July 29, 2015, I endured the first of six rounds of chemo. Today, I'm around to endure a hot day in Portland. Hallelujah for my health!

I've been reflecting on this anniversary off and on throughout July, 2016. How would it feel to reach the one year mark? To tell you the truth, I still remember well how willingly I walked into the Oncology Center at Kaiser Interstate and turned my body, my well being, my future over to that fine bunch of professionals. I praise the Lord for them and their every effort. I praise the Lord for each of you who prayed for me throughout my battle with cancer and the side effects of the chemicals and processes that got it outta me. Thank you!



While I reflected on the past 365 days, in the back of my mind I wondered what photo or photos to put here today. Then, it came to me. This one with the magnificent reflections in the step van's windshield. I remember how excited I was to see it last week on my morning walk between buses on the way to work. "Wow! Look at that!" I thought as I stopped on the sidewalk diagonally across from where it was parked and got my camera out of the bag I carry it in while out and about. I knew immediately which downtown building lent itself to creating these spectacular reflections, too.



I looked up and took this photo before crossing the street.


This is the side that's reflected in the windshield, the west-facing side of a building that fronts onto SW 5th, a block away from where I stood to take this photo. It's The Standard Insurance Center, 900 SW 5th Avenue.

Found on the Internet, I assume it is all up-to-date:

The Standard Insurance Center, originally the Georgia-Pacific Building, is a 27-story office building in Portland, Oregon. Completed in 1970, it currently serves as part of the headquarters of The Standard, the brand name under which Standard Insurance Company and other subsidiaries of StanCorp Financial Group, Inc., do business. Standard also owns the 16-story Standard Plaza, located two blocks south along 5th Avenue.

The Georgia-Pacific Building was commissioned by Georgia-Pacific and designed by the firm of Skidmore, Owings & Merrill (SOM). At the time of construction, it was the tallest reinforced concrete building in the world. It was completed in 1970.

When Georgia-Pacific left Portland, the Standard Insurance Company purchased the building, renamed it Standard Insurance Center, and removed all GP signage.

Standing 367 feet (112 m) tall, the tower contains 27 above-ground stories. Valued at $114 million, the structure contains 459,504 square feet (42,689.3 m2) of space. Built of concrete and steel, the tower is considered Modernist in style. One major tenant is the Stoel Rives law firm, which leases the top nine stories at the building. The building’s extensive woodwork provides an elegant reminding of the Georgia-Pacific past along with The Quest, an elaborate sculpture considered Portland’s largest single piece of white sculpted marble.

The Standard believes healthy environments are fundamental to healthy communities by finding creative solutions to operate sustainably. The Standard employs a broad range of practices to contribute to the mantra ‘reduce, reuse and recycle’ in its internal operations, in the operation and maintenance of its office buildings, and in the community. The Standard’s corporate sustainability objectives include recycling in the office, energy efficiency in the workplace and using green products and services.



Here's a photo that I took of The Quest in November, 2011. When I walk by it these days, I do not see any of those brown marks that look like cracks in the sculpture.

And here's what I found on Wikipedia about the sculpture:

The Quest, sometimes referred to as Saturday Night at the Y or Three Groins in a Fountain,[1][2] is an outdoor marble sculpture and fountain designed by Count Alexander von Svoboda, located in Portland, Oregon in the United States. The sculpture, carved in Italy from a single 200-ton block of white Pentelic marble quarried in Greece, was commissioned by Georgia-Pacific in 1967 and installed in front of the Standard Insurance Center in 1970. It depicts five nude figures, including three females, one male and one child. According to the artist, the subjects represent man's eternal search for brotherhood and enlightenment.

As of 1990, The Quest was considered Portland's largest single piece of white sculptured marble. The abstract, figurative sculpture was surveyed by the Smithsonian Institution's "Save Outdoor Sculpture!" program in 1994 and underwent minor repairs. It has received mixed reviews. One critic appreciated how its flowing lines contrasted with the "stark" pillars of the adjacent building, and called the marble "impressive". Another writer for The Oregonian wrote of her and others' dislike for the sculpture, saying it serves as a "free sex-education lesson" for schoolchildren.

The Quest was designed by Count Alexander von Svoboda, an Austria-born, Toronto-based sculptor. It was commissioned by Georgia-Pacific in 1967 and installed in front of the Standard Insurance Center (formerly known as the Georgia-Pacific Building) at Southwest 5th Avenue and Southwest Taylor Street in downtown Portland in 1970. The stone sculpture was one of nearly 400 in Georgia-Pacific's private collection, unveiled in Portland with the opening of its world headquarters. Rose Festival princesses presented the work at a formal ceremony. The sculpture was carved in Carrara, Italy, from a single 200-ton block of white Pentelic marble, quarried near Athens. It depicts five "larger than life" nude figures, including three females, one male and one child. The statue is set on a pedestal within a fountain, surrounded by water jets. The figures' forms curve upward, and two of the females have their hands raised, while the third "sleeps in the rear". The male figure appears to float and is reaching up with both hands, while the child figure is located behind the foremost female.

