Three years ago I assumed responsibility for the LindaLater blog to stay in touch with those who concerned themselves with our thoughts and reactions to this medical crisis. At that point my medical condition was quite critical, and regular bulletins posted to the blog were the speediest, most efficient way to communicate, especially during the year-long search for an accurate diagnosis and identifying an effective treatment plan.
Circumstances since then have changed considerably as treatment progressed. The CT scans taken every three months have shown a progressively slowing rate of growth of the liver tumors and, finally, a full halt sustained over the past six months. This can’t be considered a “cure” or even a remission. It is merely a different stage of the illness, one substantially less critical than that of three years ago.
I am still in the thick of the cancer forest, so to speak, but the trees seem to be thinning. As I gain strength and am able to do more, the drama of my situation diminishes. My complaints have become progressively more picky. I’m really scraping the bottom of the barrel looking for significant signs of illness. The positive signals of good health have begun to predominate, cause for celebration.
With suspense diminishing from post to post, the initial purpose of the LindaLater blog has been fulfilled. Now a new, more personal form of communication seems more appropriate. I invite those of you who are interested to contact me directly by email so that we can carry on a two-way “conversation.” I want to keep in touch and know how you and those dear to you are doing.
Each of you has contributed hugely to lightening this load for both Michael and me. The tsunami of thoughts, prayers and affirmations you sent our way has sustained us, delivered a miracle of ongoing life, and graced us with your loving companionship in our passage through this trial. You have our deepest enduring gratitude.
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted December 1, 2009
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Turnabout
Michael:
After living for the past three years inside Lynn’s Cancer Universe, I had adjusted to the situation: Lynn has cancer. She is The Survivor. I don’t have cancer. I am The Caregiver. Suddenly that neat division of roles disintegrated: I have cancer. But I am still The Caregiver. Lynn still has cancer. But she is now The Caregiver also. All very unsettling, apart from the collapse of my conviction that it could never happen to me.
Diagnosis was Malignant Melanoma, right ear, not too advanced but very dangerous, confirmed by positive biopsy August 24th, mandating immediate ear surgery plus removal of lymph nodes (neck). Lynn assumed The Caregiver role instantly with her usual love, dedication and organization. She drove me to my appointments and surgeries, was at my side every moment.
Together we sweated out the absurd delays in finally scheduling the surgery. It was supposed to have been not just “ASAP”, but “Yesterday”. But it took nearly six weeks (of sleepless nights) before the two specialty surgeons (Oncology and Reconstruction) could manipulate their schedules to meet me in the O/R on Oct 2nd.
Result: all biopsies now negative; I’m left with a weird right ear, Back to my Caregiver role but now a legitimate member of our local Cancer Survivors Group.
Lynn:
A wrenching surprise! No less anxiety-producing, but coming from a very different viewpoint.
Instant guilt: why didn’t I notice the telltale mark sooner? How long had it been there? Guilt is all about self-involvement, not a sterling quality for a caregiver. I was jarred into looking beyond myself and finding ways to comfort Michael and bring a sense of normalcy to our lives.
This role reversal has sharpened our attention to the moment, what we can do for each other now. I perceive more balance. The timing is good, coming when I feel stronger, more capable and more confident about managing, with ongoing help from my spouse, two illnesses.
We have scraped by another hard place in the road, we are still here for each other, and continue to draw comfort from having you in our lives.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: October 10, 2009
After living for the past three years inside Lynn’s Cancer Universe, I had adjusted to the situation: Lynn has cancer. She is The Survivor. I don’t have cancer. I am The Caregiver. Suddenly that neat division of roles disintegrated: I have cancer. But I am still The Caregiver. Lynn still has cancer. But she is now The Caregiver also. All very unsettling, apart from the collapse of my conviction that it could never happen to me.
Diagnosis was Malignant Melanoma, right ear, not too advanced but very dangerous, confirmed by positive biopsy August 24th, mandating immediate ear surgery plus removal of lymph nodes (neck). Lynn assumed The Caregiver role instantly with her usual love, dedication and organization. She drove me to my appointments and surgeries, was at my side every moment.
Together we sweated out the absurd delays in finally scheduling the surgery. It was supposed to have been not just “ASAP”, but “Yesterday”. But it took nearly six weeks (of sleepless nights) before the two specialty surgeons (Oncology and Reconstruction) could manipulate their schedules to meet me in the O/R on Oct 2nd.
Result: all biopsies now negative; I’m left with a weird right ear, Back to my Caregiver role but now a legitimate member of our local Cancer Survivors Group.
Lynn:
A wrenching surprise! No less anxiety-producing, but coming from a very different viewpoint.
Instant guilt: why didn’t I notice the telltale mark sooner? How long had it been there? Guilt is all about self-involvement, not a sterling quality for a caregiver. I was jarred into looking beyond myself and finding ways to comfort Michael and bring a sense of normalcy to our lives.
This role reversal has sharpened our attention to the moment, what we can do for each other now. I perceive more balance. The timing is good, coming when I feel stronger, more capable and more confident about managing, with ongoing help from my spouse, two illnesses.
We have scraped by another hard place in the road, we are still here for each other, and continue to draw comfort from having you in our lives.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: October 10, 2009
Friday, October 9, 2009
No Change
“No interval change in hepatic metastatic disease,” reports the radiologist of the abdominal CT image.
“No change mediastinal nodal mass,” reports the radiologist of the chest CT.
Lymph nodes are “Unchanged” in five views and “stable” in the sixth view with “No evidence of disease progression,” in the neck CT.
These are the results of the imaging series. Blood analyses results not yet available.
Lovely words! I could bear hearing those words over and over again!
Each of you had a part in bringing this about. Our thoughts, prayers and affirmations are with every one of you with joyful hymns of thanks.
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: October 9, 2009
“No change mediastinal nodal mass,” reports the radiologist of the chest CT.
Lymph nodes are “Unchanged” in five views and “stable” in the sixth view with “No evidence of disease progression,” in the neck CT.
These are the results of the imaging series. Blood analyses results not yet available.
Lovely words! I could bear hearing those words over and over again!
Each of you had a part in bringing this about. Our thoughts, prayers and affirmations are with every one of you with joyful hymns of thanks.
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: October 9, 2009
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Check Up Itinerary
Soon we will be returning to Charleston for the every-three-month check up to monitor the status of the cancer tumors.
The CT scans of my thyroid, and chest/abdomen/pelvis will be checked against those taken on the previous visit. Any changes in the size of the tumors will be noted in the radiologists’ reports and passed along to our oncologist for his meeting with us.
We are concerned about the amount of radiation I absorb and accumulate from these frequent scans over the long term of the study. This is one of the risks we accepted in order to participate in the study of the experimental chemotherapy Zactima.
The check up concludes with a blood analysis of seven different cartridges of blood, an electrocardiogram and consultation with the oncologist. He reviews and explains the results of the imaging and blood work, notes any changes I report for symptoms and side effects, and conducts a physical exam. He also patiently answers the many questions we have accumulated during the previous three months.
