My well-studied bod

Just a quickie today: I had a PET scan earlier today, which looked at me from head to abdomen. On Tuesday I will have a colonoscopy and on Friday the biopsy. Surely that will provide plenty of info for a diagnosis! That's a lot of fasting too. 

xoxoxo

Katie

Much better news yesterday

On Wednesday, Al and I trundled down to the SF Kaiser to meet with their top colorectal surgeon. Based a physical exam, he said I looked great. He suspects the remaining mass mentioned in the CT report is just scar tissue. (It turns out that having a real doctor interpret the report is far better than depending on a total neophyte like me. The report was full of medical jargon in addition to the non-native speaker challenge.) A biopsy on January 2 will verify. Fingers crossed!

Needless to say, we at the Walter house are much cheerier and more in the Christmas spirit. There are far too few days remaining. Get that shopping done!

Much love,

Katie

Not healed yet

I just returned from a wonderful week in Boston with my sister - and snuck in two days in NYC with my niece, who went down with me on the train. Macy's, Bloomingdales, Tiffany, Fifth Avenue and Rockefeller Center Christmas lights, and dinner with Dan and Aimee. It surpassed all expectations. Sister Maggie and I polished off my last day in Boston with the Colin Firth Pride and Prejudice. The definitive smoldering Mr. Darcy. It was quite the week, and my energy is returning in a very big way.

However, while I was in Boston I got the results of my first post-treatment CT scan. I suspect the radiology report was written by a non-native speaker, so it's tough to understand. But I think it's fair to assume that "Less defined the previously 4.3 cm rectal mass, but persistent soft tissue mass with markedly symmetrical with thickening and luminal narrowing of the rectum extending to the adjacent distal sigmoid colon..." is not the best possible news. A more detailed PET scan is scheduled for December 28.

Al and I are seeing Kaiser's top colorectal surgeon in SF this Wednesday, so I hope to know more then. In the mean time, many thanks to everyone for your continued good thoughts and love. 

Happy shopping! 

Much love,
Katie

The holiday season begins

A belated happy thanksgiving to everyone. I hope you had as good a day as we did. Al's daughter Robin and her family joined us, so we had just seven. But wonder of wonders, I worked all that day in the kitchen and around the house and felt AOK. I chose to do some yard work rather than shop on Black Friday and again felt really good, until I crashed at about 6 pm. My energy seems to be returning. Hurrah!

I have begun decorating the house for Christmas. We will have a full house on the 27th with all of Robin's family, including Jessica, three-year-old Anastasia and we hope husband Andrew from Spokane, and Dan and Aimee from Brooklyn. It will be crowded and noisy and perhaps hopelessly fatiguing, and I can't wait. 

Only 26 shopping days until Christmas. Get out there, kids. Do your part for the recovering economy!

Love,

Katie

Two steps forward, one back...

This has been a week of ups and downs. I have a new retirement date, December 2, which is good news. But I'm discovering that my energy isn't what I keep hoping it is. I drove to Livermore on Tuesday for some pre-retirement meetings and lunch with a good friend. Back in Stockton I had an appointment with an orthopedist about my painful left hip. She had me get an x-ray and then saw me again, which extended the day to 5:30. I had put in an 8-hour day, my first in months. I slept 11 hours that night and awoke still pooped. I had a lunch scheduled for Wednesday with a friend in Stockton and another trip to Livermore planned for Thursday for lunch. I had to cancel both. Grrrrr.... Patience has never been my strong suit, as Al can attest. 

This week will end on the way, way up side, however. On Sunday Al and I leave for most of a week in Mendocino. Rain is forecast, which is AOK with us. Hot tub in the rain, anyone? We are taking lots of books and DVDs. Mom will stay home, and she has a Phoenix friend who will be with her for several days. I suspect we all will enjoy our privacy and peace and quiet.

And today is my birthday! As baby sister Maggie has reminded me, I'm now eligible to sing the old Beatles' song "When I'm 64." Of course when the song came out, none of us could imagine being that old. But look at us now, older and better than ever.

Much love,

Katie

Mostly back to normal

Dan and Aimee arrived on Sunday evening after a wedding in LA. It is so good to see them! Yesterday was a lazy day of them doing some work, me baking, and Aimee and me knitting. Pot roast and mashed potatoes with apple pie for dessert. Aaaahhhh.....