The Quest measures approximately 20 feet (6.1 m) x 10 feet (3.0 m) x 15 feet (4.6 m) and is sited on a concrete or stone base that measures 22 feet (6.7 m) x 10 feet (3.0 m) x 5 feet (1.5 m) and weighs 17 tons. According to the artist, the sculpture is "symbolic of man's eternal search for brotherhood and enlightenment". Michelangelo inspired the work, but von Svoboda took a more "humanistic" approach, and 35 stonemasons assisted with the sculpture's creation, which took two-and-a-half years to complete. von Svoboda's Perpetuity, a hollowed-out cross-section of a redwood log with a bronze "seedling" radiating outward, served as a "companion" sculpture. Originally installed along the Southwest Fourth Avenue side of the building, the work was relocated to the World Forestry Center.

The Smithsonian Institution has categorized The Quest as both abstract and figurative. In 2002, journalist Sallie Tisdale of The Oregonian described the sculpture as a "large tangle of snow-white bodies in a fountain". She wrote that the work is privately owned but in public view, and that it has been around "long enough that no one is quite sure how it got there in the first place". As of 1990, The Quest was considered Portland's largest single piece of white sculptured marble. It was surveyed and considered "well maintained" by the Smithsonian's "Save Outdoor Sculpture!" program in January 1994. Maintenance on the sculpture has included caulking and repairs to the male figure's nose.

The Quest has received mixed reviews. During the unveiling ceremony, there was reportedly a "momentary stunned silence then crescendo of applause duly recorded by local news media". In 1970, one Building Stone News contributor wrote that the sculpture's flowing white lines contrast with the stark vertical pillars of white quartz on the adjacent building's exterior, and called the marble "impressive". In contrast, Tisdale said of the work:

The Quest has been around since 1970, long enough for its provenance and purpose to sink into mystery ... No one seems to like it much, and others actively dislike it. But there it stays, a free sex-education lesson for busloads of suburban schoolchildren, the uncertain limbs forever reaching somewhere or other, for something.

The sculpture has earned the nicknames Saturday Night at the Y and Three Groins in a Fountain. One writer for The Seattle Times, in a piece about differences between Portland and Seattle, referenced the latter nickname as an example of Portland's "kitschier" art. In 2003, Eugene Weekly published a book review that suggested readers should read Fugitives and Refugees: A Walk in Portland, Oregon, a recently published travelogue by Chuck Palahniuk, if they were unfamiliar with "Three Groins in the Fountain". Palahniuk includes the sculpture is his "Portland vocabulary lesson", which includes a list of his definitions for local words.[10] The sculpture has been included in at least one published walking tour of Portland.

For the best strawberry blonde I ever knew.

First, a few words from my heart, written on June 29, 2016, after reading her husband Richard's post, quoted below.

The best strawberry blonde I ever knew left us today. Over in Sheffield, England. Energetic, responsible, curious, lover of fun and people and life--a brilliant woman, long-legged and ready to step out at any given moment when she felt compelled to participate personally and intensely in life, about Isobel I could go on and on. But, the bottom line is this, Isobel is gone. We have our memories; we are blessed by these, and I'm going to share some of mine with you a bit farther into this post. What we must do now is hold her Richard and her Mary close like Isobel must have done many times over the years to ease whatever pain or heartache came into the lives of these two she held so dear. We'll stand in for Isobel while we share their loss. We'll do that for her because we love her, now and always. And we'll cry. But, like I wrote to Richard several days ago when he first told me about the sickening cancer taking her away from those who love her: Crying, it's OK for us to cry, I know that it is. To me it happens when the love we hold gets loose and wants to come out into the sunshine no matter what's going on out there because it just has to get outside; crying makes room for the rest of the love that grows inside with every moment that we know and love those we hold dear. I'm feeling philosophical having faced my own mortality so closely in this last 15 months. I profoundly wish that the doctors had been able to kill that cancer making Isobel face hers, but I am equally certain that Isobel understands much more about life than I do and about how to live what she has left--look how splendidly she's lived it all so far.

In no particular order, my memories and photos of Isobel Bowler whose husband Richard Taylor posted this on Facebook on June 29, 2016.

Isobel Bowler passed away this morning, comfortably and at home with her closest family.

Thank you to everyone who sent messages during her illness. She was so loved.

-------

Your eyes to me are like precious stones On a face that's made of solid gold When I hold your hand I want to cry And your loving arms to protect me from the cold

I will follow you to the end of time I will be the blood running through your veins I will ride with you to the end of the line You will be my everything, my world.

