tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37220326290339818992023-11-16T04:59:28.189-08:00THE ROTTEN KIDNEYerin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.comBlogger117125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-74272902352186218102014-02-25T10:57:00.001-08:002014-02-25T10:57:26.832-08:00Charlie" Back off it, diaphragm, that shit is mine"<br />
- Dad's liver<br />
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Last Thursday, we welcomed the largest spleen they ever had seen at Baptist in Little Rock. The surgeon likened it to birthing a baby. Which is gross. Pathology measured it at 21 x 15 x 5.5 cm and described it as soft, dark red, and meaty. It was in a finely wrinkled capsule, but had torn edges near the hilar surface. That thing has been through hell. It weighed in at 1.7 lbs which is kind of disappointing, until you think about what a 26.9 ounce steak would look like on a plate. I'll give you a moment. <br />
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Dad had scans last week as well, and after three months of no drugs, his scans are still good. There was no growth ( except for that meaty spleen). Docs thought that taking a drug break would help return his blood levels back to normal. His platelets are really low, his blood volume is low, his red blood cells are puney. His blood didn't see any real improvement from coming off the drugs, and his spleen kept growing, so somebody, somewhere ( I can't keep up with all the docs anymore) said that his spleen was hoarding his platelets ( obviously), and that removing it would be a way to maybe get his blood levels back in line. That, and it was a ticking time bomb about to spew grossness throughout his vessel. <br />
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The surgeon used this surgery as an entrance point to also repair some incisional hernias that were really jeopardizing Dad's modeling career. I assume it is this orifice from which he bore the soft, dark red, meaty spleen. His platelet count was up 100 points within 24 hours. <br />
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The Patient was home by Sunday, with oral pain meds. Now, apparently, his other organs are fighting for the empty space, and that is painful. He's getting scanned today to rule out gall stones/ a gall bladder attack. I'm unfamiliar with the bladder of gall and what it contributes to the machine, and what they'll do if its not acting right. <br />
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With the current frequency of my posts, my next one might be at the 5 year mark. July. He's not on any meds. He's only missing two major organs, one being considered just an accessory. I built a pool just for the 5 year party ( that's a lie- not the pool part, the "just for the party" part). <br />
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The reports are referring to the mets in past tense. That's cool and all, but it doesn't mean he's cured. It just means that there's a tiny chance of something else killing him before RCC does. He should continue to wear his seat belt and watch out for busses. He's doing that well. erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-88419761235027040152013-08-08T21:08:00.001-07:002013-08-08T21:08:19.938-07:00Gene, Billy, Chris<br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/08/08/2709.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/08/08/s_2709.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='263' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />This lesson begins with a Rooster. One of six brought to our backyard by my husband back in April to cut our costs on organic eggs, and to teach our children the prequels of McNuggets. When they're chicks, you can't tell how they'll turn out, so we named named them androgynously. Gene turned out to be a fluffy white chicken, with a regal red gobble gobble and crazy feathered feet. He prided himself as ruler of the roost. A natural leader, he kept the hens in check and coyotes at bay. He let his power go to his head and started bossing the human chicks. Mild pecking at first, then a targeted sight on the weakest of the boys. We waged a war with foam weaponry and rubber boots to show Gene who was boss, yet he remained intent to usurp. There is no home for wayward roosters, so, aligning with our initial intent, Gene had to go. <br />We research how to proceed. I bow out, realizing that I have no business consuming any more nuggets if I can't face the reality of what that means. Shaun trudges forward. He too now sees that if he can't do what he's planning to do to Gene, he deserves "to have a bucket of blood thrown on him by some PETA freak." Days pass, Shaun is thoughtful. I remind him that he doesn't have to do it. He believes that he does. As Tuesday evening approaches, he is nervous, not wanting Gene's last moments to be chaotic because of The Farmer's inexperience. He prays; audibly, fearfully, for him not to suffer as he gently removes him from the coop to the block. <br />I decided not to be present and went inside. <br />A shaken Shaun appears a bit later, begging me to never let him suffer. That if something should happen, be sure, but to never ever leave him alone with his thoughts and pain. I had to promise. Standing in our kitchen. Frantically, I did promise, to ease my love's shaky soul. He worried that he let Gene suffer through the night. <br />Tuesday's spark: Even chickens deserve mercy. <br /><br />Billy came to the clinic about 4 years ago. Birth complications landed him with profound Cerebral Palsy. He knew no different at 5 years old, but Billy couldn't move. His brain and muscles irreparably not speaking to one another. He had a trach to facilitate his breathing. Quite frankly, he was the picture of therapist's worst nightmare. All we could do for Billy was keep his joints stretched out to prevent him from turning to stone. We helped his mother better handle his trach by her constant suctioning of the goo his body couldn't handle. A sound I had to gracefully run like hell to avoid during two pregnancies to keep the cookies in my stomach and the lights on in the attic. <br />There was no progress, in a business that prides itself on making things all better, all stronger, all ready to<br />head out and face the world. Billy got passed around to all the different therapists as each one individually burned out on the lack of hope Billy's case brought. <br /><br />As I sat through Billy's funeral on Wednesday afternoon, surprised that I wasn't weeping at the slideshow backed with Clapton's Tears in Heaven, I listened to the preacher-man talk but couldn't quiet my head-voice. <br />"We learned unconditional love from Billy"<br />What? I learned despair. <br />"We learned what true love looks like through Billy's fragile body."<br />Hardly. I saw suffering. <br />"We learned kindness through his short life."