The corner has been turned

Vlad is feeling much better. His blood tests on Tuesday revealed normal patterns. He went back this morning for his post-treatment biopsy. This is the big one. It was more painful this time; I think his body is not handling pain as well. But he's got loads of Vicodin. He rarely takes it, but today has been an exception.

He wants to return to work Sept. 8. But that's not official yet. He goes back to Conlon next week for some kind of followup with preliminary results and then he's supposed to get the full biopsy results Sept. 11. We're expecting good results. But there is the chance of a bad result. Conlon said he'd discuss further treatment options at that time if necessary; I guess there are a lot of variables.

I've ignored this final test all this time. Don't want to think about it. I've wanted to believe remission is remission. How could he be in remission and then go through all that chemo and not be in remission anymore? Not going there.

On top of this, Hurricane Gustav looks like another Katrina/Rita and could hit us early next week. I'm supposed to change caps to newsperson instead of gardeningperson next week if it hits here. Working those overnight shifts downtown, sleeping in a hotel room with other displaced Chronicle people, like we don't have our own storm problems at home. (I used to be such a gung-ho journalist). And TS Hannah could cruise into the Gulf after Gustav.

I don't know how we can wind things up any tighter around here this week. I picked a great time to stop drinking. Actually I've stopped ingesting most carbohydrates and all empty calories, which unfortunately for me, includes Rosemont Shiraz and Tecate cerveza.

Puttering along

Vlad is still crazy tired all the time. The bouts of nausea and sweats continue to a lesser extent, but overall he is improving, if by inches. He got cough meds for his hacking and that's improved. He's so ready to be well. I hope this week he'll find more strength.

We had a new fence put up in the backyard this week. It proved to be a fairly painless affair, except for writing the check. We came across a great fence builder. It poured for three days and he put the thing in in spite of it.

Now we gaze out the sliding glass door more to look at our new purchase and have noticed tons of hummingbirds hanging out in the hibiscus. Vlad camps out with his camera, but can never make it to the window before they fly off. They light for about 10 seconds and zip off. I think I'll buy a hummingbird feeder tomorrow, and hang it closer to the window.

Last weekend, Keezee came home all muddy and bleeding. I ran him to the emergency vet Saturday night and it seems the wounds were from a cat fight a day or two earlier. Why he was a muddy mess is anybody's guess. He had a 103-degree fever. He was prescribed antibiotics and some anti-inflammatories. Plus one of those anti-lick collars (see photo) that made him look Bozo-esque. (That lasted a day and a half. I looked up Monday and it was around his waist; he looked like a hairy ballerina). He stayed indoors for five days -- as prescribed -- and took all his meds, and we had, strangely, no major battles over going outside during that time. He was either hit hard by this or he's just getting older and lazier. He's doing OK now.

Anyway, Vlad will be going back to work one of these days soon. And I am planning a party at Kaneyama, a nice sushi place on Westheimer, sometime in September, when Vlad is out of the woods. He hasn't been able to eat sushi since March and it's something he really misses. Something to look forward to.

He goes back to Conlon this week. I doubt they'll do the biopsy; it hasn't been six weeks; only four since the last chemo. But maybe we'll get some more good news.

Crabby

Sarah, Sammie and Arnold the Hermit Crab.

Poor Vlad has been sick as a dog all week. He's had fever, been sweating through drawers of T-shirts and bed linens. Early this week nothing would stay down. Now, he either has no appetite or has a voracious one. The truth is, he doesn't really know when he's hungry. If I put something in front of him when he says he's not really hungry, he's likely to slowly devour the whole thing and surprise himself. He's kept everything down since Tuesday.

He saw Conlon Monday and all his numbers were on their way back up. He's not neutropenic and he's out of low-platelet danger. He goes back in two weeks and will discuss the post-chemo-hell biopsy. That will be close to 6 weeks after the last chemo, so I suppose they may do the biopsy then. We'll see.

I've been a real basket-case this week. I took Thursday-Friday off as "vacation," which turned out to be a joke, since I had no one to pick up my work. I've been working until I lose the fight against the urge to let out a primal scream. It's not all getting done, but I pity the fool who gives me any grief about it.

I want so desperately for Vlad to be well now. And like a child, I want it over now. Like at the appointed hour, this madness will end. Hurry up, get well, dammit. This, I'm devastated to say, has not been my finest hour. My frustration has been bursting at the seams. I've done a lot of apologizing this week, and asked Vlad to pay no attention to that woman beast who emerges from time to time.

