Oh indeed - this is just the past week. I also think I should not be holding against them things they say. (As a human not a Christian). It's tense for everyone. Even in Plain Sailing Days people say The Wrong Thing from time to time. And I was diagnosed just over a year ago - so quite a long time really
They live on the other side of the world but we are in touch all the time. (Most days in the case of Little Mz and weekly in the case of Number One Son who is a beekeeper and has no "reception" in the wilds so calls when he is in town). Number Two Son lives a few hours away and is very good about visiting. But he is shocked by these latest episodes
Luckily (?) our prevailing inter-personal dynamic is Jewish so volatility and ups and downs are not unexpected in our family life and it will work out and on we will go
I went for a routine blood test several weeks ago. I always have blood taken from left arm, better bigger vain there. The same women has been taking my blood for a number of years and we were chatting, when she wrapped up my right arm. "Whoops" I said," wrong arm." "I know that by now", she said, removing band. She looked down and on the under side and to the back of my right arm there was a mole, that I had not noticed before. At her suggestion I had it checked out. Long story short, mole has been removed and biopsy, thankfully showed pre-cancer. Rejoicing for wrong arm blood test, and a reminder to all sailing on the ship check for moles EVERYWHERE.
Galilit I can make no excuses for them. Not knowing what to say doesn't cut it. They can talk about the weather or the news, your money is none of their business.
The bulk of the money may have been inherited, but it quit being the Family Fortune the day you got it, when it became Your Money. You've had time to spend it all on travel, casinos, cars, designer clothes, pipe organs, or all the cute kitchenware they sell on the home shopping channel (my personal area of temptation.) Not spending is a form of earning.
Naturally you want to leave them something, but you don't owe them anything. Hint to them that there might not be as much as they're expecting and you don't want them to be disappointed. Mumble something about pyramid schemes. [snicker]
Congratulations, Graven Image! That was my thing too, but with a somewhat different outcome. You are absolutely right about checking, even in the most unlikely places - it is vital. (Oddly enough, mine was probably the result of reckless, shirtless sailing, many years ago. That was indeed a ship of fools).
I discovered a mole on my left shoulder-blade, a few years ago, and duly mentioned it to my GP. He said 'keep an eye on it, and if it gets bigger, come back to me instanter'. The said mole was about a quarter-of-an-inch across, which is the sort of size at which one might get to be concerned.
On vigorously towelling The Episcopal Person after a shower one day, I accidentally partially removed (!) the mole...a quick tweak removed the rest...the sore place bled lightly for a little while, but I am fortunate enough to have good healing flesh, and there isn't even a mark there now.
Yes, I did tell my GP, just for the record, but, as others have said 'Watch those Moles!'.
@Stercus Tauri , I'm sure you meant this innocently, but for some reason, my Sense-Of-Humour meter seems to need recalibrating....
I recall once taking a patient to the Oncology Unit. He was absolutely smothered in 'Moles' (aka melanomas), and was not far from death.
Six years ago, Stage III melanoma changed my life permanently, and I was lucky to get away with it. Struggling to keep a sense of humour - lame though it may sometimes be - alive through that experience and since then has been a way to deal with it and importantly, to encourage the people who care for me. If it doesn't always work, then I have to apologise.
I'm just back from a week of opera-going with a dear friend (she made it possible, with her willingness to push my wheelchair and help in myriad other ways); appropriately, we saw Wagner's "Ring des Nibelungen," in which my namesake appears - ho-jo-to-ho, and all that - and "Dialogues of the Carmelites" at the Met in New York.
I was blown away by both all the unexpected little kindnesses (like the women who made the others in line for the loo save the lone handicapped stall for me on Saturday night - I couldn't get there as fast as they did - and the security man who pushed me and led my friend through divers pathways to get us to the depths of the decidedly non-ADA-compliant backstage area after the opera, to see a friend who had a starring role, and then got us out when he was technically off duty), and the equally unexpected little meannesses (all the guys who saw us coming, but let doors slam in our faces, rather than hold them for 20 seconds to let us through).
These days I get out mostly to medical facilities, church, and the occasional restaurant. This was good for me, in a lot of ways. I couldn't charge around the way I used to on a trip to NYC, but we still accomplished a lot. You see the world from a very different angle in a wheelchair; for the most part, it looked good.
By God you are an amazing person. And praise be for your friend and all the wonderful people who supported you.
