Feb. 21
Have you called Jenny?
Not me. I'm so sick of those ads about how to lose weight. Every magazine has a cover story on keeping the calories off and the slim figure on -- well, what about those of us who are fighting to put on some weight? And, not with desserts, either. Wish some smart cookie would do a story for people like me, who for medical reasons, are losing weight, and have trouble swallowing.
Yesterday, I met with the chef at the Inn in the lobby lounge. She told me they have Campbell's soups and the staff will make me soup and she suggested the broth from say chicken rice or chicken noodle.
What a difference that made in my day! I had chicken soup for dinner - -ah comfort food. Didn't we all have Campbell's soups when we were sick as kids?
Why haven't I just made myself soup in my apartment? Too darn tired is the answer. I come home from radiation about 12:30, have an Ensure and go to bed, and to sleep, until 4-ish, then freshen up a bit and go down to the dining room at 4:45 to have them make me a milkshake and see what else I can get down.
I'm back upstairs by 5:30 and ready for bed by 6:00.
I had very little voice yesterday. To talk took a lot of effort. We so take that ability for granted, and then when one goes to speak and nothing but a whisper comes out, it takes real work to project the voice ---- and it made my throat feel raw.
The doctor gave me an RX that helps --- a little. It is a liquid that numbs the throat for a few minutes so I can swallow or talk . But, it doesn't last long and when it wears off, it is time to smash a couple of Tylenol to ease the pain, get under the covers and hope that sleep comes quickly.
I was supposed to see the radiation oncologist yesterday for a weigh in and check up and talk about my treatment, but he had some ER , so we meet today. My first question is, " How much longer?" I think two weeks, but it could be three. Keep your imaging on him saying it is only two weeks more. Don't think my throat can take much more.
The second question I want to ask is , " Are the lymph nodes smaller?" When I first noticed the bump in my neck, it stood out and was ugly. I was wearing scarves and turtle necks to hide it. The doctor had told me, back in January, that even though the radiation would zap the cancer out of the three nodes, they may not recede. Okay.
This last weekend, putting Aloe Vera gel on my burned skin, all of a sudden I realized I couldn't see that bump. I felt around with my fingers until I located it. It is very small. Looks like a good sign.
This week I not only see the radiation oncologist but also my primary oncologist. I see her tomorrow and we will discuss chemo. There is a new one to try, plus a pill form. Will give you an update on both appointments.
Boston Legal and Me
"Boston Legal" is my favorite T.V. show, but it comes on at 10:00 and most Tuesdays I am sound asleep. Last night I woke up at 9:45, and not upset to be awake, other than the fact it was my sore throat that woke me up. It meant I could watch the show. Propped up the pillows, took a swig of the numb the throat stuff, and enjoyed the show. Then it was back to sleep -- a good night's worth.
Caught on camera:
The Ventura area has those mounted cameras that click away as you go through an intersection. It's to catch those who run red lights. I don't run red lights and have never had a ticket.
The other day in the mail I got a packet from the Department of Motor Vehicles and in the packet were a series of photos of my car and then a rather terrific close up of me turning the corner. The good news is the photo was flattering, the bad news is that I was in the intersection as the light turned red and was there just under a minute.
I can explain. A long row of cars was turning left. We waited for the cross traffic and by the time I was crossing the intersection, the light changed from green to red. Caught red handed.
The cost of that incident? $381.00. I could fly round trip to Seattle to visit my mom for less than that.
I called the court. To fight that ticket, and explain how I , and two other cars, were stopped by traffic and then caught in a red light for a few moments meant going to court. Well, I am in radiation therapy every day, I said, what else can I do? Go to traffic school. Okay, I would do that. Wrong. Although one can take the class on the Internet , the city of Ventura requires that you go for the day and take the exams. Can't do that with radiation. Bummer, I am stuck with that ticket.
There was an article in , I think, USA Today, saying how many states have adopted this camera system and the outcry over it. I wanted to cry, too.
I take the same route to radiation every day, down the main street here to the freeway, go down three exits, get off, drive four blocks to the hospital. I know exactly which intersections have cameras now and I approach them with care. They aren't going to get me again.
Yesterday, driving with extreme care , I was in the right turn lane, behind a big truck with a trailer. The light was green as we both began our turn. The truck's trailer hit the curb, went up on the sidewalk. If he continued driving he would crash in to a light pole and some building. We , all of us in the intersection, came to a halt while the driver tried to back his way out of this situation. I was the first car behind the truck, so after the driver behind me backed up, I backed up and moved around the truck and looked up to see the light -- RED now and the camera clicking away. They must have nabbed four or more of us, all stalled in that intersection because of the actions of the truck.
If I get another ticket, this time I will request a day off from treatment and I will go to court and fight like the dickens to not pay that money.
Have any of you gotten a ticket from one of those mounted cameras and how do you feel about it?
Back at the Alta Cocker Inn
A new resident. She looks sad and weary. There are bags under her eyes you could pack for a trip to Europe.
She sat at my table last night. She couldn't hear a word I said. One of the other table mates explained this wasn't my normal voice, and then he tried having a conversation with her. He welcomed her to the Inn, said we have all been through the moving experience and understand her fatigue.
She brightened up, big smiles, but her answers to questions showed she suffers from some confusion or memory loss. She repeated the same things over and over, saying where she used to live and how hard her daughter worked packing up her home, and how much money she must have spent to move her.
I wanted to hug her, then give her a make over... style her permed hair, put on some makeup.
I had to leave the table, my throat was so sore, time for me to go back up to bed. I said good-bye to my familiar table mates, then walked around the table, took the woman's hand and told her we were glad to have had her join us and I looked forward to seeing her again.
" You do?" she asked, as if no one is ever glad to see her. " Thank you," she said. " You make me feel happy and all I have felt this last week is sad."
If you want to read more about life at the Alta Cocker Inn, just scroll on down, eventually you'll hit it.
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