Hooray Alex!

Great news, Alex!!! I'm so happy for you. I know that every time you go in, you wish they would just tell you it's all over and tomorrow everything will feel "normal" again. The uncertainty is so hard. When I was having some health issues, I felt that the worst part was not knowing when it would end. If someone could just give me a time frame, I could pace myself to the finish line, it would be a piece of cake, but the not knowing was unbearable. But then someone very close to me reminded me that to some degree, all of us must learn to live with uncertainty. And maybe anyone reading this will be like, "jeez Debbie Downer, thanks." But I found comfort in knowing that we're all in this together. That everyone suffers! No, no I'm totally kidding, I couldn't resist. Really, it just took some of the loneliness away and reinforced the idea of not taking any moment for granted. And I know I don't have to tell you this, that you know this, but I'm relating. I'm so happy that you're getting closer and closer to that day when this will all be behind you. I'm also happy that you're enjoying music class with James and weekends away with Julian. And I love that Julian is becoming a self-made doctor! I share in the sentiment that I hope you took a load off this weekend and relished this latest victory!

Lots of love,

Jess

Good News

Dear Alex,

The news is great! While sometimes we must adjust our expectations and modify plans slightly, you are so right that there is still achievement and movement in the right direction. I think in your case you are making such great strides forward, it is nice to celebrate over here on this side of the pond. You are teaching me many things along this journey about appreciating each moment. I have been thinking a lot about how to enjoy everyday even if there are parts of that day that are less than perfect. I love that you enjoy watching James even when your foot aches Or take him to a music class as you wait for test results. We can choose to focus on the good parts of the day. Thank you for the lessons my friend. Congrats on the steps forward. You are amazing....I love you.

Please know that your Uncle Peter is also in our thoughts and prayers.
Lisa

Congratulations!

Hi Panda,

Congratulations for your good news! It felt great reading it, even though I had already heard about it (well, some of it) from my Mom and I had already had my cheerful moment. I understand that you were initially expecting more, who wouldn't after 10 months of this hell? But it is very good news, even if it requires more patience in the future than you would want to have. You have tons of it, I know, and you'll face what's coming with the right attitude. I hope that you won't have to face much more, of course, but I know you're going to be strong. So, good luck for the round 7 that's starting tomorrow. I really hope that the burns will give you a break this time.

A big hug!

You Had Me at Good News!!! YA HOOO!

Hello My Friend,
How cute was that story of James. It brought back memories when I use to take a baby I babysat to music class. It's so cute. He is something else!!
Oh yeah, so are you!! You did it!!!! I knew you would!!!
And look what you've taught James through all these horrible months.
He is stronger than anyone could ever imagine. He has brought a lot of that strength to you in so many ways. Hang onto every moment and know we are all still here routing for you and the best days are coming right around the corner.
To celebrate your wonderful news we went to the Golden Ball Antique Show today and looked at all the cool stuff you and Julian love. It was a great fall day here in Weston and the only thing missing was you and Julian.
We love you all and are jumping,dancing and singing all day in celebration of your wonderful news!! Keep pushing along.
I love you!!!!!
Eve

YES!

Danda, we too are running out the door this morning but quickly wanted to join the chorus of voices all touting the fabulous news and your tenacity and honesty in seeing this ordeal through to a happy ending. We knew you could do it!!! I hope you slept peacefully last night and woke to a glorious new day, breathing more easily. It was a relief to read that your Uncle Peter had a good day as well! It must have given him a tremendous boost to hear about your scans. Enjoy the day to the hilt. We will be rejoicing with you and the rest of the troops. XOXO

Celebrating your good news....

Dear Alessandra,

We're running out the door on this Saturday morning, but I couldn't leave without sending a note to celebrate yesterday's good news. We are joining the cyber happy dance and all your troops who are so pleased (and relieved) to hear that things are stable and on-track. I will write more later, but I hope you, Julian, James and your families are able to relish in your latest victory. As I thought of your marathon this morning, I envisioned you on the course hills in the Newton/BC/Comm Ave stretch with the Kenmore Sqaure finish line within reach.

Love you lots. XOXO,
Karen

PS: Sorry for the short note, but WWIII is breaking out upstairs!

Yippee Yippee Woo Woo!!!!

Oh Alex, I loved reading your post. I knew that today was going to be good news. You are so wonderfully strong and of course stubborn, that there is no option other than for the cancer to be scared. I hope to talk to you soon, but I am sending you a virtual hug with all my love attached. You rock my friend. Sit back, relax, and relish in the fact that this thing is not beating you, you are are in control.

I am off on Sunday for a few days on the beaches of Sanibel Island off the west coast of FL. I will relax more deeply knowing that you can breathe a sign of relief within your continued fight. Enjoy this moment - you did this!

Lots of love,

Mary

fortitude all around

Dear Danda,

I waited for the news, counting down the days and it made my day when mom shared the news with the family and friends who were visiting Dad today. Dad, with a smile, said, "amazing. that girl is amazing." YOU are winning this battle. I am learning as I watch my dad fight sickness that you are in control of your own body even when it is out of control. He fights back just as you do and with determination he is stabilizing just as you are. You both are inspirations to me. Guess those Italian genes are as strong as bull fighters!

I am so happy for your good news!

I loved your story about James, I would have been in tears laughing at his fortitude and excitement at music class. Good for him approaching that little blond girl- you can never be too young to be a flirt.

All my best wishes as Dad snores himself to sleep beside me. Never have I been so fond of snoring!

All our love,
Dad and Alexis

Thanks

Alessandra, thank you for the wonderful news and description of your reactions: fear, anger, courage, despair, elation, and above all love. It is a privilege to be part of your troops, and a blessing to share in your journey. Un abrazo muy grande, y muchos besos.

Another beautiful breath!

