More good news

A couple of months after I was diagnosed in April 2012, our Sharon, Massachusetts friend Mark Weiner was also diagnosed with a tumor in his brain. Barry and I did not learn of this until we started going back to Sharon last fall. I think our friends simply did not want to burden us with any more bad news.

For Mark and his wife Hedy this also hit amazingly close to home, as Mark is a neurologist. He in fact diagnosed himself! He was experiencing symptoms and by the time he went to a doctor he already knew that he had a brain tumor. The etiology, and therefore the treatment, of his cancer was quite different than mine, involving initial surgery and radiation therapy followed by chemotherapy treatments every two weeks for a year. He has just finished his chemotherapy, and shared the following message he sent to his four grown children, which he has graciously permitted me to share with my readers.

I know all of you will join me in wishing Mark and Hedy, who recently celebrated the birth of their second grandchild, many healthy years ahead!

Today's MRI remains stable, thank God. Treatment completed. Told to go home, fatten up, get strong and get over the lethargy.

There are no words which can express our (mom & me) gratitude to Dr. Wen and his team, Debra the RN and coordinator of the clinical trial and only other Debra, not Debbie, I ever met; Lisa the nurse practitioner responsible for overseeing my care and Priscilla who was responsible for all the scheduling and med orders - maybe the most complex part of the treatment. No words, but there is always baseball. So I wrote a thank you note to the team that mom read aloud at the end of the visit: 

It's a marathon not a sprint

I believe in those who say baseball mimics life. Or is it life mimics baseball. There is no set clock. The pace is set by the players. Every pitch is a measured calculation. Should the pitcher throw the ball fast or slow, high or low? Each decision has consequences involving every member of the team. If it's a fast and high pitch, the shortstop may move to the right a step. A slow and low pitch may move the second baseman a step to the left. Pay attention. The entire team works together. Be prepared. But then, out of the blue, despite all of the preparation, the unexpected suddenly happens. The ball is hit where no one expected it to go. If the fielder is well prepared and can react quickly enough, maybe he can catch up to the ball and make the play. Maybe. Maybe not.

And so it is with life. Get educated, train hard, eat right, exercise, don't smoke, etc, etc. Do all the right things. Live a long and healthy life. Make a living working hard. Raise children, watch grandchildren grow. Good preparation, good results. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe one day your employer announces the company is bankrupt, the real estate market crashes, or worse. Your health crashes. No problem; react quickly and correctly. Recover. Maybe. Maybe not. No matter how prepared, the outfielder may just not be able to catch up to the ball. The patient may simply not have any viable treatments available. Game over.

Early in May the Red Sox were swept in a 3 game series by the Texas Rangers. Immediately the great pundits of baseball (otherwise known as the get a lifers) were on the phone to Sports radio talk shows that the season is doomed. Don't worry, comforted the talk show host, the season "is a marathon, not a sprint." And so it is, a grueling 162 games over 6 months. Some series won, some lost. Hopefully more won than lost.

And so it is with my chemotherapy. One full year of monthly cycles. Some tolerated ok , allowing progress in rehab. Some tolerated poorly resulting in setbacks - .weakness, lethargy, fatigue. Get up and start the rehab all over again. In the end I was lucky to have moved forward more often than suffer setbacks. So far.

I, no, we  just finished a "season" of treatment, hopefully victorious. But "to everything there is a season"  (who sang that first, King Solomon in Ecclesiastes or The Byrds?). If King Solomon were alive today, he would instead have called out the great sports rally cry. "What did you do for me lately"?  Zach already called me as I enter the last chemo cycle. 20 miles on the bike? Not enough anymore. New year. New season. Kick it up to 30 miles. Zach is right. Whatever happened last year, especially the setbacks, now of course had to have an impact on our decisions heading into the upcoming year. Who knew back then if there would be a next year. But here we are lucky enough to have the blessing to start pondering  our upcoming changes, plans, decisions. What did you do lately? Time to kick it up.

Love,

Rebecca