I am feeling almost like my old self, although I haven't yet attempted any yard work. Last week I spent four absolutely terrific days in Seattle visiting a girlfriend and enjoying a family reunion at a memorial service for Mom's oldest sister. (At 96, she had lived quite a wonderful life.) Everyone commented on how good I looked, which I decided was because their expectations were very low. I didn't get tired, which surprised me, tho I also spent lots of time sitting and relaxing.

The edema in my legs comes and goes. It's with me right now and I'm seeing my PCP in a few days to see if she has any ideas for a solution. I've read that edema can be permanent following chemotherapy. I hope not. It's rather uncomfortable, and I don't relish the thought of wearing compression hose for the rest of my life. Whine, whine.

I missed last week's rain, tho I can see it in the snow on the mountains. I also missed the Giants final win. Three World Series in five years—a dynasty for sure!

Much love,

Katie

Life gets even better

A cousin in Tacoma, WA, is faithful about sending a cheery get well card every week. Dear Georgina, you are a trooper and a sweetheart. Thank you for your faithfulness. This is the latest. For several weeks I was sick and tired and sick and tired of being sick and tired. But fortunately no more. I suppose if I have to undergo more treatment I will have to modify that statement. For now life is darned good.

This afternoon I met my book group buddies for the first time since July. It was so good to see them again and feel that I'm returning to normal activities. We had planned a Chinese dinner for our meeting this evening but the San Francisco Giants appearance in the World Series brought that to a screeching halt. A smoothie and cookie at Toot Sweets was just as good. Lunch with friends at the Lab tomorrow—in Livermore, where I haven't been since July—signals a real return to the kind of life I expected to be living when I retired.  

For the gardening cleanup I can't do, I ended up hiring someone. It felt rather like an admission of failure, but I'm trying to fight that feeling. On Saturday, I removed most of a bed of plants in anticipation of the big waterwise, front yard re-landscaping project and was thoroughly pooped on Sunday. I'd have done that six months ago without missing a beat and gone on to do another 4 or 5 hours of work. Now however, I've got a ways to go and I'm trying to accept it gracefully. Hah!!

The Giants were 3-0 last time I checked. Go Giants! Beat those Royals!

Love to all,

Katie

Getting better

It's been just nine days since my last radiation treatment, and it feels like weeks. I have so much more energy. I haven't napped since just after returning from the hospital. Al's daughter Robin and her family visited for lunch today, including granddaughter Jessica and her daughter Anastasia who are visiting from Spokane. Jess and I are very good buds and of course I adore my great-granddaughter. It was a fun visit and I expected it to wear me out. But good news, it didn't.

It's true I don't have much physical strength; I did move that big pumpkin on the porch, but I tried to lift some bags of potting soil out of Al's truck and couldn't. On the up side, I went shopping at J. Jill on Saturday, my first shopping expedition since July. My pants are falling off and I need a few to tide me over until I put almost 20 pounds back on. Which I know will happen, darn it. I'm driving again and feeling more and more like my old self.

I comb my hair very carefully to avoid revealing the big pink spots. And then I run my hands through my hair, as I am wont to do, and there are the big pink spots! Fortunately, I've almost stopped losing hair. Not quite but almost. A girl can hope.

Today is 26 years since Al and I were married at the little chapel in Yosemite. I am grateful to him for so much.

My love to all of you,
Katie

I'm done!

I had my last radiation treatment this morning. Glory Hallelujah! I got the certificate below when I left. It's fun. At the risk of being a tad negative, it seems unlikely that all of that cancer cells are gone, although of course I hope so. I have another appointment at the radiation center on December 3. CT scan time. The moment of truth, perhaps.

I felt so much better over the weekend after receiving two units of blood on Friday. On Thursday morning when I walked into the radiation center, the nurse happened to see me come in and was instantly all concern. I was practically limping I had so little energy. The two docs appeared out of nowhere, took one look, and insisted that I go to Kaiser to get fluids. They were also certain I needed a transfusion. The nurse called Kaiser so by the time I got home and called Kaiser myself, it was all set up, just get over there and I was in. Kaiser also drew blood and those numbers prompted the call a few hours later at home to come in on Friday for a transfusion.

Yay for modern medicine. I went grocery shopping on Saturday for the first time in weeks, and made a slow-cooker stew on Sunday. My energy is still far lower than I'd like, and I suspect weeks will pass before that is back to normal. I bought a big pumpkin today and discovered I couldn't pick it up. What's with that?! Still, I'm feeling better and many of the symptoms I've had are beginning to fade away.