Oh Danda!!!! Thanks sooooo much for taking the time to share with all of us "blog fans" notwithstanding the overwhelming day!!! Wow, you always write beautifully and this time, again, you managed to bring a world of wisdom, days of courage and trust, tears of joy and gratitude, seas of emotions into several paragraphs! I guess we´ve all been hanging around all day anxious for the news, and it was hard to to check and recheck the blog and not see your long, blue entry! So I checked once more before calling it a night and there you were!!! I´m sure you´ve been so busy with calls from friends and family so thanks for remembering us bloggers who do not want to intrude on your intimacy with loved ones. And, now that I can let go of holding my breath and breathe normally, smiling hugely, I simply say the only words left in me after this long wait: Bravissima! Bellissima! Fortissima! I leave you with words my father wrote to me for my 17th birthday...I hope you don´t mind them being in Italian: 

"La traiettoria di qualsiasi vita umana è ricca di vittorie e di sconfitte. Le prime bisogna assimilarle e vivere per migliorarci e progredire senza esaltazioni e superbia; le seconde, cioè le sconfitte, bisogna superarle, facendo appello a tutte le nostre forze spirituali e fisiche per impedire che lo scoramento, il senso di vergogna o di colpa, il desiderio di fuggire o nascondersi s´impossessino di noi..." You have succeeded at just that, and we are all SOOOO PROUD OF YOU!! Take a deep breath and good rest before you continue on your marathon. By now, we all feel it is also our marathon. With so much love, Sally, Gin and Linda (and Gin Papà, of course:) )

"Good News" and Confidence.

Dear All,

I am sitting here in my pyjamas, ready to go to bed. I had meant to write earlier, but as you can imagine, I felt so drained after my meeting with Dr. Plowman, and simply needed some time to decompress.

I received good news today! There were no new spots, no growth, no novel dangers. What about the problem areas? Well, my sternum still shows a hot spot now referred to as " a minor irregularity". Dr. Plowman stated that in his opinion that is healed bone - apparently a healed bone area can show up "hot" (just like cancer) on a scan up to a year after it has healed. The fact that my sternum no longer hurts at all to the touch or when pressed, lends further support to this. My liver still shows two spots, and has been termed "stable" - there has been no change in the size of the spots but they appear less dark. Julian asked Dr. Plowman straight up, "Could those spots be dead (necrotic)? Scar tissue?", to which Dr. Plowman replied, "Yes. It's a possibility that those spots may not be viable". I needed confirmation, "What does viable mean? Do you mean not alive"? And he said, "Yes". My lymph node was also termed "stable", so the same theory was possible. My breast tumours has reduced "dramatically". Dr. Plowman performed his own checkup of breast and lymph node, and said that he was very pleased. "You are on track"! Breathe, Alessandra, breathe.

So, the next steps? Dr. Plowman has scheduled me for another two cycles of my current chemo regimen (i.e., the two chemos - oral and IV - plus the third drug that is antiangionetic, a form of antibody that acts on blocking the cancer's blood vessels). After that, I will drop the IV chemo, but will continue on the other two drugs, for an undetermined period of time. And while on this "lighter regimen" that gives my body a break, as he put it, "we will watch and wait", meaning close scans and check ups to see if the spots that remain begin to grow again, shrink more, or whether they may, in fact, be necrotic.

Admittedly, I was disappointed at first.... I wanted that liver clear. And I felt the heavy weight of knowing that my treatment would continue for many more months with all of its stressful unknowns and scary uncertainties, that this marathon was exactly that: a marathon, and I was still in the middle of it. I began to cry in the middle of my meeting with Dr. Plowman, and told him, "I am fighting this with all of my might, and I am going to do this. I am going to beat this." And he smiled and said, in his combination of genuine warmth and let's-not-get-weepy-now demeanour, "You are doing well. Cheer up. You are on track". And Julian squeezed my hand, and in that squeeze there was strength and positivity.

I think that we can all get tripped up by expectations... I will always aim high. That is in my nature. But I am learning that just because you may not meet your own expectations, does not mean that you have not achieved success. That in that achievement, there is "good news". And it is a choice you have to make, every time, as to how you decide to view that achievement. Expectations need to be fluid, not static. I have learned not to lose sight of every little accomplishment, to appreciate every step forward, and to calm that inner voice that may question, "But is that good enough?" Oh, that inner voice can be so loud at times. While all the while I never cease to aim high - because so much is possible if you set your mind to it and if, in your heart, you believe that you can do it. It may be so much tougher than you expect it to be, but that does not mean it's not in your reach. It's about being thankful for the road you have covered so far, about not forgetting to pause and pat yourself on the back, about standing tall because you're proud of what you have achieved, and about keeping your eye on your goal, with patience, and determination, and conviction. It's about confidence.

"It's good news". I repeat those words over and over in my head. "Good news". How does one define "good news"? It's all relative, isn't it? My "good news" today is that the cancer in me has no new troops, no new armour, no new weapons. My own troops, in contrast, grow in number, in friendship, in love, in positivity. My "good news" today is that besides a couple of pale spots on my liver, a pesky marble of a lymph node, and a few insignificant bumps in my breast, I am healthy and feel well and strong. My "good news" today is that the remaining areas that I perceive to be cancer may in fact be dead. My "good news" is that while this fight is still ongoing, I am winning.

My best "good news" today? I received a wonderful collection of postings, emails, voicemails and texts from friends and loved ones that brought me to tears. I felt love wrap me in the softest, most luxurious and most comforting of blankets, and I was shown humour at its most precious. My dearest Uncle Peter had a good day. My sister, who is on vacation in Australia, stayed up through the night thinking of me and waiting for my news, and called me at four in the morning her time to share a cheer over the thousands of miles that separate us.