One of my responsibilities as a participant is to maintain a log for the twelve weeks between visits. These track the frequency of bowel movements, prescription pain medication taken, measurements of pain – where and how much – and “Quality of Life.” For the latter, I rank, on a five-point scale from “Not at All” to “Very Much”, such things as the severity of symptoms and side effects, how close I feel to friends and family, the emotions I experience, such as worry and anxiety, and how the illness affects work, sleep and fun.
In addition to the medical necessities, we make sure we include the fun part by exploring the many fine museums and traditional Low Country cuisine offered in this gracious and elegant city.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: September 19, 2009
The CT scans of my thyroid, and chest/abdomen/pelvis will be checked against those taken on the previous visit. Any changes in the size of the tumors will be noted in the radiologists’ reports and passed along to our oncologist for his meeting with us.
We are concerned about the amount of radiation I absorb and accumulate from these frequent scans over the long term of the study. This is one of the risks we accepted in order to participate in the study of the experimental chemotherapy Zactima.
The check up concludes with a blood analysis of seven different cartridges of blood, an electrocardiogram and consultation with the oncologist. He reviews and explains the results of the imaging and blood work, notes any changes I report for symptoms and side effects, and conducts a physical exam. He also patiently answers the many questions we have accumulated during the previous three months.
One of my responsibilities as a participant is to maintain a log for the twelve weeks between visits. These track the frequency of bowel movements, prescription pain medication taken, measurements of pain – where and how much – and “Quality of Life.” For the latter, I rank, on a five-point scale from “Not at All” to “Very Much”, such things as the severity of symptoms and side effects, how close I feel to friends and family, the emotions I experience, such as worry and anxiety, and how the illness affects work, sleep and fun.
In addition to the medical necessities, we make sure we include the fun part by exploring the many fine museums and traditional Low Country cuisine offered in this gracious and elegant city.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: September 19, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Mood and Food
Nausea is thoroughly disabling, sometimes stealthy, other times striking with meteoric impact. It sours a cheerful mood, disarms initiative, clouds reason and skews perception. Positive thoughts languish while negativisms multiply.
This kind of nausea persists without the satisfaction of a good, stomach-clearing vomit, signaling the beginning of relief. I spend hours on edge, expecting any moment to fling the contents of my stomach into a basin. Then the nausea slinks off, snatching away the satisfaction of bringing it to fruition, then stomping it out.
During this illness, I have sought explanations for nausea in hopes of concocting a remedy. I looked first at my food intake: patterns or ingredients provoking a gastric rebellion against a culinary insult, such as too many jalapenos. I log the fluctuations of nausea in a vain attempt to identify recurring connections with various foods. A year of scribbling has revealed no suspicious relationships.
Nausea fuels mood swings. I have learned to tolerate a low level of constant nausea with minimal flattening of mood. As the nausea level rises, my mood plummets. This illness has tilted me from an awareness of the need for preparedness, formerly an admirable character trait, into a world-class worrier, a burdensome status. For each situation, I seek all possible causes for concern. Since preparedness didn’t help avert cancer, my reasoning goes, perhaps worry can compensate, ex post facto, for this failing and help restore a sense of productive self-management.
Ah, the meanderings of an under-occupied mind! This is the point at which my more tolerant friends would say: “Get a life!” Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: September 10, 2009
This kind of nausea persists without the satisfaction of a good, stomach-clearing vomit, signaling the beginning of relief. I spend hours on edge, expecting any moment to fling the contents of my stomach into a basin. Then the nausea slinks off, snatching away the satisfaction of bringing it to fruition, then stomping it out.
During this illness, I have sought explanations for nausea in hopes of concocting a remedy. I looked first at my food intake: patterns or ingredients provoking a gastric rebellion against a culinary insult, such as too many jalapenos. I log the fluctuations of nausea in a vain attempt to identify recurring connections with various foods. A year of scribbling has revealed no suspicious relationships.
Nausea fuels mood swings. I have learned to tolerate a low level of constant nausea with minimal flattening of mood. As the nausea level rises, my mood plummets. This illness has tilted me from an awareness of the need for preparedness, formerly an admirable character trait, into a world-class worrier, a burdensome status. For each situation, I seek all possible causes for concern. Since preparedness didn’t help avert cancer, my reasoning goes, perhaps worry can compensate, ex post facto, for this failing and help restore a sense of productive self-management.
Ah, the meanderings of an under-occupied mind! This is the point at which my more tolerant friends would say: “Get a life!” Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: September 10, 2009
Friday, September 4, 2009
Grief
During the last year of my mother’s life, I made four trips to Texas thinking I was preparing myself for her departure and wanting to spend as much time as possible with her. Reflections on what my life might be like afterwards collided with a wall of incomprehension, a conscious awareness that I was unable to gain insight into my feelings or prepare a First Aid Kit for Feelings that would help me get through the aftermath of her passing.
The best I could do was to attempt clear communication about what our life together had meant to me and how her being in it made a difference for me. That was my resolve. But the wall of incomprehension remained unbreachable. Throughout her life we had difficulty communicating, and simple desire to do so as the end of her life approached was insufficient to clear the hurdle. My first thought as she stepped across the threshold of awareness was: “Oh! Just one more thing, Mom.”
Grief, to me, has come to mean simply the inability to converse. All conversations with the absent one become one-way communications with imaginary responses. Mostly I grieved for her through my dreams with a sense that we were having another visit, perhaps another chance to communicate that “last thing.” In the four years she has been gone, I have gradually come to know her better by revisiting memories through the prism of common experience that she negotiated before I passed that way. In that sense I feel she is still with me. That is a comfort.
Stay well; your company comforts me.
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: September 4, 2009
The best I could do was to attempt clear communication about what our life together had meant to me and how her being in it made a difference for me. That was my resolve. But the wall of incomprehension remained unbreachable. Throughout her life we had difficulty communicating, and simple desire to do so as the end of her life approached was insufficient to clear the hurdle. My first thought as she stepped across the threshold of awareness was: “Oh! Just one more thing, Mom.”
Grief, to me, has come to mean simply the inability to converse. All conversations with the absent one become one-way communications with imaginary responses. Mostly I grieved for her through my dreams with a sense that we were having another visit, perhaps another chance to communicate that “last thing.” In the four years she has been gone, I have gradually come to know her better by revisiting memories through the prism of common experience that she negotiated before I passed that way. In that sense I feel she is still with me. That is a comfort.
Stay well; your company comforts me.
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: September 4, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Misconceptions
Several years ago, as newcomers in a homogeneous community of seasonal Florida residents, we duly visited our neighbors, introducing ourselves and inviting them to drop in for an evening of conversation and a nibble or two, to get to know one another better.
Expecting a moderate turnout and wanting to encourage conversation and promote circulation we arranged the furniture in a number of 2, 3 and 4 person groupings.
Our first hint of plans gone awry was that a throng of guests arrived at precisely the designated arrival time; a line actually formed outside the front door, limiting our ability to acknowledge each guest with due thanks. Over the years, I had come to expect guest arrivals a decent interval after the stated starting time, usually about 15 minutes. These precious moments were my sweet reward for prodigious effort and thoughtful consideration of my guests’ comfort before welcoming them at the front door.
