a spring fling

Danda,

Thank you for sharing so much about your most recent bout with illness- I know it is so much easier to talk about the happy times instead of the hard ones. You are an inspiration of the power of positive thinking. Even when you think you are weak you show us all your strength. I love you with all my hear which is why I send you a taste of the outdoors from half around the world. I hope you can take in these pictures of my hike today and feel the cool air on your face, the warm sun on your back, and the clean, fresh air entering your lungs. I firmly believe the outdoors for just a short time everyday will give more strength and health than any pills. The earth is unbelievably healing-look at nature! It sleeps through the winter and by spring it comes up fresh and new every year.

I hope this spring makes you fresh and new-maybe some island sun, ocean breeze and lapping waves are your nature.

I love the most recent pic of you all--good looking crew!

Hugs,
Lex

Here comes the Spring

Dear Alex,

I have hoped and prayed that the few weeks of silence meant you were off "living it up" as you say. Indeed, you were focusing on another gigantic hill (or mountain) on this long distance marathon. True to form, you could never just do a marathon, my dear friend Alex, you are on an Iron Woman course. Every hill makes it harder and harder for the cancer to put up a fight. I hope there are wonderful water breaks this week that allow you to feel free from the routine of treatment, to focus on the moment.

I have been trying to catch glimpses of the Olympics. It makes me think of you Alex. I think of you as I watch the skiiers fly through the air - years of hard work, focus, determination, and sacrifice to get there. I think of you when I see the faces of the gold medalists and imagine you up on that podium with your very own medal - that being - cancer survivor. I will be there at that ceremony in the audience - in awe and clapping as loud as I can.
I love you.

Lisa

THE TROOPS!!!!

You all look marvelous!!!

This is the troops of all troops!!!

We love you!!!!

Have a great week and remember we are here for you always!!!

Love ya and miss ya,

Eve

UGH

Alex -
Oh my. Quite a couple of weeks there, my friend. I feel so far away when I hear what you have been going through, and of course I am so happy to hear that things have turned back around. Your strength and determination are, as always, un-flippin-believable. And I'm so relieved to hear that you are feeling some "shifts" which allow you the space to take care of yourself first and foremost. Yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes. I hear the Olympics in the background as I write this, and there is not an athlete among them who tops your will, your focus, your patience, your faith, your strength, your grit, your courage. Eyes on the prize, Alex, eyes on the prize. And speaking of your prize, your Valentine is GORGEOUS. I love you - Lindsay

Let Spring come along!

Not much I can say except....EVVIVA DANDA!!! You are truly amazing and your closest troops too! And what a precious, joyful and innocently wise Valentine you have in little James. All that positive, loving energy multiplying around and within you will tire the cancer cells and, as Chiara says, will make them peacefully surrender until they realize there´s nothing for them to do in your body. The other day I saw a short documentary on a woman with cancer who had been given very little time to live by the doctors. One day she was walking amidst nature with her husband and they came across a sick tree. Its side was full of holes and it seemed dead. Then, to her amazement, she went to the other side of the tree and it was flourishing...it was beautiful and full of healthy branches and leaves! For her it was a sign that she could live with her cancer without giving into it, that she could really focus on nourishing all the positive things in her life (including her healthy parts) and continue living as did the tree. She has lived way beyond her "death sentence" nourishing her diet, her emotions, her mind and her soul and accepting those cancer cells that have remained stable within her. I guess there are many ways to beat cancer, and this one was quite suprising!

Un beso enooooorme! Love, Sally

Posting on the Blog

Dear All,

One last thing.... I have had several people email me asking how to post on the blog. All you have to do is to send an email to my cousin Alexis, who set up this blog, and she will email you back with a link that invites you to become a blogger. As easy as that. Her email address is alexisrobinusvi@yahoo.com.

Hugs to all.

