Base!

We're home from Santa Rosa and Portland, the city with the most vegetation and coolness together that I've ever seen. I'm happy to be back at out little base camp, because sometimes it was definitely scary to be so far away from someplace I knew I could rest or heal. We didn't rent a car there and spent a lot of time on foot or having cabbed way across town. A strange thing about getting back in shape is that it's both frustrating and inspiring at exactly the same time. I'm trying not to choose frustration, and focus on the fact that my legs are tired because they're stonger than they were a week ago (as are my arms, back, shoulders, etc.).
I've got to tend to my plant friends, whom Jenny lovingly kept out of trouble while we were gone. But I do want to share some photos from the trip.

We visited Imwalle Gardens in Santa Rosa on Wednesday. This is a true farmers market in that the market is smack in the middle of the farm. They also have a great nursery that I was sad I couldn't buy from. Instead I got broccoli, basil, lettuce, and lavender seeds.

Our gorgeous niece loved it, especially the big tractors she kept spotting. She's a pretty old hat with plants, her parents having the garden of our dreams, so I think the swinging was her highlight.
This picture feels like home to me. I grew up eating buckets of apricots in the summer from the untended orchard next to our horse's stable. And some old pickup or another was always how we got there.
This is the view from our room at the Ace Hotel in Portland. We spent about 4 hours in Powell's Books on Thursday, and it called to us the whole time. Mark eventually went back.

We drank ridiculous amounts of delicious coffee. For more on that, visit Mark's blog.

Saturday, we visited Portland's Rose Test Garden. It was so beautiful and impressive and we were there on a magical weather day. I'm sure the couple getting married there appreciated it, too.
Right up the hill is the Japanese Garden. I'm not usually crazy about this style, but this garden truly embodies the ideal of the type. At every step was a different variety of delight for the eyes, nose, and ears. So peaceful and exciting at the same time.

Amazing.

Hey, Barb

I hear you have been having some problems leaving comments on the blog lately. That is simply not acceptable to me, so I'm changing the comment procedure.

Everyone else, you'll forgive me if I single this lady out for a second. I hardly know this person, but all I do know is fantastic. If you've read her comments on the blog, you'll get a taste of how warm and kind Barb is. After she works her butt off all day long in the service of others at Sharp, she still has the energy to pop over here to root like mad for a silly young lady she's come face-to face with a total of 3 times. Oddly, one of those times was in the elevator on the day of my surgery. What a serendipitous treat. And here's the other thing. Sometimes I get pretty down about the amount of uncaring, callous, and mean-spirited people we have to come in contact with. I take comfort in my family and friends, who I know for a fact have not an ounce of that badness. But the strangers and the people I don't know well . . . I can get pretty leery of them. And then I remember there are Barbs, too. People who will reach out to you with love and compassion even before they can tell what color your eyes are.

There are probably around a hundred people who I will have the chance to write my gratitude for in the future, just give me time. But today, I just really want to make sure nothing stops Barb's comments.

The Buzz

The other day, when I was twisting that floral wire into P's, O's, and C's, I had a visitor. I'd left the patio screen door open and was working just inside when I noticed the buzzing. I looked up to see a bee trying to get out through closed windows. Thinking about Colony Collapse Disorder usually just makes me feel sad and powerless. I didn't know if this was a honey bee or a yellow-jacket, but I knew it was one bee I could save! Except I couldn't.
I took the screen off the window and tried to gently shoo him in the right direction for probably 45 minutes as he just kept buzzing towards the same useless spot in the glass, taking longer and longer breaks as the minutes passed. Eventually I couldn't watch and got back to the garden, hoping that he'd do better without my prodding.
So I was very happy today to see this post today on Eating Liberally. It's and interesting and hopeful review of the documentary, Every Third Bite, which tells some uplifting stories about what's being done to stop CCD and save the buzzers.
Even better, I found out there's more I can do to help my local bees. Click here for some really easy ways to keep your garden and your pollinators happy.

Keeping Busy

One of the little gifts I received when I was just home from the hospital was a watercolor pencil set and postcard-ready watercolor paper with a note encouraging me to "make something beautiful while [I] heal." Now, I've got to be the absolute worst with watercolors, so I've got nothing great to show yet in that media (though I'm getting better). But think about that all the time and I have been getting a little more creative and a little bit busier of late. First, there's the garden.

We've just got a tiny balcony so it requires a lot of organization.

Did I mention I can kind of go berserk with organization sometimes? I divied up my scented geranium and planted a new batch of seeds a few weeks ago; parsley, cilantro, and oregano. I remembered last year I got my baby parsley and baby cilantro mixed up, so I decided to make all-weather tags. It's a good thing I couldn't find the laminator. Yesterday I planted an heirloom beefsteak tomato plant and transplanted seedlings. We've been getting strawberries in since April, but they're baby plants, so they're not terribly prolific.

We also have a new friend.

He started out his very proclamatory and constant song on this super-tall stump but has moved on to basically anywhere on our balcony.

So we decided to offer him more permanent accommodations. Mark's even willing to share the strawberries, but so far he's not interested.

We also have some older friends who just got a new house, and they absolutely needed a present. I've done variations of these before and I'm very happy with the way this one turned out. I bought the actual structure (haven't learned to weld yet, sadly) and then drew the designs on translucent paper and lacquered it to the glass. Al the lanterns I've done have had mehndi designs, because I think they're beautiful and befit a celebration, but this one's particularly fitting because our friends have some real connections to India.