The next misconception was food: every guest couple carried a contribution fit to feed a well-attended church supper. Since we already had enough to feed everyone the equivalent of a meal in appetizers, we were hard put to find counter or serving space. We had tapped into an unsuspected mother lode of provisions, culinary creativity and generosity.
We poured drinks and divvied up bins of food, asking people to find themselves a seat. Then we turned to circulate among our carefully arranged conversational groupings and whip up some witty repartee to be carried from cluster to cluster as people shifted and reformed according to conversational whims.
While we were busy our guests had rearranged the offered seating into a single large circle lining the perimeter of the room. The result suggested an oversubscribed therapy group stifled into uncomfortable reticence by the expanse of the circle’s girth: an occasion for performance rather than an opportunity for conversational intimacies.
Our lesson: the best intentioned plans may not survive encounters with unfamiliar social customs. After that halting start, we never fully connected with our neighbors and eventually moved out.
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: August 25, 2009
Expecting a moderate turnout and wanting to encourage conversation and promote circulation we arranged the furniture in a number of 2, 3 and 4 person groupings.
Our first hint of plans gone awry was that a throng of guests arrived at precisely the designated arrival time; a line actually formed outside the front door, limiting our ability to acknowledge each guest with due thanks. Over the years, I had come to expect guest arrivals a decent interval after the stated starting time, usually about 15 minutes. These precious moments were my sweet reward for prodigious effort and thoughtful consideration of my guests’ comfort before welcoming them at the front door.
The next misconception was food: every guest couple carried a contribution fit to feed a well-attended church supper. Since we already had enough to feed everyone the equivalent of a meal in appetizers, we were hard put to find counter or serving space. We had tapped into an unsuspected mother lode of provisions, culinary creativity and generosity.
We poured drinks and divvied up bins of food, asking people to find themselves a seat. Then we turned to circulate among our carefully arranged conversational groupings and whip up some witty repartee to be carried from cluster to cluster as people shifted and reformed according to conversational whims.
While we were busy our guests had rearranged the offered seating into a single large circle lining the perimeter of the room. The result suggested an oversubscribed therapy group stifled into uncomfortable reticence by the expanse of the circle’s girth: an occasion for performance rather than an opportunity for conversational intimacies.
Our lesson: the best intentioned plans may not survive encounters with unfamiliar social customs. After that halting start, we never fully connected with our neighbors and eventually moved out.
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: August 25, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Waving Etiquette
To add interest to the exercise regimen recommended by our oncologist, we acquired the habit of early morning walks on the local roads (no sidewalks here) to inspire us and lift the mantle of drudgery associated with mandated exercise. While doing so, we developed an appreciation of the etiquette, as interpreted by Tidewater Virginians, of signaling silent passing courtesies upon encountering one’s neighbors on a dead end road frequented only by residents, contractors and real estate agents. (we afoot, they behind the wheel of their car, SUV, pick-up or other conveyance).
We wave at every passing vehicle and mentally note the caliber of response. Broad categories of motivation can be attributed to those who respond: from simple courtesy to strangers, to “I see you every day and acknowledge your get-up-and-go” to “keep at it” to “your persistence is admirable” to “You go, girl!” Finer gradations of salutation emerge when contemplating the styles or responders.
The single finger raised from the steering wheel is the minimum acknowledgement signaling recognition without encouragement. No guarantee of repetition. Slightly more forthcoming is the four-finger raise, palm still firmly pressed against the wheel, probably the safest response for both driver and walker. Next warmest greeting is the hand lifted from the wheel with a single abbreviated motion in frank acknowledgement of the fleeting encounter with a minimum of commitment. More intense greetings scale up from a broad swing from the elbow reminiscent of a parade queen's gesture, to several vigorous waves, and on to the ultimate hand extended out the window, fingers splayed in warm recognition of a fellow wannabe athlete.
Stay well, and keep waving!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: August 20, 2009
We wave at every passing vehicle and mentally note the caliber of response. Broad categories of motivation can be attributed to those who respond: from simple courtesy to strangers, to “I see you every day and acknowledge your get-up-and-go” to “keep at it” to “your persistence is admirable” to “You go, girl!” Finer gradations of salutation emerge when contemplating the styles or responders.
The single finger raised from the steering wheel is the minimum acknowledgement signaling recognition without encouragement. No guarantee of repetition. Slightly more forthcoming is the four-finger raise, palm still firmly pressed against the wheel, probably the safest response for both driver and walker. Next warmest greeting is the hand lifted from the wheel with a single abbreviated motion in frank acknowledgement of the fleeting encounter with a minimum of commitment. More intense greetings scale up from a broad swing from the elbow reminiscent of a parade queen's gesture, to several vigorous waves, and on to the ultimate hand extended out the window, fingers splayed in warm recognition of a fellow wannabe athlete.
Stay well, and keep waving!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: August 20, 2009
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Moving On
During the past three years, I have faced the greatest challenge of my life so far.
The thunderbolt of the diagnosis tipped me into a deep and ongoing review of the premises upon which I had built my life to that point. The old comfortable handholds of memory and habit have faded; the new ones are as yet not fully realized. My dilemma now is: do I choose the easier path and just return to an approximation of my former belief set, or do I embark on a more challenging course, redefining my foundations as they appear to me now from an expanded and informed viewpoint.
As the struggle to free myself of this illness occupies less of my daily allotment of energy, I use the liberated time to explore who I am now while concurrently reacquainting myself with who I was before Diagnosis Day. I find, in meditating on that prior individual, that I am now working to shed the old skin that fit just fine for many years, while simultaneously growing a new skin, one more comfortable to the evolving me than the previous one.
All of this is happening on the back burner of my mind while I attend to tasks that don’t require thoughtful reflection; gardening is the most satisfying. I can pay attention to distinguishing weeds from perennials while subliminally concocting recipe alternatives for a “revised” me, checking an ingredient list, noting “keep this” or “replace that.”
I have been given a reprieve. How will I use the time left to me? Since I don’t know how long that will be, I’d better get on with it!
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: August 6, 2009
The thunderbolt of the diagnosis tipped me into a deep and ongoing review of the premises upon which I had built my life to that point. The old comfortable handholds of memory and habit have faded; the new ones are as yet not fully realized. My dilemma now is: do I choose the easier path and just return to an approximation of my former belief set, or do I embark on a more challenging course, redefining my foundations as they appear to me now from an expanded and informed viewpoint.
As the struggle to free myself of this illness occupies less of my daily allotment of energy, I use the liberated time to explore who I am now while concurrently reacquainting myself with who I was before Diagnosis Day. I find, in meditating on that prior individual, that I am now working to shed the old skin that fit just fine for many years, while simultaneously growing a new skin, one more comfortable to the evolving me than the previous one.