My Valentine

Dear All,

Had to add another posting to share my Valentine. While Julian has held that place for close to two decades now, he received some stiff competition this year, and graciously stepped aside. James continues to be the most incredible source of joy in my life. He has gone from Pavarotti to Picasso.... we now have songs AND art exhibits in our home, as he has taken to drawing with crayons with a passion, as he sings away. He is more and more playful, cheeky, inquisitive, and mischievous by the minute. He showers me in nuzzles, gives everyone affectionate "squeezes" as he wraps his arms around them when they walk through the door or get ready to leave, and loves to cuddle in your arms. When I was feeling awful with chemo, he sensed it, and would walk over to me and simply rest his head on my lap, holding my hand. He was my Valentine. My wonderful Valentine.

Hugs to All.

Back on the Blog.

Dear All,

This has been the longest "pause" in my blog writing, and I have to say that I have missed "connecting" greatly. I wish I could say that my silence has been because I have been busy "living it up", but the truth is that that past couple of weeks have been unexpectedly challenging. That being said, I am much better now, and that's all that matters....!

Two weeks ago or so, I began to experience pains in my lower back (I mentioned it in my last blog posting). I thought I must have picked up James awkwardly, or sat badly, or maybe it was an issue of posture as I had chosen to wear heels, which I rarely do these days. I also had a sore throat, so I thought I may be fighting a cold. Anyway, the pain came and went, and then spread to different areas, which was puzzling. By Friday February 4th, I was in bed, with hot packs, and a combo of intense dull aches and then shooting pains. By Saturday, I had a low grade fever, and went to the hospital to be checked out. I was sent home, after bloodwork. By Sunday afternoon, however, I was a mess. Fever was back, and the pain was intensifying. Chiara went with me back to the hospital, and in the space of an hour, I went from needing codein to having to be given morphine. My whole back, from tailbone to rib cage was spasming - I can only describe the pain as similar to the contractions I had when giving birth to James.... except this time, I was not getting the wonderful result of a beautiful baby at the end of it! I was admitted to hospital, and spent the next four nights there. The pain and spasms came and went. The team questioned an infection, musculoskeletal inflammation, kidney stones.... I had them stumped. Of course, my mind panicked thinking that it was cancer related, but the team was consistent in feeling that this was not bone-generated pain, and an ultrasound came back "clear" as to no new cancer spots. Admittedly, having the ultrasound was emotionally brutal. I lay there on the examining table, as the doctor put gel on my stomach and began to "explore"..."That organ seems fine, so does that, I see the involvement of the liver which you know of...." I tried so hard to fight back the tears but failed: the last time I had had an ultrasound, Julian was sitting with me, and we were looking at the screen at the image of a baby boy inside of me. One of the happiest moments of my life. Now here I was, avoiding looking at the screen altogether, as the doctor searched for cancer, confirmed existing cancer spots... it was a frightening and truly demoralising experience. Your life really can change dramatically from one day to the next, can't it?

I was discharged home in the middle of last week, and 48 hours later, I started Cycle #21 of chemo. I expected it to be similar to the first round of this new regimen, but it wasn't. It knocked me down and surprised me... the dreaded "chemo coat" was back. And I panicked. It has been 9 months since I had felt that "chemo coat" feeling, and reliving it again was truly depressing and scary. The feeling of your body dying from the inside out, the feeling of someone pulling the plug on your inner energy,... that weight that seems to smother you. Awful nausea, drenching night sweats. I realised how I had pushed all that to the back of my mind, and yet how intensely all the emotions and fears could be so easily revived by this "poison". Chiara, Julian and Anthony rallied around me, and I had my dear friend Eve visiting for a few days, who helped greatly with getting me through it. Many melt downs, much anxiety, frequent negative thoughts.... and then, a couple of days ago, the coat finally lifted, and I began to feel my body come to life again. Relief. I can only describe it as relief, when you feel your "inner being" pick itself up from the floor and feel strong enough again to stand up straight.