This morning I took an orchid and a batch of brownies (another Saturday project - woo hoo) to the radiation center staff. They have been so caring and supportive and are such a wonderful bunch of people. I am very grateful to them and also to the wonderful nurses in Kaiser's infusion center. They have all made a truly ghastly time more bearable.

Mom continues to be in charge of scut work, bless her heart. Al is my cheerleader in chief when I get blue, chauffeur (tho I'm beginning to do some driving), and all-around wonderful husband. And thanks to all of you who continue to remember me.

Love,
Katie

Yee-haw!

I learned this morning that instead of having radiation treatments through October 15, I will be done next Monday, October 6. It may not seem like much to anyone else, but I am euphoric, delighted, thrilled, excited, elated, ecstatic, over the moon, et al.

Then two months must elapse while I recover from radiation damage before CT/PET scans can be performed. I'll know then what the tumor looks like and whether surgery will be possible/necessary. The fun continues...

Love,
Katie

Woo hoo!

I'm getting my legs back! My knees and calves are pretty much normal now. My ankles come and go. I can now usually see the tendon that pops up when you point your toes back toward your legs. I am most grateful these days for pee, as in producing lots of it and getting rid of the edema.

On the down side, I've had blood drawn twice since I left the hospital and my white, red, and platelet counts are back in dangerously low territory. Doing the littlest thing exhausts me. High-energy Katie has been replaced by a pod person. I'm so hoping for a transfusion or two ASAP. Did you know - I didn't - that platelets are a spectacular yellow-gold color?

Pod Katie also has a pink spot on the back of her head from hair loss. But I notice that the accumulation at the shower drain has dropped to essentially nothing. Perhaps because chemo is done? Will it start coming back? Curly would be great fun.

I'm off to message my oncologist and beg for a transfusion.

Love,
Katie

It's been too long

Sorry for the long radio silence. The last two weeks have been an adventure, but not the good kind. I finished the second (and last) week of chemo and soon became very ill. I went to the ER on the 16th with severe shortness of breath and a fever. It turned out I had nutropenia, which is an extremely low white blood cell count. Neutropenia in adults is generally defined as a count of 1,700 or fewer neutrophils per microliter of blood. My white count was 800. Explosive diarrhea ruined four or five days. I was anemic and received a blood transfusion. Then my platelet count was low, so I received a platelet transfusion. I was pumped full of fluids for the entire time and now have chubby knees, shins, and ankles. I hear I'm supposed to "pee out" the edema. We'll see.

I was in the hospital through yesterday, the 24th. I cannot say enough good things about the staff of the Modesto Kaiser hospital. Still, home never looked so good. A shower. Real food. My own bed. No more tether to the IV. Three weeks of radiation remain.

The flowers, cards, emails, and phone calls I've received have meant so much. I've not been as responsive as I'd like to be. But now that I'm home and feeling A LOT better, I hope that will change.

Love,
Katie

Wiped Out!

Just when I was thinking that week two of chemo was going better than the first, I got sideswiped by mind-numbing fatigue. On Tuesday, I was driving home from radiation down our little lane, evidently dropped off, and whacked a garbage can waiting to be emptied. It crunched the mirror on the passenger side. I'm glad it was only a garbage can! Scary. Al drove me yesterday and as soon as I got home, I crawled into bed and stayed there until this morning. He is my chauffeur from now on.

Tomorrow marks the end of week five. The radiation folks are prescribing one cream after another and they help some. But - butt - none of them heals the damage you know where. Ouch. That will have to wait until this process is over.

I am getting to know other patients with radiation appointments around mine. One is a young woman who has had recurring tumors in her saliva glands. In the past, the cells were removed with no chemo or radiation follow up. The hope this time is that radiation will truly destroy it, zap it into submission. She has a very hard time talking and eating but is always ready to share encouragement and affection. Another woman being treated for breast cancer looked very familiar. It turns out she used to drive the commuter bus from Stockton to the Lab. A small world gets smaller and ever more loving.

xoxoxo, Katie

Second Week of Chemo

I get bottle number two tomorrow morning. I have meds, et al lined up so this week will be less traumatic than the first week. I hope.

Too Early to Gloat

My hair is now coming out in (small) handfuls, and I confess to feeling a tad less brave about not getting a wig. I have lots of hair to start with and the loss doesn't show—yet. My pride may get the better of me.