All of this is happening on the back burner of my mind while I attend to tasks that don’t require thoughtful reflection; gardening is the most satisfying. I can pay attention to distinguishing weeds from perennials while subliminally concocting recipe alternatives for a “revised” me, checking an ingredient list, noting “keep this” or “replace that.”
I have been given a reprieve. How will I use the time left to me? Since I don’t know how long that will be, I’d better get on with it!
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: August 6, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
LOCKSTEP
The latest blood work results are in from our recent trip to MUSC in Charleston, SC. For the first time in many months, both cancer markers are tracking downward meaning there are fewer cancer cells counted this time versus the last count in April.
The CEA (CarcinoEmbrionic Antigen) test that measures cancer cell generation is down 16% versus the April measure. This is the lowest level recorded since August 2007 when I volunteered to participate in the experimental drug study, a 74% drop from the starting point. The oncologists give greater weight to the CEA results than the Calcitonin measure which they consider relevant, but of lesser significance.
The Calcitonin (thyroid specific) measure is down 10% versus the April result; since August 2007 a drop of 57%. As opposed to a basketball game in which the highest point makers win, this contest becomes more successful as the numbers in the blood tests decline. Fewer cellular bad guys swimming around my circulatory system frees up the good guys to get on with their job of restoring my health. The lower the count, the healthier I become. The last time these two measures both dipped down at the same time was one year ago.
I know I’m healthier now than I was then because I feel stronger. The icing on the cake is the test results that prove it.
We hold you in our thoughts. Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: July 26, 2009
The CEA (CarcinoEmbrionic Antigen) test that measures cancer cell generation is down 16% versus the April measure. This is the lowest level recorded since August 2007 when I volunteered to participate in the experimental drug study, a 74% drop from the starting point. The oncologists give greater weight to the CEA results than the Calcitonin measure which they consider relevant, but of lesser significance.
The Calcitonin (thyroid specific) measure is down 10% versus the April result; since August 2007 a drop of 57%. As opposed to a basketball game in which the highest point makers win, this contest becomes more successful as the numbers in the blood tests decline. Fewer cellular bad guys swimming around my circulatory system frees up the good guys to get on with their job of restoring my health. The lower the count, the healthier I become. The last time these two measures both dipped down at the same time was one year ago.
I know I’m healthier now than I was then because I feel stronger. The icing on the cake is the test results that prove it.
We hold you in our thoughts. Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: July 26, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Graduation
Doctors’ visits delineate the life of a person with cancer, marking the passage of time and the progress of the illness. During the initial diagnosis and development of a treatment plan I saw the oncologist every two weeks, just barely enough time to note changes in symptoms or the appearance of side effects indicating response to treatment. With the illness in a critical, fast moving phase, frequent assessments afforded a nimble response to intercept and deflect further decline.
In my case this was especially crucial because surgery, radiation and targeted chemotherapy were all ruled out. At that time, the origin of the cancer was still unidentified to a certainty: without a target, treatments were meaningless. The source would simply continue sending cancerous cells back to the liver and perhaps to new sites as well.
Then, an experimental drug clinical study to treat the form of cancer I have was found at Medical University of South Carolina. Participation in this study mandates check-ups there with the study oncologist every three months. With active treatment underway, my primary oncologist here in Virginia, ever watchful of developments with this new treatment, extended visits to 6 week intervals: the first graduation. Later, when tumor growth began to slow, however gradually, and then halted, he extended visits to three month intervals.
Last week, after seeing the MUSC reports of tumor shrinkage, he promoted me from 3 month visits to SIX MONTH check ups, a significant change signaling confidence in the efficacy of the current treatment. This is cause for celebration!
A wonder! The power of many to shape positive results! Our gratitude to each of you for staying the course with your contribution of positive energy to our cause.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: July 22, 2009
In my case this was especially crucial because surgery, radiation and targeted chemotherapy were all ruled out. At that time, the origin of the cancer was still unidentified to a certainty: without a target, treatments were meaningless. The source would simply continue sending cancerous cells back to the liver and perhaps to new sites as well.
Then, an experimental drug clinical study to treat the form of cancer I have was found at Medical University of South Carolina. Participation in this study mandates check-ups there with the study oncologist every three months. With active treatment underway, my primary oncologist here in Virginia, ever watchful of developments with this new treatment, extended visits to 6 week intervals: the first graduation. Later, when tumor growth began to slow, however gradually, and then halted, he extended visits to three month intervals.
Last week, after seeing the MUSC reports of tumor shrinkage, he promoted me from 3 month visits to SIX MONTH check ups, a significant change signaling confidence in the efficacy of the current treatment. This is cause for celebration!
A wonder! The power of many to shape positive results! Our gratitude to each of you for staying the course with your contribution of positive energy to our cause.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: July 22, 2009
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Scale-iness
Each doctor’s visit begins with a question: “How do you FEEL?” They see and quantify symptoms and side effects by observation, lab results and imaging reports. They want to know how I rank unobservable measures such as pain and nausea on a scale of 0 – 10, zero being normal and ten being the worst imaginable. Many elements, experienced individually with varying degrees of intensity, contribute to an overall sense of wellbeing or gloom that in itself influences perception. Here is my current self-assessment compared with the last taken ten months ago.
Each item is assessed by selecting a number representing how I feel at that moment from the 10-point scale. When the list is complete, I check back and compare the current reading with the previous one to see what, if any, changes occurred. The periods between assessments are long enough that the likelihood of carryover influence is minimal.
PAIN 4 (↓ 1)
NAUSEA 3 (↓ 2)
FATIGUE 4 (↓ .4)
STRENGTH 5 (↓ 1)
DIARRHEA 6.5 (↓ 1.5)
RASH 2 ( ↔ )
EDEMA 1 (↓ 1)
SKIN SENSITIVITY 2 (↓ 4)
SIGNATURE 2 ( ↔ )
TASTE 0 (↓ 3)
APPETITE -4 ( ↔ ) 0=norm;<0=high;10=none
DRY MOUTH 3 (NA)
POSTURE 2 (↓ 2) weakness on left
SLEEP DISTURBANCE 3 (↓ 1) distress, insomnia
ANXIETY 3 (↓ 1)
DEPRESSION 5 (↑ 1)
This exercise may appear to be an obsessive infatuation with numbers. However, it is in my own interests to attempt to accurately communicate these criteria to the doctors so as to balance the information found through accepted scientific methodology. My self-assessment becomes one factor in their prognosis. The professionals have their tools; these are mine.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: July 9, 2009
Each item is assessed by selecting a number representing how I feel at that moment from the 10-point scale. When the list is complete, I check back and compare the current reading with the previous one to see what, if any, changes occurred. The periods between assessments are long enough that the likelihood of carryover influence is minimal.