I met Isobel on my first student trip to Europe when I went as a parent whose younger son took Latin from the teacher who organized the trip. My family was already friends with Richard because we'd taken care of him when he visited Jackson, Mississippi, on a trip to record church choir music in the year between, as I remember it and I hope I'm right, university and law school. Forgive me, Richard if I'm wrong and know that if I were British, I believe I'd have more of a chance at remembering correctly.

Anyway, one of our nights in London Richard had arranged to meet us at our hotel--me, my son Leland and his high school buddy Chad--and then we'd go for dinner in Chinatown. As we walked from restaurant to restaurant, Richard paused to look inside the windows adorned with defeathered ducks, hanging by their necks, waiting to be cooked. Somewhere along the line, I asked him, "What are you doing, Richard?" He replied, "Looking for lots of Chinese people eating--that's where we will eat." He smiled his delightfully charming smile as his eyes sparkled. Somewhere along the line, he mentioned that a friend would be joining us. Seems that we had found the right restaurant and had been seated before his friend arrived; since this was well before cell phones, I can only imagine that he had given her a complete set of instructions as to how to find us. I like to think of Isobel going from restaurant to restaurant, looking for us among the Chinese diners!

I remember thinking this is a dynamic young woman with outstanding long legs, an engaging smile and great conversation, plus the ability to make you feel like you were the most important person in the room. Pun intended, Isobel flat out bowled me over, that's all there is to it. I've never told this to anyone, but I thought that night that I now have my own private Sigourney Weaver here, complete with beautiful reddish wavy hair. I remember thinking that she and Richard just might be more than friends--he glowed, reflecting the bright light that came with Isobel into the room. It didn't surprise me to find out some years later that they would marry. It didn't surprise me to learn that their family would become three with the birth of a child, their darling daughter Mary. It didn't surprise me how pleased I was to be able to visit them in their London home when Mary was not quite two months old on what turned out to be my last student trip to Europe, this time as the teacher in charge.

Extremely proud of myself for finding my way all alone on the Tube to their home, I walked up to their door certain that I was about to make some good memories. I held Mary in my arms, smiled at her sweet baby face, took deep breaths of that divine baby smell. Later I dined with Isobel and Richard and at least one friend who had been Isobel's boss at one time--seems like a couple more were there, my memory isn't what it used to be, this was back in 2001. The former boss had recently received an honor from Queen Elizabeth for work in his field which, I hope I remember correctly, had to do with national health. He gave me a ride back to my hotel in a London Black Cab. The entire evening I'd felt like I'd been cast in a movie being shot in London and, although I cannot remember details, I do remember how Isobel treated me, like a good friend welcomed with love and caring into the home she'd created with Richard for their family. She made me feel special.

By inviting me to their home, Isobel also gave me the chance to publish in the Jackson Free Press, the alternative newsweekly in Jackson, Mississippi, where I wrote, proofread, edited, photographed as a part timer who adored every single moment I spent on it, but none more so that when I was able to tell editor Donna Ladd in a brainstorming session for our "Six Degrees of Separation" that my miniature dachshund Duncan was that very distance from the Queen of England. I rattled it off before she had time to close her mouth which had dropped wide open at my statement: Duncan, me, Richard, Isobel, her former boss, the Queen of England. Thank you, Isobel!

Over the years, we've kept in touch through e-mails and Facebook. I've delighted in those moments of contact because I knew that we'd always be friends. In fact, when I got the chance to go to the UK in October, 2014, they are the first couple I e-mailed about the details of the tour because I desperately hoped to be able to see the two of them and Mary.

That hope was never in doubt once Richard and Isobel found out when I'd be there, where I'd be closest to them. She got me a ticket on the train from York to Sheffield so that I could leave the tour and rejoin it a day later, riding to London all by myself on a train with another ticket from them. She made certain that I had the train schedules so that I could make good time getting to Sheffield. Isobel found me at the train station giving a uniform patch from the Multnomah County Sheriff's Office where I work to a 6'6" transit policeman standing near the station entrance. Immediately I had the joy of experience Isobel as her usual self, energetic, vivacious, smiling and talking and making certain that all was well with me. We soon walked over to a nearby venue for Richard's book launch. Such serendipity to be there on that particular evening. There was a good-sized, attentive crowd at the event; we joined some of their friends for a nice meal afterwards. The next morning they drove us to visit Chatsworth House, a stately home in Derbyshire--I felt like I was cast in an episode of Downton Abbey of a more opulent sort as we walked through that magnificent place after lunch in the stables--reborn as a very nice restaurant. Before lunch Richard and I toured the massive gardens on a golf cart while Isobel walked their dog Freddie here and there, then putting him to bed in the car before joining us for a short walk once our tour was complete. After a blissfully wonderful time with my two friends, we headed back to Sheffield and my train. As my husband LeRoy used to say, we split the whistle getting to that train's platform and finding my reserved seat. Isobel never doubted we'd make it; she encouraged Richard to get me to the train on time, that she'd park the car, that she join us there as we reveled in our success. See the photos below for proof positive.