<br />Enough. I appreciate the mercy of his death. <br />Wednesday: Billy deserved mercy. And he had to wait too long for his prize. <br /><br />I "met" Chris and Dena Battle through the network of Internet support forum for RCC. I stumbled across an article he had written for the Arkansas Times? about his struggle with getting an accurate diagnosis, his search for the right team to treat his cancer, and was green with envy with how much better he was than I at being funny about cancer. Chris and Dena penned their way through 4 years of constant struggle to find a drug that slowed his cancer. He let himself be the lab rat for every thinkable trial, experiment, drug cocktail so he could stick around for his little girls. He did not enjoy the complacency we have with a drug that has worked. Every option he tried failed him. And brilliantly, he and Dena penned every step of the way for the world to see. Check out www.kidneycancerchronicles.com if you want a remarkable read. They lobbied to the FDA. They ANSWERED EMAILS joyfully when I asked them their opinions on Dad's care. This struck me as impressive as they are my contemporaries. They have two young children and jobs and stage 4 renal cancer and they always found time to help. <br />I could not fall asleep last night. I was thinking about Gene, and Billy, and Chris and Dena's girls, and couldn't stop my gut from wrenching about what Dena would soon be facing. She could just as well be me, facing the imminent death of her love, and her upcoming life of bittersweet moments she will see alone. I looked at the clock at 3:12, and was startled when Shaun nudged me at 7:30. I fixed my coffee, weary from my sleepless night, checked my phone to see how many things I'd missed, and was met with Dena's Facebook post that Chris had died, with her and his parents present, at 8:00 this morning. <br />I cried for Chris, for his anguish to stay against a disease that wouldn't quit. I cried for Dena, who will lead her babies through this nightmare on the fumes she's got left. I cried for Kate for having to brave a reality I haven't had to bear at four times her age. I cried for Josie because she's old enough to know, but not old enough to understand. I cried because all Dena deserves right now is some mercy. <br />Thursday: we all deserve it; but none more than Dena today. <br /><br />This week has taught me to find more moments to offer mercy. <br />Dishwasher still not unloaded? Find benevolence. Stepped on another damn Lego? Offer clemency. Catty office drama? Bring tolerance. Ready to send the nasty email to get your point across? Try grace. <br />I'll lend my share of mercy to Dena tonight, and hope I never need it back. <br /><br />Cancer sucks,<br />EO<br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br />erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-89813875734770916792013-05-23T21:32:00.001-07:002013-05-23T21:34:53.652-07:00Do this right now <br />http://kidneycancerchronicles.com/tell-the-fda-that-we-need-tivo/<br />Now. <br />You're obviously just playing on the Internet. Spend 5 minutes. Copy and paste. Do it. <br />All my love,<br />E<br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br /><br />erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-62478769342213534072013-05-02T08:41:00.001-07:002013-05-02T08:41:23.728-07:00DayenuIt would have been enough. Dayenu. It's a Jewish word that implies that of all the gifts we have been given from God- escape from slavery, a book of guidance, a day of rest- even just one of those would have been sufficient...plenty good enough. <br />I get it, in concept, but I struggle with ever sitting back and being satisfied in the abundance. I want more. I want better. I know there's more. <br />Dad has this Dayenu figured out. Whether purposefully or not, he has the enviable trait of simply trusting that his choices have been made; his trust is aligned and loyal, his need to scour the interwebs for information is not there. <br />That's why he had me. I was told in the late 80s that I was born to unload the dishwasher, alas, my usefulness has evolved! <br /><br />Dad's scans last week were great, considering the 10 week break from Avastin. We could have seen an aggressive resurgence of mets. We could have seen a new site of metastasis (brain, bone). <br />We didn't. His scans showed continued stability/non-activity in 4 of 5 of his millimetric masses, with 1 having an iridescent aura of possible growth. <br /> Dayenu.<br />We saw a tid bit if growth in that one met before the Avastin break, so I don't fully blame the hernia break. <br />I also don't really trust (here I go again) that we're seeing true growth. I mean come on, first, there's the interjudge reliability between two CT scans, then, come on, we're comparing a CT scan to a PET scan, and third, hellew! these things are in a moving breathing body part. You're telling me that you snapped your picture at the exact same phase of inhale/exhale every time?? Come on. <br />That was the manifestation of my compensatory strategy of denial. Pardon me. <br />So, we're looking good on scans. Dayenu. Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuut...... What if we could utilize some sort of Star Trek laser beam and tie Dad down and zap that sucker out and just be done with it. Huh? Why not? <br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/05/02/1118.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/05/02/s_1118.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='184' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />This exists, people! Cyber knife, high dose radiation, cryoabalation- all methods to do exactly that. Pinpoint this met, tie him down, tell him to hold his breath, and Zzzzeeeeaaaaaaauuup! It can't be more difficulty than that. <br /><br />Mom and Dad asked Dr. Baltz about this possibility this week. (Insert Byrd family I'm Proud of You Song). And they have an appointment with an oncology radiologist! Gold stars!! <br />That guy will tell us if this is even a possibility being that this met is positioned in the azygoesophogeal recess, which is close to vital organs (details...). We don't want to zap those. <br />Dad, predictably, is unimpressed. Doesn't see the point. Dayenu. <br />He's got other things to do- clean the pool, run a business...<br />Even if he goes just for me (wink wink), that's cool with me. I unloaded that dishwasher for so many years! And yeah, you sent me to college, and clothed and fed me, and set me up with life skills superior to nine out of ten people, but come on... what have I ever asked for????<br />Dayenu.<br /><br />-Erv<br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br />erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-45955043742108452262013-04-01T19:46:00.001-07:002013-04-01T19:46:12.123-07:00Because I'm too lazy not to steal the already-written summary from Mom's email....<br /><br />It's been over a year since Bryan's hernia started causing him some pain and enough bother to tell Dr. Baltz that he wanted to take a break from Avastin so that he could get it repaired. If you read <www.therottenkidney.blogspot.com> you know that the good doctor said, oh no you're not. So, trusting in the wisdom of experience and medical school, Bryan has just lived with it. He says he's used to it now. No complaints. <br /><br />Then his blood pressure began to creep up again. Dr. Heifner, the nephrologist, added more and more meds. One he tried was Rogaine which was originally approved as a BP reducer. Now it's used to induce hair growth. That's one side effect he really doesn't need. It didn't work anyway; it just made him retain water. It was decided (by doctors huddling) that Bryan needed another break from Avastin. <br /><br />On his most recent scans, everything was stable, except the hernia. This time the radiologist mentioned bowel herniation. We weren't really alarmed until Erin gave us a heads-up, using her Google doctorate to tell us that he could be looking at a colostomy if things got worse. So, I made an appointment with a surgeon so that we would have another doc on our team who would be focusing on the hernia, etc. Dr. Tucker was calm and professional (of course) and recognized the balancing of the risks. Stop taking the drugs that are suppressing RCC and risk disease progression. Don't repair the hernia and risk having to have a COLOSTOMY BAG! "This is not a hernia you want to be carrying around." Being careful isn't sufficient. He says some folks have crises in the middle of the night. It just happens.