And the highlight of my day, which captured "good news" at its fullest for me? I watched my darling James attend his first music class, and squeal in delight at the songs, the instruments, the happy electricity in the room. And then, he showed me what confidence is all about. He broke away from the parents/caregivers and their babies who were sitting in a circle, and crawled right up to the teacher who was in the middle of the circle. He planted himself right there, sat up straight in front of her, hands in his lap, eyes staring intently up at her as she sang. Front seat and centre. After later rejoining the circle, and clapping along to the music, he stood up, and marched right across to the other side, to tap a pretty little blonde on the shoulder, and peer over to see what instrument she was holding. This a child who, at best, has taken 4-5 steps on his own, at a dangerous tilt, before falling to his knees. Not today: he stood tall and straight, took over 20 steps all by himself, one after another, and proceeded to schmooze. And, those of you who have followed this blog and saw his video of "drummer boy", can clearly imagine what happened when he was given a stick and tambourine.... it was his moment, his spotlight, and he owned it. "Everyone, look at James!" the teacher cried, as James banged the tambourine with gusto, arms in the air, a grin of sheer joy on his face, and so very confident.

How lucky am I? More than words can describe.

Hugs to all.

waiting for the good news!!!

Hello my friend!!
I'm waiting for the good news! It's now 11:30 our time and you should be leaving that hospital for good in another hour or so.
Hey great news about Julians brother. You forgot to tell me that Wednesday. Or was it after?
I spoke to Lisa yesturday they were about to go into a meeting with the doctors and hospice and try to get Peter home. Let me know what happens. I am sending my best to you all!!
So sending my love to you all as always today and I'm getting the dancing girls booked. Well for us it's dancing guys. I figure the men out there could use some fun as well.
Love the video of James. I still have to send the one of Stephen he did for you.
Yes as Ellen says when all else fails Dance!!!
I'm dancing for you today!!!
Love ya!!
Your person Eve

Fall in VT

Hi, Alex -

I thought about you so much today. I got to go for an amazing hike on a perfect fall day in Vermont. The leaves are starting to change, and it was absolutely glorious. And you were so with me. I took in the reality that there simply is noone else like you in my life. Not just LIKE you, but I mean, nobody who fits me as you do as a friend, nobody who I am quite so myself with, quite so safe with, quite so silly with, quite so happy with. I miss you so much. I took these photos for you. Look closely at the foreground of the second. And the one with the cows is on the road where you, Julian, Chris and I walked when you visited us in Vermont years ago. This road is about half a mile from our new house and is now part of my regular running route. I wish you had been there to walk with me today. I am sending fight the f*&%er and I love you vibes, along with a net to help hold some of the anticipation about Friday. I agree that no matter what the news is THIS week, this cancer is in big trouble. - Lindsay

For readers not posters

Being the keeper of the donation website, I have the privilege of forwarding on the guest book entries to Alessandra. Sometimes people are finding Alessandra through this site, then following the blog quietly. I just wanted to let others know that the site is available to send Alessandra messages - I forward them to her via email periodically, and I am moved by the people she has touched - some she has not even met!! (Yes, Alessandra, your writing is powerful.) I wanted to open it up to others who may not post to the blog or have her email. http://supportforalessandra.homestead.com/

"Remember your angels a-plenty..."-(I couldn't find a musical note symbol...)

xoxo
Katherine

Birthday magic

Here is the littlest member of the family, Cecilia, with whom I shared my birthday yesterday. We did some roll-overs and had a few naps and walked in the park and looked at dogs and tried a bottle of Mommy's milk to no avail (this little lady knows the real thing and is not warming to plastic/rubber substitutes) but all in all we had a fabulous time! I'm thinking that at four and a half months, she and James might eventually take to one another, even though right now they are developmentally miles apart. Forget that an ocean divides them too. He is so divine that naturally I might wish for my granddaughter to have him for a friend. She has taken to music too (love that video!) and is soothed by "Frere Jacques" and "The Wheels on the Bus" ad nauseum. So as we strolled and sang, I was willing and wishing that my birthday would be your "clean-as-a whistle" scan day and you could sail out of your meeting with Plowman tomorrow less burdened and confident that the f***** is in full retreat if not totally banished from your body and your life. When we blew out the candles on our birthday cupcakes (Jim has a birthday the day before mine so we combine), you can imagine what my wish was. Nothing is more important this week than your results, Danda. You've done everything you could. Now let go and enjoy the intervening hours. I hope it was as beautiful a fall day there as it is here and tomorrow will be even better. Love to you and your wonderful family.

Wishing, willing, and appreciating good news.

Dear All,

The past few days for me have been all about wishing, willing and appreciating good news, in its many forms....

My dear Uncle Peter is still in hospital with heart problems and he has had his ups and downs. I think about him all the time, and only wish that I were there so that we could hold hands and talk and "be". Here we are, the two docs on the American side of the family, and both sick - what is wrong with that picture?!? He doesn't deserve to be in hospital, but I know that he is in the best of hands, and with family around him to cheer him through this. I thank you all for the good thoughts you have sent his way. I await the daily updates on how he is doing and I wish, with all my heart, to hear good news that he is comfortable and doing well. I spoke to him on Skype yesterday, and the man is one wonderful tough cookie.

On my front, I had my scans today, and no matter what spin I try to put on things, it was admittedly as emotional as always. I cried quietly through my CT scan, not in resignation but quite the contrary: I cried because I am tired of fear, because I am angry at the unfairness of all of this, because while I feel that my fighting spirit is as strong as ever, this marathon seems endless to me. I visualised Lance saying "Priorelli, you are doing this!!! Come on, don't you let up!!! Go, go, go!!!" as I pounded the pavement in strong, running strides, my eye on the finish line, convinced that I will come out of this a winner. I visualised my liver as sparkly clean, my lymph node withering, and my body a healthy pink glow. I again grew tearful during my bone scan but managed to hold it together a little better. I tried to relax but heck, I am human, and there is NOTHING relaxing about being scanned. I simply shut my eyes and went through my visualisations, mentally hugged my little James as close as I could, and thought of family and friends and the future... And it was over. Julian and I left the hospital, hand in hand, took deep breaths, and continued believing that we are one step closer to my healing. We await the results Friday afternoon at 5pm, and I am willing and ready to hear good news, with open arms. Because we deserve it, and I own this battle. And no matter what this week brings, the fact is that this f*!ker of a cancer does not have a hope in hell against me. Ten months into this fight, and I am still standing tall.

