Chemo. I guess it takes some hours to suffuse the blood stream with these 'stoffs', auf Deutsch gesagt.
It was late afternoon there when she got home. We didn't talk, we typed, on the IM. If that's all she's got, she's giving it to me; what kinda bum isn't grateful if only for that little bit?
I never learned at what time her treatment began today, but she had an appointment with the oncologist prior, during which she asked him if he'd seen the study on Avastin, details of which I'd sent her... His answer didn't actually reveal if he'd heard of the study, because he asked her what cancers were the subject of the study (it was breast). He seemed to discount the information somewhat, based on the kind of cancer/tumor was the subject of the therapy. He told her in his experience, it was useful in short-run life maintenance, in cases like hers. Without treatment, her prognosis is/was 6 months to a year, more or less (and unofficially; i interpellated information from different places; Lila more or less confirmed it). Now, with treatments, we have to wait and see, evaluate the consequences of this round of therapies. They won't even probably begin conducting scans for at least a couple more weeks. But the oncologist said he planned to continue her using Avastin, as long as there were no adverse effects. Lesson (if one's wanted): We're working in the short run here, to some unfortunate extent.
Me? I take it as given that we're gonna get to the middle distance.
They used the new-fangled, sub-cutaneous port device for the first time today and it worked well, Lila says. She'd had a long day. Auf Deutsch, you type "Kuss"! for one, "Kusse" with an umlaut, for several/many.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Avastin, Ye Swabs!!!
It was close to noon her time when Lila called me today, saying she'd just awoken, after not sleeping well over-night, or really over the last two nights. As we rang off, I said something about a sort of sociological side-effect of the amazingly expensive nature of the treatments, and she wanted me to remind her of it next time we talk. I had thought that might yet be today again, but now likely not. Tomorrow, then.
Lila had a busy day ahead, she said as she put her wig-hat on her head, and adjusted her high-heel sneekers to cover some ground. Culminating event of the day was/is a check-up by the surgeon who put that spiffy, tricksy docking-port in her chest, in preparation for the second round of chemo, tomorrow. There's all kinds of little tools that come along with the port-thingy. Everybody's gotta be careful with it, cuz 1) it's a pretty new deal and not all medical/surgical/theraputic personnel are familiar with 'em yet, and 2) because the thing, un- or ill-attended, is potentially a Disneyland ride for opportunistic infections. It's a small world, after all...
Before the valve-check, she was going to go into school to meet with her ex-boss, and interview some candidates to take over her classes for the next year, while they conduct a national search. I think she was very flattered to be invited. She's a wizard-good teacher. We usta talk pedagogy for hours...
Then she was going to go personally investigate the availability and quality of the wigs made available to less-well-off cancer treatment patients locally through the Cancer Society. I await her report on this.
The report today is briefer than normal, but our chat was brief, too. There has been a development in the clinical pharmacology of one of the chemo drugs that Lila's being given--actually, to be literal, she is being given some, but is taking this one, after having had to sign a release. The drug is Avastin. (Sounds like a line in a pirate movie: Avastin, ye scurvy tumors!!!)
In a story in the Sunday NYTimes reported there were rising doubts about the utility of the drug in its prescribed modalities, since it didn't seem to contribute much to prolonging life, which is what they're ALWAYS doing. The thing about it is, that Avastin mostly gets used in what are called "rare" --or sometimes "orphan"-- diseases for which there aren't a whole lot of other 'treatment options.' Another thing is, the stuff is KING-HELL expensive, enough for a year's normal treatment would set a patient close to $100K.
Now here's what else is kind of interesting. The company that makes the drug, Genentech, is lobbying the FDA to get Avastin approved for a lot longer list of diagnoses than the several for which it is now approved, but in which its efficacy is in fact in doubt. This is the season during which the out-going President turns loose the elves in their Departments to shower largesse/lagniappe upon their loyal supporters in the regulation community. So it will be interesting to see in which direction Avastin's ship sails.
Lila had a busy day ahead, she said as she put her wig-hat on her head, and adjusted her high-heel sneekers to cover some ground. Culminating event of the day was/is a check-up by the surgeon who put that spiffy, tricksy docking-port in her chest, in preparation for the second round of chemo, tomorrow. There's all kinds of little tools that come along with the port-thingy. Everybody's gotta be careful with it, cuz 1) it's a pretty new deal and not all medical/surgical/theraputic personnel are familiar with 'em yet, and 2) because the thing, un- or ill-attended, is potentially a Disneyland ride for opportunistic infections. It's a small world, after all...
Before the valve-check, she was going to go into school to meet with her ex-boss, and interview some candidates to take over her classes for the next year, while they conduct a national search. I think she was very flattered to be invited. She's a wizard-good teacher. We usta talk pedagogy for hours...
Then she was going to go personally investigate the availability and quality of the wigs made available to less-well-off cancer treatment patients locally through the Cancer Society. I await her report on this.
The report today is briefer than normal, but our chat was brief, too. There has been a development in the clinical pharmacology of one of the chemo drugs that Lila's being given--actually, to be literal, she is being given some, but is taking this one, after having had to sign a release. The drug is Avastin. (Sounds like a line in a pirate movie: Avastin, ye scurvy tumors!!!)
In a story in the Sunday NYTimes reported there were rising doubts about the utility of the drug in its prescribed modalities, since it didn't seem to contribute much to prolonging life, which is what they're ALWAYS doing. The thing about it is, that Avastin mostly gets used in what are called "rare" --or sometimes "orphan"-- diseases for which there aren't a whole lot of other 'treatment options.' Another thing is, the stuff is KING-HELL expensive, enough for a year's normal treatment would set a patient close to $100K.
Now here's what else is kind of interesting. The company that makes the drug, Genentech, is lobbying the FDA to get Avastin approved for a lot longer list of diagnoses than the several for which it is now approved, but in which its efficacy is in fact in doubt. This is the season during which the out-going President turns loose the elves in their Departments to shower largesse/lagniappe upon their loyal supporters in the regulation community. So it will be interesting to see in which direction Avastin's ship sails.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Lila 's Older Son Thinks She Should Carry A Sharpie
And offer all her friends the chance to sign her hairless head, like they would a cast...
