Our first visit to the KU
Cancer Center in Lee’s Summit was for Miki’s second round of chemo and
unknowingly it started us on a trail, following bits and pieces of stories told
by others facing the same foe.
Little did we know then, but that foreshadowing would take us to places
and experiences that would create Miki’s story, that at some point will most
likely become part of another’s trail as they begin their journey down this
son-of-a-bitch of a road.
This latest experience that
landed Miki back at Centerpoint Medical Center, started with a fever that ended
up as pneumonia. We had heard bits
and pieces of others that had been there and done that and the nurses that in
so many words made us think that antibiotics and chemo drugs don’t play well
together, so the next round could be compromised and postponed, as was
Miki’s. She would begin round 5
this Wednesday (tomorrow), preceded by a C/T scan Tuesday (today) that in our
dreams would show an amazing reduction in cancer growth. But that will have to wait. There is evidently a collapsed lung
that is trying to work its way back to reinflating itself, so a long needle
does not have to come into play in this part of her story.
I must say this visit has
been one of the low points of this journey, right along side of her first round
of chemo in the hospital and the original search for the culprit causing her leg
pain. The good thing about low
points is that there are higher ones before and after them. Yes, Miki had a high fever that was a
catalyst for my wild imagination to spread its wings for a bit last Saturday
night. Yes, it lead to a diagnosis
of pneumonia, an event that no one wants to experience even without cancer
about. And yes, even with a
collapsed lung, the lung experiencing difficulty already, Miki finds a way to
carry on. As long as she can do
that, I can follow suit. It’s when
there is doubt behind her eyes or a lack of energy for trying that I feel us
bottoming out. The good thing is,
we seem to not stay there too long.
It is more of a bounce off the bottom rather than a landing on it.
Some of that bounce came
from Miki receiving a couple more bags of blood yesterday; as her hemoglobin
was low again…it’s a cancer thing.
Her white blood cell count was up too, thanks to a special shot that
encourages white blood cell growth…it’s a cancer thing. And more importantly, I kicked her butt
in Cribbage…TWICE!!...that’s not a cancer thing. These bits and pieces were experiences we had only heard
about from others that had been where we are now. I think the key to getting through this is not to listen to
others stories anymore!
Kidding. We recently had a
visit from a friend of ours, Ellen, who I use to teach with a looooooong time
ago. She had her own cancer story
to share that occurred during a period of time we were out of touch. While she and Miki were visiting that
afternoon, I observed there interaction was different than others that had come
to visit. There was a comradery through
which they were relating. To me it
appeared special; as if they were twins speaking their own language.
 |
| Doesn't she look GOOD after a good old Cribbage butt-kickin'? |
My Zen from Home: Something fascinating
happens when Miki is at this hospital.
Within the time constraints of a nurses shift of 12 hours and sometimes
within minutes, Miki will know more about her nurse or respiratory therapist,
or cleaning lady, than they would offer up after free drinks on a Friday night
out. Those of you that know Miki,
understand this. She was taken
down for a C/T scan this afternoon, by a complete stranger and when they
returned Miki was learning intimate details of why her baby’s life was cut
short. They were crying together,
talking as if they had history, and hugged before parting. How does that happen? I don’t know, but I can imagine it is the
same thing that is going to see her through this mess and out the other
side. One way or another, she is a
force to be reckoned with…collapsed lung or not.
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