On a different note, I appreciated good news at its fullest over the weekend: Julian's older brother Charles proposed to his long time girlfriend Maria Rosaria (FINALLY!!!!) and they are officially engaged. I could not be more excited and thrilled. They are a wonderful couple, and I am so, so happy to have her as a future sister-in-law. She is one of the most thoughtful, sensitive and kind people I have ever met, so the idea of having her in my life for always simply makes me smile from ear to ear. Between her and I, it looks like the Italians are taking over the Murdoch family....!

As for James, he is always a ray of good news and sunshine in my life. I have attached a couple of photos of him that I took when we were at the park, and a video of him "dancing" to music in our living room just before bedtime, taken a couple of days ago. He just LOVES music, and is either busy conducting an orchestra, doing the twist, bopping to the beat, or swaying to the notes. It has to be said, the kid has rhythm and he certainly didn't get that from me... he is all his father in that regard! He proves the following point to me time and time again: how bad can things really be, as long as you can dance?

Here's to wishing for and getting good news. Hugs to all.

Third time's a charm - right? My 3rd attempt to post this.

Just wanted to say - there's something about this creature and its name - Soldier Crab - that makes me think of you. This guy is perched 3 feet up on top of a solo straight stick (easily more than 20 times its height), tenaciously holding on for his wellbeing. Tough, calm, and steadfast. Hold on tight today, as we will all hold you in our thoughts, while we wait for the good news.

Lots of love,

Katherine

Alessandra, I am thinking of you and sending you all my positive thoughts and love, that you can add to your unmeasurable strength and positive energy. I miss you already so much!!!

Also, a hello, and thank you to everyone on the blog. I am Elena, Alessandra's colleague at her clinical practice. I just moved from London to the US, having spent a great year working together with Alessandra at CEN. I always read all of your wonderful messages, and will continue to do so.

Elena

In My Heart

Dearest Alex,

I sitting here tonight thinking about you and your family. You because I think that tomorrow is the day for your scans and your family, specifically Uncle Peter, Aunt Lisa, Alexis, Chris and Ellen in hopes that things are better with Uncle Peter. I was going to say that you are all in my thoughts, however, it is deeper than that, you are in my heart. I hope that Uncle Peter and his family are finding health and peace with each other. And for you my dear, that your scans show everything that you hope for. I love you and will be with you in these next few days as you await the news from Dr. Plowman. Hugs and Kisses to all.

Mary

Recruiting My Troops.

Dear All,

I will write more later, but just wanted to ask you this morning to direct the many powerful positive vibes that you all send me every day, to someone else who really needs them right now. My dearest Uncle Peter is in hospital and not well. For those who don't know him, he is the father of Alexis (who founded this blog),Christopher and Ellen, and the husband of my Aunt Lisa, who is a frequent and wonderful writer on this blog. For those of you who do know him, I need not try to put into words what a wonderful man he is. Uncle Peter is such a special person in my life, and I would do anything to be able to be by his side right now. But as life has it, I can't be there, so instead I am sitting here sending him so much love from afar, the closest of hugs, and the warmest of vibes. You all, as my troops, have shown me how healing love is and how comforting connection can be, and you continue to carry me forward and protect me with such strength and sense of purpose. So, this morning, I ask you humbly to include my Uncle Peter, my cousins, and my Aunt Lisa in your thoughts of love, comfort and strength, for this is a wonderful man and a wonderful family, who I know will feel those vibes and appreciate them with all their heart.

Hugs to all.

Sending big hugs

Hello Alex,

It is hard to believe that James is so big and taking those steps. He has the most precious smile. I hope that his cold has subsided and that you are all feeling up to chasing the ducks or walking in the park. My favorite part of the day is a walk around the block every night before bed. Who ever knew it could take so long to travel such short distances and yet we find so many treasures and look at so many things.... It is lucky to see the world through two year old eyes, if only for a moment.

you are in my thoughts

Love
Lisa

Yes, health really is everything, isn't it. That line really heit hoem tonight for some reason. I keep starting to write more, and then I delete it and start over, and delete it...I think I'm too tired. But I wanted to at least say hello and let you know that, as always, I'm thinking about you. More soon. Love love love - Lindsay

simple pleasures

Danda,

I just love that picture of Marco and James, like two men going for a walk on a sunny afternoon. It is a nice moment captured on film.

Sounds like you have really playing the mom role lately to that little one. Poor James what could be worse than being sick and ear infection; I know firsthand how painful that can be. I am sure that all of your cuddles and love are keeping him calm and will make him better. You both are good for each other right now and that is so reassuring.

With the whole family there you must be having a nice time-love the idea of everyone playing hide and seek-yes, the simple pleasures are the best!

Head up, hope the buring on hands and feet have subsided. How is your case work going? Do you have more energy this time around. Thinking of you.

Attached is a picture I took on the ferry the other day. It is how I end lots of days on my ferry ride from San Fran to Sausalito. Beautiful skies in the city make way to thick fog on the Bay so much so that the ferry blows its horn to alert boats of our arrival. Then clear skies again when we arrive in Sausalito except for the fog that magically spills down the hillsides finding its way into every valley down to the water. It is really beautiful to see the heavens let down their hair like this! Again, the simple pleasures are the best.

Love,

Lex

Health and Hospitals.

Dear All,

A quick note as I am heading to the hospital in a hour for bloodwork and to see if my counts are high enough for my scheduled mid cycle chemo.