We howled at the idea, she again, with evident relish, I the first time, on the ragged edge--if only for a moment--of hysteria. Today's her first 'day off' from therapy since June 16, excepting weekends. She sounded rested. She said yesterday had been 'emotional.' There's an irrevocability to the loss of your hair, I think. Folks will tell you that your hair will grow back pretty much within a year of the end of treatments. Aye, and there's the rub.
She has another chemo treatment on Wednesday, prior to which 'they' have to inspect the proper operation and healing around that super-spiffy, very elegant, multi-purpose port-and-catheter arrangement they installed in her chest last week. This is the second course of chemo this treatment round. There's another in another three weeks. What goes on in the interim, I don't know. Or what should follow? Haven't got a clue, myself. I'm open to ideas and suggestions.
Lila's cautiously enthusiastic about the granulocyte treatments being tested at a Center pretty near her. The fact of locality is a big issue, a lot of times. There was a story in the local news here in Albuquerque about a woman from Alamagordo, about 200 miles south of here, who was no longer able to drive home on weekends to be with her family between week-long cancer treatment regimens at one of the big cancer centers here in Abq. She spent her weeks in a cheap motel. The price of gas to make the 400-mile round trip in her husband's pick-up was more than the family budget could bear. So, if Lila's an acceptable candidate for these next trials--and maybe there's a graspable straw there--she'd be spared those sorts of hardships, which MUST impede the capacity for folks with such maladies to concentrate on their own well-being. She's going to take the data to her oncologist on Wednesday and ask him for advice/guidance/assistance (choose any number).
I am NOT above grasping at straws, believe me, and neither is my Lila...In fact, the more the better. Cuz the more there are, the more buoyant the eventual bundle. Has anyone tested/tasted Essiac, for instance? Natural ingredients and remedies are not inferior to the laboratory-derived ones. I mean, why not? Her diet is pretty restricted as it is. I'm not talking naturopathy, here, but the free-range pharmacopoeia. Other ideas? Experiences?
Lila's Locks: Lila is investigating the local access system for less well-off women to acquire wigs and other self-esteem-maintaining accoutrement through the local National Cancer Society. She reiterated today her concern that women undergoing these humiliations of the body for the sake of their very lives should not have to endure humiliations of the spirit for the sake of the prevailing aesthetic. (Well, that's how I'd put it.) So tomorrow, another day off--except for the check on the soundness of the 'port'--she says she's gonna go to the local Cancer Society and check into how they provide for these needs. Then, depending on what she learns, we may turn our attentions to establishing a little foundation locally for wig up-grades, etc. I'll keep the blog posted on the progress.
We've also been considering publishing a pamphlet, in cooperation with the cosmetician/scarf-lady, pulling together all the tips she passed on to Lila quite by accident a couple of weeks ago. The scarf-lady's (i'll call her) clientele is probably a majority women with cancer, and she has been paying attention to their stories. This pool of advice and reflection is a community resource, the kind of local knowledge that's self-legitimating for the participants. It makes 'em experts in their own life-worlds, which is the essence of empowerment. Nobody 'empowers' anybody else. Empowerment arises spontaneously from self-knowledge, self-awareness, and self-esteem. That's why the oligarchs hate it so, and strive to deprive students, for example, of opportunities to experience their own creative agency.
We howled at the idea, she again, with evident relish, I the first time, on the ragged edge--if only for a moment--of hysteria. Today's her first 'day off' from therapy since June 16, excepting weekends. She sounded rested. She said yesterday had been 'emotional.' There's an irrevocability to the loss of your hair, I think. Folks will tell you that your hair will grow back pretty much within a year of the end of treatments. Aye, and there's the rub.
She has another chemo treatment on Wednesday, prior to which 'they' have to inspect the proper operation and healing around that super-spiffy, very elegant, multi-purpose port-and-catheter arrangement they installed in her chest last week. This is the second course of chemo this treatment round. There's another in another three weeks. What goes on in the interim, I don't know. Or what should follow? Haven't got a clue, myself. I'm open to ideas and suggestions.
Lila's cautiously enthusiastic about the granulocyte treatments being tested at a Center pretty near her. The fact of locality is a big issue, a lot of times. There was a story in the local news here in Albuquerque about a woman from Alamagordo, about 200 miles south of here, who was no longer able to drive home on weekends to be with her family between week-long cancer treatment regimens at one of the big cancer centers here in Abq. She spent her weeks in a cheap motel. The price of gas to make the 400-mile round trip in her husband's pick-up was more than the family budget could bear. So, if Lila's an acceptable candidate for these next trials--and maybe there's a graspable straw there--she'd be spared those sorts of hardships, which MUST impede the capacity for folks with such maladies to concentrate on their own well-being. She's going to take the data to her oncologist on Wednesday and ask him for advice/guidance/assistance (choose any number).
I am NOT above grasping at straws, believe me, and neither is my Lila...In fact, the more the better. Cuz the more there are, the more buoyant the eventual bundle. Has anyone tested/tasted Essiac, for instance? Natural ingredients and remedies are not inferior to the laboratory-derived ones. I mean, why not? Her diet is pretty restricted as it is. I'm not talking naturopathy, here, but the free-range pharmacopoeia. Other ideas? Experiences?
Lila's Locks: Lila is investigating the local access system for less well-off women to acquire wigs and other self-esteem-maintaining accoutrement through the local National Cancer Society. She reiterated today her concern that women undergoing these humiliations of the body for the sake of their very lives should not have to endure humiliations of the spirit for the sake of the prevailing aesthetic. (Well, that's how I'd put it.) So tomorrow, another day off--except for the check on the soundness of the 'port'--she says she's gonna go to the local Cancer Society and check into how they provide for these needs. Then, depending on what she learns, we may turn our attentions to establishing a little foundation locally for wig up-grades, etc. I'll keep the blog posted on the progress.
