Last Fall curious symptoms began to present themselves. I found myself unable to maintain a normal posture, either seated or standing. Rather, I slumped to my left, somewhat like a sailor’s list to port. The shift occurred so slowly that I wasn’t aware of it until I suddenly discovered my left shoulder drooping to the left and forward, my left elbow jabbing into my belly.
Other times this syndrome presented itself as my being unable to walk a straight line, but drifting, crab-like, to my left. (Without even a whiff of alcohol to blame the unsteadiness on!) To support myself in an upright, sitting posture required an intense focus and effort, something one doesn’t normally even have to pay attention to.
These symptoms sound to me like lingering effects of a stroke, but no other evidence presented itself to confirm such a diagnosis. And so, with more urgent and critical issues to address, this condition remained unidentified and untreated. It is hard to know if this is a weird manifestation of cancer or something else entirely. Like so many other symptoms and side effects I’ve experienced during the course of this illness, the appearances are ephemeral with minimal disability.
Recently, Michael and I were out walking. He trailed behind a few steps and noticed that I was walking a straight line and that my posture no longer tilted to the left. This must be the fabled straight and narrow path! Again, the improvement was so gradual that I was barely aware of it.
A medical mystery remains unresolved. We are inching forward towards “better” slowly but surely. Thanks for the companionship on this, occasionally weird, journey.
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted July 28, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Food
The aroma of salmon on the grill tickles my nose, my mouth waters in anticipation of a fine dinner to come. When served, my eyes hungrily take in the moist pinkness striped by a hot grill, the flakiness revealed as I separate the first bite from the serving. Then I close my lips over my fork and tenderly munch on the succulent treat.
But the salmon taste I remember so well is not there. Replacing it is a peculiar flavor bearing only a distant relationship to what I expected seconds earlier. A blanket of disappointment settles over me as anticipation gives way to the startling reality of yet another unexpected taste.
These sensory tricks began shortly after Diagnosis Day. My “mouth tastes” change from time to time without correlation to other changes such as medication, amount of sleep or diet changes. An early “mouth taste” was salt. Food and drink did not dissipate or mask the extreme saltiness of everything I ate. This effect gradually disappeared, to be replaced with another “flavor.” Several cycles of taste distortion have come and gone since then, each one unique.
Previously, food was a major pleasure for me. My appetite was robust, my imagination fired by recollections of superb meals. Now the idea of food is often repellant, or triggers nausea. Nevertheless, I eat more, searching for a flavor that matches my expectations and memory. To date, I have avoided weight gain. As food begins to taste better, that may become a problem, but for now, the search continues.
Until next time, bon appétit!
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogpost.com
Posted July 24, 2008
But the salmon taste I remember so well is not there. Replacing it is a peculiar flavor bearing only a distant relationship to what I expected seconds earlier. A blanket of disappointment settles over me as anticipation gives way to the startling reality of yet another unexpected taste.
These sensory tricks began shortly after Diagnosis Day. My “mouth tastes” change from time to time without correlation to other changes such as medication, amount of sleep or diet changes. An early “mouth taste” was salt. Food and drink did not dissipate or mask the extreme saltiness of everything I ate. This effect gradually disappeared, to be replaced with another “flavor.” Several cycles of taste distortion have come and gone since then, each one unique.
Previously, food was a major pleasure for me. My appetite was robust, my imagination fired by recollections of superb meals. Now the idea of food is often repellant, or triggers nausea. Nevertheless, I eat more, searching for a flavor that matches my expectations and memory. To date, I have avoided weight gain. As food begins to taste better, that may become a problem, but for now, the search continues.
Until next time, bon appétit!
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogpost.com
Posted July 24, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
Sweet Words
Our oncologist here at the Medical University of South Carolina in Charleston examined me today and read the radiologists' reports of the CT scans taken last Thursday of my neck and Friday of my chest, abdomen and pelvis. He compared these with the CTs taken of the same areas on April 24 and 25,2008 and finds "virtually no change."
Specifically: CT Neck: The radiologists are tracking four lesions in four different locations in my thyroid. All are unchanged since April's images of the same areas. In sum, the neck CT shows "no evidence of disease progression." HOORAY!
CT Chest: A substernal anomaly noted on previous CT scans has small adjustments in size, essentially remaining "stable." HOORAY!!
CT Abdomen (Liver protocol): "Multiple hepatic metastases without significant interval change." Other organs reviewed are normal, unremarkable and without abnormalities; no lymphoadenopathy, no vascular abnormalities; no bony lesions. HOORAY!!!
CT Pelvis: "No evidence of metastatic disease to the pelvis." HOORAY!!!!
And let us not forget the human aspect of this visit. A palpation by the oncologist of my liver was found to be normal. Another HOORAY!!!!!