I had a quiet weekend, spending it with James and my family. Julian was down in Sevenoaks, helping his parents with their upcoming move while work is done on their home, and digging up more organic goodies to bring back to London. On Saturday, my parents, James and I headed to Kensington Gardens and James loved the fountains. He is such a curious little boy and proudly marched around exploring the sights and sounds. I love the picture above taken with my father. Sunday included another walk, but otherwise we stayed home, as the weather had turned and the gray skies and blustery winds marked the definite arrival of fall. We played hide-and-go-seek, James' favourite game, and he simply giggled and giggled and squealed in excitement as he crawled around searching for one Priorelli or another hidden behind the livingroom furniture. Oh the joy of simple pleasures.

By Sunday evening, however, the "fun" was over. Poor James has been fighting a very runny nose for several days (he made it through his first year never being sick, aside from his initial reflux!), and you could tell that it bothered him, but given the toughie that he is, he was as playful as always. But by Sunday evening, he was an inconsolable bundle of tears (very out of character), and kept rubbing his ears and screaming in pain. Next thing you know, Julian and I are at the hospital, having him checked out. James was a trooper, and melted my heart as he looked over and softly uttered "Daddy", looking firmly at Julian while his chest and breathing was being checked out. As if to say, "I'm being brave but please keep standing right by me". The poor little one's bravery, however, went out the window when his ears were checked, and yes, he had an ear infection, and was given antibiotics. While the ordeal in and of itself was fine (I know that this is our official baptism for the runny noses and colds and infections to come in James' lifetime!), it was hard for me to be at that particular hospital. It felt like only yesterday that I had spent nights with James there as a two week old infant inpatient as he battled his reflux and was on an apnea monitor to "sound the alarm" if he choked and stopped breathing. (I would lie there through the night, listening for the sounds of his breath, and praying that he would get through this...). Then, as we left the hospital last night to head home, I passed the Emergency Unit where I had been poorly assessed for severe chest pain (and told it was nothing much) in the days just prior to receiving my diagnosis. I headed home grateful that James was fine and had his simple treatment, and that I am getting well by the day, on my own treatment journey. Health is everything. I was up in the night with James feeling poorly, but as we cuddled in those late hours and hugged away the tears and stuffy noses, we both knew that we would be fine. And so we held each other close for a while, and finally both fell asleep ending the week on a note of recovery.

So, today is a brand new week, a brand new day. The skies are dark and gray outside, and the wind is still chilly. I am wearing wool, and have my hands wrapped around my cup of green tea. James was clearly feeling better when he woke up, and I am ready for another day of fighting the f*?!er with all I have. Our team is strong.

Hugs to all.

Ah, yes, *BELIEVE*

Danda,

It is a powerful thing to *believe*! It takes guts and determination because when you believe anything is possible! I hope you caught some of the tournament, but given your travels and your treatment perhaps it took a back seat. However, Chrissy was right on when she said this young girl captured the hearts of America with her resolve after each point to tell herself out loud with a fighting spirit, "C'MON"! She showed disappointment in her face at times, but never did she throw the racket like some of her opponents, she just dug a little deeper and won the next point.

I am in awe of the composure of this girl as the world looked on much in the same way I am in awe of your composure given your current situation. It is so unfair and painful and disappointing when you are so close to the end of another cycle and it feels as if you are back at the beginning. But you take all of that and put it aside and applaud the new beginnings of your son, James, who above all fears closes his eyes and takes the leap of faith that the next steps will be easier because he is taking baby steps...one step at a time!

BELIEVE-we do!

Hugs!
Alexis

Chiara, Alexis, and I had no front teeth when we last met...

Cousin Danda,

I'm new at blog posting so I hope you'll forgive me if the font is obnoxious or something else is awry. Alexis offered access and I wanted to share this picture of me (only about 25 years older than when we last saw each other) with my husband Andrew, his mother, my parents John and Bunny when we visited Lisa and Peter in Maine at From Away Farm a week ago. Wonderful to rekindle old connections. I'm so glad to be brought up to date on you and other family and to have this chance to reconnect.

I've finished my pediatric residency a couple years ago and now work in Manhattan doing some general pediatrics and a research fellowship in pediatric environmental health. Still figuring out what I want to do when I grow up but enjoying the process immensely.

After our jaunt to Maine, my parents have now returned back south. They live on a sailboat (though not one as big and beautiful as the Alessandra) on a 15 mile lake in South Carolina.

Cousin Katrina Quilliam was just here in New York City for Labor Day and we all went to watch some of the US Open tennis matches.

She and we all send our love and many warm wishes.

Perry

Many years ahead!

Dear Danda, I was traveling back from Italy on Monday and thinking of your own trip to the hospital and new round of chemo.  It hurts to know you´re hurting, and as one of your friends said..."no fair, no fair!"  But then, we always have to look forward don´t we?  Avanti, sempre in avanti!  And you´re wonderful at finding the right balance between living "carpe diem" and looking hopefully and trustingly towards the future.  

The other day we had lunch at the Alessie´s (in honor of Lorenza´s first pregnancy!) and Susana Briano told me a story that I knew I had to share with you (hope she doesn´t mind:)).  Some time ago, Susana bumped into a friend of a friend who had heard about your situation and she immediately asked how you were doing.  Then she went on to tell Susana the beautiful and uplifting case of a girl (ok woman, but I still see ourselves as girls!) who had had exactly what you had, with the only difference that she had just had her second or third child instead of the first.  At the time, she was your same age and had to go through all the arduous treatments you´re going through.  It´s now 13 to 17 years later (Susana couldn´t remember exactly) and she has seen her children grow up day by day!  They are now almost grown up and she´s still around!!!  Anyhow, just wanted to share this true story with you.  Hang in there, beautiful Danda!  You will be all the more beautiful (is that possible? :) ) after beating this crazy f*"¨!.....as you call it!

Bacioni, Sally 

PS. The photos are from my dream days in Mallorca onboard the catamaran, "Largyalo"!  May you see in them the beautiful future that awaits you, beautiful James, and all your wonderful family!