We've also been considering publishing a pamphlet, in cooperation with the cosmetician/scarf-lady, pulling together all the tips she passed on to Lila quite by accident a couple of weeks ago. The scarf-lady's (i'll call her) clientele is probably a majority women with cancer, and she has been paying attention to their stories. This pool of advice and reflection is a community resource, the kind of local knowledge that's self-legitimating for the participants. It makes 'em experts in their own life-worlds, which is the essence of empowerment. Nobody 'empowers' anybody else. Empowerment arises spontaneously from self-knowledge, self-awareness, and self-esteem. That's why the oligarchs hate it so, and strive to deprive students, for example, of opportunities to experience their own creative agency.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
A Poetic Interlude: Pablo Neruda
If You Forget Me
I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Lila, Lola, & Kayla Were ALL "Shedding" Today
My baby told me she just about plugged the shower drain with hair this morning. (Lola and Kayla are family dogs which shed even though they are NOT undergoing radiation therapy.) So Lila betook herself this morning on a trip to the "cancer cosmetician." This is the local--presumably herself a cancer veteran--shop-owner who ran the scarf-tying exhibition and through whom she had ordered her wig, and where she got a short (gi-short) buzz-cut. Not skin-close, but very short. She has been a well-spring of interesting and probably health-preserving information. Probably, we'll document this information at some point.
Lila's insurance didn't cover a wig, but she luckily had resources enough to afford a really nice one. It was close to $400. (You can always tell a cheap wig. Really.) Lila remarked that she'd be quite desperate, were she only 25, and going through breast cancer treatment, more or less losing everything socially valued and through which she was irreversibly attached to gender roles and expectations embedded in culture. It's Lila's ability to conceive that kind of compassion from inside her own experience that makes me both admire and adore her. We talked about setting up a little local 'foundation' to provide the kinds of cosmetic supports that would help enhance self-images of women with fewer means undergoing these debilitating and humiliating procedures associated with staying alive. I said I'd make an initiatory contribution in her name. "Lila's Locks"?
Marvelously, we laughed, loudly and often. She sounded so much better, so much less in pain. There is an astonishing--but hardly surprising--array of products for women (mostly, one supposes) undergoing cancer treatment. Some of which elicited bouts of merriment. As when she mentioned "halos," fringes of replacement hair worn on the head under a hat or a scarf. She said the halos reminded her of my sparsely covered dome., over which I ALWAYS wear a hat of some kind. I laughed harder at that than I had in at anything in it seemed like forever. I told her that, the next time I saw her, I'd be buzz-cut---down to my beard--in solidarity...I have no idea when that may be. But I could do it myself, though I haven't had a barbershop haircut since before I left Norman, OK, in 2000.
Lila said she acquired a set of bangs for herself too, to wear under a scarf. I have some lovely old silk scarves in a closet somewhere, which I'll send her. There are also caps, to the lower edges of which are sewn/attached semi hair-pieces. Mebbe bangs on the front, pony-tail off the back of a baseball cap, that sort of thing, I guess...
I asked her about why she resisted doing trials. She said, brutally frankly, that in her position she didn't want NOT to be experimental subject, and because the studies are double-blind, she'd just never know. Stage Four, folks. She said if she were in an earlier stage, she'd do it. She feels, and I wholly and totally agree, she doesn't need to be a "control." There's an element of time, or the lack of it.
We're (if I may use the collective here) cautiously interested in the near-by research into granulocytes. We're gonna find out, if we can, how far advanced the research protocols are. I figured out today that somehow we gotta keep Lila going for three years, cuz who knows what the researchers will turn up in three years. She thought that was a good idea, too, and agreed to help.
For which I cannot thank her enough.
Lila's insurance didn't cover a wig, but she luckily had resources enough to afford a really nice one. It was close to $400. (You can always tell a cheap wig. Really.) Lila remarked that she'd be quite desperate, were she only 25, and going through breast cancer treatment, more or less losing everything socially valued and through which she was irreversibly attached to gender roles and expectations embedded in culture. It's Lila's ability to conceive that kind of compassion from inside her own experience that makes me both admire and adore her. We talked about setting up a little local 'foundation' to provide the kinds of cosmetic supports that would help enhance self-images of women with fewer means undergoing these debilitating and humiliating procedures associated with staying alive. I said I'd make an initiatory contribution in her name. "Lila's Locks"?
Marvelously, we laughed, loudly and often. She sounded so much better, so much less in pain. There is an astonishing--but hardly surprising--array of products for women (mostly, one supposes) undergoing cancer treatment. Some of which elicited bouts of merriment. As when she mentioned "halos," fringes of replacement hair worn on the head under a hat or a scarf. She said the halos reminded her of my sparsely covered dome., over which I ALWAYS wear a hat of some kind. I laughed harder at that than I had in at anything in it seemed like forever. I told her that, the next time I saw her, I'd be buzz-cut---down to my beard--in solidarity...I have no idea when that may be. But I could do it myself, though I haven't had a barbershop haircut since before I left Norman, OK, in 2000.
Lila said she acquired a set of bangs for herself too, to wear under a scarf. I have some lovely old silk scarves in a closet somewhere, which I'll send her. There are also caps, to the lower edges of which are sewn/attached semi hair-pieces. Mebbe bangs on the front, pony-tail off the back of a baseball cap, that sort of thing, I guess...
I asked her about why she resisted doing trials. She said, brutally frankly, that in her position she didn't want NOT to be experimental subject, and because the studies are double-blind, she'd just never know. Stage Four, folks. She said if she were in an earlier stage, she'd do it. She feels, and I wholly and totally agree, she doesn't need to be a "control." There's an element of time, or the lack of it.
We're (if I may use the collective here) cautiously interested in the near-by research into granulocytes. We're gonna find out, if we can, how far advanced the research protocols are. I figured out today that somehow we gotta keep Lila going for three years, cuz who knows what the researchers will turn up in three years. She thought that was a good idea, too, and agreed to help.
For which I cannot thank her enough.
Friday, July 4, 2008
Clinical Trial Information
The Cancer Information Service at the National Institutes of Health, Bethesda, Md., offers information about clinical trials that are looking for volunteers. The Service offers a toll-free number at 1-800-422-6237. Here's a link which lists the ACC clinical trials currently under way. ACC is classified as a "rare" disease, afflicting fewer than 200-300 people yearly. I always knew my baby was one in a million. It took me 30 years to meet her, and I was looking...
Addendum: After I'd posted this, Lila called to pass on link to a public music tent/festival where she lives, in which her son the guitarist was performing in a newly-formed James Brown cover band. We chatted for a while about this and that. I mentioned clinical trials, cuz I had found the NIH link to on-going trials which are seeking participants. She said she was of very mixed mind about participating in trials. She said she was uncomfortable with the ways some of them are conducted. They're double-blind, I suppose. But she said they don't use 'purely placebo' materials like sugar pills.