The discomfort factor is also on the rise. Dr. V. whispered behind his hand one day last week that perianal pain is the worst. The discomfort factor isn't going to get any better until this whole mess is over. Not since I was a kid looking forward to Christmas has a particular date—October 1, the last day of radiation—been so eagerly awaited. My oncologist tells me that I will have October to recover. A whole month? Whew.

Mom picked a couple of dahlias from my garden this morning. They are gracing my office desk now. So cheerful.

Love,
Katie

I'm Losing My Hair!

Actually, my hair loss is minimal. Starting a few days ago, several hairs come out when I run my hand through my coif, but I'm told I will not lose all my hair. I was going to pass on a wig and hoped to look as beautiful as this woman.

When my poor neighbor was being treated for breast cancer several years ago, she had half of her hair fall out one night, along with her eyebrows and everything else. On the up side, she didn't have to shave her legs for a while. That part sounds pretty nice, but one cannot pick and choose side effects.

I love my radiation oncologist. He's very funny. He asked me early this week whether I was feeling better. I hemmed and hawed because my left leg was still bothering me, causing me to limp. The next day when we chatted, he reminded me that when we first met, at my initial consultation five or six weeks ago, I could not sit at all because of pain from the tumor. I was amazed, and thoroughly embarrassed, to have forgotten. He also chuckled about how grumpy I was that day but allowed as how I'd turned out to be pretty nice after all. If there is any up side to radiation, besides getting rid of the cancer of course, Dr. V. is it.

The down side of radiation: I'm starting to feel a bit of burning. I have four and a half more weeks of this stuff to look forward to, so that will only get worse. I pray I don't entirely lose my sense of humor. We shall see.

With the Labor Day holiday, I have three instead of two days off from the radiation regimen. I'm thrilled!

Enjoy the long weekend, everyone!

A Slow Day

I started week three of radiation this morning. Radiation without chemo hasn't been too bad. But I'm starting to feel some unpleasant side effects of radiation. Plus I'm plain tired. I will have another week of chemo soon. I'm not looking forward to it, except that every day of treatment gets me closer to the end of this ordeal/blessing. 

A good friend had a stroke late last week. He is doing well and making good progress with therapy, thank goodness. Yet his situation is another reminder of how fragile and unpredictable our time on this Earth is.

I'm disappointed in how lazy I've been with all this free time. I have a sweater for granddaughter Anastasia that has been half done for months. I have an ocean of old family photos to organize. Somehow I cannot get in gear. Instead I am reading ferociously. The book du jour is the latest "Robert Galbraith" (J. K. Rowling) whodunit. A great read; check it out.

Our tomato crop is embarrassingly puny this year. But we are getting some great BLTs, including tonight's dinner. Bon appetit!

Is It Throw Back Thursday Yet?

When my mother moved in in February, she brought with her dozens of photo albums that have been great fun to go through. We divvied the contents up amongst my sisters and me and sent off giant envelopes of pictures to Massachusetts, New Mexico, and Minnesota. Of course, a huge load stayed here and I am beginning to sort them. Nothing like some unexpected down time for organizing old photos.

When we were kids, a highlight of every Christmas was Mom dragging out the Santa Claus picture posterboards stored under her bed. Christmas wasn't Christmas without a visit to Santa at Frederick & Nelson in Seattle, the giant department store where my father did something or other. Every year we stood in line, wrinkled list in our hot little hand, every year we got our photo taken, and each year's photos were added to the posterboard. With four girls in the family, the same coats and dresses inevitably reappeared in the photos. Black and white segued into color sometime in the early 1960s. My introduction to the big red guy in 1952 was not propitious, but he and I were getting along just fine, thank you very much, by 1953.

As you can tell I'm feeling pretty good or I'd be whining instead of feeling nostalgic. A week and a half in—hurrah!

A Lovely Tuesday

I'll be off to my 11 a.m. radiation appointment shortly. Boy am I glad to be rid of the chemo bottle. Whew!! That cocktail throws a punch. I'm not feeling the effects of the radiation yet.

I can't open my mouth quite all the way, which is restricting eating fun. Things taste a little odd and it hurts to use my electric toothbrush. But all in all, my appetite is back.

For fun we are looking at houses to rent in Mendocino for a week in early November for some post-treament R&R. I want to watch seals and shales and not think.