Thank you

Hello, my dear. I've been rather lost in my own little world, in a way that literally feels small. Checking back in with you via the blog has been very grounding. My feelings were really hurt this weekend when a gaggle of my friends went away on a weekend getaway that we had thought we would be a part of, and turned out we weren't due to lack of space. Hmmm. THAT doesn't feel so good. While some sting is inevitable, it was frustratingly difficult to let it go, to move on, to live and let live, to stay grounded and mature and not feel very adolescent and dejected. I started to pull out of it today, and then reading your latest entry finished the trick. What a perspective giver you are. Your latest struggles sound horrendous as ever, and your resolution and grace and ability to return again and again to love and hope is astonishing and inspiring. The nerve pain, the chemo burns, on top of the nauseau, the fatigue....And I can only imagine the intensity of anticipating the scans, the combination of emotions so powerful it must feel your body can barely contain them. I wish I could hold them for you; I do hold them with you, but I wish I could do it for you. Thank you, Alex. Thank you for your strength, for holding me (all of us) close as you fight this fight, for allowing me to learn from your power and your vulnerability, and to feel my love for you grow and grow. Thank you for reminding me again and again to stay grounded, to stay focused on hope and love and honesty, on family and friends...on life. Here's to chocolate shoes, to baby feet, and to you. - Lindsay

A fighting spirit like yours!

Danda, you may not have had time to watch the U.S Open but you may have heard that 17-yr-old Melanie Oudin has fired up the imagination of onlookers with her success story on the court. On her sneakers is the word BELIEVE. When I first saw her and them and the way she says "Come ON!" when she wins a point, I thought of you. I tried to find a good photo of the shoes but in lieu of that, here she is, as determined as you are, fighting for every victory, her face so beguiling, her smile so winning. Love the spirit the two of you show. If she wins her match tonight, it may be miraculous; if she doesn't, she has made her mark and she'll be back. A momentary loss is not going to stop her, anymore than a bad day is going to stop you. BELIEVE. I hate the fact that your feet are burning and cracking. DAMN. No fair, no fair. But here's a final thought to spur you on: it's MY birthday too on the 23rd and 23 is my lucky number. With 3 of us celebrating that day, surely the stars are well aligned for favorable feedback for you. Love you. Yea for James, your little walker, too.

Friends are like a warm, worn blanket.

Dear Alessandra,
I'll start with a big hug to you, even if it has to be a virtual one. Your last few posts have been so brave and uplifting, and while I know this is still a struggle and the chemo side effects are painful, you will come through stronger than ever. As you know, we are in the middle of the 'health for all' discussion in the US, and while I have faith in Obama's integrity re. fulfilling his campaign promises, the lack of vision of the public in general is infuriating. I say this having lived in countries with national health systems, and having been treated for big and small problems both in Europe and the US. I cannot believe how easily people here are manipulated and frightened by politicians and lobbiests defending a private, exclusive, extremely expensive and sometimes deficient health service. My outrage reached a peak this afternoon listening to a report on how this system fails for cancer patients, specifically younger ones in their 20s and 30s, who are often underinsured. I thought of you and the care you are getting, and of many other friends and family with chronic illnesses, and all this just reaffirmed my belief that access to health is a basic human right.
Having ranted on there - as you may note some things don't change - I gave and received lots of hugs this morning as we gathered for the first day of school. Even some of the pricklier little boys seemed 'cool' with an effusive embrace, and of course we've all forgotten the dodgy moments from last year's classes! I'll be going away for the weekend with the seniors on retreat, and we had a meeting for chaperones today after school. It really made me laugh (inside) when some teachers voiced concerns about night-time escapades and how to prevent them. Visions of all the Runnymede field trips sprang to mind, and how little sleep we all got those days, but how many good memories.
A couple of university-era friends came for a visit this summer, and it was such a luxury to just BE with people I've known for over 30 years, people who know me so well, people with whom I can completely relax and who I fully trust. After a fairly stressful summer, it was cathartic to spend a couple of weeks with them in the Adirondacks and in Philly. Just like a familiar blanketing hug, the same one that I wrap you in from here every day. Much love!

Cuddles.

Dear All,

One of those days when I have needed cuddles. My feet and hands are on fire, absolute fire. I don't know why I have had such a strong reaction to chemo this cycle, for the symptoms have not been this bad since the first cycle of this new regime. My skin is so inflamed and sensitive and peeling, and I am reduced to hobbling around and to trying not to close my fists too tightly. Every crease is cracked, and it looks like my soles and palms are made out of a strange leather. I am told that the IV chemo I am on does a number on your nerve endings... my nerves are certainly alive! The soreness woke me up in the middle of the night, and I struggled to fall back to sleep. You think you'd get used to a certain type of pain, but then wham! it creeps up on you, and there is little you can do. You simply have to wait it out. This too shall pass, I tell myself, but I still needed Julian and James' cuddles all the more, as my morale took a bruising.

I met with Plowman yesterday, and my scans are scheduled for the 23rd (good karma, I hope, as it is my dearest friend Eve's and cousin Giovanna's birthdays), and I will meet to discuss the results the afternoon of the 25th. As I heard the nurses call down to Radiology and Nuclear Medicine to book my CT and Bone scans, I got emotional. Just the thought of those tests filled me with such mixed feelings. Hope, because deep down I believe that I will hear more good news. Fear, because I am still fighting and this battle is still not won. Anger, because I want the cancer to get the hell out of my life. Anxiety, because the unknown is so hard to prepare for. Sadness, because this marathon can be so physically and emotionally draining... My mother was with me at the hospital while I was having chemo and the scans were being planned, and her presence and hand holding was the kind of cuddle that only a mother can give.

James took his first steps today! He now takes four steps on his own and then promptly shuts his eyes, bracing himself for a fall. So cute! It is a matter of days before I will see my son sprinting down the street! But in the meantime, I catch his fall, and hold him close, and keep him safe. And cuddle.

Hugs to all.