I didn't have the chance to pursue it, because she wanted to watch her son's band playing. The audio was atrocious, and the video was broken and choppy. It sounded like the mic recording for the vid was placed directly in the big cone of the bass-player's speaker, and very little of the rest of the band got through the incessant mo-town bass line...We kinda live-blogged it on the IM, back and forth. We bore it for a couple of numbers, but couldn't endure the whole set. Then she went to take a "power nap." She said she'd call me later.(Here endeth this addendum...) Addendum addendum: She DID call back, and we talked for almost a half an hour before her energy drained....
Aside: Researchers have determined that a cannabis derivative, cannabidiol, may be an effective treatment for "aggressive" cancers.
Probably, if it works like most pot products, a couple of tokes and it just mellows that tumor right the fuck out...Like: "...'ear, dude...chill..."
Addendum: After I'd posted this, Lila called to pass on link to a public music tent/festival where she lives, in which her son the guitarist was performing in a newly-formed James Brown cover band. We chatted for a while about this and that. I mentioned clinical trials, cuz I had found the NIH link to on-going trials which are seeking participants. She said she was of very mixed mind about participating in trials. She said she was uncomfortable with the ways some of them are conducted. They're double-blind, I suppose. But she said they don't use 'purely placebo' materials like sugar pills.
I didn't have the chance to pursue it, because she wanted to watch her son's band playing. The audio was atrocious, and the video was broken and choppy. It sounded like the mic recording for the vid was placed directly in the big cone of the bass-player's speaker, and very little of the rest of the band got through the incessant mo-town bass line...We kinda live-blogged it on the IM, back and forth. We bore it for a couple of numbers, but couldn't endure the whole set. Then she went to take a "power nap." She said she'd call me later.(Here endeth this addendum...) Addendum addendum: She DID call back, and we talked for almost a half an hour before her energy drained....
Aside: Researchers have determined that a cannabis derivative, cannabidiol, may be an effective treatment for "aggressive" cancers.
Probably, if it works like most pot products, a couple of tokes and it just mellows that tumor right the fuck out...Like: "...'ear, dude...chill..."
Thursday, July 3, 2008
A Long, Tough Day For My Baby
Lila had to present herself at the hospital this morning at 5:30 to be checked in and checked over for the procedure placing a catheter in one of the veins leading to her heart through which they docs can administer the chemo drugs, plus the other stuff she'll need to take IV during the rest of the treatments. It's this thingy: a sub-dermal port attached to a catheter.
They finished installing it, but without enough time for her to completely recover from the anaestesia before she was due to get her (last) radiation treatment of this cycle. (Addendum, July 4) She said they more or less 'forced' her out from under so they could trundle her over to get her radiation on schedule. She said she felt the after-effects of that the rest of the day, and it was that, I'm guessing, that made her sound so weak on the phone.
Apparently there is more radiation in the offing. As she told me her radiologist told her, tests won't confirm or deny anything for a matter of a month or more. This course did not address the symptoms/diagnosis for the bone metastasis in her neck. (End Add., 7/4) She has an appointment with her Oncologist on Wednesday, and her next chemo on Friday next. I've asked her to look at some of the things that I've turned up, and ask her Docs about 'em. Especially the treatment focusing on the white blood cells, the granulocytes, which is being tested locally already.
We talked only for a few minutes, five or six, mebbe 10 at the most. She sounded tired and week as a kitten. She says she's found a way to fall asleep, and I think I understand how it works, but I doubt I can explain it. But that is GREAT news. She needs to sleep to gain her strength. Being unable to sleep weakens her, which is not a good thing...
So things will be uneventful until Wednesday, at least. I will this weekend start to draft a letter to the Oncology researcher named in the CTv piece on granulocytes, who's in Lila's general vicinity, familiarizing him with her situation, and asking him to please consider my babe for any future trials he may have set for the procedure. It looks to me from some vid I've seen, this therapy might be effective against active, metastasized cancers.
I mentioned to her today that I wished she had an advocate there for her, a third person who was always on the cases of the treatment folks to think hard about her. House (et al--Lila likes "House") notwithstanding, it seems likely to me that folks doing this treatment stuff on a daily basis must fall victim to a kind of routinization, to start to view each case through a sort of 'normalizing'--and 'objectifying'--lens. When you got death on the doorstep everyday, eventually, one suspects, the novelty wears off. Clinical folks get accustomed to doing things, mebbe in just one way, and grow brittle or atrophied in their constancy. Mebbe they grow a little complacent. They may lose that sense of immediacy. I told her I thought she needed the kind of a guy on her team there who wouldn't let anybody get complacent: somebody who wasn't afraid to make noise, like, say, to get arrested at a baseball game for saying "fuck" or calling a cop a moron...Hmmmm (dramatically strokes long beard as if pondering deeply) I wonder who....
Oh, yeah, that'd be me...funny thing...heh
They finished installing it, but without enough time for her to completely recover from the anaestesia before she was due to get her (last) radiation treatment of this cycle. (Addendum, July 4) She said they more or less 'forced' her out from under so they could trundle her over to get her radiation on schedule. She said she felt the after-effects of that the rest of the day, and it was that, I'm guessing, that made her sound so weak on the phone.
Apparently there is more radiation in the offing. As she told me her radiologist told her, tests won't confirm or deny anything for a matter of a month or more. This course did not address the symptoms/diagnosis for the bone metastasis in her neck. (End Add., 7/4) She has an appointment with her Oncologist on Wednesday, and her next chemo on Friday next. I've asked her to look at some of the things that I've turned up, and ask her Docs about 'em. Especially the treatment focusing on the white blood cells, the granulocytes, which is being tested locally already.
We talked only for a few minutes, five or six, mebbe 10 at the most. She sounded tired and week as a kitten. She says she's found a way to fall asleep, and I think I understand how it works, but I doubt I can explain it. But that is GREAT news. She needs to sleep to gain her strength. Being unable to sleep weakens her, which is not a good thing...
So things will be uneventful until Wednesday, at least. I will this weekend start to draft a letter to the Oncology researcher named in the CTv piece on granulocytes, who's in Lila's general vicinity, familiarizing him with her situation, and asking him to please consider my babe for any future trials he may have set for the procedure. It looks to me from some vid I've seen, this therapy might be effective against active, metastasized cancers.