We did manage to go to Galveston for a few hours to see my Mom, sister and nieces, who had rented a really cute house near the Seawall. We took them to Fisherman's Wharf restaurant, at the harbor. Amazingly good food. It's next to the cruise ship terminal, where Carnival's Ecstasy was in port, and we had a front-row view of the 1877 tall ship Elissa moored outside. The girls took the Elissa tour while Vlad and Mom and I got cool in the gift shop. (Cheapest and best souvenirs in all of Galveston). Then Vlad was fading, so I drove us home. It was so great to get out and do something fun. We both smiled for hours after.

Olympics mixed emotions

We love our Yao. It was hard watching Yao's team lose today, even though we rooted for the U.S. The Chinese team really fell apart.

The opening ceremonies were awe-inspiring. Truly amazing stuff. Loved it being capped off with Yao and the little earthquake survivor, Lin Hao.


I was appalled at George Bush slouching in his seat like an impatient 12-year-old at the basketball game. I can't find a photo of it yet. Why can't he sit in a dignified manner? Just don't go, if it's so difficult. He's embarrassing.

Looking ahead

As Vlad convalesces, we continue to weather more bickerfests over nothing -- I'm convinced it's a symptom of too much pent-up frustration, and the beginning of the release, the big exhale, as it were, after this long, scary journey. We can see the end of the road, but we dare not speak its name or hope too hard.

I deal with fear from a practical "Murphy's Law" point of view, instilled in me as a child. My father was an Eagle Scout. He believed in always being prepared for anything, theorizing that if he were, then nothing bad would happen. Once we were out fishing on his motorboat and he held up his battery cables and said to me, "This is my talisman." So, you know, I never worried about anything as a child.

My talisman for this journey was hope. And prayers.

Vlad's fears are more pronounced than mine, obviously. He also grew up in a different culture and in a family far from my experience, where the parents were the thing, and the children were, though loved, shipped off at most opportunities so the parents could get on with their important lives. They never took vacations together. And yet there was real affection. I just will never understand it.

So his fears manifest in a more organic way: He needs touch, presence and hovering. He'll call out, not out of need, but to make sure you're there. Maybe that's what we all need when we're looking down the mouth of the death beast. Vlad's not afraid to show his fear. It makes him seem stronger to me.

Anyway, I think yesterday he hit his nadir of nadirs. Last night the red spots of crazy-low platelets appeared all over his legs. He had fever all day yesterday. We've learned that the fever at nadir can mean the marrow is working overtime to produce new cells. The red spots are gone today and his fever has subsided slightly. He says he feels slightly better today, so I think he's turning the corner on this last chemo. Hallelujah!

He has an appointment in the morning. If his platelets aren't up significantly I'm sure he'll get a transfusion. Conlon last Thursday gave Vlad a choice of not getting the transfusion. Which of course Vlad didn't get, given that choice. But I know it's made this weekend worse.

Thursday his WBC was .6, his hemoglobin 9.2 (both increases), but platelets were 4.

I spoke to our ailing friends this week. Terry, who has the broken knees, seemed in good spirits. His next milestone is whether he'll need surgery after his bones heal.

And I talked with Peter, who is making great strides after his stroke. He can walk, use the computer and talk a little bit. He's in speech therapy, and it sounds like he'll come through really well.

The road looks bright for all of us.

Neutropenia on acid

Edouard was a polite little rainstorm for us in west Houston. Very pleased he's well on his way out of town, having left us a few inches of much needed rain.

Vlad is very tired. Conlon retested a couple of numbers today because they were remarkably low: WBC 0.4; hemoglobin 8.3; and platelets 20. He goes back Thursday, if he doesn't develop any bleeding or red spots and has to go back earlier. I'm sure he'll need a platelet transfusion Thursday, if not earlier.

I'm so relieved this storm was nothing, I can't tell you.

Edouard

Vlad is starting to get kind of poopy again. The beginning of the neutropenia. Some mouth sores developing. He's really tired. It's time to stay in the pajamas for about a week. He's got a big appetite and no nausea, which is comforting. But he's congested today. Suddenly again.

He has an appointment with Conlon tomorrow, but Tropical Storm/Hurricane Edouard popped up in the Gulf and is to make landfall near Galveston around lunchtime tomorrow. Edouard is supposed to drop in over Houston a little later on. A visit to Conlon's looks iffy. Everything but newspapers and police departments are shut down tomorrow (exaggeration, I hope). I picked up some extra water and ice tonight and both cars are full of gas. If we lose electricity, I want to move Vlad somewhere cooler. But we'll cross that bridge later.

This is a weird storm. It's moving along the coastline. Came out of nowhere. I'm feeling very uneasy. I think partly because it's so sudden. Usually you have a couple of days to get used to the idea you're going to go through this. Oh well, by all accounts it's a puny thing. But you absolutely never know.

So the water theme continues. Well, we need the rain.