PAIN 4 (↓ 1)
NAUSEA 3 (↓ 2)
FATIGUE 4 (↓ .4)
STRENGTH 5 (↓ 1)
DIARRHEA 6.5 (↓ 1.5)
RASH 2 ( ↔ )
EDEMA 1 (↓ 1)
SKIN SENSITIVITY 2 (↓ 4)
SIGNATURE 2 ( ↔ )
TASTE 0 (↓ 3)
APPETITE -4 ( ↔ ) 0=norm;<0=high;10=none
DRY MOUTH 3 (NA)
POSTURE 2 (↓ 2) weakness on left
SLEEP DISTURBANCE 3 (↓ 1) distress, insomnia
ANXIETY 3 (↓ 1)
DEPRESSION 5 (↑ 1)
This exercise may appear to be an obsessive infatuation with numbers. However, it is in my own interests to attempt to accurately communicate these criteria to the doctors so as to balance the information found through accepted scientific methodology. My self-assessment becomes one factor in their prognosis. The professionals have their tools; these are mine.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: July 9, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Michael Returns to (His) Life
For almost three years Michael has been anticipating my needs plus shouldering the Chores of Living – everything that keeps the engine of life going from day to day. Prior to D(iagnosis) Day it took two of us to keep a finger in the dike. As this health crisis engulfed us, we immediately pared back to essentials.
Now, with my returning strength, we are reverting to a more equitable division of responsibility: I feel better for carrying my share and Michael can return to his choice projects without guilt or incurring an insurmountable backlog.
Relieved of a dual share of responsibilities, Michael is now resuming HIS life. Mostly that means puttering aboard Prudence, tinkering with new ideas and realizing creative improvements to make her sail better. The great seven year rebuilding project was finished in 2004 but, paradoxically, the To Do list never gets shorter.
A major project, released from hold and recently completed, was assembling and documenting the life work of Michael’s father, the inventor/engineer Solomon Adler. The objective was to find a suitable home that would preserve his scores of patents and drawings, along with a collection of hand-made working prototypes demonstrating the developmental stages of what became the PaceSetter sewing machine series, still being manufactured by the Brother Corporation. Now, a deed of gift has transferred ownership of this meticulous collection to The Smithsonian Institution’s Museum of American Invention.
With greater frequency these days, I find Michael stretched out in the recliner with a book and a glass of iced tea at his elbow. I grin with pleasure to see him, if briefly, stepping aside from a demanding burden to refresh himself and take care of his own health.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: July 2, 2009
Now, with my returning strength, we are reverting to a more equitable division of responsibility: I feel better for carrying my share and Michael can return to his choice projects without guilt or incurring an insurmountable backlog.
Relieved of a dual share of responsibilities, Michael is now resuming HIS life. Mostly that means puttering aboard Prudence, tinkering with new ideas and realizing creative improvements to make her sail better. The great seven year rebuilding project was finished in 2004 but, paradoxically, the To Do list never gets shorter.
A major project, released from hold and recently completed, was assembling and documenting the life work of Michael’s father, the inventor/engineer Solomon Adler. The objective was to find a suitable home that would preserve his scores of patents and drawings, along with a collection of hand-made working prototypes demonstrating the developmental stages of what became the PaceSetter sewing machine series, still being manufactured by the Brother Corporation. Now, a deed of gift has transferred ownership of this meticulous collection to The Smithsonian Institution’s Museum of American Invention.
With greater frequency these days, I find Michael stretched out in the recliner with a book and a glass of iced tea at his elbow. I grin with pleasure to see him, if briefly, stepping aside from a demanding burden to refresh himself and take care of his own health.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: July 2, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
I Ran
The traffic was heavy at morning rush hour along Staples Mill Road past the Amtrak station. Mindful of gasoline economy and environmental pollution, we opted to walk the block and a half separating us from a caffeine boost at Dunkin’ Donuts. No crosswalks defined pedestrian safety zones for crossing at the intersection. A sidewalk offered safe passage to walkers, although scattered pebbles and random tufts of grass suggested lack of use in this auto-dependent, strip mall-saturated suburb of Richmond.
Spying a break in traffic between signals, we (unlawfully) stepped onto the six-lane highway and began to cross at a brisk walk. As we reached the midpoint, traffic began to move, devouring the gap between us.
Move out! every instinct screamed at me. Before I realized it, my mind had leapt past the assessment, judgment and decision processes, bringing me directly to action: Run!
With Michael keeping pace at my side, a brisk sprint brought me safely, with margin to spare, to the far side of this heavily traveled roadway.
Without a conscious thought, I had run for the first time in almost three years! I feel as if I have leapt a giant chasm on the way to recovery. Recently I have been subliminally aware that I was approaching a milestone: pushing myself to the next level of my treadmill workout by adding sprint intervals. Now the real life spontaneous evidence has forced me to accept that I am ready to move on without delay.
A sense of capability floods my being. I am grateful to have your company; your support has put wings on my feet and determination in my heart.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: June 28, 2009
Spying a break in traffic between signals, we (unlawfully) stepped onto the six-lane highway and began to cross at a brisk walk. As we reached the midpoint, traffic began to move, devouring the gap between us.
Move out! every instinct screamed at me. Before I realized it, my mind had leapt past the assessment, judgment and decision processes, bringing me directly to action: Run!
With Michael keeping pace at my side, a brisk sprint brought me safely, with margin to spare, to the far side of this heavily traveled roadway.
Without a conscious thought, I had run for the first time in almost three years! I feel as if I have leapt a giant chasm on the way to recovery. Recently I have been subliminally aware that I was approaching a milestone: pushing myself to the next level of my treadmill workout by adding sprint intervals. Now the real life spontaneous evidence has forced me to accept that I am ready to move on without delay.
A sense of capability floods my being. I am grateful to have your company; your support has put wings on my feet and determination in my heart.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: June 28, 2009
Friday, June 26, 2009
"Relay for Life"
This is the third year I have qualified to participate as a cancer Survivor in this nationally sponsored, locally organized event and the first time I have been able to attend. Not being much given to social welfare gatherings that throw together persons largely unknown to one another who nevertheless share support for the designated cause, I set off with a sense of obligation rather than anticipation to join fellow survivors, their caregivers and other concerned parties.
The event was not a cookie-cutter replication of scripted, rah-rah half-time style boosterism to court media attention. The keynote theme is HOPE. Cynically, I suppose, and subconsciously I expected to hear: “Look what we are doing for you to keep your hope alive.” What I heard instead was an appeal to reach out to each other for support and inspiration. The unexpected turn-around rattled loose my expectations, allowing me to hear a broader message with diverse meanings.
It was a moving event, especially so to see persons with illness far more advanced than mine smiling, their eyes triumphant as they completed the quarter-mile course, their caregivers beaming at their sides.
Despite the size of the gathering and my negative expectations, I felt a one-on-one connection with the employee of a local retirement community who packed the box lunch I enjoyed. I could envision a person spreading the tuna fish salad on a roll and filling the deviled eggs, then, with heart, assembling the contents and sending it out directly to me. The idea that someone who didn’t even know me would reach out to me in that caring manner was comforting. The gesture reinforced my commitment to keep stepping along with a positive attitude toward whatever outcome awaits me.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: June 26, 2009
The event was not a cookie-cutter replication of scripted, rah-rah half-time style boosterism to court media attention. The keynote theme is HOPE. Cynically, I suppose, and subconsciously I expected to hear: “Look what we are doing for you to keep your hope alive.” What I heard instead was an appeal to reach out to each other for support and inspiration. The unexpected turn-around rattled loose my expectations, allowing me to hear a broader message with diverse meanings.