<br /><br />Next chapter-- Drs. Baltz and Tucker conferred. Tucker must have convinced Baltz that the risk was pretty severe. Plus, Bryan wants it fixed. Tomorrow will be six weeks that he has been off of Avastin, Interferon-A, and those pesky steroids. He's lost the water weight, and my charming husband is back. It's like April after a cloudy winter. Nice.<br /><br />Wednesday, he'll be at Baptist for the surgery. They'll probably keep him a night or two to watch for bleeding. He'll have to be off the anti-angiogenesis (not growing blood vessels) drugs until he heals, another 4-6 weeks. Then he'll be due for scans again. <br /><br />For three years and nine months, Bryan has dealt with his diagnosis and treatment with optimism, but he's also said that if his side effects became "too bad" that he would choose a shorter life over one that prevents him from working and being somewhat active. I think this choice to have the surgery fits that view. Take the path that gives the best hope of living more years the way he wants to. We continue to be hopeful for good outcomes. I'll keep you posted on his recovery and whatever-comes-next!<br /><br />Debbie <br /><br />And now because no story is complete without a picture<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=13/04/01/3443.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/13/04/01/s_3443.jpg' border='0' width='280' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Dad- you don't have the swagger of this dude, and I think you'd have to take another drug break to get a rad tat on your pec.<br /><br />:) EO<br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br />erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-28105073068702913272012-12-27T08:26:00.001-08:002012-12-27T08:26:55.303-08:00Status<br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/12/27/988.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/12/27/s_988.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Me: Oh- we haven't even talked about your cancer. What's up with that?<br />Him: Guess it's still there...<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br />erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-54066942898874956202012-12-26T22:14:00.001-08:002012-12-26T22:14:04.862-08:00<br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/12/26/3338.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/12/26/s_3338.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='98' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />- 'Twas merry and bright; with holly and jolly.<br /><br /><br /><br />Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br /><p class='blogpress_location'>Location:<a href='http://maps.google.com/maps?q=Christmas%20Dinner%20Props,%202012&z=10'>Christmas Dinner Props, 2012</a></p>erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-1045030039984460872012-11-18T10:27:00.001-08:002012-11-18T10:27:25.744-08:00So damn goodI've been hesitant to post. I know it's been awhile. But really, through the last three? sets of scans, cancer things have been so damn good. In this age of Facebook and twitter and constant inflow of errrrbody's business, I get real tired of those people virtually screaming about how great their lives are. "We're so riiiich and we're so beuuuutiful and we're so luuucky and we're so thaaaankful 'cause god's on ouuur side and not yours and since we pray we get to be this riiiich and pri'day and better than youuuuuu and oh yeah look how perfect myyyyyyy children are in their monogrammed matching plaid stuuuuuupid outfits." <br /><br />Wow! That just flowed out. Maybe I'll earn some unfriends with that. Anyway, I'm just sayin' that things are so damn good, in the cancer world, that I'm almost embarrassed to speak of it. Like speaking of it will bring the backswing of karma back at us. But "we're religious, not superstitious" the Rev. Karen Akin says , or maybe it wasn't her, but I give her credit. <br /><br />So... The safest image to attach to your eye roll about how amaaaazing and awesuuuum our cancer life is this one:<br /><br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/11/18/1633.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/11/18/s_1633.jpg' border='0' width='210' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />I think he has a good enough web woven that few could REALLY hold a grudge. Eye roll me, not him. <br /><br />Scans last week show continued stability and some more resolution of lung mets. <br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/11/18/1634.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/11/18/s_1634.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='99' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />This isn't because we pray to God, this isn't because BEB did something right, this isn't because he's cut down on his red meat consumption ( see above). This is because he's a lucky responder. His body is responding to Avastin and Interferon. That simple. <br /><br />Oprah says there is no luck- that instead, "luck" is the intersection between opportunity and preparation. I tend to agree with her EXCEPT in this case. <br />I think your chances with RCC are about the same as hitting black 26 on the roulette wheel- with your chip on the table. <br /><br />Now, my dark and twisty brain, about a year ago, started thinking about the prospect of building a pool in my backyard with the proceeds from Dad's death. <br />Sick, huh?? First, I'll probably get $7.00 in quarters as my inheritance, because we are sooo totally noooot sooooo riiiiich, but don't mess up my daydream, k??<br />Then I decided that it could go two ways- I'd feel awesome about my inheritance purchase every time I dived? dove? in, or I'd feel terrible. Too much to think about. <br /><br />Instead, I have a new plan. July 4, 2014. That's five years. We're closer to that day than we are to Diagnosis Day. Statistics lend that it would not be hasty to PREPARE my backyard for the OPPORTUNITY to throw dad a five-year pool party. On my own dime.<br /><br />Wouldn't we feel LUCKY. Every single body's invited if we get so lucky. <br /><br />Thanksgiving tradition yields that we gather round a piano and withstand an awkward group singing of 'We Gather Together.' Sisterbaby and I usually cut the unbearable tension by performing a modern interpretive dance while our rule-abiding brother stands nicely with his sheet music to complete what is right and just in the Eyes of Mom. Embarrassingly, I found myself humming said tune last night while I was prepping cornbread for dressing. <br /><br />So as "we gather together to ask the lord's blessing", I'll ask for it, but I won't expect it, and I'll know I'm lucky if I get it.<br /><br />Gobble gobble,<br />E<br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br />erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-31820783249060123482012-08-18T09:55:00.000-07:002012-08-18T09:55:13.383-07:00Three years, say wha??We ( I blame Dad) didn't do a three year post. July 3rd was diagnosis day, August somethin' was surgery day. August somethin' else was Sutent day. We were at the beach again in the midst of all those dates. Dad and I were talking about what we should blog about, blah blah, nobody reads this anymore, you're un-interesting, I'm boring, nobody cares about your measly little mets, we gave this thing too much hype in the beginning, and now there's no drama to report on, and its all his fault we'll NEVER get picked up for a reality show. <br />