Isobel and her friends at Richard's book launch--Kim, I think; Vanessa; and Isobel. I hope I have the names correct for the friends. I do vividly remember how smart these three women were. Smart, articulate, powerful women. The entire time I sat there impressed to the hilt, honored to be in their presence.



See what I mean about the long legs, the wavy strawberry blonde hair. Isobel on the grounds of Chatsworth.



Isobel and Richard on the grounds. The fact that they're in the photo is another bit of serendipity. I was focusing on that huge urn and didn't even notice them until I uploaded the photo to Flickr.



Freddie and Isobel beside the Carriage House.

We did it! I got to my seat in time, thanks to my inspired, intrepid friends! I waved to the two of them when I realized that they'd come up to my window for our last loving smiles at each other. In my excitement, I couldn't get my camera to focus on their faces instead of what was around them--well, it sort of is in focus on a single photo--but I do so adore them as they are! We'd talked about my coming back some day, maybe doing a tour of their making in a rented car. Me, driving a car in the UK? What a wild thought that was. But that's what Isobel did! She led you to believe in all the wildness that the future could hold. The best kind of wildness there is--hope and excitement and self-belief in what you could accomplish. Here are all of these wonderful photos.









Here are a few more photos that I want to share.



Freddie and Isobel at home before we left for Chatsworth.



Richard and Isobel, at home before we left for Chatsworth. Mary left for school before I even thought about taking a photo, I was having such fun being there that I completely forgot! Trust me, she's a lovely young woman who does both parents proud.

As I've typed this post on Wednesday night here in Portland, Oregon, my heart has been full. Full of disbelief that cancer took this vibrant woman from her husband, her daughter, the family and friends who also love her. Full of anger that cancer takes so many who are as well-loved every single day, around the world. Full of prayer and hope for Richard and Mary to be able to find the strength to get through this experience that they are too young, truthfully too young, to be going through now. What has happened has gone against the natural order of things. Death should have been delayed many years from now.

UPDATE on my cancer. I'm pleased to have this news for you and apologize for its length.

I took this photo on Memorial Day as I walked the path to the Benson Bridge at Multnomah Falls, on a quest to celebrate my new-found-self by making a steadfast effort to overcome my fear of heights. I had to get in enough steps to burn off those pancakes that I had for breakfast and knew that walking circles in the crowd of people trying to see the falls from that viewpoint wouldn’t cut it. The only way to get those steps was to take the two-tenths-of-a-mile paved path through the woods, switchbacks and all.

The photo illustrates how I see my life today. There on the right is a bridge, a pathway, that has been somewhat blocked--that's what my life was like while undergoing two surgeries, six rounds of chemo, and 28 radiation treatments with the fear of not getting rid of the cancer hanging over my head. I had a visible path in my life, but it was blocked by the cancer. Those medical procedures I listed opened up the block by doing away with the cancer in my body. Now I see my life as that wide-open bridge, a pathway, that you see on the left. I'm on my way to my future, one step at a time, one correct bite of food at a time, one sip of life-giving water at a time, one round of laughter mixed with smiles at a time, one out-and-about enjoying life at a time, one realization how much God loves me at a time, one heart full of joy at a time because my sons are so close by, and one warm feeling when I think of so many folks who love and care about me.

Monday morning I had an appointment with my oncology surgeon. She was pleased about my CT scan from May 2 with no abnormalities; pleased with my exercise, weight loss, and eating right efforts; pleased with my attitude and outlook; pleased that I had used my new-found-self in overcoming my fear of heights. She said something along the lines of what we hope for each of our patients is that they come to a point where they realize they’ve looked their mortality in the eye and have gone on to regain joy in their lives. She told me she knows that I’ve done that, a sweet smile all over her face.

I myself am pleased that she said she'd see me in three months, no CT scan scheduled prior to that appointment. The only thing I have to watch for is any change in my health, such as increasing fatigue. She knows that my level of fatigue will continue to fluctuate for some time to come, but if I go downhill, I'm to contact her then, not wait for the three-months-off appointment.

I don’t believe I’ll have to call ahead. I told her that over the three-day Memorial Day weekend, I went for a late evening walk on the Sunday, came in and sat down in the recliner, not out of breath, not tired, and this thought popped into my head: I feel younger. Shocked, I let myself say it out loud: I feel younger. Then I told her that I’d not mentioned this to anyone else, that I’d saved it to share with her. She smiled again. When Lamont came back into the exam room, I shared it with him and we all three smiled. Now I’m sharing it with y’all and know in my heart that as you read this, you’re smiling, too.

I'm pleased to be able to report this to y'all and to say again, thank you for your continued prayers, love, and concern.

The best stamps I ever bought!

Celebrate, y'all! I got an unexpected phone call from Dr. Johnson last night--he's my oncology radiologist. Unexpected because although I'd had a follow-up CT scan on Monday, my appointment with him is not until next Thursday, May 12.