Labor Day

Danda,

Cycle 6 is probably taking place as we speak. Today in the US is Labor Day-the unofficial end to summer. The last day off until Thanksgiving. It is a bittersweet day as I am sure today is for you as well. The beginning of a new cycle, but the end of cycles before your next scan. It has been a volatile summer, but a great one because for as many set backs there have been you have overcome them to receive a glowing scan midway through and from an outsider's perspective you have grown as an individual. Look back and see how far you have progressed-you will be amazed.

It is Dad's birthday today so you can look at him as a man who too has overcome obstacles, but is another year wiser because of it.

I am still battling my cold and have a deeper appreciation for how much one desires to be healthy when one is not. But yesterday I took the bull by the horns and got on my cruiser bike " Free Spirit" and rode with Jeff through town to a hotel under the Golden Gate Bridge where we had lunch with friends. Just getting out and breathing fresh air helped brighten my day and I believe allowed me to heal a little more. As Ms. Lavish begged Ms. Bartlett in A Room With a View, " Breathe deep Charlotte. Deeper."

All my love; I am thinking of you in the coming days!

Tanti Baci!
Alexis

Thank goodness you are Alex

Dear Alex,

I am always amazed at your determination and optimism, but then as I think back and for as long as I’ve known you, I realize that I should not be surprised.  You have always been optimistic and determined.  And you have always had faith – you have always believed.  Okay, maybe you worry sometimes, but you are bullish about what you want and I can’t remember a time you haven’t gotten what you want (– within realistic measures.  We didn’t get people to dress semi-formal to our wine and cheese party, but whatever.)  All through our friendship, when I wanted to feel better, if I needed some cheering up, I knew that you would provide it.  I hope that I can repay you for those many years of support – but I am also happy you have you to cheer you up.  What if you were Woody Allen and you had to cheer yourself up?  Or Larry David?  Thank goodness you are Alex because Alex is the best.  She is compassionate, thoughtful, respectful, gentle, pretty much a genius, funny, sometimes her taste in music leaves a little to be desired, but you can’t have everything, she is beautiful (I have to say, not everyone can lose all of their hair and still be beautiful.  It’s kinda unfair.  And I have to agree with Chiara, that this short hair on you is sexy.)  She is also resilient and generous and deeply, profoundly strong – even when she is scared, she is strong because she goes on in the face of that fear.  And she is someone I want on my side always.  Hang in there, Alex.  You are beating this, time will tell. 

The picture above is of our friend’s baby.  You may find this hard to believe, but she urgently wanted to get her hands on Mitsu.  Mitsu on the other hand was pretending that nothing was happening.  I’m sure she was thinking, “If I pretend it’s not there, it will go away.”  Poor, long-suffering Mitsu.

I’m thinking of you and sending you good vibes, as always!

Love,

Jess

Hope.

Dear All,

A grey Sunday morning, and I am sitting here cosily sipping my cup of green tea while James is sound asleep in the peacefulness of his morning nap. A quiet day planned - some report writing, a walk in the park, giving James his first haircut, playing at home... "being". I head to the hospital this afternoon for bloodwork, in preparation for Cycle #6 of chemo tomorrow. I am feeling better stomach-wise, and my feet have passed yet another "burning stage", so they are now a burnt brown instead of firery red (very attractive...?!). My stitched foot has healed nicely at last, with about another 10% to go until I feel that that too, like so many other things, is behind me. Admittedly I am a bit anxious about tomorrow, only because Dr. Plowman and I will have the conversation of setting the date for the scans later this month... I remain very driven and optimistic, but I still have my moments when I fight off thoughts that don't belong in my life and which take my breath away... moments which then leave me as my inner voice shouts out loud, "You will do this!", comforting both the scared little girl inside and the resolute woman that I am.

On Friday night, my mother, sister and I went to the opening night of the theatre performance of the Shawshank Redemption. I have seen the movie version many times, and have always loved the story (not to mention the wonderful sound of Morgan Freeman's voice woven throughout). It is also Chiara's favourite movie of all time - she has seen it too many times to begin to count, has a copy of the book and of the screenplay, and is simply a big fan. My mother treated us both, and we all had a lovely evening. The play was beautifully put together and really well cast, and although we all knew the story by heart, it was great to see this "live" version, and see it all tied together from a different angle. A great "girls night out" - while we all dream of the future beyond the current stress of my predicament, we have adopted, as much as possible, a Carpe Diem attitude, and hence we embraced the silver lining that cancer has given me in having us three girls be together and be able to enjoy these pleasures.

For those of you who know the story, at the end of the play Red makes his way to join Andy in Mexico, revelling in the realisation that they are both free men and have a future to be excited about. He makes the following comment, "Remember that hope is a good thing... maybe the best of things... and no good thing ever dies". In the darkness of the audience, tears poured down my face as I heard those words, for their meaning resonated with me deeply. Those words are my own.

Hugs to all.

chocolat and more

I have just returned from three beautiful days
with old friends on the outskirts of Paris. Long walks past wheatfields and along a canal. Couldn't resist taking a photo of the scrumptious chocolates in the window of a well-known shop in Paris - take a look at the shoe! And I was mesmerised for an hour watching children play with rented sailboats in the Tuileries Gardens. Simple pleasures of life.

Voiceless with a voice

Dear Danda,

I have now started this same post about three times now. I have begun it every way to Tuesday-upbeat, introspective, even domineering. You see, I am ill. Yes, some would say what's new, you have always been a bit twisted. But I mean ill, like I am sick and have been so for six days. It came out of nowhere, grabbed hold and will not let go no matter what I try to do to shake it. I went to work Monday thinking I could shrug it off. I then stayed home for two days and tried going back to work yesterday. I had to leave early and return home. And today I am here, again, at home and trying to get lick this thing!

So in this time I have watched A LOT of tennis. The US Open is currently being played in NYC, where I was supposed to be this weekend with Jeff, but we have called it off in favor of getting me healthy again. What disappointment. I was so excited for an adventure to what always seems like a new city when I visit. And for the first time to be able to watch live tennis-I mean, come on, let me get well!