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Then Dad started coughing and sniffing his nose. Then he lost his voice. Then he fell asleep in a beach chair ( ok, not so abnormal). Then he started having trouble catching his breath. Then he went to bed and slept all day. <i>Uh, Dad...you look like heyull. </i>Mom told me to go check on him. I didn't want to be the one that found him Belushi style in the beach house. Thought it would be hard to erase from my memory. I think Sam went. He said there was still movement, so he was not yet dead. <br />
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Siri and I made a diagnosis of bacterial pneumonia. Baltz called in some Avelox. Ironically, my BFF from forever and ever is a rep for Avelox. She was at the beach too. Her trunk in Wisconsin is full of Avelox. She flew. We got the drug anyway and all agreed that if he didn't improve by tomorrow, we'd have to take him to the hospital. Again, he looked like <i>heyull. </i><br />
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I am not a paid representative of Avelox, but I should be. That shit WORKS. Brought Dad back from the barely walking dead. That was the most exciting thing that happened in the midst of the 3 year anniversary UNTIL my annual synchronized swimming performance with Sisterbaby. We chose Neil Diamond this year. It was incredible. <br />
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Fast forward to this week... Three month scans reveal "<b>only minimal residual densities persist at the site of prior nodules....It is unclear if these simply represent scar or there is residual disease within these areas at this point</b>." </div>
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What? Really? That's so good. So so so very good. So very good. I was at work when Dad called to tell me results. I had some therapists in my office complaining about schedules, being impatient, looking to me to fix all the problems they're paid very well to fix. I forgot is was scan time and almost didn't answer Dad's call because I was so busy. Then I decided that there will be a day when I'll wish I could call him and won't be able to, so I picked it up. "<i>Helleww?"</i></div>
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He didn't get straight to the point, saying things like "<i>Well, Dr. Baltz just called." </i>and <i>"He said that he thought I would want to hear" </i><b style="font-style: italic;">. </b>He was so cryptic that I started to regret my decision to answer the phone with so many people in my office looking at me. That nervy feeling of vomit and dread was filling my guts. Then he spilled the good news and it was great and we talked some details after that and then we hung up. I still had said two therapists staring at me; still waiting on me to fix their relatively insignificant problems and BOOM, I burst into tears. It was SO effective. I didn't mean to. I really didn't. And I really didn't know that train was coming. They got wide eyed. I am their boss. I like to remain enigmatic. And right there, I was losing it. I don't think I sprayed snot on anyone, but I got to explain to them that yes, I was just fine, and yes, that phone call was good, very good news, and that suddenly their little scheduling problem didn't matter to me at all and if they could kindly turn and walk out of my office I'd appreciate. </div>
So very effective, a healthy perspective. <br />
<br />
So very good. If you had asked us three years ago, we would have wanted the mets completely gone. Now, we have new perspective. It is good that they're still there, whether they are residual disease or residual scar; the terrorists are tied up in our living room instead of lurking unseen in the back yard. We can keep our eyes on them. <br />
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Stay still mets....we're watchin' you.<br />
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<br />erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-34184773804316412442012-05-11T09:15:00.002-07:002012-05-11T09:15:48.398-07:00Scan update<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
We finally got to meet Evan Anthony on April 20th. Nobody thought about Dad or his circulating tumor burden. We're getting pretty used to everything being just fine. We're going to be struck hard when the piano falls out of the skyscraper. We're not even looking up- just beebopping along reading another scan report of continued regression. <br />
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We ( well really just me) have researched the next drug we want when Avastin and Interferon cease to hold off angiogenesis. Since Dad has been such a good responder to VEGF( that's a protein that encourages angiogenesis) inhibiting drugs ( Sutent, Avastin), we ( um, me and some google contributors) assume that we should continue with that class of drugs when need be. There is a new VEGF inhibitor on the market called Inlyta that is winning clinical trials against Nexavar. Her trials showed an effectiveness right up there with Sutent but with fewer side effects.<br />
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We have a cosmic internet connection with a young(er) man with RCC and his family. He's got ties to Arkansas and cracks up my coconut with his sharp repartee on his cancer. He has enrolled in a IL-15 trial<br />
at the NIH and is only the 13th human to be injected with the voodoo we hope will spark his immune system into killing his RCC. Where Dad views RCC as his chronic condition that he has been so very lucky to manage effectively thus far, Chris and his wife, Dena are fighting a different battle. I'd give them fist bumps for their aggressive pursuit of a cure if our interweb connection ever materialized into reality. <br />
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I think of them every time we get a report of continued stability. They have children the ages of mine. They have no choice but to be as aggressive as possible, and they are awesome at it. Perhaps Chris' ( that's probably an apostrophe error as the conundrum of apostrophes for words with an s on the end still makes me nervy) enrollment in the IL-15 trial opens a new door for RCC treatment, and is the answer for him. I hope so.<br />
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Ya'll tell me if you hear piano music from up above. We'll be goo-gooing Evan and buying booze and pie for our beach trip until then. <br />
<br />
ebo<br />