It was a moving event, especially so to see persons with illness far more advanced than mine smiling, their eyes triumphant as they completed the quarter-mile course, their caregivers beaming at their sides.
Despite the size of the gathering and my negative expectations, I felt a one-on-one connection with the employee of a local retirement community who packed the box lunch I enjoyed. I could envision a person spreading the tuna fish salad on a roll and filling the deviled eggs, then, with heart, assembling the contents and sending it out directly to me. The idea that someone who didn’t even know me would reach out to me in that caring manner was comforting. The gesture reinforced my commitment to keep stepping along with a positive attitude toward whatever outcome awaits me.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: June 26, 2009
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Comforts of Family
One of my six brothers just departed after a four day stay. Each family visit has its own flavor depending on the menu of participants and the recipes of current and past events that evoke the aroma of emotions long dormant.
If the Gallup organization were looking for a poll sample they would have no need to look further than our family for diversity of age and occupation. From the oldest (me) to the youngest covers a span of 16 years, a generation’s worth of viewpoints. So, when I want support, I call the siblings closest to my age in the family lineup. Their viewpoint is more likely to incline towards mine where wisdom is measured by the extent of life experience. They are less skeptical of an older sister’s dicta, since the divergence between their life experience and mine is smaller.
When I want to open windows and let in the fresh air of contemporary thinking, I consult with the younger end of the family. If I hear “Hey, dude, what’s up?” I know I have reached back far enough to connect with the entire spectrum of contemporary opinion.
We have an attorney, an editor, a teacher, a retired marketer (me), a computer genius, a retired clamdigger, a retired phlebotomist (now a professional grandmother), a mechanical whiz, and a retired quality control specialist and former Marine. And that is just siblings; the range of occupations becomes yet more diverse if you include spouses, children and grandchildren, cousins, nieces and nephews.
If it takes a village to raise a child (thank you, Hillary), then it required an entire suburb to raise the Chapmans.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: June 10, 2009
If the Gallup organization were looking for a poll sample they would have no need to look further than our family for diversity of age and occupation. From the oldest (me) to the youngest covers a span of 16 years, a generation’s worth of viewpoints. So, when I want support, I call the siblings closest to my age in the family lineup. Their viewpoint is more likely to incline towards mine where wisdom is measured by the extent of life experience. They are less skeptical of an older sister’s dicta, since the divergence between their life experience and mine is smaller.
When I want to open windows and let in the fresh air of contemporary thinking, I consult with the younger end of the family. If I hear “Hey, dude, what’s up?” I know I have reached back far enough to connect with the entire spectrum of contemporary opinion.
We have an attorney, an editor, a teacher, a retired marketer (me), a computer genius, a retired clamdigger, a retired phlebotomist (now a professional grandmother), a mechanical whiz, and a retired quality control specialist and former Marine. And that is just siblings; the range of occupations becomes yet more diverse if you include spouses, children and grandchildren, cousins, nieces and nephews.
If it takes a village to raise a child (thank you, Hillary), then it required an entire suburb to raise the Chapmans.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: June 10, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Uncertainty
The final piece of April’s blood analysis has dropped into place with mixed results. CEA (CarcinoEmbryonic Antigen) monitors the creation of new cancer cells. A decline in the cell count indicates improvement in the body’s ability to curb cancer cell generation. April’s report is down 28% from January’s. Of nine consecutive measures since the beginning of my participation in the experimental drug study in August 2007, seven declined from the previous measure.
The second measure is the Calcitonin level, specific to the thyroid function. A decline indicates less cancerous activity than before. The April results are up 34% from January’s total, continuing an erratic up and down pattern: four of the last nine measures increased and five declined.
The two measures do not track each other. True, they measure different aspects of cancer activity. But I would feel far better if they marched, shoulder to shoulder, in the same direction (down!). I feel the disappointment a child might upon hearing disappointing news after months of effort to conform to a discipline believed beneficial but displaying snail-slow results: “I did everything you said, and it hasn’t turned out all right. At least not enough to calm my fears.”
The three doctors (two of whom are oncologists) who monitor my status vis-à-vis cancer don’t share my concern about erratic results. Far more significant, they say, is the overall improvement: reduced intensity of chemotherapy side effects, thicker hair, returning strength, reduced fatigue and nausea, and weight stability. Listen to your body, they say; trust what it tells you. I hesitate to trust my interpretation of where I am because I cannot measure or quantify the weighty bias of hope. My personal bête noir, the unrealistic, storybook ideal of perfection, lures me on while cunningly remaining just beyond grasp.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: June 4, 2009
The second measure is the Calcitonin level, specific to the thyroid function. A decline indicates less cancerous activity than before. The April results are up 34% from January’s total, continuing an erratic up and down pattern: four of the last nine measures increased and five declined.
The two measures do not track each other. True, they measure different aspects of cancer activity. But I would feel far better if they marched, shoulder to shoulder, in the same direction (down!). I feel the disappointment a child might upon hearing disappointing news after months of effort to conform to a discipline believed beneficial but displaying snail-slow results: “I did everything you said, and it hasn’t turned out all right. At least not enough to calm my fears.”
The three doctors (two of whom are oncologists) who monitor my status vis-à-vis cancer don’t share my concern about erratic results. Far more significant, they say, is the overall improvement: reduced intensity of chemotherapy side effects, thicker hair, returning strength, reduced fatigue and nausea, and weight stability. Listen to your body, they say; trust what it tells you. I hesitate to trust my interpretation of where I am because I cannot measure or quantify the weighty bias of hope. My personal bête noir, the unrealistic, storybook ideal of perfection, lures me on while cunningly remaining just beyond grasp.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: June 4, 2009
Friday, May 29, 2009
Vacations
Vacations are for gaining perspective and adjusting assumptions. Michael and I have been out on the boat for almost three weeks. As ties to our home dock became more tenuous, fundamental perceptions gradually illuminated our awareness.
Our hometown: Its rural charm has been nibbled away and elbowed out by the seduction of convenience, expedience and fashion. Wal-Mart has come to town, challenging local merchants to upgrade their curb appeal and to keep an alert eye on current trends. The downtown area has been “quaintified,” with remodeled shoppes and special events (farmers’ markets, monthly walk-abouts, annual festivals) evolving from rural to suburban, less a geographic designation than a socio-cultural phenomenon. Expectations have ratcheted up so that “going to town” is more a mall experience of selecting from many options than, as formerly, determining what we will “settle for” among what is available locally.
The towns we visited reminded us why we chose this area for our retirement. The whip lash of deceleration, stepping aside from the constant sprint of a fully-packed retirement to the sauntering pace of a paradoxically recent earlier era was extreme.
