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
Saturday, 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
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