So, I answered the phone thinking, this is it. I'm gonna find out that I need to come back in for more tests. Why else would I get a call a week before the appointment?

Wrong! The news he gave me: No abnormalities revealed on the CT scan; I'm calling to let you know so that you'll have a great weekend; see you next Thursday!

Thank you for your continued prayers, love, and concern. Y'all are the best!

Speaking of the best, I had already asked Lamont and Leland to join me at the Blue Diamond for nachos on Cinco de Mayo, so I was able to give them this good news in person, complete with celebratory toasts, hugs, smiles, pats, you name it.

Oh, I have to tell you that I bought those stamps Monday on my way back to work from the CT scan. I intended to save them for when the Portland Trail Blazers win a game in the NBA playoffs, second round. I believe they fit this situation perfectly!

Update.

Last week I took this photo on the way home from a part-time day at work. I waited for the second of two pieces of mass transit that get me from the workplace to the apartment. I decided to take a closer look at the progress being made in these two buildings at the Burnside Bridgehead, the eastern end of the Burnside Bridge that crosses the Willamette River. Yes, progress has been made towards completion of both of these buildings because professionals have been at work, much like the progress that has been made in my cancer treatment.

I figured as I sat at my iMac for a few minutes blocking someone I don't want to have access to my Flickr photos that I ought to use this photo to share with you the latest in my health issues. I know that some of you have followed along on Facebook and/or Instagram, which have been much easier to update for me than has been my sweet old friend, the blog. I apologize for leaving some of you in the dark, but for weeks I was too weak to sit here in this chair; I stayed in the recliner, bundled up and setting my reminder to get up and walk frequently to build my strength, then going back to the recliner. I haven't figured out how to post on the blog from the recliner. Anyway, here's what's been happening.

On November 19, I finished the last of the six planned rounds of chemo. Believe you me, that stuff did a job on my fast-growing cells that I needed for my bone marrow to be able to create white blood cells, red blood cells, and platelets. It caused all of my hair, eyebrows and eyelashes to disappear. It took practically every bit of my stamina, no matter if I got a good night's sleep or a good nap. We knew that these things happened by monitoring blood counts and seeing my face and head. Hopefully it also killed every single cancer cell anywhere in my body. We don't know the outcome of that hope yet.

On November 28 a fever of almost 103 degrees sent me to the emergency room and then to be admitted to the cancer ward of the hospital. It turned out that I had a neutropenic fever which means I didn't have enough white blood cells to fight off an infection. I had E coli in my blood, the source of which we never discovered. I had a CT scan on November 29. That scan didn't identify a source for the E coli, but it showed a new mass near where the cancerous one had been removed surgically on June 25. All three of my cancer doctors (surgeon, oncologist, radiologist) feel like it is what is known as a lymphocele, something that shows up when lymph nodes have been removed. Three had been removed on June 25 but had nothing cancerous in them. I stayed in the hospital until December 4 and came home to slowly get better. By December 24, I was able to once again return to work part time, two or three days a week. I'm still at that point now and thankful to be able to do so. I like doing normal, every day stuff!

Next Thursday, January 14, I go to the radiologist for the planning CT that will set my radiation treatments. They begin sometime within two weeks after that appointment. They will go on for five weeks, whole abdomen, then one more week, right side of abdomen. Everyone tells me that radiation will not treat my body as horribly as the chemo did. I certainly hope that turns out to be true with me.

That same CT scan will be used to look at the new mass and find out if any changes have occurred in it. If they have, the entire game plan could change. I will do better in keeping up here so that you won't be left out of the loop.

Thank you for your continued prayers, love, and concern.

I won't be going here tonight--it's now known as Providence Park. UPDATE.

As a season ticket holder for the Portland Trail Blazers, I had the chance to go see the women's soccer team play tonight--the Portland Thorns. This is one thing I won't be doing because of the cancer and the chemotherapy. Plus I have the placement of the port in a few hours.

As I understand it, the port will be placed just beneath my skin somewhere near my collarbone. It will remain in there until I am done with all of the chemo--presently scheduled for Round 6 on November 11. This port will enable my caregivers to infuse chemotherapy at that site so that I don't have to be stuck here and stuck there. Yea!

Lamont, Leland, Rachel, and Brody are going to watch the Thorns play this evening. I am so happy that they will be there, yelling for me!

UPDATE: Still no nausea, hallelujah! Still some peripheral neuopathy, which continues to wax and wane. Not feeling at this moment that I am wobbly or out of balance. I am blessed.

My ride to the hospital for the port placement will be here soon. Later, y'all!