I mentioned to her today that I wished she had an advocate there for her, a third person who was always on the cases of the treatment folks to think hard about her. House (et al--Lila likes "House") notwithstanding, it seems likely to me that folks doing this treatment stuff on a daily basis must fall victim to a kind of routinization, to start to view each case through a sort of 'normalizing'--and 'objectifying'--lens. When you got death on the doorstep everyday, eventually, one suspects, the novelty wears off. Clinical folks get accustomed to doing things, mebbe in just one way, and grow brittle or atrophied in their constancy. Mebbe they grow a little complacent. They may lose that sense of immediacy. I told her I thought she needed the kind of a guy on her team there who wouldn't let anybody get complacent: somebody who wasn't afraid to make noise, like, say, to get arrested at a baseball game for saying "fuck" or calling a cop a moron...Hmmmm (dramatically strokes long beard as if pondering deeply) I wonder who....
Oh, yeah, that'd be me...funny thing...heh
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Quacks?
Through the years, there's been a fair amount of quackery around the issue of cancer treatment. Cancer is big business, where death-defying hope floats on floods of desperation-drenched dollars. The smell of blood brings out the jackals. So it should not come as a surprise that there are hypes and shills and tricksters out to appropriate, any way they can, some share of the millions of dollars spent to forestall the fate the disease foretells. Remember Laetrile?
However, there are some therapies that are still in preliminary, even pre-trial, stages, which seem --despite seemingly unbelievable claims-- to hold real promise. I have links under "My Enemy's Enemies" to discussions of three extremely promising treatment regimes: the (so-called) Kanzius treatment, described on 60 Minutes in April, which uses radio-frequencies to heat nano-particles of gold attached to cancer cells to kill the cells; granulocytes, upon which some work is at present underway at a center near where Lila lives, and a drug called Trovax, which already has had some trial success. I have mentioned all these to her. But I do not know if she has mentioned them to her doctors, and I wish I did know.
This poses a dilemma for me; well, a couple of them. I have done some inquiries, and have uncovered these several off-beat, but apparently legitimate, treatments, and if they are known to her physicians, I'd like to know why she isn't a candidate for them. I am under no illusions about the seriousness of her condition. Stage Four. Extend life and provide comfort. Still, if there's a chance, why not?
Cui Bono? It is not hard to understand why folks flock to quacks, especially if the (cancer) establishment is hostile to developments which, if they did work, could arguably reduce the hefty annual incomes the cancer profession docs command for their arcane services... Prison guards don't want pot decriminalized, either. In another context, but just as truly, it has been remarked how difficult it is for a man to see, much less decry, the lie on which his job--his livelihood--depends. Mencken? Sinclair Lewis? Yeah, I guess I have a bit of an attitude...So?
There is another dimension of the dilemma, which is that proffering suggestions of this sort might be taken as a sort of patronizing or condescension, the implication being that MY reseach has turned up things YOU couldn't--or didn't--find without my help. Or that I was trying to take over. Lila has not accused me of any such thing, but I can see how someone might.
We didn't speak today. Lila sent an e-mail, mid-afternoon, saying she felt too shitty to talk or write. Worse than yesterday. She huddled with the oncologist or the radiologist today, trying to get at the sources of the crippling pains she undergoes virtually all the time.
Lila gets the vent procedure tomorrow, presumably after her (last?--for this course) radiation treatment. I don't think they'd keep her in hospital o'nite unless there were a complication. I left her a message on her cell, asking her to make sure she had her cell-fone when she was admitted.
Then there's the holiday. Due to conditions beyond her/my/our control, I may not actually hear her voice again til next week, sometime.
Nothing I've ever done or known has prepared me for this.
However, there are some therapies that are still in preliminary, even pre-trial, stages, which seem --despite seemingly unbelievable claims-- to hold real promise. I have links under "My Enemy's Enemies" to discussions of three extremely promising treatment regimes: the (so-called) Kanzius treatment, described on 60 Minutes in April, which uses radio-frequencies to heat nano-particles of gold attached to cancer cells to kill the cells; granulocytes, upon which some work is at present underway at a center near where Lila lives, and a drug called Trovax, which already has had some trial success. I have mentioned all these to her. But I do not know if she has mentioned them to her doctors, and I wish I did know.
This poses a dilemma for me; well, a couple of them. I have done some inquiries, and have uncovered these several off-beat, but apparently legitimate, treatments, and if they are known to her physicians, I'd like to know why she isn't a candidate for them. I am under no illusions about the seriousness of her condition. Stage Four. Extend life and provide comfort. Still, if there's a chance, why not?
Cui Bono? It is not hard to understand why folks flock to quacks, especially if the (cancer) establishment is hostile to developments which, if they did work, could arguably reduce the hefty annual incomes the cancer profession docs command for their arcane services... Prison guards don't want pot decriminalized, either. In another context, but just as truly, it has been remarked how difficult it is for a man to see, much less decry, the lie on which his job--his livelihood--depends. Mencken? Sinclair Lewis? Yeah, I guess I have a bit of an attitude...So?
There is another dimension of the dilemma, which is that proffering suggestions of this sort might be taken as a sort of patronizing or condescension, the implication being that MY reseach has turned up things YOU couldn't--or didn't--find without my help. Or that I was trying to take over. Lila has not accused me of any such thing, but I can see how someone might.
We didn't speak today. Lila sent an e-mail, mid-afternoon, saying she felt too shitty to talk or write. Worse than yesterday. She huddled with the oncologist or the radiologist today, trying to get at the sources of the crippling pains she undergoes virtually all the time.
Lila gets the vent procedure tomorrow, presumably after her (last?--for this course) radiation treatment. I don't think they'd keep her in hospital o'nite unless there were a complication. I left her a message on her cell, asking her to make sure she had her cell-fone when she was admitted.
Then there's the holiday. Due to conditions beyond her/my/our control, I may not actually hear her voice again til next week, sometime.
Nothing I've ever done or known has prepared me for this.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Today Was Difficult
Lila complained to me yesterday that her neck, severe pains in which stimulated her firsts intense visits to the doctors who eventually diagnosed her cancer, did not seem to hurt less, if anything hurt more, was somewhat more uncomfortable, perhaps than hitherto.
She first developed the severe pains in her neck after trying to pull a sapling tree from the dirt. She's a gardener, loves to dig in the dirt. Pulling the thing was apparently something she thought she could do. And she did it. A strong gal, muscular, wiry, and waay WAY womanly. But when she pulled, something popped in her neck, and she's never been right since then.