For example, thinking we could post blogs from an Internet “hot spot,” we packed the computer and sailed away. The hot spots were inadequate to non-existent, isolating us from the world of the Internet. Many towns had no groceries or adequately stocked convenience stores within walking distance of the local wharf (although most boasted an ice cream emporium within steps of the dock). So until my health has stabilized we will sail closer to home and the comforting presence of practitioners familiar with my exotic medical requirements. Remote is okay as long as it is near home.
You are never far from our thoughts, no matter where we are. Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: May 29, 2009
Our hometown: Its rural charm has been nibbled away and elbowed out by the seduction of convenience, expedience and fashion. Wal-Mart has come to town, challenging local merchants to upgrade their curb appeal and to keep an alert eye on current trends. The downtown area has been “quaintified,” with remodeled shoppes and special events (farmers’ markets, monthly walk-abouts, annual festivals) evolving from rural to suburban, less a geographic designation than a socio-cultural phenomenon. Expectations have ratcheted up so that “going to town” is more a mall experience of selecting from many options than, as formerly, determining what we will “settle for” among what is available locally.
The towns we visited reminded us why we chose this area for our retirement. The whip lash of deceleration, stepping aside from the constant sprint of a fully-packed retirement to the sauntering pace of a paradoxically recent earlier era was extreme.
For example, thinking we could post blogs from an Internet “hot spot,” we packed the computer and sailed away. The hot spots were inadequate to non-existent, isolating us from the world of the Internet. Many towns had no groceries or adequately stocked convenience stores within walking distance of the local wharf (although most boasted an ice cream emporium within steps of the dock). So until my health has stabilized we will sail closer to home and the comforting presence of practitioners familiar with my exotic medical requirements. Remote is okay as long as it is near home.
You are never far from our thoughts, no matter where we are. Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Middle Ground
For years I have claimed to seek a “nice boring life,” relief from the intense engagement required for riding a torrent of experience. Well, here it is and this is what it looks like: The mental landscape around me is arid, an occasional tuft of brown grass ground to a nubbin by barely stirring air. Dry moguls relieve the sere sameness; they grope for the company of the next anomaly. I have a prairie dog view, eyes at ground level, eyebrows raised in barren hope of relief from the daily blah-dom.
I still have the option of hunkering down into the dim world of disengagement, or leaving the flavorless safety of the burrow behind and stepping out in search of new experiences. I finally have the stamina to take on a few non-cancer-related commitments, lifting some of the burden from Michael and giving me opportunity to catch up on a two year plus backlog of paperwork and projects.
By no means do I imply that the battle with cancer is won. We are at a new plateau, a resting place on the trail between avalanche and the bunny slope. The remainder of my life will be spent in watchful observance of my health and adherence to positive physical and mental disciplines. Cancer is well known to lash back after a period of quiescence. Here is where Michael and I look for your company. To know that we have such loyal, caring companions for this trip is comforting.
This is the most exciting period of boredom I’ve had in my life!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: May 7, 2009
I still have the option of hunkering down into the dim world of disengagement, or leaving the flavorless safety of the burrow behind and stepping out in search of new experiences. I finally have the stamina to take on a few non-cancer-related commitments, lifting some of the burden from Michael and giving me opportunity to catch up on a two year plus backlog of paperwork and projects.
By no means do I imply that the battle with cancer is won. We are at a new plateau, a resting place on the trail between avalanche and the bunny slope. The remainder of my life will be spent in watchful observance of my health and adherence to positive physical and mental disciplines. Cancer is well known to lash back after a period of quiescence. Here is where Michael and I look for your company. To know that we have such loyal, caring companions for this trip is comforting.
This is the most exciting period of boredom I’ve had in my life!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: May 7, 2009
Thursday, April 30, 2009
A Regular Person
Recent changes in my condition at first glance looked like a return to the bad old days of new symptoms and weird side effects appearing unexpectedly.
I’ve come up lame along the right side of my neck causing acute pain when turning my head. Other pain has lodged in my right hip making any movement excruciating. At my chiropractor’s office last week I described my “symptoms.” The doctor immediately put his finger on it, literally, as an injured shoulder muscle and a strained gluteal muscle.
In a way these are side effects, but not of illness or chemotherapy. They are common to people who have “over trained” in their personal exercise routine. A light massage of the injured areas gave immediate relief; I was sent home with a stretchy band and instructions for its use to speed recovery. He also advised trimming my overly ambitious workout routine (six days alternating 90- and 30-minute workouts). The fact that any exercise enthusiast can have the same injuries encourages me. I feel like a “regular” person!
Another recent episode reinforces that feeling. At a social gathering, several of our friends (really!) teased me about my scrawny butt. I was aghast until I realized the humor and friendly intent of the jibe. Apparently others see me as strong enough to take a tease, and that’s a valid reflection of their assessment of my health.
Just recognizing that some of the aches, pains and vicissitudes I am experiencing are shared by others free of illness encourages me to wallow in the pleasure of feeling like a “regular” person. I haven’t forgotten what it’s like to feel that way and am hugely grateful to all of you who have supported us in this quest.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: April 30, 2009
I’ve come up lame along the right side of my neck causing acute pain when turning my head. Other pain has lodged in my right hip making any movement excruciating. At my chiropractor’s office last week I described my “symptoms.” The doctor immediately put his finger on it, literally, as an injured shoulder muscle and a strained gluteal muscle.
In a way these are side effects, but not of illness or chemotherapy. They are common to people who have “over trained” in their personal exercise routine. A light massage of the injured areas gave immediate relief; I was sent home with a stretchy band and instructions for its use to speed recovery. He also advised trimming my overly ambitious workout routine (six days alternating 90- and 30-minute workouts). The fact that any exercise enthusiast can have the same injuries encourages me. I feel like a “regular” person!
Another recent episode reinforces that feeling. At a social gathering, several of our friends (really!) teased me about my scrawny butt. I was aghast until I realized the humor and friendly intent of the jibe. Apparently others see me as strong enough to take a tease, and that’s a valid reflection of their assessment of my health.
Just recognizing that some of the aches, pains and vicissitudes I am experiencing are shared by others free of illness encourages me to wallow in the pleasure of feeling like a “regular” person. I haven’t forgotten what it’s like to feel that way and am hugely grateful to all of you who have supported us in this quest.
Stay well!
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: April 30, 2009
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Belly Laugh
It’s spontaneous. It’s strong, deep and satisfying. And it caught me off guard.
Now, I can’t even remember what plucked my sense of fancy. Some silliness crept up on me, enfolded me in a bear hug and liberated my sense of whimsy. Suddenly I found myself laughing with abandon, fully experiencing the physical and psychic tickle of mirth.
Reactions moved at lightning speed, piling one on top of the other. I threw my head back, creating a clear escape route for the bursts of laughter scrambling their way up my throat to freedom; closed my eyes, the better to shut out extraneous stimuli and focus singly on reacquainting myself with the pleasure of abandonment I had almost forgotten existed.