Breakfast at Wimbledon and an UPDATE

I woke up early and decided to get on up. While Breakfast at Wimbledon played on ESPN, I walked into the kitchen and cooked my own breakfast. First, I put five canned Grand Buttermilk biscuits in the oven. While they baked, I cut leftover steamed broccoli, asparagus, and green beans into smaller pieces, put them in a saute pan and turned on the electric eye. Then I cracked two eggs into a bowl and whipped with a fork. Once the veggies had warmed a bit, I poured the eggs over them and turned down the heat. By the time the biscuits were done and buttered, I had a spoonful of Rose City Pepperheads Mango Madness Pepper Jelly on the plate beside which I placed the scramble and a couple of the biscuits.

I thoroughly enjoyed my breakfast.

UPDATE: I have a chemotherapy consultation appointment on July 16 and a radiation consultation appointment on July 21. After those two, I'll know what, when, how much and how long. I will then have to work on dealing with the myriad side effects. Between now and then, I will continue to recover from that second surgery inside of two months, the one done by a robot with Dr. Steiner at the controls. I learned last Wednesday that I have six incisions from that one, not five like I had been thinking. So, with the four from the hysterectomy, I now know what it feels like to have six new holes in your abdomen. I've doing well, getting more active daily, trying to eat right in small amounts. Thank you for your continued prayers, love and concern.

Necessities I never expected to need, now I'm thankful for having them in my future

The call for this appointment came in this afternoon, two days after getting the pathology report and recommendation to treat my cancer aggressively. Now I have a goal to work toward, finding out what's next for me.



The phone call for this appointment came in not too long after I got home from my doctor appointment on Wednesday. Lamont and I had put away the groceries and he'd gone back to work. I sat down to eat lunch. The phone rang not to many minutes into lunch. Like I said, now I have a goal to work toward.

In order to reach these goals, I feel that I should look online at information that Kaiser provides for cancer patients, to make myself aware of the generalities so that I will be able to ask intelligent questions when I have these two consultations. 

About Radiation therapy, found at kp.org:

Radiation therapy treats cancer by damaging cancer cells' DNA, or genetic code, which causes the cells to die and tumors to shrink. About half of all people with cancer receive radiation therapy, sometimes in combination with other cancer treatments.

Something that's radioactive may be placed in your body near a tumor (brachytherapy), injected into your blood (systemic radiation therapy), or sent into your body by a machine (external beam radiation therapy). The area chosen for treatment usually includes the whole tumor plus a small amount of normal tissue.

The type of radiation therapy you receive depends on the cancer you have, so the side effects vary. For example, radiation to your abdomen can cause skin irritation, swelling, fatigue, as well as a loss of appetite, nausea, diarrhea, and vomiting, which may make it hard to eat well during treatment. Radiation therapy can also cause side effects months or even years after treatment ends, such as:

• memory loss 
• infertility 
• damage to your bowels that causes diarrhea and bleeding 
• fibrosis, or the replacement of normal tissue with scar tissue 
• a second cancer caused by radiation exposure 

Some people find using guided imagery helps them cope with radiation's side effects.

About Chemotherapy, found at kp.org.

Chemotherapy uses drugs that attack fast-growing cells to destroy cancer, stop cancer cells from spreading, or slow the growth of cancer cells.

There are lots of kinds of chemotherapy, and it can be combined with other treatments. It can be given intravenously (through an IV) or as a shot, pill, liquid, or cream you rub on your skin.

Because chemotherapy also kills fast-growing healthy cells, like those in your mouth, digestive tract, and hair follicles, it can cause side effects throughout your body:

• nausea and vomiting
• appetite changes
• bleeding problems
• constipation or diarrhea
• fatigue and memory changes
• fluid retention
• hair loss
• infections
• mouth sores and inflammation
• pain
• sexual side effects

Everyone is different. Some people feel tired, while others feel well enough to keep a normal schedule.

If you're receiving more than one anticancer medication, you may have more side effects, or more intense ones.

Your doctor will talk to you about what kind of medications you'll receive, how often, and things you can do at home if you're having trouble eating.

The rest period in between treatments gives your body time to build healthy new cells.

When I found out the details, I'll let you know so that you can pinpoint your prayers as you've done for me as we've been going through this together. 

Thank you so much for your prayers, love, and concern.

In the natural order of things, it's Saturday again. I am thankful and blessed.

Last Saturday, I picked these ripe blueberries and left the others right where they are on the bush so that they would have the chance to ripen. That's the natural order of things.

