Friday, February 27, 2015

The long and the short of it

The elation of no NEW brain Tumors wore off pretty quickly this time. Dr. Etame noted that the left temporal lobe tumor is still present, appears stable in size. He went through the images one by one with Melanoma Man on Wednesday, with a caution that the official reading by the radiologist is still pending. Separately today MM and I checked the electronic record, still no radiology report.

I found a new acupuncturist, since my last one moved to Colorado in December. As usual I tried to tough it out, but have not been entirely successful. The days are mostly fine, but nights are filled with bad dreams and nightmares. 

Last week the nightmare was me trying to find my eldest son in the children's hospital. In the dream my eldest also had melanoma, and had just undergone surgery. I was not allowed entry into the hospital unless I took all my clothes off and left them in security. I was the only lost naked person wandering the hospital halls. Let's just say that even in my dreams I am no Cindy Crawford. The only thing we have in common is that we are both 48. There was one person in the dream who would acknowledge me and help me find my son, TW. TW is one of my real life colleagues and is also kind and helpful in real life.

Last night's nightmare involved Melanoma Man fixing something on our roof. He had the brilliant idea to get to the roof by holding on to the garage door, pressing the garage door opener and riding the door to the top. In the dream things didn't go well with the garage door. MM made it to the top and was then catapulted to the pavement. We were in West Virginia for some reason. I knew to call 911, but couldn't remember where we lived. Of course I couldn't remember where we lived, because we have never lived in West Virginia! 

So in the morning I will walk on he beach with my Stephen minister. I'll say my prayers. I'll try out a new acupuncturist. Sweet dreams to all.

Wednesday, February 25, 2015

More time

Brain MRI is clean. We got more time. We can go around the board again!

Nobody Bothers Me or Why I am addicted to The Americans

I am madly in love with both Downton Abbey and The Americans. Downton Abbey is a wonderful escape into another world, for me almost like visiting a museum. It is full of clever quips, such as Mrs. Patmore's "Sympathy buttered no parsnips." The boys and I enjoy inserting little Downtonisms into our current day conversation. It's a weekly challenge. Usually it is Cousin Violet, played by Maggie Smith, who provides our phrase of the week.

I shared my love of Downton Abbey with my work colleague,TW. She, in turn, offered me The Americans. I watched seasons one and two in January so I could get up to speed in time for season three. I am utterly and entirely hooked, in large part because I was born in the 60s, grew up outside Washington DC in the 70's and 80's, when there were five television stations. The Americans has managed to work in all the appropriate cultural features of the place and time, including this advertisement which was routinely featured on WTTG when I was growing up. You will also notice the soundtrack, cars and clothes in the Americans are just so, Most familiar is that feeling perfectly captured of living two lives, one the day to day routine, the other a desperate battle.

On the surface the main characters Elizabeth and Phillip are small business owners, trying to raise a family. They do a lot of laundry, another reason I love the show. Their other story as KGB agents secretly living as Americans, puts them in constant peril.

Today I am the working Mom, taking a day off, at home on early release day, so I can pick up Butter from swim practice and iMac from band, bake Apple Pie Breakfast cake, make dinner in the crockpot, do an extra load of laundry. I am waiting for Melanoma Man's report from Tampa, after today's brain MRI and neurosurgeon visit. Everything is fine right now. I try to be in the right now.I can't remember what I had planned today besides laundry and dinner. I don't know what to have for breakfast or lunch. The phone rings. It is Butter, not feeling up to swim practice today. Then rings again, it is Melanoma Man. MRI is running behind. It is 1:20 pm and his 11:45 am. MRI has not occurred yet. They send him away to go get lunch. Back from lunch they give him an estimated MRI time of 3 p.m. His appointment to review the MRI with neurosurgeon, Dr. Etame, is at 2:45. Looks like this is going to turn into an overnight trip possibly. He hasn't taken any of his medications with him. I am warding off a headache and trying not to throw up in anticipation of news good or bad which may or may not come today. Telling myself I can do this, good or bad, together or alone. I can do this.