I must confess to not knowing exactly what part Rossweisse plays in that work, having never seen nor heard it, but if I'm guessing correctly your Valkyrie namesake I have a nice picture of you carrying slain warriors off to Odin who will then group them together and bring vengeance down on those door slammers.
Great to hear, Rossweisse. I'm using a wheelchair most of the time these days and I have spotted the same courtesies and lack of manners. Thankfully, the helpers outweigh the others. I'm in a rotten mood for all kinds of good reasons but I may have to revise that now that I have read this thread.
So good to hear, Rossweisse! The streets of NYC are full of the wonderful, the crazy, the eccentric, the adventurers, the bold and the hopeful - the greatest human menagerie on Earth - and there you were, one of them! Since our Younger Daughter moved out to the 'burbs, I'm rarely there now, but I'll look out for you next time. I am sure I'd recognise you in any crowd.
But did you hum "kill the wabbit" under your breath?
Well, not during the performance.
Rossweisse is a mezzo-soprano Valkyrie (I'm a mezzo-soprano, but I sang Mozart, Rossini, Britten, and other composers who wrote for more lyric voices).
@NicoleMR, I'm sorry - we were tightly scheduled, and I have to take naps now, dammit. If I get back, I will let you know in advance!
Update: I saw my oncologist today. The tumor in my liver and the whatever-it-is in my lung are both smaller, which is unmitigated good news. I'm having some rotten side effects from the taxol, however, including severe, painful edema in my legs, messed-up nails, and mild chemo brain.
The doc has, accordingly, decided to give me a break from weekly chemo infusions. I'm being switched back to the Shots from Hell; they're awful, but they're monthly, and they're over with relatively quickly.
Quote of the Week: "I think you can make it another year, maybe even two." That's a major change. Deo gratias!
Congratulations! And thank you for sharing the blessedly good news. Don't forget that chocolate is good for chemo brain - no compromise possible there. But oedema/edema is a bastard - nothing good to be said about that.
(Yeah, the edema is a bitch. I'm still carrying 20 pounds of water weight on a small, otherwise slender frame; as a practical matter, my clothes don't fit, and it hurts.)
I'm thinking about taking more trips. Anyone want to come along and push my wheelchair?
Just to say that I think your posts here are remarkable for their honesty and realism.
Don't know if you watch Game of Thrones, but Arya's well known "Not today' comment about our mortality comes very much to mind. As does a slogan on a plaque at the UN.
"It is a privilege to live this day and the next".
I am very glad to hear that many more days are forecast for you and even more glad to see that you really know how to make use of them, despite the pain and restrictions. It's a bit cheeky of me to say 'well done, you', but that's what I feel.
@Mamacita, that's one of the more realistic possibilities for travel. Be careful what you offer...
Thank you, @Barnabas62. I haven't watched "GoT" (a friend brought over her DVDs of Season 1 the day after my brain tumor was zapped; I watched the first two episodes and concluded that I had enough darkness in my life already), but that sounds like a good quote. And "It is a privilege to live this day and the next" - yes, absolutely.
Since a day without medical appointments is like a day without heavy smog, I had two today. One was for physical therapy; the other was a vascular scan to make sure that I didn't have any blood clots that might be causing the edema. Nope: I just have to hope it goes away on its own. We have fierce summers here, and I would dearly love to be out of the compression socks before the temps hit the 90s.
Comments
They live on the other side of the world but we are in touch all the time. (Most days in the case of Little Mz and weekly in the case of Number One Son who is a beekeeper and has no "reception" in the wilds so calls when he is in town). Number Two Son lives a few hours away and is very good about visiting. But he is shocked by these latest episodes
Luckily (?) our prevailing inter-personal dynamic is Jewish so volatility and ups and downs are not unexpected in our family life and it will work out and on we will go
Galilit I can make no excuses for them. Not knowing what to say doesn't cut it. They can talk about the weather or the news, your money is none of their business.
The bulk of the money may have been inherited, but it quit being the Family Fortune the day you got it, when it became Your Money. You've had time to spend it all on travel, casinos, cars, designer clothes, pipe organs, or all the cute kitchenware they sell on the home shopping channel (my personal area of temptation.) Not spending is a form of earning.
Naturally you want to leave them something, but you don't owe them anything. Hint to them that there might not be as much as they're expecting and you don't want them to be disappointed. Mumble something about pyramid schemes. [snicker]
Hurrah Graven Image!
thank you for comment elsewhere e meds.