Right now I'm going through what could be seen as an unnatural order of things:

• March 7 discovering cancer in my body after the appearance of a surprising symptom
• April 24 having a hysterectomy because the diagnosis pointed with certainty at cancer and afterward thinking that the result of said surgery meant it highly unlikely that I would require further treatment, just close monitoring
• May 21 having a baseline CT scan to use in that close monitoring which revealed a blip in expectations
• May 29 being told that the blip meant a needle biopsy and that the results of that could warrant a change in plans
• June 1, after recovering slowly but surely, returning to my job that I thoroughly enjoy, do well, and am appreciated and enjoyed at, where I work with adorable, wonderful, smart, kind human beings who care about not only themselves and their families, but also about our community and its citizens
• June 1 through June 23, striving to eat right and walk more
• June 17 having a needle biopsy to get a closer look at the blip seen on the CT scan
• June 18 getting a call about what turned out to be tissues suspicious for cancer in the blip and agreeing to have an appointment at 2 p.m. the next day with Dr. Steiner and tentatively to have a second operation on June 25, realizing at that very moment that I'd need to spend what I thought would be each of the three days at the beginning of the week before the surgery on Thursday training someone at work to do what I do that no one else does
• June 19 spending two hours engulfed in a whirlwind of information with Dr. Steiner and Lamont during which we discussed so much that I felt like I'd been on a twirly, swirly ride at the state fair, plus finding out that I would not be at work on June 24 because I would be involved with clear liquids and a laxative to get ready for the surgery the next day AND that it looks rather certain that radiation and chemotherapy are also in my future
• June 22 and June 23 sharing with a quick, smart young man at work who paid great attention to everything about the job he will do for me until I return, set for August 10 right now, and realizing that I have nothing to worry about because he will do it well, along with the help of others at work who know parts of the process; we in the admin area support each other wholeheartedly because we realize without a doubt that what we do supports those who directly serve the citizens of our community
• June 24 following all directions to the letter for the pre-op routines, including patting myself all over one hour after I had showered and washed my hair with these man-made tissues saturated with antiseptic to help my skin be as ready as possible to be invaded during surgery and not have on it as the incisions were made something bad for my health
• June 24 and June 25 going without solid food, period, but still managing to enjoy Jell-O and Popsicles and Twinings English Breakfast tea
• June 25 being prepped for surgery by swell women and men, then being rolled into the operating room where I saw the robot and the station where Dr. Steiner would sit to guide the robot through its paces with me--that robot is all arms, y'all, multi-functional arms, no doubt; then eventually looking toward the window of my hospital room and realizing my sons were there in silhouette along with my friend Sharon from work. The best thing, I never even knew that scary-panic-inducing oxygen mask from the hysterectomy was any where near me!
• June 25, at some point late after the surgery and the recovery room, when I had come to enough to ask for them and hold them and eat them, I enjoyed more Popsicles and Jell-o in my room
• June 26, about 2:30 a.m., although who knows for certain since my grasp of time within my memory is skewed right now, learning from my nurse how to use the computerized Order Food link on the touch screen hanging in front of me so that I could order breakfast from the regular diet menu, and a morning snack and lunch, an afternoon snack and dinner (although I call this supper)
• June 26 eating what I could of what I'd chosen
• June 26 being able to get up and go to the bathroom once the catheter had been removed and sit in the chair instead of the bed
• June 26 once I stood up off the bed realizing I'm pretty certain that I now know how folks who've been stabbed in the abdomen must feel the day after having their wounds stitched shut and being so thankful for Ibuprofen 600
• June 26 talking with one of Dr. Steiner's partners who said the main thing now is to get to the point that I can empty my own bladder the way that the Good Lord intended so that I wouldn't have to learn how to self-cath at home! and to recover from the surgery! and to learn at the post-op appointment on July 8 what the pathology reveals and what the plan of action includes, such as radiation and chemotherapy.
• June 26 walking the triangle outside my door which is the convenient shape of the hallway in the surgery patient area; I had a walker with wheels on its two front legs which I held onto, tilted, and rolled in front of me; I didn't like how it vibrated into my hands if I kept the wheel-less back legs on the floor
• June 26 finally drinking enough water to get myself back to normal operation in the bathroom, hallelujah! I don't have to learn how to self-cath!
• June 26 learning from one of the multitude of fabulous nurses that I now for the next 14 days will have to give myself a shot in the stomach to ward off the possibility of deep vein thrombosis and/or pulmonary embolism
• June 26 waiting for the wheelchair to take me to the door so that I could go home. 
• June 26 and until July 8, it looks like: Lamont explained to me yesterday, more than once, and Leland just explained to me again that Dr. Steiner said this to the two of them in the consultation room after the surgery was completed: The pathology tests have to be run so that the results will be known once they are complete. It's won't be something that she wants to discuss over the phone, that she wants me in the office with her to go over it, that if an earlier appointment opens up, they will let me know. She'd left markers inside me so that radiation oncology would know where to point whatever, that what she found inside me was somewhat unexpected - it wasn't in or attached to the lymph node as she had expected so this is throwing up flags to her that we should go ahead with radiation and chemo and what was going on with me wasn't following the statistics of normal, whatever that means. I believe that hearing the news straight from Dr. Steiner is best because I can look her in the eye and process what she's telling me.

Yes, that's the unnatural order of things. But, and I truly believe this, woven into it, through its shock, pain, aggravation, are-you-kidding-me moments are the some of the most sublime natural order of things I've witnessed in my entire life.