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<br />erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-76215589730409933262012-04-18T07:45:00.001-07:002012-04-18T07:45:03.832-07:00Herniated guts, and Victor's SecretHey everyone! Dad said he'd write yesterday, but I knew he wouldn't, so I'll take the honors in giving an update. He can clarify anything I over-exaggerate or extrapolate. <br />True Story: Dad's guts are spilling out. They're coming out through a weak spot in his wall, and I do not know if this is from his initial surgical spot or not. Alls I know is he's fortunate to have a strong integumentary system keeping his innards off the floor. <br />Dad saw Baltzy yesterday, and went in not asking, but telling him that he wants a 4 week wash out before the next scans to prep for laparoscopic hernia repair. You have to get all the meds that are keeping your mets from growing out of your system or you'll never heal from surgery. <br />You know, I've worked for three years to get Mom and Dad to take an authoritative stance on his healthcare, and I think I would've been a proud parent(in a flipped dysfunctional parent-child relationship moment) seeing Dad tell Baltzy how it was gonna be. Alas, Baltzy told him differently. <br />This is all second hand, so I'll paint the picture the way I perceived I heard it...<br />Baltz said, in a nutshell, 'like hell you will.' he told Dad that he had been handed a miracle, and that he would not be messing that up. He would take the miracle, and not go screwing it up for some stupid hernia. <br />I do appreciate some passion. If you're going to think one way about something, at least do it with some umph. So, I probably don't say it enough, Thank You Dr. Brad Baltz. You have reminded us again to be neither complacent nor unappreciative of our fortune. <br />There will be no hernia repair. Therefore, Dad the Engineer has set his sights on support attire. Now, there are manly support garments on the market, BUT, since we didn't engineer them ourselves, they're all wrong. The seams are on the inside, the straps are uncomfortable. I reminded Dad that BBW's (that's Big Beautiful Women for you not up on salacious alterno-fetish websites) have been hoisting, securing, and squeezing their big guts in for centuries, and that he and Mom aught pay a visit to the Dillard's Foundations department for some inspiration. <br />"They have those things at Victoria's Secret?" he said.... "Not in your size, honey"... I had to tell him. <br />Dad's already started on his Victor's Secret Man Foundation Prototype. Like ManSpanx, but more serious. I think there should be a mustache and monocle on the label. <br />Dad will meet his 6th grandchild this week when Sisterbaby finally bursts. On July 4th, 2009, my sweet teary eyed baby sister desperately said "Oh my God, he won't meet my babies..." <br /><br />Oh yes, oh yes he will. Thank you, Dr. Brad Baltz. Thank you.<br /><br />For the rest of your day, think of Dad in frilly support lingerie. Dad, I'm sorry. Everyone else, YOU'RE WELCOME!!!<br /><br />;) EAB<br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone<br />erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-31586161938045617332012-02-17T11:42:00.000-08:002012-02-17T11:43:46.486-08:00NEW VIEW!<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I've changed the blog to "dynamic view," which probably sends some of you old- timers into the shivers. Calm down. Change is good. When you pull it up on your iPad, it will say the new dynamic view is unsupported. Their pants are on fire... it works just fine. Just click on 'continue unsupported' and feel smug in beating the system. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Now I'll have to come up with something to write about the offensive malignant cell balls that started this whole blog in the first place. Give me time. Ol' malignant cell balls have been behaving lately... nothing to report. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm sorely disappointed that I can't get the picture of the molecular structure of Avastin on this dynamic view. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Change is hard.</span><span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">E</span>erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-19322429700797027662012-01-25T06:07:00.001-08:002012-01-25T06:07:57.020-08:00Good graph day<br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=12/01/25/727.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/12/01/25/s_727.jpg' border='0' width='281' height='179' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />Results of Monday's scan are in. Ol' girl Avastin is doing her job. The last sentence on the report is the coolest- "minimal disease present at this time." <br /><br />OurFavoriteDrug has been in the news lately because she has been determined ineffective for the treatment of breast cancer, or, I suppose her stats in breast cancer don't justify her costs...and I don't know which political party it places me in when I think about the one woman for whom Avastin is working and the struggle she must face.<br /><br />What if the FDA felt the same about Avastin in RCC? I simply don't care if it's working for everyone else, or if it costs the insurance company more than one life is worth, or if Genentech/Roche has to up their cost to pay their research nerd. It's working for us. So don't mess with it. Leave Avastin alone. There, politico over.<br /><br />Dad will resume The Juice on February 14th. He's gonna have a little chemo-pole withdrawal, but I'm sure he'll find other things to do. <br /><br />Goooooooooo Avastin! Be aggressive. Be. Be. Aggressive. <br /><br />E<br /><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br />erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-4506994308540041752012-01-18T06:14:00.000-08:002012-01-18T06:14:01.888-08:00Whoa man, you're spilling your protein!Dad's been experiencing some swelling of his extremities as of late, and we've been trying to figure out the cause. Kids don't lie, and last weekend Elliot asked him, "Paw Paw, why's your face like that? so... so... fat?" Ha! His legs are holding water like crazy, and I had a dream that he dropped dead of a heart attack and the sweet sweet irony we'd all discuss at the funeral.... So I called and kinda begged for him to make another appointment with the heart doc ( swelling can be indicative of congestive heart failure, duh...).<br />
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Not one one worry, or rush to seek medical attention, or be concerned that he's only wearing house shoes, The Patient finally called his nephrologist ( not the heart doctor, but a doctor all the same) and got an appointment. Dr Hefner was equally concerned with his swelling and asked him to collect his pee in a jug for a day. I guess that's a nephrologist's tool bag- a big jug of pee. I haven't given up my quest for a cardiology appointment, and even pulled in Sisterbaby to make a call as well. The baby in the family usually gets what she wants. <br />
<br />
Anyway, it has been determined that Dad is spilling protein, probably because the un-rotten kidney isn't working up to par, and protein acts as a glue to keep your fluids where they need to be. He prescribed a different diuretic and recommended a break from Avastin ( gasp!).<br />
Dad got some quick relief from the diuretic, went to see Baltzy the Oncologist on Tuesday, wasn't supposed to get the Avastin, but did anyway. He doesn't want to go without his Avastin, but Baltzy said that he's got to let his kinda-ok kidney catch up. Dad is glad he snuck in an extra dose, as he doesn't want any false negatives on his scans on Monday. He'll stay off Avastin until Feb 14th, then they'll re-evaluate. <br />
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Baltzy and Hefner have both been saying that his heart is fine, and that he didn't need to go to the cardiologist; however, in a sudden strike of divine intelligence, Baltzy came to his senses and told Dad that when two women get together and tell you to do something, just go ahead and do it. <br />
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Eye roll.<br />
E<br />