I feel good today. I went out for a walk this morning, and felt energised and "well". The woman in the mirror who looks back at me seems fine - she has colour in her cheeks, hair on her head, and determination in her eyes. If you were to see me walking down the street, you simply wouldn't know that I was sick. And that is what I continue to tell myself. 21 rounds of chemo and I am back up on my feet again. I focus on the number of chemo treatments I have had not for self-pity but, quite the contrary, in a positive way. "You've had 21 chemos!" I tell myself, "21!! And look at you. Dismiss the preconceptions of what you should look like at this point after all this treatment. Be a testament to how strong your body can be in this fight." Chiara tells me that this is a war of attrition.... there will come a day when the cancer will simply say, "Okay, I've had it. You win. You've proved a point. I'm done dragging this out...." What a day that will be. In the meantime, I keep on running this marathon, step by step, day by day.

While I was having my chemo, there was a woman sitting in the chair next to me, getting her own treatment. We struck up a conversation, and she told me that she had been diagnosed in October, that this was her sixth and final chemo session, and that her breast cancer had responded beautifully to treatment, to the point that it was hardly detectable, although they were going to proceed nonetheless with surgery. She was in her 60's, and spoke about how depressing and anxiety provoking she had found this process. She then asked me about me, and I shared my story. Her eyes grew wide... "How do you cope?" she asked me, "You look so cheerful". Coping.... it's such a personal word, isn't it? I cope because I refuse the alternative as an option. I cope because I have wonderful troops and an amazing family and a fabulous support system. I cope because I believe that I deserve, and will cross, that finish line. Coping can mean feeling strong and positive one day, and it can mean hanging on for dear life on another day. For me, coping is staying in the marathon. As I watched the Winter Olympics last night, many athletes "wiped out", with "DNF" (Did Not Finish) on the scoreboard. That will not be me.

Other news... I am making more "changes" in my life that will enable me to focus more directly on my health. I am putting my clinical work once again on more of a "hold". While the phone keeps ringing off the hook with referrals, and while I love what I do, I realise that I need to step away from it so that I can worry less about my schedule, my clients, the impact of unexpected changes in my health on appointments.... Yes, I will book the occasional family, but for the moment, my health, my family, my well-being will be all that matters. Work will be the afterthought. And while it has been hard for me to shift to this, having got back in the work saddle in the autumn, I have learned that I must be flexible to change, to the ebb and flow that life circumstances throw at me, and that nothing needs to be set in stone. So, this is the part of my marathon when I try to stop worrying about the crowd around me, and try to better focus on my breath, my pace, my body. Allowing myself more "me" time, and accepting the ever changing portrait of who "me" is.

I am so looking forward to spring. Bring on the pom pom blossoms, the daffodils, the crocuses, the freshness in the air that marks awakenings and new beginnings. It is one of my favourite times of year. Spring is full of possibility.

And if all the warmth that I have received of late in emails and messages could be converted into solar energy, we'd be skipping Spring altogether and we'd be in the throws of a heat wave of Summer. Thank you for your unfaltering love and support.

Hugs to all.

Pom Pom Tree-Spring is in the air!

pom poms

Dear Danda,

It is late and I cannot sleep so I turn to talk to you which has been a long time coming. I meant to write about my experience this morning, but instead went to yoga to "make my self shiny." It makes me laugh, but the laughter is worth the release. "Shiny" is the full expression of one's self--heart and chest wind open, hand open, toes and fingers spread. Your body drinking in well being from the air and people around you. Being shiny is what I try to do every weekend because we all need a little shininess!

I wanted to write and tell you that spring is sprining! It is still cold and very much winter, but the trees are beginning to bud and are taking notice that longer days are not far away. I know Spring is near when the California poppies in all there orange come out to meet the day and their dandelion counterpart is not far behind. But that is not all, we also have what I have come to endearingly call the pom pom tree. It is a big tree that branches out in front of our window and at this time of year produces the brightest yellow mini pom poms. Against winter's gray skies I have to say nothing makes me more happy then the sight of this tree in the morning. What makes you happy Danda?!

I love you.
LEx

A big hug

Hi Panda,

Long time no see... Sorry for being away for so long, but work has been intense and I plunged into it with enthusiasm. I thought of you every day though, as it is my routine now, and sent you my good vibes daily.

