so far at this time. Then commenced a senior citizen version of O’Henry’s short story, “The Gift of the Magi”. (Most of you may recall the tale of a poor young couple who come to Christmas Eve without $$ for a Christmas gift for each other, so the wife sells her glorious hair so she can purchase a watch fob for the one treasure her husband has, a gold watch inherited from his grand father. Meanwhile, her husband sells his watch so he can buy her some tortoise shell combs that to wear in her hair.) I thought that Charles was very disappointed at my decision to not go on the adventure so I changed direction and said no, on second thought, we would take the trip no matter what, and leave on July 16 as planned – after all, we had everything in place. Charles, thinking that I wanted to go on this trip more than anything else in the world, told me that he thought he could get me through the airports, etc., with wheelchairs and other helps, and that I could see a lot of New Zealand riding through its countryside even if I didn’t have much energy. We held on to this decision for a bit because at first the antibiotics seemed to be working quickly, and the cold was retreating, but then this morning, it was very present with much deep coughing and physical exhaustion. At lunch, Charles looked at me and said that he absolutely did not want to make the trip in the face of this current state of health, with the possibility of pneumonia lurking. I said it was true that I wasn’t feeling too swell, but I thought we should go as I truly didn’t want him to be disappointed. As we talked, we both confessed that we were trooping on ahead for the sake of the other while personally not enthusiastic about such an undertaking at this time. Now, in a state of vast relief, we are undoing the arrangements so that we can go forward with “Plan B” which is the leisurely road trip to California.

In my initial call to the Oncologist’s office at the beginning of the week, they informed me that we would need to commence another blood test on Friday, plus I would need a shot of Neulasta which lasts ten days and should improve the white blood cells for at least that long into the trip. I would also need a synopsis of the illness, location of hospitals, etc. This morning I called again to reverse the Neulasta order since it does cause dreadful bone pain and they agreed to a series of Neupogen instead. This whole exercise has been a living soap opera, and we are ready to move on to a steadier life – the children have been very good about a course change every 24 hours or so though we suspect that they do have little talks amongst themselves about their parent’s apparent instability. As of this moment, we have a plan and all is well.