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<br />erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-62166947662753716022012-01-01T19:48:00.000-08:002012-01-01T20:23:16.153-08:00Good Living through Chemistry<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjMiDXb_EnlTaqLepDj_uGXs_ndHdd1_ejCee5IjZynKfveYZx4yKfdlYIdTsYiy2a603Aa6L0s90l4OwtFboGzTwxeHKpR3FRBn9eD6o0dk0Wj2zVhD1_zYrIyDKXAtQZeAOcuqHiNKf/s1600/DSC01451.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 150px; height: 200px; float: left; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692877711373950738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDjMiDXb_EnlTaqLepDj_uGXs_ndHdd1_ejCee5IjZynKfveYZx4yKfdlYIdTsYiy2a603Aa6L0s90l4OwtFboGzTwxeHKpR3FRBn9eD6o0dk0Wj2zVhD1_zYrIyDKXAtQZeAOcuqHiNKf/s200/DSC01451.JPG" /></a>I'm fine ! Really I am.<br /><div>It's been 9 months since I blogged. Some of you may have been worried about me.... or not . </div><div> </div><div>This is a picture of Erin, and Ezra (born November 15) He's the 5th grandchild. How could I not be fine ! Looks just like me, don't you think?</div><div> </div><div>Erin wrote one time about the spooky white eyebrows. Well, the darker model is back. How could I not be fine ! Not long ago, Dr. Baltz said I looked 10 years younger. He didn't say that I looked 10 years younger than 60, just that I looked 10 years younger than I did a while back.</div><div> </div><div>The Avastin/Interferon cocktail is apparently still working. I guess you saw where some mets were actually gone, gone, gone in the late October scans. We have another set of scans to do at the end of January. More news then. I've been on this regimen for 9 months now and still don't have it figured out and quantified like I did the Sutent. On the week that I just have the Interferon injection, I've come to expect ache joints, and headaches for 3+ days. Debbie says I'm grumpy....nah! On the other week, I get an IV of Avastin + the Interferon injection...and they add a steroid to the IV that totally masks the flu-like symtoms. </div><div> </div><div>Body chemistry is a strange thing. All of a sudden, my blood sodium was low. That's a bad thing and it can kill you or make you crazy as a lesser symtom. I'm monitored so thoroughly that I didn't experience either so I've spent a few months building that back up.</div><div> </div><div>Side effect of Chemo is water retention. Water retention means dilution of your sodium, so don't eat dietary salt, but drink yourself silly on GatorAid. Don't drink any water at all...brush your teeth with GatorAid. I'm sick of GatorAid!</div><div> </div><div>I've been freezing to death since summer....finally we're working on hypothyroidism symtoms. I wish they had started earlier, because it's about to be well digger cold, and my thyroid isn't regulated yet.</div><div> </div><div>I'll be 61 in less than a week. I'm fine...really I am.</div><div> </div><div> </div></div>KORKhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01761950340872613392noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-70377713657523461972011-10-25T20:15:00.000-07:002011-10-25T20:15:32.023-07:00SIGNIFICANCE<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Y'all know about me being psychic? Last night I had a dream that the radiologist came out of his dark radiology room, and he took off his tiny little square glasses as he wiped his sweaty brow. He's wearing a long, white, <i>I'm better than you,</i> lab coat with that big monogrammed cursive writing on his left lapel. "<i>Can't find them... they're gone" </i>he says. <i>" Are you sure these are your films, sir?" </i>This is when Dad says "well, I reckon they're my scans..." and the sweaty radiologist says "<i>yes, I reckon they are, and they're gone. gone gone gone. can't find a single one." </i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Well, it didn't go EXACTLY like that today, but it was close. Baltzy the Oncologist called Mom this afternoon to tell her that Dad left his office before he even ASKED about his scan results. Do you <i>want </i>to be one who is called directly by your oncologist? Yes, of course... but NO! No no no. But yes. This was nice of The Doctor. Anyway, Baltzy said that he had run over to listen to the audio transcription of the scan results, and that along with some mutter mutter jibber jabber, the overall impression was that there was "<b>significant</b> response to therapy." I only practice radiology for my own family members, BUT, using the word <b>significant</b> is, um... <b>significant</b>. Because we radiologists(ok, I'll stop)... use <b>significant</b> in its statistical sense, not just its literal sense. Literally, there has to be a big enough change from status quo to even think about using the word <b>significant</b>. We won't have the real numbers until tomorrow afternoon, but this gives us <b>significant</b> joy. Not only for the stability or the possibility of improvement, but because it buys us three more months of not thinking about it; doing other things. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Dad told me today that he "would probably blog tonight." I told Mom, and she told him "Oh, Erin said you PROMISED you would blog tonight." This, set off the rebellious spirit I share with Dad, and pretty much cemented that he would NOT be blogging this evening. I understand completely. It's my blog anyway. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">I'm 9 months pregnant- at least SOMEBODY is getting to celebrate. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Cheers!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">E </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-75170558322063143942011-10-07T09:20:00.000-07:002011-10-07T09:20:08.562-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGYJnbtjsC5GlI6Htna3VElziVXsObxkq9EJjkwUclknJfwaR3EB1Y-YppLJoC-qIDltUv6c6NegMd-0gXdlta6jmR0TRLOMLRMgaRtReuzC6IOqfVdKQNhLxWRhcTodzJ3nHjFjJeXQ4N/s1600/Dad+Razorback+11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGYJnbtjsC5GlI6Htna3VElziVXsObxkq9EJjkwUclknJfwaR3EB1Y-YppLJoC-qIDltUv6c6NegMd-0gXdlta6jmR0TRLOMLRMgaRtReuzC6IOqfVdKQNhLxWRhcTodzJ3nHjFjJeXQ4N/s320/Dad+Razorback+11.jpg" /></a></div><br />
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Oh Hellew. I know. It's been months. Dad's still wearing Hawaiian Razorback shirts and playing the banjo. There's not much we can do about it, as the man has cancer. I wonder if Steve Jobs' kids were like "Daaaaad! You're launching the ipad today, DON'T wear that same black turtleneck!" while he finished his breakfast and flipped them off as he walked out the door. I wonder. I'll come back to him later. <br />
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<b>BIZNETH:</b> Just called Dad to ask when he has scans. He said "uuuuuuuuuuhhhhhh, Octooooooooooober, ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm twenty.............ummmmmm fifth. Yeah. 25th. Let this be a sign of the times. We used to know the day, scan time, and and results appointment time three months in advance. It used to be written on my calendar with a little scary face next to it ( yes, I illustrate my calendar with emotion), and now I guess we're just used to it. <br />
<br />
Dad's still getting juiced with Avastin/Interferon every Tuesday. He still gets some headaches. His hair is turning darker in a strange Benjamin Button sort of way. Most comforting is that his eyebrows have returned to their original color. 'Cause white eyebrows are disconcerting. There has to be some evolutionary biological reason for dark eyebrows, as when they aren't, your cellular-level guts tell you somethin' just aint right. Gives me the shivers, and I'm glad they're back. <br />