I know how much you love your work and I've been thinking about it often since I moved here. Your work is your calling and you do it with dedication and passion. I admire that. For a long time (since I moved here actually) my work has been more stressful than pleasant. Sometimes I thought that I had lost interest in what I'm doing. But now things are moving forward in a good way and I like my job again. I still have a lot to learn from you, but I'm moving in the right direction! So now that I got some fire back I'm trying to catch up on many things that have been slowing down. It feels good... and it keep me busy!

In addition, we had Oori's sister's visit last week. She found a cheap last minute flight and, voila`, she improvised a visit. It was a nice surprise and we had such a good time, although we ended up not doing much (mostly working! and eating local food).

It was very nice reading the description of your day, even if it was a shitty one. Do you know the series of Fantozzi movies? It's (very) low level Italian humor, but it's a classic. Fantozzi is a man who can never do the right thing and everything goes the worst possible way for him. Your day felt like a sketch from one of those movies, like Murphy's laws in full blast. But I liked reading about it nonetheless, because it was so real and detailed that I could picture every moment of your day and I felt a bit closer to you. I could even feel James's nuzzle!

How have things been going since? I hope you had better days and more and more nuzzles. You should have had another chemo. How are the side effects? I want you to read that you had some wonderful day, a day that was happy from start to finish. I so strongly wish you to get back to normalcy soon! NOW!

A big big hug.

I'll have what she's having

I'll take one James nuzzle, please!!
- Lindsay

Happy Happy Joy Joy!

Found this picture and wanted to share it with my blog friends. Hopefully it brings a smile to your day as it did mine. So cute!!!!

Although I am sure you have heard this many times, it is still full of good thoughts and wishes. And of course, the Irish connection is a strong one:

May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

May God be with you and bless you:
May you see your children's children.
May you be poor in misfortune,
Rich in blessings.
May you know nothing but happiness
From this day forward.

May the road rise up to meet you
May the wind be always at your back
May the warm rays of sun fall upon your home
And may the hand of a friend always be near.

May green be the grass you walk on,
May blue be the skies above you,
May pure be the joys that surround you,
May true be the hearts that love you.

I feel you already have many of these wishes, the hands, the true hearts, the blessings. We will overcome the misfortunes along the way, and something much more valuable than a crock of gold awaits at the end of the rainbow. Slainte, my dear Alessandra, with much love xxx

After a Shitty Day, All You Need is a Nuzzle.

Dear All,

It is wet, and grey, and cold and miserable outside. No surprise for early February, but I could sure use some sun and hints of spring. As my dear friend Jess said in a recent email, winter will soon shed its skin, and I will feel the warmth on mine.

Yesterday was one of those days which I can only describe as shitty. I woke up after a terrible night's sleep, and got ready for my day at the office feeling pretty awful. The physical fatigue of this new chemo regimen is the worst of the side effects... it's not sleepiness, it's a state of "drained energy", which makes you feel "old" and makes everything seem like a big effort. Plus, I have been fighting a bad cold and the achiness and headaches that comes with that. A winter cold and chemo residues - not a combo that puts you in the best of moods. Plus, by the time I left the house, I had dropped things, spilled things, tripped over things. You guessed it - one of those days..

Anyway, I managed to get to work, and as I got ready for my first appointment, realised that the top that I was wearing was covered in awful yellow stains... some remnants of one of James' dinners as he chose to "play" with his food. Anything but professional. So, I had to make a rushed call home to my mother, asking her to please bring me a different sweater as there was no way that I could meet families looking like this.

I then proceeded to use the bathroom, which is just outside my office door on our floor, admiring the remodelling work that had been done over the weekend... Strange though, that they had managed to change the sink around from one side of the cubicle to the other... and I thought that the toilet had been on the opposite wall... hadn't it just been a weekend job?.... I then realised, as I exited, that yes, I was in the men's bathroom. No wonder it looked so different! And I have been in the building for three years.... I tried to ignore the puzzled looks of a couple of men on my floor who had been patiently waiting to enter...

I did a three-hour testing session, by the end of which I had excruciating lower back pain. Bad posture? Tension? Whatever it was, aspirin did nothing, and by the time I had my lunch I was wondering if I would make it through all of my appointments. My headache was pounding, my nose was bleeding everytime I blew it (low platelets), and I simply felt miserable.