• My sons Lamont and Leland and their caring, sweet smiles, their loving hearts, their great memories for details, their patience to explain the same thing to me over and over again because I'm confused right now; the way every single day they live the evidence of their monumental Daddy right in front of me.
• My family and friends contacting me by myriad means, letting me know from their hearts how much they love me and care about what's going on with me and how much they are praying for the best possible outcome. 
• Yes, Gunn in Stavanger, Norway, I had surely done at each opportunity what you wrote in your comment on yesterday's post: You must tell your doctors and nurses that you have people ALL OVER THE WORLD who follow you and your blog, and we pray, wish you the best treatment and that they have to do their very best!!
• My awe-inspiring medical professionals whose every desire is for me to have the best outcome possible, be that from surgery, pain pills, walking the hallway, understanding what's going on with my treatment, why I have to do all of these things to myself. Best explanation for all that I'm going through, period, from Naomi, Dr. Steiner's nurse, on June 19 as we wrapped up the pre-op appointment for my second surgery within a two-months-one-day-time-period: We are about getting you the decades that I have coming to you, Lynette.
• My heart and soul have felt every single prayer, every single warm wish, every single bit of love and concern that all of you have for me and what I'm experiencing. And I thank you.

UPDATE and a break from The World . . .

UPDATE: Yesterday afternoon Dr. Steiner went over the first pathology report from the needle biopsy and then what our plan would be based on the pathologist's final report which is expected early next week. The final report will reflect what may be learned from a stain being applied to the tissue; they felt this was necessary in order to get a better look.

So, it may definitely not be cancer, it may definitely be cancer, or there may not be a definitive answer either way. If it is not cancer, all of the plan we made will be cancelled and I will be followed closely in two months with a CT scan. If it is cancer or we don't know for sure, I will have surgery to remove the lymph node(s) and any other suspicious tissue--next Thursday, June 25. Dr. Steiner will control the robot's 3-D camera and, as she put it, its little hands. Her nurse Naomi says Dr. Steiner's a champ with that robot!

If I have surgery, I will be off work for six weeks. If it turns out to be cancer for sure, not only from the pathologist report before the surgery but also from the one they will get after they examine the tissues removed during surgery, then I will have radiation and chemotherapy. I don't have any details on that right now. It's a wait-and-see thing, of course.

I so appreciate your prayers, love and concern.

Now for today's break from The World.



My Saturday morning breakfast--a toasted Fred Meyer Crispy English Muffin, some grape tomatoes, and some blueberries. I drank water. After I ate, I sorted some photos from iPhoto into Flickr, put a load in one of the washing machines downstairs, and went for a six-block walk. In a little while, I'll get those clothes out of the dryer and get them put away. Leland called and he and Rachel invited me to go pick blueberries later on today with them, up on Sauvie Island. I've never done that! It sounds exciting; I've already got my sunhat hanging on the door knob and some plastic containers with lids ready, too. I think I'll take my folding lawn chair with me, too.

UPDATE: It ain't the news we wanted. And upside what happened in Charleston, SC, Wednesday night, my news is an eyelash loosened from our eyes by the tears we have shed. While you're praying for me, please, I entreat you, consider praying for all of us to treat each other as the valuable people we each are. Now, for the blog post I already had made for Friday: Size, often it's all in perspective and location. Sometimes, it's just flat out huge. No. 3

UPDATE: The needle biopsy results say that there are fragments of atypical cells like the adenocarcinoma which was the kind of cancer that was in my uterus. So, I have an appointment tomorrow at 2 p.m. with the doctor. Tentatively scheduled to have surgery at a different Kaiser facility where there is a robot which will be used for the surgery to remove lymph nodes. I will know about those two things, the pathology and the plan, after the appointment tomorrow. I will have to be off work for probably five weeks. I will not give up. Thursday at work I felt a consisten energy level throughout the day, a decent energy level. I take that to mean that I am stronger. I know that I have lost weight, I know that I recovered smoothly from the hysterectomy. I intend to do that this time as well. I will not give up. Thank you for your prayers, your love and your concern. Love y'all.



One more close up before the photos that I took of The World's journey north on the Willamette. I couldn't be at the beginning of it and along the river, so I opted to get up very early and ride a bus to somewhere I'd never been, get off, and walk back onto the Broadway Bridge to see what I could see.



Here comes The World. That is a smokestack that you see to the right of the raised Morrison Bridge. The white things sticking up in between the decks are part of The World. I am standing east of center of the Broadway Bridge, zoomed in as far as I can.



In this photo, three bridges are lifted simultaneously. To the far right, that's the Morrison beginning to close. In the center, that's the Burnside Bridge, not quite raised all the way. And to the left, the Steel Bridge looks about half raised.

Come back tomorrow for more photos of The World's exit from Portland on the Willamette River. Thanks!