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<b>STEVE JOBS:</b> His passing affected me. Not because I am a lover of his brilliant innovations. I appreciate small bits of brilliance in my little microcosmos every single day. It affected me more because I think I might know what his family is feeling. Pancreatic cancer is like RCC in that it has dreaded stats. And I'm sure that his family, like ours, put his cancer up on a shelf and continued on with their lives. They took cancer down every three months, dusted her off, then put her back up on that shelf to keep on keepin' on. He went to work, provided the framework for brilliant minds to come up with brilliant new tools <i>( anyone seeing the connection between Apple Inc. and American Restoration Tile? I know... uncanny isn't it... Who DOESN'T need a custom fired, historically accurate in color, unglazed porcelain three quarter inch square edge tile???? I know, right???? </i>) <br />
And then it all fell apart. Steve Jobs afforded himself the best medical care, I assume. If anyone has access, it's that dude... but really, at the end of the day, while Steve Jobs was kind of a big deal to a lot of people, he was just somebody's husband, and some kid's dad... just like mine. <br />
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I asked Dad if he had any business to report to the blog. He said he would not divulge anything, as I would steal his thunder. He did tell me about some dude at Kinko's that thinks he is his cousin, and asked about our plans for the weekend, etc.....<br />
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Our cancer is up on the shelf. We know she's there. We'll get her down on the 25th. Hope there's nothing to see. <br />
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Tra la laaaa<br />
Eerin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-42324863054562291952011-07-03T20:01:00.001-07:002011-07-03T20:01:21.863-07:00Two yearsWhen you google survival statistics of Stage IV RCC, you are hard pressed to find anything exceeding 5 months.<br /><br /> He's at 24.<br /><br />The only battle he lost this week was against a rogue wave. It took his swim suit and his dignity.<br /><br />He quickly recovered both.<br /><br /><center><a href='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/show_photo.php?p=11/07/03/5285.jpg'><img src='http://photo.blogpressapp.com/photos/11/07/03/s_5285.jpg' border='0' width='213' height='281' style='margin:5px'></a></center><br />- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad<br />erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-47802346708792312082011-06-10T15:24:00.000-07:002011-06-10T15:24:24.657-07:00We love birthdays.This is a big day for me. Not only is it my 59th birthday, it's also my last day of work as a teacher. Twenty-one years. Anyone connected to a school knows that teachers do amazing work. Teachers are responsible for lessons, yes, but also the care and nurturing of the students. The kids come in all shapes, sizes, and conditions. It is exhausting but satisfying work. Anyone connected to a school also knows that the hours between bells are just the stage show; many more hours of creation, revision, and rehearsal are required to support the "student contact hours," and "summers off" is really only enough time to recover and get back up to do it again. Thank every teacher you can find! An explanation of why I decided to retire isn't really necessary, is it?<br />
<br />
It's time. We can pay for COBRA insurance until I turn 60 in a year then I can sign up for retired-teacher insurance for both of us. A lot of my fellow teachers assumed that I decided to retire because they thought Bryan must be doing worse. Actually, it's because he's doing so well that I knew I wanted to leave now. We want to go where we want, when we want, and stay until we're ready to leave. We really don't have a bucket list, but there are places we've never been: the Caribbean, Seattle, Maine, Minot. <br />
<br />
Erin and Shaun are expecting their third baby in November, so we're thrilled to be able to offer them some extra hands since they'll be out-numbered. I look forward to visiting Eli and Emily at Roberts Elementary School which is between our house and "town." It will be easier for me to spend time with Daddy at Presbyterian Village, attending the monthly luncheons, birthday parties, and other special occasions in addition to just sitting and visiting. I also intend to learn all I can about the tile business so that I can be helpful. Bryan is obviously the tile guru; I want to help with logistics, organizing and finding the stuff he loses! <br />
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This morning, my friends at Mann gave a "Bon Voyage" party for Linda Berman, who's retiring too, and me. Dr. Marian Lacey, who was principal at Mann when our kids were there, came. So did Suzi Davis and Stella Hayes. Stella wrote a poem for us. Pat Boykin read "The Road Not Taken." We had a yummy spread of fruit, dips, and little ham biscuits. The cake was crafted by our very own Jamie McKenney (Jamie's Custom Cakes 501-944-3796)and was beautiful. I was given a gift certificate for some spa services :). Lots of people said very nice things; it was a lovely way to leave.<br />
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I had already turned in my grades, counted textbooks, cleared the walls and shelves for painters, and given away my desk and everything purple. Today I had the joy of turning in my keys. Let the party begin!<br />
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Debbieerin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-73474862458822555482011-05-28T09:17:00.000-07:002011-05-28T09:17:58.988-07:00I forgot he had cancer.Do ya'll know about the redneck pool? The pvc paradise? The oval oasis? <br />
It's one of those mildly embarrassing above ground numbers that has poles and a werbely ladder that you have to check your pride to put in your yard things that you find in the big box at your favorite discount retailer. You've looked at them. <br />
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It's for us who can't afford the in-ground options. For those of us who want a vat of chlorinated water to bathe our kids in during the summer so we won't have to stoop over the bathtub. It's for me. <br />
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Mom and Dad have stepped over the 'us n them' line and dug a hole in the backyard. So... natch, I called dibs on the redneck pool. <br />
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Now, how is lil' ol ME gonna get that big old pool out of the garage and 200 miles north to MY yard???? Ask Dad. <br />
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Mom said it might be too heavy, as the sand filter alone weighs 400 pounds. She thought he might not want to do it, and maybe I'd have to settle for the smaller 12 foot pvc paradise instead ( yeah, they have two.) <br />
<br />
Well why would Dad not feel like hauling this thing up a hill and into a truck and driving it to my house? That would be weird. <br />
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It'll be here in a couple of hours. Ha! I forgot he had freakin' cancer. So does he, he says. Especially with Avastin/Interferon, he feels good. With Sutent, he had his calendar of symptoms to look forward to. Right now, all he's looking forward to unloading the 400 lb sand filter. <br />