But I managed to get through the parent feedback, and we finished late, after an intense meeting. I had to show the client out of the side entrance, as the building's front doors in reception had already been locked for the evening. As I tried to get the client re-oriented out of this different exit, I heard the door click shut behind me. "No worries," I thought to myself, "I have the code". Which I proceeded to confidently punch in, having said goodbye to the client. The door buzzed but did not open. Hmmm, that's a bit odd. I tried again, same result. And only then did it dawn on me that the locks had been changed a month ago, and now you always required your key to open the door when you enter the code. So there I was, out in the rain and cold, feeling lousy, no coat, no keys, no cell phone... locked out of the building. Crap. This was not a good scenario... after unsuccesfully trying the intercoms by the front door of several businesses that also have offices in the building, I see a woman come out the side door. "WAIT!!" I shout, "PLEASE WAIT!" ... and after a stuttering explanation that yes, I did belong in the building and no, I was not crazy, she let me enter. Thank goodness.

Packed up my things, and made my way home, feeling tired, unwell, worried (you become a total hypochondriac when you have cancer), and basically in a low mood.

But then I opened my front door and stepped into my home....

And I was greeted by the biggest of smiles from James who squealed as he saw me and proudly showed me his latest Lego construction. He handed me crayons to draw, and pointed to some of his toys, as if to say, "Mama, the possibilities for entertainment are ENDLESS!". So we played, and we cuddled as he drank his milk before bed. And then, nappy changed and in his sleepsuit, I lay him down in his cot. We have a ritual as he settles to sleep where I kneel by his cot and stroke his head and rub his back and give him soft kisses as I tell him how proud I am of him, how many things we are going to do together, how much I love him, and that I will always, always be there for him. James smiled and cupped my face in his hand. And then, as if he sensed that I had had a shitty day, he suddenly stood up, and out of the blue wrapped his arms around my neck... and gave me a nuzzle. There is nothing better than a nuzzle: we're nose to nose and then cheek to cheek, and we stay there for a while in the closest of hugs. And then he cosies his head on my shoulder, and nestles his face against my neck. James held me there for several minutes, his arms wrapped tightly around me, as if to say, "I am not going to let you go until you feel better". In those moments, nothing else matters. Nothing feels more wonderful. And then, with a quiet sigh and a smile, James let go, lay down again with tag blanket in one hand and his treasured fluffy sheep in the other, and drifted soundly to sleep.

In a matter of minutes, I did the same, comforted, soothed and protected by the love of a nuzzle.

Hugs to all.

connection

Alex -
I want to have peaceful, inspiring and inspired words to share. Instead I'm kind of all a jumble. That's been true for awhile, which is why I haven't been writing as much. I decided that was silly. I don't need to write to be inspiring -- I need to write to be connected. So, know that I am out here, far away by land but holding your hand in spirit, and wishing I could be there right now. I love you and I want this f*&%er to go away and leave you alone. I want a long talk over tea, wrapped in blankets; or arm in arm walking through the city (remember the walks we used to take at lunch at Tufts?). I want to cry together and laugh together and find lightness together. Chiara is, indeed, full of light. I love hearing you describe her amazingness. Chiara, you are a true goddess.
Lots of love - Lindsay

Sisters Are Kick-Ass!

Enough said.

Much love to you today, Danda. xxx Katie

short post

Dear Alex,

Thanks for writing. I have been thinking about you a lot, and wondering how you are. I'm so glad that you have all the support that you do, especially Chiara. She's always had a lot of wisdom, and I'm so glad that she's right there with you.

It makes a lot of sense that you have doubts and fears because you're dealing with such unbelievably scary thoughts. But, I'm happy that you have armed yourself with responses before the thoughts barely sink in. I imagine it is a constant battle.

I don't want to idealize you because I know that you did not choose to be in this position, but, I hope that you know how much you influence all of your troops. It may sound silly, but with my impending childbirth and all the fears and unknowns, I so appreciate your inspiration and hope. Your strength is and continues to be incredible to witness. You have what it takes to beat this - and to beat anything.

Much love and strength to you.
-Julie