aLive @ Stage 4!

Oncology Appointment My latest CT scan and echo, that I had this past Friday, are good.  I usually skim the report, and hone in on the bottom line.  For the CT scan, it says, "Impression:  Stable exam, no evidence of metastatic disease."  For the echo, it says, "In comparison with prior study from 1/25/2019 there is no significant change."   We also look at the Ejection Fraction, which is noted on the report as 60-65% .  These are good numbers.  Great news! In addition to going over my latest scan and echo results during the appointment with my oncologist, I talked to her about the neuropathy in my hands and feet getting more pronounced and a little painful.  I told her that the foot massage I get during my monthly pedicures helps immensely, as does holding a hot cup of coffee in my hands.  She explained to me that these sensations (pressure, heat) supersede the pain sensations in the nerves.  So, these kinds of relief, as well as pain meds,  would just mask th

We all know that music can have an impact on our lives -- on our emotions, on how we feel.  A song can change your mood in a heartbeat.  I use music to help me to fall asleep at night, to calm my nerves, to energize me, to give me strength.  Today I'd like to tell you about three songs that have had an impact on me. A few years ago, I went on a road trip with my son.  As we were driving, a medley of songs came on the radio.  He told me then that these songs reminded him about what I had been going through, was then going through, and would be going through in the future.  I've grouped them into a YouTube playlist  here  if you'd like to listen as you read.  All songs are by Rascal Flatts. The first song, Skin (Sarabeth) tells the story about how it feels to learn of a cancer diagnosis, of dealing with the side effects of the chemo, and how family and friends are so incredibly supportive. The second song, Feels Like Today , reminds me of the end of harsh treatment, an

Please notice that "gift" in the title has quotation marks around it, to signify sarcasm.   I do not,  nor have I ever,  believed that cancer was a gift (yes,  people have actually said this about their own cancer).   Cancer is a nasty ass disease that takes and takes and takes.   Four years after diagnosis,  and it's still taking.  I wrote a blog post about two years ago that touched on the subject:  The Cost of Cancer .  Those things were anticipated, expected.  But this time,  it's gone too far. You may know that my family and I have season tickets to the Redskins games.   You may have heard me tell the story about how my father camped out overnight at Griffith Stadium for those tickets,  before I was born.  Those tickets have been in our family for over 54 years.  When my dad got sick, he had the tickets transferred into my name, because I was the youngest daughter, and because he knew he could trust me to see them distributed fairly, as they had always been (no