If he's not going to play up the cancer card, neither. am. I.<br />
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Now imagine me floating on my back spitting water into the air like a fountain. In a tank top and cutoffs. Don't spill my drank! That's how rednecks swim. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb-t0DSemwYhL2qpuw59UdnD5Ua4DS99q5d4Ie4YSgMPaXMFYjkIBVKOpxXc6BXJyeSL3ed37d7wKQ7W2NUGFZQyrEuQ26t0WsrFEFVr8pGN711mtGZVkjAgbqL42qrb8xs3ViDUvl5qTF/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="320" width="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb-t0DSemwYhL2qpuw59UdnD5Ua4DS99q5d4Ie4YSgMPaXMFYjkIBVKOpxXc6BXJyeSL3ed37d7wKQ7W2NUGFZQyrEuQ26t0WsrFEFVr8pGN711mtGZVkjAgbqL42qrb8xs3ViDUvl5qTF/s320/photo.JPG" /></a></div>erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-22474285483855379632011-04-28T20:27:00.000-07:002011-04-28T20:27:53.611-07:0060 days on AvastinHellew there. <br />
Dad got scans this week after 60 days on Avastin and Interferon. I don't know why I can't get as excited about This combo as my old friend Sutent. She's performing well... She shrank or stabilized all the current metastases, and she apparently needs a cumulative effect for her best result...and her side effects are lots more tolerable than sutent's.... I guess I should give her a better rap. She's alright, Avastin with Interferon,she'll grow on me. <br />
From what I can tell, worst side effects are nose bleeds and headaches. I really need to improve the umph of this post. I'm coming across crabby. <br />
We did get a really really detailed report from the radiologist. We love details and graphs and this report had lots of those. It talked about all Dad's innards in great detail, which is strangely fascinating for me to read. <br />
So, though I'm dull, the remarkable piece of information that you should take from this post is that we still have stability. Maybe we're getting used to stability and forgetting that stability in itself almost two years out is not unheard of, but still great. Nothing to be dull about. So sorry, Avastin/interferon, we don't care that you got an A. And now I directly quote my mother: "Good grades aren't rewarded, they're expected.". Fall of 1989.<br />
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I expect much,<br />
Eerin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-47682391159507268282011-03-15T20:11:00.001-07:002011-03-15T20:11:41.684-07:00Tile Party<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTWimCEZSmGiHlO2AzV0imooqR374SH-YmXZ0RKLPU6zVUeHvT8M1d2wY32as7Wq-_38a0ts5MP77FJDAxZ-iXFQvOhCyt-Qm9B7QAzyL4g5vcoV9qRRG4pCyQKKqR7XwSfM7YZnq6zzGL/s1600/photo-701685.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTWimCEZSmGiHlO2AzV0imooqR374SH-YmXZ0RKLPU6zVUeHvT8M1d2wY32as7Wq-_38a0ts5MP77FJDAxZ-iXFQvOhCyt-Qm9B7QAzyL4g5vcoV9qRRG4pCyQKKqR7XwSfM7YZnq6zzGL/s320/photo-701685.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584510196584782082" /></a></p>erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-48031964643951698722011-03-15T09:53:00.001-07:002011-03-15T09:53:41.733-07:00I'm sitting in the atrium of Ceasar's Palace, here since 6:30 Vegas time, afflicted with a case of the grownupness- my body so used to Fayetteville time and the inconceivability of snoozing past 8am. I've enjoyed 8 dollars worth of coffee AND figured out how to post to the blog via email, via my crap iPhone. This iPhone I used to call my wizard is now dead to me. I've seen the other side....the pretty green grass yonder.... THE iPAD 2. <p>First things first. We arrived in Vegas on Sunday afternoon. We promptly took the worst smelling cab Vegas had to offer to the hotel, and had an awkward check in as two young women and a white-haired gentleman with money. <p>Even more awkward was when Rach asked if our room could have one king bed instead of two beds because were sisters and we used to sleep in the same bed a long long time ago and then we got married and our husbands told us it was weird to want to sleep in the same bed as your sister on vacation instead of with your husband so in an act of rebellion and just because we want to, could we just have one bed instead of two???? The nice man just said " so a king non smoking for you, sir... And a king non smoking for you two ladies.". We all nodded and smiled. <p>We then embarked on our journey to find the sands convention center ( maybe half a mile the way the crow flies) . It took us a good hour lost in casinos, 15 dollars in monorail tickets, a northbound monorail mutiny in favor of the southbound train instead "Dad! Hurry! get off get off! No! Wait! No! Stay on! Stay on! Wait.... I don't know!", and a favor from a man on an all-terrain vehicle(twice!), we made it. <p>After the journey we find out that the rumor amongst the tile world is that "the guy that rented that space" is either (1) dead, or (2) had some kidney problems, so they brought a forklift and took away all the materials he had shipped here in a cargo freight palate box and put it somewhere in the 1 million square foot Sands Convention Center. <p>So dad did a little tap dance to prove that he is, in fact, alive.... They found his palate, an we got busy setting up our display. He did not have to submit a urine sample to prove his kidney function, and we are thankful. <br>People from all over are coming to see Dad, remarking on his beautiful daughters, and give him manly handshakes with half-hug pats telling him, genuinely, that they're glad to see him. <p>Back to business...Dad's been hauling around this ugly heavy laptop in an even uglier attaché. Aaa taaaaa shey. <br>We have smoothly convinced him that he needs an iPad. Handily, there's an Apple store in our hotel?! Wow! We...., I mean he, bought himself a fancy little first generation iPad last night. We're going to play with his today and convince him to buy three more.....<br>He wants to buy three more, he just needs to know it's ok. Oh, it's juuuuuust fine. <p>We're having a good time. Not just because Dad is buying us dinner and teasing us with the faint possibility of iPads... just because we're having a good time. <p>Sent from my iPhone(crap)erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-34990549340876978492011-03-15T07:37:00.001-07:002011-03-15T08:26:52.373-07:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJUWPMhiirtnEI0jplmyDsU1d2d-t6kKYdM3xp6bUsIBto1repxI4SuqmaKPPzsnNfgwQYrYwCUGQAOfVkPB1xbLEicRaoDlhGX_0zprSSeK7OMv9EZB_n_C2JILAKJA0ZTW29CQ8_CF8k/s1600/photo-712374.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJUWPMhiirtnEI0jplmyDsU1d2d-t6kKYdM3xp6bUsIBto1repxI4SuqmaKPPzsnNfgwQYrYwCUGQAOfVkPB1xbLEicRaoDlhGX_0zprSSeK7OMv9EZB_n_C2JILAKJA0ZTW29CQ8_CF8k/s320/photo-712374.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584328557211611154" /></a></p>erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722032629033981899.post-9529986221295951272011-03-15T07:37:00.000-07:002011-03-15T08:26:36.688-07:00<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiroJsgqlSrONDUXJNVhff_L9i83HdGobXIWMmdz5QN7smaXexDRssAWRYGBx3ukw5WpeuUCgl6GPTssoHqo30YsImcrHLQEjGmJP60FoRAuztK5XwoBHQHwOMkkKEena2S-4aPGuDOD_JU/s1600/photo-796689.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiroJsgqlSrONDUXJNVhff_L9i83HdGobXIWMmdz5QN7smaXexDRssAWRYGBx3ukw5WpeuUCgl6GPTssoHqo30YsImcrHLQEjGmJP60FoRAuztK5XwoBHQHwOMkkKEena2S-4aPGuDOD_JU/s320/photo-796689.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584328503780250738" /></a></p>erin oliverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06186452459019888711noreply@blogger.com0