04-15-2020
Today would have been tax day for the IRS, but it was extended until the 15th of July so people could get through this Covid19 mess. I paid the state taxes, so at least that is done.
Changing plans, midstream, can be hard, and moving from in-person workshops to virtual workshops for two of my upcoming groups is great for getting the chemo done, but hard to plan and work with everyone that might be experiencing this type of communication in the first place. Successive approximations at the forefront!
I spoke with the PA for the upcoming chemo treatment and she helped me to clarify a few things. I might even get to have Mike there for the first one, which would be awesome and he can help support me since I’m nervous about the treatment side effects.
I picked up two prescriptions yesterday for nausea. One for regular nausea and one for severe nausea, which makes me feel nauseous just thinking that I might need the severe dose. I hope not, but at least I have it in case I do need it.
The PA called back and told me that Mike was not able to be with me, as they just changed the rules again, with the Covid19 starting to ramp up in San Diego. I understand, and it’s just sort of weird that I’m with this man day and night, so what he has, I would have, but I do realize they are trying to be a safe as possible. Glad I’m not having a baby or dying, as both have become so isolating with the Covid19. At least I get to go home to Mike after.
Prognosis is something that has not really been covered by any of the doctors, and it’s a solid 90% for 5 years when I finally got brave to ask if all of this was to cure me, help me live another year or what? Numbers are much like the half full/empty glass. On the one hand, 90% is pretty good odds, and better at my age, for sure, but, it’s also a pointer, that is directed at my very life and toward my death. A lot to process.
04-17-2020
I bought some watercolor pens so I can play around with painting again—haven’t gotten them yet, however so won’t know until I have them in hand.
I figured they could go along with me to the Chemo treatments, which will take about 6-8 hours from start to finish for this first one. This time is longer because I will have the port put in before the treatment, but going forward, the time will be 4 hours twice in a row, followed by 6hours, and then back to the two 4 hour treaments for the next 12 weeks. After that it will only be the 4 hours, every three weeks, for the balance of a year, and it will be coordinated with the radiation treatment that will follow chemo.
I’ll have some down time for sure, so if the watercolor pens seem portable, I’ll take them and some small paper along to play with during my time getting chemo. I’m still so new to painting, so I typically do small sizes as I learn.
It was nice to get out of the house today and drive around. It breaks up the monotony and gets me moving around more as well. It’s very easy to sit and type, but I need to move, and so getting out helps to remind me to stretch and move. I’m guessing this is true for a lot of people that have been sequestered at home for however long.
Having the near panoramic view that we have is a big plus, and it’s a bit different from each side of the house, so it’s never boring, especially if there are clouds in the sky. I’m trying to get better at painting clouds, which seem easy, but to get the depth and shades, takes practice and technique. Clouds can really set the mood of any painting, and so I want to get better at taking the 3D look from outside, to the 2D look on paper, but with the depth to make it look more 3D.
Clouds, as I have learned look best in watercolor with a minimalist view, and that’s the craft, in my book, learning to layer, to allow drying, and reassessing along the way without adding too much at once, which then looks muddy. This is very much like dog training that’s done well—using successive approximations.
There are many clear examples of those layers in life, and while many have said, “I don’t have the patience,” it’s often more time consuming to redo what would not have needed it by following successive approximations. Painting is one, as I stated above, but painting a wall without primer, and allowing drying time can result in needing a redo or extra work.
A coyote was near our bedroom side of the house last night, and Paxton alerted us. The coyote was hunting quail and the quail had no clue. I opened the window and yelled at the coyote, to which he moved to the next rock and kept an eye on the quail.
The quail, got somewhat closer, and Mike made his way down the stairs, out the back and scooted the birds along. Mike is very protective of the quail and once got mad at a hawk that swooped down and tried to grab a quail near our feeders. “They can take the sparrows, he said, “but not the quail,” as though the hawk should understand that delineation, but it was really sweet.
Having Mike in my life this past 36 years has made me also realize all the successive approximations a marriage takes if it’s to be successful. There have been bumps and stalls along the way, but trusting the process of thin-slicing, working on listening, even when we don’t agree, and believing that Mike will be there when I need him, (avoiding the martyr status), are all part of the strong foundation that has helped us through the rocky times, such as now with the cancer and the Covid19 pandemic. Mike remains my rock, and I trust that he knows I would do the same for him.