I babble on now because I have so much to say. In the days of being sick I have manged to lose my voice. ME without a voice...?! It's like James without spinach! I have tried to keep myself occupied watching tennis, but it is not as exciting as watching it with someone when you both can attest to having seen the same amazing shot played out before your very eyes. I did tune into Oprah the other day and by a stroke of luck watched an interview with Michael J. Fox. I seem to remember that you were reading his book?

He is an amazing individual and as his book title confesses, An Incurable Optimist! 18 years with Parkinson's and he is a living example of strength and poise with a healthy dose of self-deprecation. He said a couple of very poignant things about living with his disease in his interview which I will try to relay here, but it might just take reading the book or if you have correcting me as I try to relive them on this page.

1) Vanity-it is the first thing to go.
2) I am living my life differently than I would have had I not had this disease. I am a changed person; for the better. I do not take any moment for granted. There is nothing of greater importance than something my children wanted to tell or show me.
3) I did not chose this disease, but I have it and must accept it. I can hate it and say it sucks, but there is no denying it is there. What I can chose are a million things in the day. I have each day to make choices that are mine and meaningful. Not to mention he fights endlessly for a cure for his disease so it is not that he is giving in or giving up, he is getting on.

I wished that you had been here sitting next to me watching the show because I see so much of him in you. I am in awe of how you have picked yourself, dusted yourself off and are getting on with life. You have ventured to the shore because it was important to you and you wanted to experience it. You venture to Sevenoaks to breathe fresh air and watch your boys tend to the garden. You head the park simply to be there in its surroundings.

As I sit sick and moaning, voiceless, I think of you and hear your voice from the last time we spoke. Your voice is strong and carries for many to hear. Thank you for giving voice to your life on this blog. We all cherish it! I love you!

Lex

Life is wonderful!

Hi Danda!  By now you´ve probably met with my brother, if you´re not doing it as I write...I´m so happy he´s getting to see you and Chiara!

I´m still in Italy with the slow connection so I can´t upload the photos yet, but I´m sending you two U-tube links as I heard these songs by Jason Mraz a while back and thought of you.  I hope you like them!

Life is Wonderful - a simple song...sometimes the simplest things are also the most beautiful!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bgeVerGplEU 

I´m Yours - fun and upbeat song that has been played a lot this summer in Madrid.  A "good-mood" song! :) 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s87BoCRrbHI&feature=related 

Bacioni bella!

Sally

And Girls will be Girls!

Dear All,

Katie, Chiara's best girlfriend while at school in Madrid, sent Chiara and I the T-shirts you see in this photo. They advertise "Mellow Johnny's Bike Shop" - Lance Armstrong's store in Austin Texas, named after his famous "Maillot Jaune" during his Tour de France victories. Chiara and I loved them - girl power in victorious garb! We aim to make the brown look as "winning" as the yellow one!

Bugs, Back-to-Work, and Boys will be Boys!

Dear All,

Have just come back from the hospital, having had to go in unexpectedly due to feeling awful because of a potential "stomach bug". I will save you any further details, other than to say that I was poked for the thousandth time for bloodwork, and after tests and checks was thankfully sent home with some medication. I dreaded being told that I would have to stay in hospital, given that my counts are down, I am on the immune boosting shots, and so any potential infection is dangerous. And Cycle #6 is this coming Monday. I am feeling pretty weak and shaky and nauseous, but this too shall pass. In the grand scheme of things, things like this feel like a drop in the ocean - fighting cancer truly puts everything else into perspective!

I hope everyone is well as the new school year kicks off. I think that I will forever view the years in academic terms not calendar ones! This week I "announced" that I am returning to work on a part-time basis and have spent time reconnecting with colleagues. They have all been so wonderfully supportive in hearing news of my return, and have sent me the sweetest of messages. Comments included,

"Your courage is wonderful. I am so grateful that you are back in action"

" I am so happy to hear from you!!!! I am very glad you are still putting up a good fight!"

"What a joy to hear from you and hear that you are back in business!!!"

"What a blessing to have you back."

"What wonderful news to hear of your progress and your return to work. I am delighted....."

It makes going back to work all that more precious, don't you think? I feel so lucky to have found and developed relationships with so many great professionals. To think that two years ago, I knew no-one here and had to build my practice all from scratch. This journey of mine continues to show me so much love and to prove that if you want something badly enough and give it your all, it can be in your reach.

Shifting from the topic of work to the topic of play, I spent the weekend down in Sevenoaks with Julian's family. Great to see everyone, as always. James in particular had a blast, and loved every minute outdoors. As the pictures show (the group photo is with Julian's brother Charles), boys will be boys!

Hugs to all.

TOO CUTE!!

Hello my friend!
I just can't get over that James! He is too cute!!!!!!
When do I get to see him?
We miss you guys sooooooooo much!
All my love to you all for a great day!
Love Ya!!
Eve

Just in case you can't read the name of the rusted hulk pictured in the last post, it is ALEXIS!

BOAT NAMES

Here's a funny.......When ALESSANDRA was on her voyage to St. Thomas through the Bahamas, this derelict came into view. Be thankful your namesake is such a classy lady. The hunk above gave everyone a good laugh.

Harvest

Hi!

Let's start September with a pink note... There's a nice sun out there, it's not very hot, the mountains look awesome, the valley is greener than ever. In those vineyards located in a particularly sunny position the grape harvest has already started. I also saw some trucks full of apples, some people are already having fun apple-picking. In fact, apple trees in the orchards are incredibly full of fruits, they almost have more apples than leaves. It is a little early for all this fruit to be ripe, but we did have a particularly hot summer and a lot a lot of sun. Things have been moving faster. Did you feel it? I hope they moved faster in your world as well, and you are closer than you think to your well deserved harvest of happy, sunny, and carefree days.

Hugs!