I love those sweet words: unchanged, unremarkable, stable, no evidence, normal. Other than that noted above, all the rest of my innards are boring, thanks to all your prayers and positive messages of wellbeing. I'll stick with boring. HOORAY!!!!!
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted July 21, 2008
Specifically: CT Neck: The radiologists are tracking four lesions in four different locations in my thyroid. All are unchanged since April's images of the same areas. In sum, the neck CT shows "no evidence of disease progression." HOORAY!
CT Chest: A substernal anomaly noted on previous CT scans has small adjustments in size, essentially remaining "stable." HOORAY!!
CT Abdomen (Liver protocol): "Multiple hepatic metastases without significant interval change." Other organs reviewed are normal, unremarkable and without abnormalities; no lymphoadenopathy, no vascular abnormalities; no bony lesions. HOORAY!!!
CT Pelvis: "No evidence of metastatic disease to the pelvis." HOORAY!!!!
And let us not forget the human aspect of this visit. A palpation by the oncologist of my liver was found to be normal. Another HOORAY!!!!!
I love those sweet words: unchanged, unremarkable, stable, no evidence, normal. Other than that noted above, all the rest of my innards are boring, thanks to all your prayers and positive messages of wellbeing. I'll stick with boring. HOORAY!!!!!
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted July 21, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Instant Old
Overnight, I became old. A year and a half ago, I learned that the persistent symptoms I was having were actually an advanced case of cancer. After considerable pondering, I came to the view that I had acquired a surrogate to take the blame for the gradual appearance of minor infirmities suspiciously like those I had observed among the previous generation as they aged.
Very convenient to have a serious illness to cloak the signals of the aging process. Take forgetfulness (please!). This side effect of some medications is also a sign of advancing age. Note the participle which obscures the state of the process. i.e.: "--ing" indicating an unidentifiable stage of progress. I could have written "advanced," a state closer to the end of the process. But I assure you, I have a long way to go before achieving that distinction!
Needing more sleep is commonly considered another sign of "aging," e.g. early to bed, or daytime napping. My claim is that the ravages of a severe illness steals away my endurance. I consider sleep a form of treatment, not a sign of "aging," and therefore I indulge myself.
Shaky, wobbly handwriting is another manifestation of aging, one I noticed especially in my grandmother's letters. These days, evidence of this is harder to find, what with emails and instant messaging so universally used for communication and so optimally legible. Now I use my signature as a key indicator of the status of this illness, swinging from spiked, awkward letters during peaks of illness to free-flowing, vigorous characters when I'm feeling better. A diagnostic aid, surely NOT aging!
The question boils down to this: Would I trade a symptom of illness for a milepost of my journey through life? You bet! The signs of aging are proof positive of the continued existence of life. I think I've just talked myself into embracing aging and abandoning symptoms of illness as a validation of my drive to fully realize the remainder of my life.
Join me in an enlightened salute: Le chaim!
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted July 17, 2008
Very convenient to have a serious illness to cloak the signals of the aging process. Take forgetfulness (please!). This side effect of some medications is also a sign of advancing age. Note the participle which obscures the state of the process. i.e.: "--ing" indicating an unidentifiable stage of progress. I could have written "advanced," a state closer to the end of the process. But I assure you, I have a long way to go before achieving that distinction!
Needing more sleep is commonly considered another sign of "aging," e.g. early to bed, or daytime napping. My claim is that the ravages of a severe illness steals away my endurance. I consider sleep a form of treatment, not a sign of "aging," and therefore I indulge myself.
Shaky, wobbly handwriting is another manifestation of aging, one I noticed especially in my grandmother's letters. These days, evidence of this is harder to find, what with emails and instant messaging so universally used for communication and so optimally legible. Now I use my signature as a key indicator of the status of this illness, swinging from spiked, awkward letters during peaks of illness to free-flowing, vigorous characters when I'm feeling better. A diagnostic aid, surely NOT aging!
The question boils down to this: Would I trade a symptom of illness for a milepost of my journey through life? You bet! The signs of aging are proof positive of the continued existence of life. I think I've just talked myself into embracing aging and abandoning symptoms of illness as a validation of my drive to fully realize the remainder of my life.
Join me in an enlightened salute: Le chaim!
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted July 17, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
Jitters
With fingers drumming, I wait. Next imaging and blood tests are scheduled in Charleston, South Carolina for Thursday, Friday and the following Monday. Tension builds daily.
I become jittery: restless, distracted. Not fully engaged with what I’m doing, I repeat myself. I initiate a task only to realize that I had finished it earlier. My lists are my salvation. Remembering to cross “done” items off when completed is another memory hurdle.
Repetition plagues my conversation. Ever-patient family and friends disregard these lapses, a true sign of love and caring. Telephonic customer service personnel attend to my needs professionally without impatient sighs or expressing exasperation with an audio equivalent of rolling their eyes.