I have one more art project completed, but I can't post it yet because it's a gift that has yet to be received. Which is because I haven't mailed it yet. I guess I should get a little busier.

Free With Purchase

So this is a weird phase. I finished radiation, and had just enough time to dance a tiny jig before visiting Dr. So. That meeting was just to begin the conversation about next steps, but it went really differently than I'd expected.
First, nobody's going to insist that I take Tamoxifen. It's pretty much up to me. So guess what? It's probably not going to happen.
Next, we talk about kids, which will be difficult to make, even without the Tamoxifen. Surprise. We are still learning about this, but there is a real risk in exposing my body to the sustained high levels of hormones that would come with a pregnancy. I'm not really sure how much I'll be blogging about that particular process. It's going to be very personal, emotional, and complicated. I can only promise to share what I feel comfortable with.
Just before ending the meeting I go out on a limb and asked the big question. When am I considered 'Cancer-Free'? I'm wincing as I ask this because I'm picturing years of scans to wait for and a very long time frame. But he looks at me and puts his hand on my shoulder and he says, "Now! Right now!"
Not the answer we were expecting. And I totally don't believe it.

Wait! I do! No, I don't. Not quite. Not yet. I keep trying not to, but even when I believe that I'm healthy, all I remember is what it cost me to get here. Maybe it's part of an ending; not having a daily fight of some sort to concentrate on. Maybe it's just time to grieve for some of these things. Maybe my next surgery will make a big difference. And I'm sure the regular scans I'll have for a very long time will be important. I'm a little bit sad that I'm not having the end-of-radiation party that I'd envisioned, but I'm also pretty sure this is so normal.

We are getting out of town in a couple of weeks, though. Hopefully we'll be able to take a break from some of the stress and drama that's been following us around here. First we'll be in Santa Rosa with Mark's family and then up to Portland for food, drinks, and books. We're banking on Portlad's public transport to keep out butts in check. I'd hate to have to fly home in my pj's.

Are We There Yet?

Not quite.

I was originally scheduled to finish radiation today, but after a peek at my chest, Dr. W decided to push trough to Friday. He'll be narrowing the focus 'til the end though, concentrating on the center of my breast and letting my crispy armpit take a rest. Things should continue to deteriorate for about a week after treatments end, and then start slowly getting better.

I'll be happy to give my skin a break, but it'll be weird, this new phase. I'll be meeting with Dr. So on Friday to start planning that, so I'm not really sure what it will be like yet. But I'm really going to miss the radiation center. I am constantly in awe of how the nurses, techs, and everyone do what they do. Some of their patients really struggle, and not all make it, but every one who works there has the most amazing positive attitude. They remember little details about us and tell us stories that reminded us of them. A, is the the very funny tech who did my tattoos. We have a nice rapport and I scolded him one day for calling me 'Rockstar' in front of the other patients. 'oh' he said, 'everyone has a special nickname.' It's true. The short great-grandmother who doesn't like waiting in a hospital gown, so she just doesn't, is 'Beauty Queen'.

Then there are the patients. I'm too shy to have gotten to know any of them well and now I see what a missed opportunity that was. I spoke to the Beauty Queen last week when I realized that we'd actually met in January at the symphony. Her great-grandson is one of the happiest babies I've seen. Then today, the husband of the woman who goes after me mentioned that he'd overheard that conversation. Turns out they've got tickets to the symphony on Sunday and wondered if I'd like them. His wife is in a wheelchair, doing radiation and chemo, and not feeling up to it. I accepted gratefully and then tried not to cry in the changing room. They're obviously dealing with so much and still thinking of ways to bring happiness to others. It breaks my heart and fills it up all at the same time.

Beginings

Brandi asked me to re-tell the story of how I found my cancer and I realized that I'd never posted it here. I think it was finally emailed out after about 40 awful face-to-faces and phone calls. Gosh, I hated that part. Anyway, now, it's pretty amazing. So here it is.

My mom had breast cancer when she was in her early 40s. My father's mom had breast cancer twice, maybe 30 years apart. Both survivors and without whom nothing, let alone my health today, would have been possible. So needless to say I was on the alert from an early age. I did the self-exams. Somewhere along the line it was decided that I should start my (absolutely indicated early) mammograms at (the utterly arbitrary age of) 30. Off I went to visit my new primary this January and gave her my history and plan. She disagreed on the age I should start and told me to wait 5 years.

I didn't.

I called my husband and told him I was uncomfortable. He told a colleague of his, Dr. So. We went in together for a chat with him and he set up my mammogram. My tech was very nice and I knew when she popped her head in and said she wanted more images that something was off. She popped her head back in and asked if I wanted my husband. Yeah. So quite a few painful images later we were in the radiologists office, with the door open, and no chairs, hearing about micro-calcifications and that it looked not-good.

Then came the MRI, which told us it wasn't anywhere but my right breast but that it was not small. 4x8 cm. Then the biopsy, which told us it was DCIS. I never felt anything, not even when I knew exactly where it was. We found out after the surgery that I couldn't have, because it was multi-focal. I wouldn't have been able to feel a lump until who knows how many of those suckers had gotten completely out of hand, which is exactly why I decided to have both breasts removed now.

And on that note, I'm off to whip up some fruit salad for our Mother's Day picnic. Extra-Happily, because I can.