A Quiet Night at the Park

Tonight when we went to the park, we saw again two baby rabbits, the size of my fist; in the middle of the road.  They leave the safe, tall, grass around the apple grove, dart out into the road and freeze.  A Red-tailed Hawk hangs out in the park, and some cars speed in or out on the road.  We always honk and shout at the rabbits, who then dart back to the safety of the tall grass.  The apple trees nearest the park are almost hidden by tall bushes.  The deer have eater the tree branches there so that the bottom branches of the trees are flat.

As we drove to the upper pond, we saw only one car in the parking lot.  Two deer were browsing up the hill behind shelter one.  The picnic table where we sometimes sit was piled with towels and clothes.  We tactfully took our canvas camp stools  down to the green grassy peninsula we think of as goose beach, some yards from the table.  The couple, who had been swimming near the shore, swam over to the pier on the dam across the pond, climbed out and snuggled together on the pier.  We thought they might have been skinny-dipping. 

 

Our interest, however. was mostly directed at the (now) eleven geese pecking away at the broad-leafed weeds and clover in the grass  They allowed us to set up our stools within four feet of the flock. They pecked all around us, oblivious.  Suddenly they waddled down to the pond’s edge a couple of feet away and there began to groom themselves, carefully coaxing fat from their bodies down the feathers with their beaks.  They seemed to lie near each other in pairs, excepting the odd goose.  [I read that Canada Geese mate for life;Ox asks how anyone would know that.]  After what seemed like half-an-hour of grooming, they returned to feeding. 

Meanwhile our favorite aquatic mammal swam across the pond from south to north.  We’re pretty sure she isn’t a beaver, as there are no piles of sticks at the pond's edge and also because she hasn’t been relocated by the park staff. We suspect that she's a muskrat.

The bullfrogs were thrumming, their low music and the green (rubberband) frogs provided counterpoint.  The  fireflies lit up randomly, making magic of the dusk, though there are no longer enough of them here to be light raining upwards.

The geese, one by one slid into the pond and made for the fenced-in beach, where they usually spend the night.  We took our cue from them and packed up our camp stools, trudged to the car, and saying peace and goodnight to all the animals in the park, including the young couple entwined on the pier, drove home,  tired and happy..

Careening Around Cancer - A Surreal Odyssey: Prelude

I awoke one morning in 2016  to find that my voice had risen at least half an octave.  I disliked this whiney six-year-old voice.  I had been there and done that as a whiney six-year-old in a stoic family.  My dislike of the voice did nothing to change it.

About this same time food was becoming difficult to swallow.  I had a barium swallow test.  Barium is opaque to x-rays.  The victim is given barium-laced drink and foods of graduated difficulty to swallow, while the x-rays take pictures.  I had a narrowed esophagus.  A gastroenterologist stretched my esophagus and invited me to an explanation of his findings. 

At the same time, my wonderful PCP, worried about my weight loss, arranged a PET scan; the PET scan showed that the 14 ½ year old breast cancer was now metastatic to some vertebrae and to a mediastinal (between the lungs) mass.  Of course, I went to the explanation of the PET scan and returned to my favorite poisoner for chemotherapy.  I forgot about making the esophagus appointment

The chemotherapy made me bald again - no big deal – been there, done that.  The Oncologist’s organization gave me some colorful hats and I was happy to read or doze in a reclining chair for a few hours each week.  The only troublesome side effect of Taxotere was that it damaged the peripheral nerves in my hands and feet; stroking silk feels like stroking sandpaper.   I have become even more clumsy and my hands and feet tingle, not unpleasantly, most of the time.  I use pliers to open twist off caps.  I continued with my Oncologist until the organization that had head-hunted him from Martha Jefferson fired him, a nasty ploy, I thought. 

I returned to Martha Jefferson and found a knowledgeable and sensitive new oncologist. My hair grew back, on a gentler, but effective regimen. After happy months at Martha Jefferson, I signed up for a clinical trial at UVA.  I read in C’ville  about a new bi-specific, hybrid, antibody, one part of it attached to killer T cells, and the other to cancer cells, creating a bridge.  Intrigued with the ingenuity of the idea, I looked up the researcher in the UVA phone book and called; I expected that an efficient secretary would answer and tell me to go fly a kite.  I was nonplussed when Dr. Lum’s answering machine answered.  I hesitantly offered my services as a guinea pig.  

The next week a doctor who ran some medical clinical trials at UVA called me.  He said that Dr. Lum’s idea was not yet ready for trial, but he had a monoclonal antibody that was.  I interviewed him later and agreed to join the clinical trial of Margetuximab.  The end point  of the study was progression of the subject's cancer or the subject’s death.

For me the trial involved going to UVA’s Emily Couric Cancer Center for infusion weekly and undergoing various scans every so often.  I went faithfully to my appointments, despite the dreaded UVA hospital parking garage.  I continued to lose weight.  My blood pressure had been high a year ago and I took Lisinopril for it. As I lost weight my blood pressure plummeted.  I remarked to the doctor running the study that I must consult with my PCP about stopping the blood pressure medication.  The doctor running the study made clear to me that he was now my doctor and that I should stop taking Lisinopril.
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On December 31, I woke up with a voice that was practically only breath.  Ox said he wanted to go to Lowe’s and Kroger.  I asked if I could come along;  I wanted to buy food like eggs, jello and ice cream that I could swallow easily.   I’d read while he was in Lowe’s and go with him to Kroger.  As we walked into  Kroger I started gasping for air and emitting a choking cough.  Ox got me sitting down at Kroger’s little coffee shop where I half lay across the table gasping.  A kind, concerned worker came over to us and asked if she could help.  She stood by as I continued to gasp.  After about 15 minutes the fit subsided.  The kind worker came with us to help me into the car.  Ox thanked her and offered her a twenty dollar bill.  She demurred, saying she was “paying it forward.”  Ox asked me if I’d like to go to the emergency room.  New Year’s eve in the emergency room sounded ghastly.  I said I just wanted to go home.

The very best thing that I have learned from this return of cancer is how truly kind. People can be.