Tuning out of conversation is another distraction. I appear to be listening attentively until someone says “So what do you think of that?” and I haven’t the faintest idea of what I should be forming an opinion. My mind is preoccupied. Tension sneaks up on me, insidiously blocking awareness of the present. My mind must be napping while my body carries on, half dozing.
The most taxing “jitter” is what I call sleeping “uptight.” I awake to discover my muscles stiff with tension, my fists clenched. How can anyone sleep that way?!
Time to renew meditation, calm my mind, slow responses and focus on resolving the turmoil of ambiguity and uncertainty that storms through my mind. Time to step up my yoga practice and clear the small still space within that keeps me centered and in balance.
Jitters will resolve in their slowly unfolding fashion next week. Thank you for being with us.
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted July 14, 2008
I become jittery: restless, distracted. Not fully engaged with what I’m doing, I repeat myself. I initiate a task only to realize that I had finished it earlier. My lists are my salvation. Remembering to cross “done” items off when completed is another memory hurdle.
Repetition plagues my conversation. Ever-patient family and friends disregard these lapses, a true sign of love and caring. Telephonic customer service personnel attend to my needs professionally without impatient sighs or expressing exasperation with an audio equivalent of rolling their eyes.
Tuning out of conversation is another distraction. I appear to be listening attentively until someone says “So what do you think of that?” and I haven’t the faintest idea of what I should be forming an opinion. My mind is preoccupied. Tension sneaks up on me, insidiously blocking awareness of the present. My mind must be napping while my body carries on, half dozing.
The most taxing “jitter” is what I call sleeping “uptight.” I awake to discover my muscles stiff with tension, my fists clenched. How can anyone sleep that way?!
Time to renew meditation, calm my mind, slow responses and focus on resolving the turmoil of ambiguity and uncertainty that storms through my mind. Time to step up my yoga practice and clear the small still space within that keeps me centered and in balance.
Jitters will resolve in their slowly unfolding fashion next week. Thank you for being with us.
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted July 14, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Saint Michael
In my view, Michael has achieved sainthood. A secular saint, perhaps, but a saint nonetheless. Here’s why.
Michael has endurance: 25 years with me, a remarkable achievement given my independent nature, and the catastrophic events of the past two years. We know several couples whose marriages succumbed to unexpected stresses of medical origin. Each partner is a good person. The situation just wasn’t part of the dream they signed on for. And, in the end, they found themselves overwhelmed by circumstances.
Michael can shift focus on a dime. He jumped into our situation at once, educating us about cancer and the resources needed to assess and acquire superior quality medical care. As a result, he developed excellent Internet skills that continue to serve us well.
He is stalwart. He has accompanied me to every meeting with medical professionals, questioning and probing their knowledge and its applicability to our situation. To their credit, they continue to bear up under his inexhaustible questioning. And let us not forget the countless hours he has spent in medical waiting rooms acquainting himself with the contents of current periodicals.
Michael is steadfast in the face of the mundane and boring. He assumed responsibility for keeping our lives in order. Financial tasks that I formerly managed, are now shared. He also pitches in with the housework even more than previously, tackling necessary daily chores that make life bearable. So he sweeps, launders and tidies the yard when I am unable to do so.
Virtually every aspect of our lives has been adjusted so that my energy is conserved for the physical challenges of this illness. Most notable, and a skill that delights us both, is his evolution as a creative, efficient chef.
There is much more, but how much sugar can you stand? Bravo for Michael!
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted July 10, 2008
Michael has endurance: 25 years with me, a remarkable achievement given my independent nature, and the catastrophic events of the past two years. We know several couples whose marriages succumbed to unexpected stresses of medical origin. Each partner is a good person. The situation just wasn’t part of the dream they signed on for. And, in the end, they found themselves overwhelmed by circumstances.
Michael can shift focus on a dime. He jumped into our situation at once, educating us about cancer and the resources needed to assess and acquire superior quality medical care. As a result, he developed excellent Internet skills that continue to serve us well.
He is stalwart. He has accompanied me to every meeting with medical professionals, questioning and probing their knowledge and its applicability to our situation. To their credit, they continue to bear up under his inexhaustible questioning. And let us not forget the countless hours he has spent in medical waiting rooms acquainting himself with the contents of current periodicals.
Michael is steadfast in the face of the mundane and boring. He assumed responsibility for keeping our lives in order. Financial tasks that I formerly managed, are now shared. He also pitches in with the housework even more than previously, tackling necessary daily chores that make life bearable. So he sweeps, launders and tidies the yard when I am unable to do so.
