On the Record

I received an unusually warm welcome at CoH today.

Apparently, news travels fast from the OR (operating room) to the clinic, and word of yesterday's traumatic experience had made the rounds.

When I saw my nurse coordinator, Emily, in the hallway, she gave me a remarkably sympathetic greeting. Turns out she'd read the colonoscopy report. While I was waiting in the exam room, Dr. Forman's nurse practitioner, Barb, tracked me down. "Oh you poor thing! Let me give you a hug," she groaned while giving me a warm embrace.

"I see you've read the report too," I said. "Yes, the whole hospital's talking about it," she teased (or at least I hope she was teasing). Barb spoke with the GI doctor, and it sounds like he's the one who needs a hug today. He's still shook up over the screaming patient incident.

Dr. Forman and I read the report together so that I could see what was on my permanent record. "Patient screamed in pain" it read. I'm sure Dr. L used his physician's restraint to keep from adding "like a big baby" or "like a banshee" to the report. He went on to write that he withdrew the adult scope and substituted the diminutive pediatric scope. (Hmmm . . . here's a tip: If you suspect you have a "skinny colon," ask for the kid's scope.)

Today I followed the lead of Martha Stewart's daughter, Alexis, and brought fresh-baked chocolate white chocolate chunk cookies to my favorite doctor and nurses. (Alexis routinely brings beautifully packaged baked goods to the staff of her infertility clinic.) My timing couldn't have been better. I'm hoping now everyone will remember me as the nice patient who bakes instead of the kooky one who screams.


(And no cheap shots about what these cookies remind you of.)

PS We're still uncertain about the next step or next test, but I hope to find out more tomorrow.

Colonoscopy Update

I'm home from CoH and still a bit out of it, but wanted to leave a brief post. As you can see, my creativity is in full gear - How's "colonoscopy update" for a scintillating title?

The good news is that there were no polyps in my colon. But at the risk of scaring off potential colonoscopy patients, I screamed "Ouch!" during the entire procedure. The first time, three years ago, I was groggy but not asleep and actually saw the doctor zap a small polyp on the screen. Didn't feel a thing. A few months ago, I was completely asleep and don't remember a thing. This time, I was wide awake and felt everything. The nurse kept giving me more Demerol, but that drug seems to have no effect on me (or perhaps it takes too long to work). The doctor said I have a very tiny colon, and from the discomfort that I felt while the camera was passing through, I believe it.

The GI doctor is ordering more tests. He said something about radiology, but by the time I was coherent enough to inquire further, he was gone. I'll have to wait and find out tomorrow what comes next.

Here we go again (and again. . .)

Today's fasting and cleansing regimen brings me back to the early days of my cancer adventure.

During the prep for my first colonoscopy in March, I got an urgent, unexpected call from City of Hope, "You need to check in [to Hotel Hope] as soon as possible so that we can start the hydration for your chemo." George made a mad dash from downtown LA so that he could get me to the hospital on time. I was in a panic that I'd need to make a mad dash to the bathroom during our one-hour trek to CoH on the rush-hour-congested 210 Freeway.

After I arrived (accident free), the nurses hooked me up to an IV. I had a few hours to finish off my gallon jug of cleansing GoLytyely, which meant that I had to chug 8 ounces of the vile-tasting liquid every fifteen minutes. When nature started calling, I had to dance my IV pole partner into the bathroom with me every 15 minutes. Aaah, the memories. Talk about crazy, sexy cancer.

Today, I'm thankful for a number of things. I have the luxury of being in the comfort of my own home during the fasting and cleansing. I'm not strapped to my omnipresent pole partner. And this time around I requested Fleet Phospho-soda instead of the GoLytely regimen. For the benefit of you youngsters under age 50 or any of you reluctant over-50 readers, you take two doses of Fleet versus 16 glasses of the vile stuff. It's no contest. (Kind of like that blood warmer in the harvesting room - you gotta know about it to ask for it.)

I'm also thankful that I was able to schedule the colonoscopy for 2:00 pm tomorrow. At first, the scheduler told me (and my coordinating nurse) that the first available appointment was two and a half weeks away on October 24. I explained that Dr. Forman had scheduled me for my colonoscopy follow-up appointment on Thursday, and the next thing I know I'm booked for Wednesday.

What are you thankful for? For starters, you must be grateful that I didn't try to find an illustration to go with today's post.

Sunday night with Smooky!

You could spend Sunday night organizing your sock drawer…or you could hit The Ice House with Susan and me. We're going to a two-part boffo benefit for Hillsides!