Week One: OMG

I hardly know where to begin to describe the worst week of my life—no more are allowed to
come anywhere close, and that's that. I'll get the TMI out of the way first—epic diarrhea, vomiting, heartburn, chills and low-grade fever, and - big surprise - feeling all around lousy and a half. I lost six pounds in four days, but don't even consider it. Yesterday, I spent two hours at Kaiser instead of the planned 15 minutes as I received hydration and while I waited to see my wonderful oncologist who prescribed an antibiotic for my borderline infection. She kept shaking her head, saying the low white count shouldn't happen until week two. I'm precocious. Who knew?

And today I feel like an almost-new person. Thank god for modern medicine. Also the chemo bottle is gone -- hurrah -- until I get a new one in September. Not looking forward to that. But at least now I'm prepared.

Over the last several days, I ignored phone calls from people I love because I just couldn't talk. I was afraid I'd cry, for feeling sorry for myself. Pathetic. You know who you are and I am sorry. I will get back to you as soon as I can.

I've discovered that the end of the day can be particularly difficult. In fact, days have taken on a whole new rhythm. It takes longer to get out of bed and food isn't my friend any more. On a typical beautiful Saturday morning such as this one, I'd be in the garden by now, watering, deadheading, trimming, doing all the things that need doing. Those jobs have been ignored this week but I do hope to get out there for a while, if for no other reason than to see something beside the inside of this house, or Kaiser, or the radiation treatment center. Mom suggested the other day that I lie down, and I realize that after just 5 of 52 days of treatment, I'm already sick of my bed. Fortunately it's very comfy and has comforting Al on the other side.

I am so grateful for both Al and my mother. When Mom moved in in February, we could not have imagined the current situation. She keeps at things, doing laundry, taking care of the dishwasher, setting the table, feeding the cats and dog if Al isn't around, always wanting to do more. Al is Al, always there, always my cheerleader. He did nothing but hold my hand yesterday at Kaiser for over an hour as I lay covered in blankets and yet unable to warm up. Steady as he goes, that's my beloved Al.

No predictions for the date of the next episode. I hope it won't be quite so long and I hope it's a bit more chipper.

Until next time, my love to you all. K

Day One

Well, the fun has begun. My first chemo infusion began this morning. I will be hauling around a baby-bottle-sized bottle of 5-FU until Friday. I'd been given to understand that I would go in every week for chemo. Nope. It's just this week for four days and again starting on September 8 for four days. Radiation is every day, beginning in about an hour.

As we drove off to Kaiser and my date with the infusion center this morning, my mother gave me a card that sums this situation up really well:

We must be willing to let go
of the life we had planned,
so as to have the life
that is waiting for us.
                -E.M. Forster

I'd had no plans for August after retirement. Maybe that's not a bad thing. It allows me to create a new future with few regrets. I can focus on now, on meditating, on staying healthy, and on the circle of love that friends and family have created. I received three "positivity" bracelets today from a good friend that will go with me to radiation, today and every day. Thank you, Diana.

To all of you—xoxoxoxoxo
 

Meditating on Trust

An old friend of mine drove out from the Bay Area yesterday to spend the day with me. We

sat under the trees in our back yard and had a lovely time. Al even brought us lunch. The shade kept moving, so we did what I always do when I'm reading under the trees, "chased the shade," moving our chairs as needed and laughing all the while.

Gaby has been meditating for decades and thought that learning to meditate might be useful for me for the time to come. And how right she is. I've done some meditating over the years, but never very seriously. I learned that meditating with someone is entirely different and very powerful. I hope to find a meditation group in Stockton and join their satsang.

When Gaby and I were meditating, I found myself concentrating on trust, which I feel I need to overcome my fear of what is to come. Even just after our two meditation sessions yesterday, I feel much less fear. The other lesson I came away with is that everything in our life is a blessing. Chemo is a blessing. A radiation treatment is a blessing. I believe it. Thank you, Gaby, thank you.

Chemo poet

On a jauntier note, a week or so ago I sent an email to friends about having the chemo port installed. But my fingers failed me and Autocorrect didn't find anything wrong when I typed "chemo poet." A good friend in Seattle, who just had a cardiac catheter installed, leaped in to act as the rectal cancer/cardiac poet:

There is no modesty in chemo

Which heals the most private parts

And requires us to talk about

Our poop, our pee and farts.

It's the same with cardiac surgeons

You’d think they’d have heart

But their true goal, as you may know

Is to take us all apart.

