This morning, the nanny and I loaded the boys into the car and went to see the ducks at St. Kate's. It was the last taste of normal for the next week. This afternoon, Ryan, the nurse from Fairview Home Infusion who has hooked me up to my chemo pumps each month, came over and hooked me up again. As I write, the chemical taste of the drugs is swirling around my mouth, and I'm slowly feeling them seep through my body. I had a tiny taste of nausea in my throat earlier, which worries me. It didn't start until the second or third day last month. I hope I hold up OK this time.
A woman with whom I used to discuss dreams dropped off some books last night while I was out to dinner with some friends. (We went to the new Salut, where Sidney's used to be, on Grand Avenue.) In the bag was a meditation for focusing on best-case scenarios. It was exactly what I need right now. I've been finding myself drifting too often to the worst-case scenario, almost as a default. I have to force myself away from it — to imagine, for example, that I will still be around when we're deciding where to send the boys to school, or when they become teenagers and we have to talk to them about sex and drugs. So. Best-case scenarios.
At acupuncture last week, the acupuncturist, Susan, suggested that I imagine myself as an 80-year-old woman and have a conversation with that woman. As I lay on the table, I tried it. I found that my 80-year-old self did all the talking. It was comforting and almost mystical, and when I told Susan about it afterward, tears came to my eyes. Acupuncture does that to me, though. It alters my mental and emotional state. I wonder if it alters my physical state, too. I wonder if it accounts for the spectacular results of my blood lab work this morning. The nurse was pretty impressed: "Wow, that platelet level is something!"
about me
I'm Emilie, a writer and mother to two young boys, married to my best friend and living in St. Paul, Minnesota. I was diagnosed with a soft-tissue sarcoma in August 2007, while pregnant with our youngest son. Cancer sucks. But we are trying to live life to the fullest in spite of it.
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lemmondrops ~ the books!
17 comments:
I think the mind is the most powerful medical instrument of all, and your visualization at acupuncture sounds quite amazing. If you feel altered emotionally, I am guessing that transfers to the physical as well. I look forward to many conversations with your 80-year old self also.
Emilie, I plan to compare your wrinkles to mine someday! But wait ... I have a head start. Oh, well. You get the idea. Courage, my friend. Just visualize those nasty cancer cells going pop-pop-pop, then poof! They're gone!
Could the 80 year old still order a Cobb salad in French? And, yes, you'll be around to have the talk with Daniel, and we'll be sitting somewhere with a cool drink trying to figure out how to get our boys the courage to ask the girls to the dances.
They'll both end up at STA even though we wouldn't dream it now. They'll look so handsome in their uniforms, especially the dress ones. (You'd better have Steve show you his yearbooks and turn to Military Ball pics to help with that visualization.) They will be on the crack drill squad, and in the orchestra Harry will be concert master (a little dorky) and Daniel will play french horn (always a hit with the gals). Of course, they'll take French.
-- Laura S.
I too think the mind is a very powerful instrument. I'm glad to hear that your bloodwork was good.
Now on to important things, this Ryan, the nurse, is he cute? Do you at least get some eye candy as he is hooking you up to your drugs? :)
I know that your acupuncture is working and that your chemo is working. I hope we get to meet before we are 80!
Here's to best case scenarios! :)
Bonne chance on this next round of chemo, Emilie. We continue to hold you in our prayers.
You will be a kick-ass 80 year old, from all that you've been through.
I got a kick out of Laura's predictions that your boys will end up at STA. Mine did, like his daddy, and I had to remortgage the house! Get ready, girls! Those dress uniforms do look great, though. "There's somethin' about a man in uniform," my mom always said.
Yea for good platelet levels!
It was good to read your post today. We have gotten some scary adoption news in the past week. Seems they have found another address for our son's birthmother and will have to do a search there. Could just be another paperwork step; or she or a relative could decide to keep him. Sometimes it's too painful to imagine the best-case scenario, but focusing on the worst-case doesn't help either. Then I tend to just go numb.
I think I'll try doing some best-case scenario meditating today. Thanks for the reminder.
Here's to best case scenarios!!
I know that the 80 yr old you will be just as amazing. :)
With your strength and spirit, thinking of a best-case scenario only makes sense! :)
Oh, and I am quite sure you'll still be writing at 80. And bringing in a steady revenue stream from your best-selling book of essays and reflections.
wow. Just wow
Ah, another round.
I sent you something (nothing big), and asked in my letter when you next round is. You'll probably get in right in the middle of this round!
Congratulations on the steady platelet level.
- Susanne
Man, it's awesome that you are able to find this 'new self' through acupuncture. Try to keep your spirits up. I find you amazing.
I hope your chemo round isn't taking too much out of you. I think the best-case scenario thinking is so helpful. I need it myself right now so I'll just have to try it myself.
Much love and amazing-shrinking-tumors thoughts!
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