A sense of discovery illuminated the experience. The authenticity of my laughter rang out clearly, even to my own ears. Long-estranged sensations rushed in to settle into their corner of home, welcoming and embracing the moment and each other. The comfort of self-at-home instantly reasserted itself, polishing up psychic furnishings that had long faded from my awareness of now.
As my health improves, I am reminded by contrast with two years ago how very ill I was then: more ill than I realized at the time. So, too, as I laughed, I instantly recognized how long it has been since succumbing so completely to a thoroughly satisfying belly laugh.
Norman Cousins (Anatomy of an Illness) proved again: laughter is the best medicine; I’m looking forward to more “comedic therapy” treatments.
Stay well.
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted April 18, 2009
Now, I can’t even remember what plucked my sense of fancy. Some silliness crept up on me, enfolded me in a bear hug and liberated my sense of whimsy. Suddenly I found myself laughing with abandon, fully experiencing the physical and psychic tickle of mirth.
Reactions moved at lightning speed, piling one on top of the other. I threw my head back, creating a clear escape route for the bursts of laughter scrambling their way up my throat to freedom; closed my eyes, the better to shut out extraneous stimuli and focus singly on reacquainting myself with the pleasure of abandonment I had almost forgotten existed.
A sense of discovery illuminated the experience. The authenticity of my laughter rang out clearly, even to my own ears. Long-estranged sensations rushed in to settle into their corner of home, welcoming and embracing the moment and each other. The comfort of self-at-home instantly reasserted itself, polishing up psychic furnishings that had long faded from my awareness of now.
As my health improves, I am reminded by contrast with two years ago how very ill I was then: more ill than I realized at the time. So, too, as I laughed, I instantly recognized how long it has been since succumbing so completely to a thoroughly satisfying belly laugh.
Norman Cousins (Anatomy of an Illness) proved again: laughter is the best medicine; I’m looking forward to more “comedic therapy” treatments.
Stay well.
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted April 18, 2009
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Hello Again
Thank you for your phone calls and messages. Hearing your voices and news of your lives has been a great lift to my spirits during this self-styled sabbatical and throughout this journey of discovery.
JANUARY: The news from January’s trip to Charleston for the experimental drug clinical trial check-up continued holding steady with more or less equally balanced changes. Four tumors in my liver were scanned: the two smaller tumors showed some growth while two larger tumors actually shrank. This is the first conspicuous shrinkage we’ve had since I joined the trial a year and a half ago. Blood testing also turned up few variations from “normal range,” and those were close enough not to be a worry or require treatment. We’re building an impressive track record!
APRIL: The most recent trip, completed last week, is even better. From four radiology reports: “Essentially unchanged” (abdomen, liver); “without evidence of metastatic disease” (pelvis); “Stable…without new nodes or masses … thyroid unchanged” (neck); “no evidence of … abnormality. Unchanged … lymph node.” (chest).
As for the blood work, the CEA (carcinoembryonic antigen) is down 22% since the January analysis. This means that the cancer cells are creating fewer new cells than before. The results of the second (Calcitonin) markers will be available soon. I’ll pass them along when I have them. Other results from the blood testing are all Within Normal Range or close enough not to be a concern. Overall, a “no change” situation, the third consecutive check-up showing little or no changes.
Thank you for being with us so faithfully.
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: April 9, 2009
JANUARY: The news from January’s trip to Charleston for the experimental drug clinical trial check-up continued holding steady with more or less equally balanced changes. Four tumors in my liver were scanned: the two smaller tumors showed some growth while two larger tumors actually shrank. This is the first conspicuous shrinkage we’ve had since I joined the trial a year and a half ago. Blood testing also turned up few variations from “normal range,” and those were close enough not to be a worry or require treatment. We’re building an impressive track record!
APRIL: The most recent trip, completed last week, is even better. From four radiology reports: “Essentially unchanged” (abdomen, liver); “without evidence of metastatic disease” (pelvis); “Stable…without new nodes or masses … thyroid unchanged” (neck); “no evidence of … abnormality. Unchanged … lymph node.” (chest).
As for the blood work, the CEA (carcinoembryonic antigen) is down 22% since the January analysis. This means that the cancer cells are creating fewer new cells than before. The results of the second (Calcitonin) markers will be available soon. I’ll pass them along when I have them. Other results from the blood testing are all Within Normal Range or close enough not to be a concern. Overall, a “no change” situation, the third consecutive check-up showing little or no changes.
Thank you for being with us so faithfully.
Copyright 2009
Lynn Chapman-Adler
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted: April 9, 2009
Friday, January 2, 2009
Yoga
As a long time jock, my habit has been to gather myself for an effort much as a race horse collects itself preparing to burst from the starting gate. A sporadic mix of jogging and fast walking satisfied my impatient nature for a long while, though the accumulated years eventually slowed me down, not by intention, but by performance.
Creakiness of my movable parts gradually eroded my enthusiasm for getting started and sustaining a respectable pace. To help counterbalance the excesses of cardio vascular indulgence, and to stretch me out between keyed-up activities, I explored yoga.
During yoga practice, I am constantly impressed with how, instead of relaxing into a pose to gain the greatest possible stretch, my body tenaciously clings to the habit of tensing for effort. As I shift my awareness to the particular part of me being stretched in a pose, I discover that my muscles are clenched against the stretch, limiting the value to be gained from holding the pose. The effect of this discovery is profound. I become aware of a whole different concept of movement, to engaging and disengaging, to energizing or relaxing various parts of my body to achieve grace, ease and flexibility of motion.
Now the regular practice of yoga helps to reduce morning stiffness and complaining joints. Recently I added Pilates to my regular exercises to complement yoga in rebuilding my core strength for structural load bearing. By restoring the muscles that support my upper body to their intended condition, I will rebalance my posture and reduce stress on parts of my body not meant to bear weight. Good-bye creakiness!
Keep well. Our thoughts fly to you carrying messages of good will for you throughout 2009.
Copyright 2009
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted January 2, 2009
Creakiness of my movable parts gradually eroded my enthusiasm for getting started and sustaining a respectable pace. To help counterbalance the excesses of cardio vascular indulgence, and to stretch me out between keyed-up activities, I explored yoga.
During yoga practice, I am constantly impressed with how, instead of relaxing into a pose to gain the greatest possible stretch, my body tenaciously clings to the habit of tensing for effort. As I shift my awareness to the particular part of me being stretched in a pose, I discover that my muscles are clenched against the stretch, limiting the value to be gained from holding the pose. The effect of this discovery is profound. I become aware of a whole different concept of movement, to engaging and disengaging, to energizing or relaxing various parts of my body to achieve grace, ease and flexibility of motion.
Now the regular practice of yoga helps to reduce morning stiffness and complaining joints. Recently I added Pilates to my regular exercises to complement yoga in rebuilding my core strength for structural load bearing. By restoring the muscles that support my upper body to their intended condition, I will rebalance my posture and reduce stress on parts of my body not meant to bear weight. Good-bye creakiness!
Keep well. Our thoughts fly to you carrying messages of good will for you throughout 2009.
Copyright 2009
www.lindalater.blogspot.com
Posted January 2, 2009
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