Virtually every aspect of our lives has been adjusted so that my energy is conserved for the physical challenges of this illness. Most notable, and a skill that delights us both, is his evolution as a creative, efficient chef.
There is much more, but how much sugar can you stand? Bravo for Michael!
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted July 10, 2008
Monday, July 7, 2008
Now & Then
Time moves slowly because changes happen in small increments over a long period of time. Individually, they seem unworthy of note. Looking back collectively and comparing what is true for today versus what was yesterday’s reality helps me to be more aware of progress. A steady increase in ability over time is NOW my personal measure of the course of this illness. Here’s a sampling of changes.
I continue to observe the cancer chemotherapy: one tablet each afternoon. Add to that, Coumadin for DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis), a side effect itself of cancer, painkillers and Over The Counter relief for nausea. So NOW there are, blessedly, fewer primary medications and far fewer meds for side effects, versus THEN, a year ago, when I was taking handfuls of pills daily. Less tracking, less stress, no slowing of improvement.
NOW I weigh in at 102. THEN, 6 months ago, I was struggling to maintain a high of 95 pounds. NOW my blood pressure is close to pre-illness levels at roughly 130/85. THEN, a year ago, I regularly measured above 160/100. Best of all, now the great swings are gone, and I see consistent readings virtually every day. NOW, no edema; THEN it came and went without explanation. NOW, no dry mouth; THEN, just a few weeks ago, I awoke with all my mouth surfaces glued together, barely able to take a sip to get the juices flowing again. NOW, after being in the sun, I can tolerate some tender, pink skin that disappears in a few days leaving a light tan behind. THEN, a year ago, sunshine caused a severe burn that required almost a month of painful itchiness to clear (and no tan).
NOW I’m back in the yard, pruning roses and pulling weeds; THEN, last Fall, I could not even lean over to pull a weed without fear of losing my balance and crashing to earth, unable to thwart the fall. NOW my stamina is improved so that we can welcome guests occasionally and I don’t have to excuse myself early for need of sleep; THEN, for over a year, we had virtually no social life. NOW I prepare meals faster and I enjoy it; THEN Michael went hungry (or stepped in to speed things up) until the food hit the table.
There is much more. Overall, however, my life has improved substantially. So much so that our oncologist has said that if I continue on this track, we may have to start discussing longer term results, even the possibility of Remission(!). These are the happiest words we have heard in a long time. What energy you all have put into helping to bring this scenario into view. Thank you for your patience and persistence.
We will return to Charleston in a week for our regular periodic imaging and blood tests for the experimental drug (Zactima) clinical study. Some results will be available the following week and others the week after that. As soon as we have them we will post them. We’ll see you at the beach … soon!
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted July 7, 2008
I continue to observe the cancer chemotherapy: one tablet each afternoon. Add to that, Coumadin for DVT (Deep Vein Thrombosis), a side effect itself of cancer, painkillers and Over The Counter relief for nausea. So NOW there are, blessedly, fewer primary medications and far fewer meds for side effects, versus THEN, a year ago, when I was taking handfuls of pills daily. Less tracking, less stress, no slowing of improvement.
NOW I weigh in at 102. THEN, 6 months ago, I was struggling to maintain a high of 95 pounds. NOW my blood pressure is close to pre-illness levels at roughly 130/85. THEN, a year ago, I regularly measured above 160/100. Best of all, now the great swings are gone, and I see consistent readings virtually every day. NOW, no edema; THEN it came and went without explanation. NOW, no dry mouth; THEN, just a few weeks ago, I awoke with all my mouth surfaces glued together, barely able to take a sip to get the juices flowing again. NOW, after being in the sun, I can tolerate some tender, pink skin that disappears in a few days leaving a light tan behind. THEN, a year ago, sunshine caused a severe burn that required almost a month of painful itchiness to clear (and no tan).
NOW I’m back in the yard, pruning roses and pulling weeds; THEN, last Fall, I could not even lean over to pull a weed without fear of losing my balance and crashing to earth, unable to thwart the fall. NOW my stamina is improved so that we can welcome guests occasionally and I don’t have to excuse myself early for need of sleep; THEN, for over a year, we had virtually no social life. NOW I prepare meals faster and I enjoy it; THEN Michael went hungry (or stepped in to speed things up) until the food hit the table.
There is much more. Overall, however, my life has improved substantially. So much so that our oncologist has said that if I continue on this track, we may have to start discussing longer term results, even the possibility of Remission(!). These are the happiest words we have heard in a long time. What energy you all have put into helping to bring this scenario into view. Thank you for your patience and persistence.
We will return to Charleston in a week for our regular periodic imaging and blood tests for the experimental drug (Zactima) clinical study. Some results will be available the following week and others the week after that. As soon as we have them we will post them. We’ll see you at the beach … soon!
Copyright 2008
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted July 7, 2008
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