"I'm home, healing, and there is hair in the drain!"

I should probably explain the last part of that comment first....my hair is growing back slowly but there is now enough for me to "shampoo" and there was hair in the drain after my shower this morning. A small thing, true, but a little plus none-the-less. This time around, it is coming in curly and absolutely snow white, not a hint of gray. I hope this next round of chemo doesn't take it again, as we're starting something new, but it's nice to have a little somethin' there, at least for now.

Came home from Good Sam hospital late yesterday afternoon and am glad to be home and healing here. Everyone at the hospital was wonderful and very kind, but there's nothing like being in your own space. I'm grateful for the excellent care I received, but honestly, you really can't expect too much rest during the night with all the different interruptions for vitals, blood draws, administering shots and/or medication, breakfast delivered before a rooster even crows....

Turns out the blood clot was a little more serious than originally thought. The difficulty breathing (and I must admit, that is a scary feeling) was because a portion of the clot had broken off and gone into my lungs - I have a clot in each one. This is called a pulmonary embolism and is very serious. If it had continued to move through the lungs, it could have gone to the brain (a stroke) or the heart (heart attack). Not such good things. I was immediately put on blood thinners again and the biopsy is off the table for an indefinite period of time.

A whole battery of cardiac exams were done on Friday because my cardiac enzymes were elevated and continuing to rise. I learned this means there could be strain/damage to the heart or a precursor to a heart attack. All sorts of fun tests were done (not) and praise God, the cardiologist said the tests showed no damage to to the heart. Enzymes returned to normal by Friday evening and Dr. Karamlou said the rise in levels was likely due to the difficulty breathing.

I am on oxygen and will likely be on it for awhile, until blood oxygen levels return to normal. Think of your heart trying to pump blood around a blockage - that's what's happening with the clots in the lung. At rest, my levels are fine, but when I'm moving around, the levels drop lower than all would like. I'm not too far off of the acceptable range, but until I'm back to normal (does that word really apply to me?), I have to carry around an oxygen tank. Must admit, I do not like this little "leash" one bit and am praying for a quick return to normal. Not only is it a pain to carry around (not literally, just having tank with a tube up my nose is annoying), it is a very tangible reminder for me of what's happening with my health and I'll be honest. I don't like it one bit. It's not that big a deal when you consider the bigger picture, but I'll be glad when I can detach. There was a sad moment for me this morning, with this tank. I was sorting laundry, absorbed in my own thoughts, and looked up to see my three Portland Marathon medals hanging on the necklace rack. It struck me that 10 years ago, this month, I walked my first marathon. I looked at those medals, remembering how hard my friend Annie and I had trained for the event, walking up and down steep hills for hours at a time and realized, again, how much my life has changed in this past year. I cried for awhile, with a sense of loss, and after a bit, was reminded of two things. One, I am still walking and getting around just fine. Yes, slower than before and it's likely a marathon isn't in any near future, but I am still walking and fighting this cancer with everything I have. And two, when you cry a lot wearing a nasal cannula for oxygen, it gets clogged up with snot and then you can't breathe well again, so don't cry while wearing the darn thing.

Next step now is to begin chemo again and I'll start that this Wednesday. This particular chemo cocktail is delivered through an automatic pump device, similar in ways to an insulin pump. I'll "wear" the pump for 48 hours and then be off of it for two weeks before another 48 hour session. It will attach to a PICC line (intravenous catheter) that was put in my upper arm on Friday afternoon. This is similar to the port I had months ago in that there is a small tube in the vein of my arm that goes to the superior vena cava (major blood vessel by heart). The difference between the port and the PICC line is the port was under the skin and the PICC line has "attachment ends" that stick out of my arm. A little weird at first, but manageable. The blessing is now all blood draws and IVs and all that sort of stuff can go directly through the PICC line and I don't feel it. That in itself is a huge gift as we've had trouble recently easily finding veins and my poor arms are black and blue from elbow to wrist.

I've missed a lot of work these last days and am looking forward to getting back to my kiddos. I can go back on Weds. afternoon, after we hook up the pump, and am excited about that. The kids made get well posters for me while I was in the hospital and I just loved reading their comments and get well wishes. Linda (my sub) had them write an interesting fact they found in their Atlas with the comments and some were just hilarious. I guess they don't quite get ratios yet - one wrote "Did you know that in China 719 people fit in one car?" Isn't quite grasping that it's one car for every 719 people, but we'll work on that. They are my blessings, my medicine and such a joy.

As for my Giants, well, they gave it a good run. Now I'll have to root for whoever can beat those pesky Dodgers!

Thanks again for all your love and support and prayers, I cherish them and you,

Susan