The silent auction runs from 5:30 to 6:45 p.m. on the Ice House patio. Here's a partial list of items. Everyone is welcome. Those who bid big are revered.

The comedy show starts at 7 p.m. Details on the 10 performers are here. Tickets for the show are $35, plus a two-drink minimum. (Manhattans for Susan, natch!)

The Ice House is located at 24 Mentor Avenue in Pasadena. Call 626/577-1894 to reserve your seats. No reservations are necessary to attend the silent auction.

Okay, I'll stop the promotional blogging now. (Um, until next year.)

On a Stroll

I hate strolling.

I think those of us who hate the stroll are the same ones who despise yoga, as I once did. If I couldn't sweat, elevate my heart rate or at least get some endorphins pumping, I was outta' there.

On the other hand, I love walking - fast, killing-four-birds-with-each-step walking: walking for exercise, walking the dog, walking with a friend, walking toward a goal. A woman in my book club adds the fifth element by listening to books on tape while she power walks with her dog and bike-riding first grader on her way to an important destination.

I have little patience for strollers. If pedestrians came equipped with horns, I would blast mine at the slow-moving mall strollers who block traffic. I would beep at George, who takes the stairs in our house one languid step at a time, while I hop, skip and jump two-by-two from basement to second floor. I would honk at the dawdling airline passengers who apparently have all day to get to their gates.

In spite of my strollerphobia, I opted last Sunday to take a tour of a private, one acre Japanese strolling garden in Pasadena. The garden was part of the LA Conservancy's "Cultivating LA" tour of five sites representing Southern California's Japanese-style gardening traditions. I skipped the other four gardens, but didn't want to miss the chance to peek into the only private garden on the tour. (Hey, I told you I was nosy.)

One of the unique feature of the strolling garden is that it never shows all of itself from one spot or at one time. These gardens use the Japanese landscape principle of "hide and reveal" to "enlighten and revive the spirit of the observer" by gradually exposing the garden's wonders

The design of the Japanese strolling garden forces me to do what comes unnaturally to me: slow to a stroll. At the Pasadena garden and later at the Japanese Tea Garden in San Francisco's Golden Gate Park, the slow pace gave me the chance to contemplate the sound of the trickling water, the feel of the wind, the shape of the lanterns, the smell of the fallen leaves and the taste of the warm Jasmine tea. I even felt a haiku coming on. And the woman photographer making a mad dash from site to site became the object of the sanctimonious disdain I usually reserve for mall strollers.

I didn't rush through the gardens or worry about what was waiting round the bend. The next vista or contemplation spot remained hidden until it was time to be revealed. Breathe in, breathe out. Hide and reveal. These are lessons I'm being forced to learn.

Now I'm trying to apply the hide and reveal garden philosophy to my own life. My natural tendency is to power walk into the back yard of life and insist upon seeing the whole garden revealed in one glance, weeds and all. But there's beauty, serenity and drama (yes, definitely drama) in strolling into a world that hides and then reveals itself when the time is right. And that's what I'm trying to appreciate while I'm waiting for the next site (i.e. test and test results) to be revealed.

San Francisco, Here We Come

With sunny skies, temperatures in the high 60s and a strong need for distraction, I can't think of a better time for a trip to San Francisco.

George and I will be going up for a short visit from Wednesday until Friday, complements of Wells Fargo Bank. We're being flown up to attend his 25-year-anniversary dinner celebration at the historic Palace Hotel. (Of course, the way we figure it, Cindy has indirectly financed one of our trips, thanks to the outrageous overdraft fees she's racked up on her WFB checking account.)

I'll be checking messages but will be taking a blogging vacation for a few days.

It could be nothing, or it could be something.

If I had a nickel for every time I heard these words, I'd be at least a quarter richer.

My PET scan showed some hot spots in my colon and bowel area. This could explain my vague symptoms - gastrointestinal grumblings, gassiness, unexplained weight loss, a feeling of fullness. But it could be nothing or it could be something.

Cancer spreads to the colon in 50 to 80% of Mantle Cell Lymphoma cases. When I had a colonoscopy in March, right before the start of Hyper CVAD, you may recall that I came out as clean as a whistle. But with this new turn of events, I'm scheduled for another colonoscopy (GoLytely, here I come) and lower GI biopsy early next week. I'll meet with Dr. Forman to review the results a week from Thursday.

Don't worry. Dr. Forman has a lot of tricks up his sleeve to deal with the worst case scenario. In the meantime, it's more waiting and more wondering.