That was late March, early April. We had already planned our next meeting, when school was over, in May...She spent a month trying to tell somebody something was wrong. Then there were tests, tests and more tests. We got the diagnosis in early June. Almost exactly a month ago. Which was also--ironically; I see irony in it, anyway--almost exactly a year since we had reconnected, again, after a seven-year separation. We split up--she ran me off--so she could take care of her kids. Then she took care of her kids. When they were grown and good, she came looking for me again. I wasn't that hard to find, cuz I'd been cherishing the quiet hope that somehow we might someday reconnect. Funny how this shit works out, innit?
So anyhow, I don't know anymore about how my Lila's doing today than that she's in a LOT of pain. She had her pre-op for installing the "central vent/port" today after her radiation treatment. She said it took forever, and most of it was waiting, and her head and her neck hurt horribly. And when she got home, hurting like that, she called me to tell me she wasn't gonna be able to call me cuz she felt too shitty, but that she loves me.
Not longer than a minute, all told, including the flood of endearments. Now she's resting, sleeping I hope. The pain in her voice commanded her so harshly, it hurt me to listen, though I would have, if she'd had the strength; anything if it it'd help.
(To Be Contd)
She first developed the severe pains in her neck after trying to pull a sapling tree from the dirt. She's a gardener, loves to dig in the dirt. Pulling the thing was apparently something she thought she could do. And she did it. A strong gal, muscular, wiry, and waay WAY womanly. But when she pulled, something popped in her neck, and she's never been right since then.
That was late March, early April. We had already planned our next meeting, when school was over, in May...She spent a month trying to tell somebody something was wrong. Then there were tests, tests and more tests. We got the diagnosis in early June. Almost exactly a month ago. Which was also--ironically; I see irony in it, anyway--almost exactly a year since we had reconnected, again, after a seven-year separation. We split up--she ran me off--so she could take care of her kids. Then she took care of her kids. When they were grown and good, she came looking for me again. I wasn't that hard to find, cuz I'd been cherishing the quiet hope that somehow we might someday reconnect. Funny how this shit works out, innit?
So anyhow, I don't know anymore about how my Lila's doing today than that she's in a LOT of pain. She had her pre-op for installing the "central vent/port" today after her radiation treatment. She said it took forever, and most of it was waiting, and her head and her neck hurt horribly. And when she got home, hurting like that, she called me to tell me she wasn't gonna be able to call me cuz she felt too shitty, but that she loves me.
Not longer than a minute, all told, including the flood of endearments. Now she's resting, sleeping I hope. The pain in her voice commanded her so harshly, it hurt me to listen, though I would have, if she'd had the strength; anything if it it'd help.
(To Be Contd)
Monday, June 30, 2008
I Have A Feeling That We Are Approaching A Cusp
My Lila was tired when she got back from her therapy today. She went into school before her appointment. She called me right away when she got back. Her energy lasted about 20 minutes--well, nope, just over 17 minutes. She said the pains in her neck, which had kept her awake and were the proximate causes of the investigations that led to the discovery of her cancer, did not seem to be diminishing. This is the last week of the scheduled radiation. Lila has only three more scheduled radiation treatments especially for the lymph nodes in her neck. I don't know, and I don't know how or who to ask: "Na, und?" What's next?
She has two more chemo treatments, and on the 3rd of July, they're installing the "central port" ("central vent"?) to facilitate the application of the chemo drugs and other things in the next phases of her treatment.
I wish I could talk to an onco-doctor...
She has two more chemo treatments, and on the 3rd of July, they're installing the "central port" ("central vent"?) to facilitate the application of the chemo drugs and other things in the next phases of her treatment.
I wish I could talk to an onco-doctor...
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Germany Lost, 0-1
Lila is a partisan of Deutsches Fuusball...what we call 'soccer.' The German team, which had seemed to have played only barely well enough at any time to advance in the EURO-Cup tournament, were defeated today, 1-nil, on an early goal by the baby-faced Spaniard, Torres. Last evening when she called, we were chatting, kinda like old times, about this and that and about the Euro Cup. Then she got another call (I am growing gradually to detest 'call-waiting').
It was her brother, in Germany, calling--as it turned out--to tell her of the passing of her old (90 years) God-mother. Europeans of Lila's (and my) generation, and earlier, put a lot of store in the relationship between God-parents and God-children. All that "It takes a village" stuff. They really were, in many cases, alternative families. I do not know if this was so of Lila's God-mother, but she told me later, when she called briefly back, that they had been close. At that time, she didn't want to talk.
Her voice sounded strained. The radiation's causing a lot of discomfort in her throat, especially when she swallows. She can no longer tolerate anything but room-temperature foods or liquids--and nothing spicy. Nothing hot, nothing cold, nothing carbonated. This too should pass, so I have a 12-pack of Weisse-bier, and a couple of bottles of champagne just for her next visit.
Ceteris paribus, we were watching the soccer game together today--though 1500 miles apart, she with her kids, and me with a dog. It was a pretty good game. Sad for the Germans that they lost. There's an old soccer saying: "Soccer is 22 men chasing a ball around for 90-plus minutes. Then Germany win." Today, it was Spain, taking their first EURO-Cup trophy in 44 years.
It was her brother, in Germany, calling--as it turned out--to tell her of the passing of her old (90 years) God-mother. Europeans of Lila's (and my) generation, and earlier, put a lot of store in the relationship between God-parents and God-children. All that "It takes a village" stuff. They really were, in many cases, alternative families. I do not know if this was so of Lila's God-mother, but she told me later, when she called briefly back, that they had been close. At that time, she didn't want to talk.
Her voice sounded strained. The radiation's causing a lot of discomfort in her throat, especially when she swallows. She can no longer tolerate anything but room-temperature foods or liquids--and nothing spicy. Nothing hot, nothing cold, nothing carbonated. This too should pass, so I have a 12-pack of Weisse-bier, and a couple of bottles of champagne just for her next visit.
Ceteris paribus, we were watching the soccer game together today--though 1500 miles apart, she with her kids, and me with a dog. It was a pretty good game. Sad for the Germans that they lost. There's an old soccer saying: "Soccer is 22 men chasing a ball around for 90-plus minutes. Then Germany win." Today, it was Spain, taking their first EURO-Cup trophy in 44 years.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Lila Chided Me Over My Obsession With Minutes When We Talked
Friday, for just over 30 of them. Each one as precious, and as sustaining, as a unique breath. I measure the good parts of my days by the minutes logged on my Skype account...
