Discernible difference
When I set about to make my coffee this morning (Sunday, March 6, 2011), I noticed the ceramic pitcher I drink out of was washed.
This is a step forward.
My wife has cancer, supposedly not a death-sentence, or so we are told.
In other words, it’s treatable — manageable.
A while ago we met some lady at Wilmot Cancer Center in Rochester, NY (“WILL-mott;” as in “Mott’s applesauce”) who had been jerking around with breast-cancer 17 years.
Actually my wife has two cancers.
The first is Non-Hodgkins B-cell lymphoma.
It appeared about three years ago as a large hard tumor in her abdomen.
CHOP-chemotherapy (cyclophosphamide, hydroxydaunorubicin [doxorubicin], Oncovin [vincristine], and prednisone) poofed it, but you’re not actually cured.
Lymphoma keeps coming back.
Senator Fred Thompson has it.
Second is breast-cancer, although there was never a primary site.
It never initiated in her breasts.
It just metastasized into her bones, etc.
We beat that back with Femara®, the trade-name for Letrozole.
Her breast-cancer was estrogen-positive, and Femara inhibits the formation of estrogen.
No more breast-cancer in her bones, and small skin-tumors disappeared.
This pitcher is the same pitcher I drink cocoa out of each night.
“Ya know, this pitcher doesn’t need to be washed,” I said the other night.
“I just fill it with hot water, and put it in the sink. The next morning I empty it, and dump in my coffee. That’s enough.”
And so it wasn’t washed. Despite my wife’s passion for cleanliness, she was able to skip sanitizing that pitcher, and just go to bed.
Her difficulty with pain and fatigue was the tipping-point.
Her final round of chemotherapy was about a month ago.
Pain had set in, but there was also fatigue; enough to offset her passion for cleanliness.
We began a rigorous pain-management regimen, Tylenol every four hours, no matter what.
It’s made a difference, I guess. —Plus less fatigue.
I see my pitcher was sanitized last night.
And she’s taking Femara again — we stopped during her recent chemotherapy, which was for breast-cancer.
All-of-a-sudden her breast-cancer no longer has the estrogen it was pigging out on.
• My wife of 43+ years is “Linda.” We’re both 67.
This is a step forward.
My wife has cancer, supposedly not a death-sentence, or so we are told.
In other words, it’s treatable — manageable.
A while ago we met some lady at Wilmot Cancer Center in Rochester, NY (“WILL-mott;” as in “Mott’s applesauce”) who had been jerking around with breast-cancer 17 years.
Actually my wife has two cancers.
The first is Non-Hodgkins B-cell lymphoma.
It appeared about three years ago as a large hard tumor in her abdomen.
CHOP-chemotherapy (cyclophosphamide, hydroxydaunorubicin [doxorubicin], Oncovin [vincristine], and prednisone) poofed it, but you’re not actually cured.
Lymphoma keeps coming back.
Senator Fred Thompson has it.
Second is breast-cancer, although there was never a primary site.
It never initiated in her breasts.
It just metastasized into her bones, etc.
We beat that back with Femara®, the trade-name for Letrozole.
Her breast-cancer was estrogen-positive, and Femara inhibits the formation of estrogen.
No more breast-cancer in her bones, and small skin-tumors disappeared.
This pitcher is the same pitcher I drink cocoa out of each night.
“Ya know, this pitcher doesn’t need to be washed,” I said the other night.
“I just fill it with hot water, and put it in the sink. The next morning I empty it, and dump in my coffee. That’s enough.”
And so it wasn’t washed. Despite my wife’s passion for cleanliness, she was able to skip sanitizing that pitcher, and just go to bed.
Her difficulty with pain and fatigue was the tipping-point.
Her final round of chemotherapy was about a month ago.
Pain had set in, but there was also fatigue; enough to offset her passion for cleanliness.
We began a rigorous pain-management regimen, Tylenol every four hours, no matter what.
It’s made a difference, I guess. —Plus less fatigue.
I see my pitcher was sanitized last night.
And she’s taking Femara again — we stopped during her recent chemotherapy, which was for breast-cancer.
All-of-a-sudden her breast-cancer no longer has the estrogen it was pigging out on.
• My wife of 43+ years is “Linda.” We’re both 67.
posted by BobbaLew at 10:13 AM
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