On vigorously towelling The Episcopal Person after a shower one day, I accidentally partially removed (!) the mole...a quick tweak removed the rest...the sore place bled lightly for a little while, but I am fortunate enough to have good healing flesh, and there isn't even a mark there now.
Yes, I did tell my GP, just for the record, but, as others have said 'Watch those Moles!'.
I recall once taking a patient to the Oncology Unit. He was absolutely smothered in 'Moles' (aka melanomas), and was not far from death.
Six years ago, Stage III melanoma changed my life permanently, and I was lucky to get away with it. Struggling to keep a sense of humour - lame though it may sometimes be - alive through that experience and since then has been a way to deal with it and importantly, to encourage the people who care for me. If it doesn't always work, then I have to apologise.
In which case, no apology is needed, to me, or to anyone else, though it is true that a GSOH is very often needed to help others, as well as oneself!
I'm just back from a week of opera-going with a dear friend (she made it possible, with her willingness to push my wheelchair and help in myriad other ways); appropriately, we saw Wagner's "Ring des Nibelungen," in which my namesake appears - ho-jo-to-ho, and all that - and "Dialogues of the Carmelites" at the Met in New York.
I was blown away by both all the unexpected little kindnesses (like the women who made the others in line for the loo save the lone handicapped stall for me on Saturday night - I couldn't get there as fast as they did - and the security man who pushed me and led my friend through divers pathways to get us to the depths of the decidedly non-ADA-compliant backstage area after the opera, to see a friend who had a starring role, and then got us out when he was technically off duty), and the equally unexpected little meannesses (all the guys who saw us coming, but let doors slam in our faces, rather than hold them for 20 seconds to let us through).
These days I get out mostly to medical facilities, church, and the occasional restaurant. This was good for me, in a lot of ways. I couldn't charge around the way I used to on a trip to NYC, but we still accomplished a lot. You see the world from a very different angle in a wheelchair; for the most part, it looked good.
#teamRossweisse
I must confess to not knowing exactly what part Rossweisse plays in that work, having never seen nor heard it, but if I'm guessing correctly your Valkyrie namesake I have a nice picture of you carrying slain warriors off to Odin who will then group them together and bring vengeance down on those door slammers.
Rossweisse is a mezzo-soprano Valkyrie (I'm a mezzo-soprano, but I sang Mozart, Rossini, Britten, and other composers who wrote for more lyric voices).
@NicoleMR, I'm sorry - we were tightly scheduled, and I have to take naps now, dammit. If I get back, I will let you know in advance!
Hang in there, @Lily Pad!
The doc has, accordingly, decided to give me a break from weekly chemo infusions. I'm being switched back to the Shots from Hell; they're awful, but they're monthly, and they're over with relatively quickly.
Quote of the Week: "I think you can make it another year, maybe even two." That's a major change. Deo gratias!
(Yeah, the edema is a bitch. I'm still carrying 20 pounds of water weight on a small, otherwise slender frame; as a practical matter, my clothes don't fit, and it hurts.)
I'm thinking about taking more trips. Anyone want to come along and push my wheelchair?
I will see how the next few weeks go and think more about travel possibilities!
Good news!
Just to say that I think your posts here are remarkable for their honesty and realism.
Don't know if you watch Game of Thrones, but Arya's well known "Not today' comment about our mortality comes very much to mind. As does a slogan on a plaque at the UN.
"It is a privilege to live this day and the next".
I am very glad to hear that many more days are forecast for you and even more glad to see that you really know how to make use of them, despite the pain and restrictions. It's a bit cheeky of me to say 'well done, you', but that's what I feel.
#teamRossweisse No Surrender!
#teamRossweisse
@Mamacita, that's one of the more realistic possibilities for travel. Be careful what you offer...
Thank you, @Barnabas62. I haven't watched "GoT" (a friend brought over her DVDs of Season 1 the day after my brain tumor was zapped; I watched the first two episodes and concluded that I had enough darkness in my life already), but that sounds like a good quote. And "It is a privilege to live this day and the next" - yes, absolutely.
Since a day without medical appointments is like a day without heavy smog, I had two today. One was for physical therapy; the other was a vascular scan to make sure that I didn't have any blood clots that might be causing the edema. Nope: I just have to hope it goes away on its own. We have fierce summers here, and I would dearly love to be out of the compression socks before the temps hit the 90s.