It sounds like she had a great day. Before going to therapy, she went to school and visited with a couple of here former students. An "auslander" herself (she's German, still), Lila was/is an advocate on her campus for the interests of the so-called 'international students.' These are the academic cash-cows who attend US universities from overseas, mostly on full tuition, or on scholarships in non-revenue sports. Often they are only of limited English proficiency--spoken/listening--though they read and write tolerably well. They often have no real representation in the councils of power at the schools they attend. Lila tries/tried to represent them at her school, as I did back in the day when I was a faculty person. You had to feel sorry for 'em, in a way. They were so smart (could you take advanced courses in a second or third language?), but often so out of place, and crippled by language.
Then she met for an hour or so with her old friend and dissertation advisor. I guess they told war-stories, as academics do. Later, she had radiation therapy, after which she and her daughter went to lunch and thence to a scarf-tying workshop, where Lila learned to tie a scarf that more suits her gamine face and style. She says her face isn't angelic enough to wear one of those Madonna-style halo-cloud wraps. She was always drawn to the art-deco/art nouveau, flowing, sweeping scarf look which, I suspect, suits her elfin features perfectly. She said she'd get her daughter to take a fone-foto of her in one, and in her new wig, which had arrived, she said, while she was in the hospital for observation during the week.
As we talked, Lila enumerated a lot of things she'd learned at the scarf-tying workshop which, for some reason about which she was puzzled, had not been included in the instructional portfolio offered by the Cancer Clinic, especially regarding hygene and hair. For one thing, the clinician at the session warned women against shaving themselves to the skin, either on their heads, pubicly, or anywhere else. Better, the person said, to leave stubble, if possible. Shaving opens up the skin for unexpected nicks, ingrown hairs, and therefore to possible opportunistic infections. If you are on these Chemo drugs, one thing you do not want is infections. The cosmetician also said, even when the hair falls out, folks in treatment need to continue to apply shampoo, etc, to the scalp, just to keep it toned and healthy. Left alone, as you might with hair thereupon, the skin and pores of the scalp can become clogged. (To the amusement of my then-partner, I one-time about 20 years ago, had an idea for a product i would then have called "Silk, the shampoo for every hair on your body.")
I suggested she write to the Cancer Clinic management with a list of the things she's noted in the management of the program, including gentle suggestions for improving, or amplifying, the care they now provide. My gal's 'critical,' in the 'critical theory' sense of the word. She thinks, connects dots, finds links, sees flaws. Given, for instance, the medical/health implications of shaving, per se, shouldn't that be a matter presented by the clinical staff? Wouldn't it be a good idea to provide the consultancy of a cosmetician with extensive experience dealing with cancer treatment patients?
(Non Sequitur Alert: I always make sure the last thing I write or say to her, anytime, is "I Love You.")
It sounds like she had a great day. Before going to therapy, she went to school and visited with a couple of here former students. An "auslander" herself (she's German, still), Lila was/is an advocate on her campus for the interests of the so-called 'international students.' These are the academic cash-cows who attend US universities from overseas, mostly on full tuition, or on scholarships in non-revenue sports. Often they are only of limited English proficiency--spoken/listening--though they read and write tolerably well. They often have no real representation in the councils of power at the schools they attend. Lila tries/tried to represent them at her school, as I did back in the day when I was a faculty person. You had to feel sorry for 'em, in a way. They were so smart (could you take advanced courses in a second or third language?), but often so out of place, and crippled by language.
Then she met for an hour or so with her old friend and dissertation advisor. I guess they told war-stories, as academics do. Later, she had radiation therapy, after which she and her daughter went to lunch and thence to a scarf-tying workshop, where Lila learned to tie a scarf that more suits her gamine face and style. She says her face isn't angelic enough to wear one of those Madonna-style halo-cloud wraps. She was always drawn to the art-deco/art nouveau, flowing, sweeping scarf look which, I suspect, suits her elfin features perfectly. She said she'd get her daughter to take a fone-foto of her in one, and in her new wig, which had arrived, she said, while she was in the hospital for observation during the week.
As we talked, Lila enumerated a lot of things she'd learned at the scarf-tying workshop which, for some reason about which she was puzzled, had not been included in the instructional portfolio offered by the Cancer Clinic, especially regarding hygene and hair. For one thing, the clinician at the session warned women against shaving themselves to the skin, either on their heads, pubicly, or anywhere else. Better, the person said, to leave stubble, if possible. Shaving opens up the skin for unexpected nicks, ingrown hairs, and therefore to possible opportunistic infections. If you are on these Chemo drugs, one thing you do not want is infections. The cosmetician also said, even when the hair falls out, folks in treatment need to continue to apply shampoo, etc, to the scalp, just to keep it toned and healthy. Left alone, as you might with hair thereupon, the skin and pores of the scalp can become clogged. (To the amusement of my then-partner, I one-time about 20 years ago, had an idea for a product i would then have called "Silk, the shampoo for every hair on your body.")
I suggested she write to the Cancer Clinic management with a list of the things she's noted in the management of the program, including gentle suggestions for improving, or amplifying, the care they now provide. My gal's 'critical,' in the 'critical theory' sense of the word. She thinks, connects dots, finds links, sees flaws. Given, for instance, the medical/health implications of shaving, per se, shouldn't that be a matter presented by the clinical staff? Wouldn't it be a good idea to provide the consultancy of a cosmetician with extensive experience dealing with cancer treatment patients?
(Non Sequitur Alert: I always make sure the last thing I write or say to her, anytime, is "I Love You.")
Friday, June 27, 2008
Details, details
Chemo cocktail:
1. MITOTANE: alters steroid peripheral metabolism, directly suppresses the adrenal cortex and alters cortisone metabolism.
2. AVASTIN: attaches to a protein (called VEGF = vascular endothelial growth factor), given off by the cancer cell to stimulate the growth of new blood vessels to support a tumor and then blocks the developent of these new blood vessels. Made from protein from human and mouse tissue. (This is the one that required she sign a release before they'd administer it.)