Fear, Redux

I occasionally have what I call "the terrors." I used the term unexplained in a brief email to a cancer-survivor friend the other day and she knew exactly what I was talking about—the fear of not surviving. I used to think I wasn't afraid of death. Hah. It's more complicated than I realized.

Ironically, on Sunday night, while I was wailing and shaking in St. Al's arms, my sister's dearest friend died of cancer. The universe knows. I wish it would share its secrets.

Fear

Most days, the upcoming cancer treatment has seemed like a big if nasty adventure. Ferris
Beuller's Day off but with chemo and radiation. I'm tough. I'll see it through and come out stronger. A dear friend from high school in Hawaii tells me to be a warrior. Yeah. Bring it on.

But last night, for the first time in two weeks, I felt fear. I was on the Kaiser web site to refill my pain med when I saw a brand new one on the list of medications, ondansetron. I Googled it and saw that it is for nausea and vomiting. I loathe nausea—just like everyone else.

I'm trying to figure out how to not dread treatment. During Al's last chemo, an anti-nausea drug was part of the cocktail, so he was spared. Not that he didn't have other side effects, but at least he didn't have nausea.

I know lots of you have been in my boots. If you have any suggestions for deep breathing, for eating, for anything that might make this easier, I'm all ears. Thank you.

All You Need is Love

Oh my. One has friends and good friends and decades-old, finish-each-others-sentences, can-you-believe-we-did-that-when-we-were-17 friends. And now when I need it the most, it seems that every last one one them is there for me. The outpouring of love and concern and aloha is far beyond anything I could have imagined. I know it's "just" words, but those words bring tears to my eyes. Thank you.

Modesty? Forget That

Yesterday morning I spent 15 minutes lying on my belly with my trousers down as radiation planning was under way. I have my first tattoos—woo hoo! But don't get too excited. They are tiny, freckle-sized things that I gather will serve as guides when I have radiation.

I have commented more than once that I'd much prefer cancer of the elbow. (My apologies to anyone who has had cancer of the elbow and knows far better than I how difficult it is.) I at least wouldn't have to expose my plump, cellulite-y nether regions to the universe for radiation. I know, I know. I am immensely grateful for the wonders of radiation therapy but geez Louise.

Plus I wouldn't be sitting on a tumor the size of a walnut. I remember years ago when I was a mere child of 25 reading Garrison Keillor's Lake Wobegon Days and thinking it was so funny when Lars Larsson or Sven Svensson or another of Keillor's wonderful characters was on a fishing trip with buddies while sitting on a hemorrhoid the size of a Concord grape. He suffered silently while I chuckled. There's a lesson here, friends. Never laugh at anyone, even a fictional character. It may come back to haunt you.

And it's a wrap for today's musings. I will spend the rest of the day in the yard, reading on my side, and otherwise avoiding sitting on my walnut-sized tumor. Cheers!

I have been a writer all my life but pretty much only at work. When cancer struck two weeks ago, I found words tossing around in my brain as I woke in the morning and from the many naps I am already taking. So I decided to blog.

The title? Damn it, I have things I want to do and a little rectal cancer is not going to get in the way. I will be healed, ASAP.

News from Hell

What I thought was a garden-variety hemorrhoid bothered me for several months before my surgeon suggested doing a biopsy. With that word, the Earth stopped spinning for a second. It is a word everyone dreads but there it was. I am a practical sort and tried to be rational and reasonable about life for the next few days. But when the pathology results came back positive, I confess I wailed for a few minutes.

Life immediately became a whirlwind of bone scan (negative), CT and PET scans (which showed lymph node involvement in the left groin), blood work, etc. A central port for chemo was installed near my right shoulder, and I had initial appointments with the radiological oncologist. Chemo and radiation will begin on August 11 or August 18. Radiation treatment requires more planning and will be the driver for the start date.

Retirement—or Not

Innisfree Garden, Millbrook, NY
June 2014

I awoke this morning, August 1, with the thought that today was to have been the start of retirement. Freedom, midweek days in the garden, visits to granddaughter Jessica and her family in Spokane, leisurely trips—again on weekdays—to museums in San Francisco, more frequent trips to New York to visit Dan and Aimee and wallow in the wonderfulness of NYC and environs. This retirement date had been planned since May. But it was not to be.

Instead, I started disability leave on July 29. The good news is that chemo and radiation will only last 5 or 6 weeks before re-evaluation. Cross your fingers for good news!!