3. TAXOTERE: interferes with the cancer cell's ability to multiply and grow.
The Hulk Shot: NEULASTA: natural hormones that cause the body to make more of certain blood cells = speed the recovery of white blood cells. Gets to work on the bone marrow. People taking it claim they can actually feel the bone-marrow reasserting itself inside the casing of the bone; gotta be a weird, STRONG feeling, hence "the Hulk."
Next week they will implanted a subcutaneous port in her chest. This is connected by a soft, slim catheter tube that goes through my vein all the way to my heart. This catheter protects the vein during treatment. All they have to do is poke through the skin with some sort of special needle.
Nausea meds: Compazine, which, incidentally is also used to treat schizophrenia - I think it's one of the first anti-psychotic drugs. Apparentlhy it reduces dopamine in the brain. I can't find anything that says anything about the Vagus nerve (the one to which I referred, below)) in connection with this medication. Oh, it's not made anymore under the brandname, only the generic form. But I found this in some doctors teaching manual:
PRE-SYNCOPE AND SYNCOPE: Faintness, passing out, often associated with nausea, diaphoresis, tunnel vision, tinnitus, and palpitations. - so I guess fainting and nausea is related in some way. I need to get to the bottom of this!!!!!
Then there are steroids for use right before and after the chemo -
Then for pain:
1. Oxycontin - 20 mg, and I'm getty ready to take one.
and for breakthrough pain B-R/oxicodone - 5 gm
The disease is bad, and the drugs are hard, too. If anyone has information about the recovery regimen for this array of stuff, I'd be happy to know about it...
1. MITOTANE: alters steroid peripheral metabolism, directly suppresses the adrenal cortex and alters cortisone metabolism.
2. AVASTIN: attaches to a protein (called VEGF = vascular endothelial growth factor), given off by the cancer cell to stimulate the growth of new blood vessels to support a tumor and then blocks the developent of these new blood vessels. Made from protein from human and mouse tissue. (This is the one that required she sign a release before they'd administer it.)
3. TAXOTERE: interferes with the cancer cell's ability to multiply and grow.
The Hulk Shot: NEULASTA: natural hormones that cause the body to make more of certain blood cells = speed the recovery of white blood cells. Gets to work on the bone marrow. People taking it claim they can actually feel the bone-marrow reasserting itself inside the casing of the bone; gotta be a weird, STRONG feeling, hence "the Hulk."
Next week they will implanted a subcutaneous port in her chest. This is connected by a soft, slim catheter tube that goes through my vein all the way to my heart. This catheter protects the vein during treatment. All they have to do is poke through the skin with some sort of special needle.
Nausea meds: Compazine, which, incidentally is also used to treat schizophrenia - I think it's one of the first anti-psychotic drugs. Apparentlhy it reduces dopamine in the brain. I can't find anything that says anything about the Vagus nerve (the one to which I referred, below)) in connection with this medication. Oh, it's not made anymore under the brandname, only the generic form. But I found this in some doctors teaching manual:
PRE-SYNCOPE AND SYNCOPE: Faintness, passing out, often associated with nausea, diaphoresis, tunnel vision, tinnitus, and palpitations. - so I guess fainting and nausea is related in some way. I need to get to the bottom of this!!!!!
Then there are steroids for use right before and after the chemo -
Then for pain:
1. Oxycontin - 20 mg, and I'm getty ready to take one.
and for breakthrough pain B-R/oxicodone - 5 gm
The disease is bad, and the drugs are hard, too. If anyone has information about the recovery regimen for this array of stuff, I'd be happy to know about it...
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Lila's Home! Whew...
Probably I don't hafta say I was so relieved I coulda pee'd right down my leg when I saw the flag for her IM pop up...
It was something, though nobody knows what. They watch her pretty closely because of the possibilities of bad reactions to some of the drugs she has to take. She was hospitalized for two nights, Tuesday and Wednesday, for observation when she started to uncontrollably vomit right after her radiation Tuesday.
I knew something was wrong. She'll always call, if she can. If she can't, well that bodes no good. It wasn't "BAD" bad, but it could have been. It always could have been, and always could subsequently be...Es macht mir Wahnsinnich!
The docs and techs were especially attentive to the vomitus, because one of the Chemo drugs she's taking has effects on blood-vessels, and so were searching for evidence of blood. Luckily, there was none. Their relentless attention to the stuff spoke well to me of their Hippocratic concern. They released her from observation, and after that she had her treatment, and got home I'm guessing around 2 her time. They've rescheduled her appointment time to 11 am.
We talked for nearly 30 minutes! And we worked out a regime whereby if something like this happens again--and god knows it well could--she'll leave a message for me auf Deutsch on her office phone, so that there's some place where we can leave messages. She erased the Mark Schreier call, so I can use that again in a pinch.
Funny, she said when she listened to the Mark Schreier message, and with the name to go on, she said she had a very different picture of the speaker than the one she associates with "me." I was, of course, controlling my discourse very strictly. Careful and clipped were my words, too; very business-like, and pitched my voice an octave down. She said she knew it was me, but couldn't recognize the accent. LOL!
It was something, though nobody knows what. They watch her pretty closely because of the possibilities of bad reactions to some of the drugs she has to take. She was hospitalized for two nights, Tuesday and Wednesday, for observation when she started to uncontrollably vomit right after her radiation Tuesday.
I knew something was wrong. She'll always call, if she can. If she can't, well that bodes no good. It wasn't "BAD" bad, but it could have been. It always could have been, and always could subsequently be...Es macht mir Wahnsinnich!
The docs and techs were especially attentive to the vomitus, because one of the Chemo drugs she's taking has effects on blood-vessels, and so were searching for evidence of blood. Luckily, there was none. Their relentless attention to the stuff spoke well to me of their Hippocratic concern. They released her from observation, and after that she had her treatment, and got home I'm guessing around 2 her time. They've rescheduled her appointment time to 11 am.
We talked for nearly 30 minutes! And we worked out a regime whereby if something like this happens again--and god knows it well could--she'll leave a message for me auf Deutsch on her office phone, so that there's some place where we can leave messages. She erased the Mark Schreier call, so I can use that again in a pinch.
Funny, she said when she listened to the Mark Schreier message, and with the name to go on, she said she had a very different picture of the speaker than the one she associates with "me." I was, of course, controlling my discourse very strictly. Careful and clipped were my words, too; very business-like, and pitched my voice an octave down. She said she knew it was me, but couldn't recognize the accent. LOL!
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