Vissi d’arte, vissi d’amore,
non feci mai male ad anima viva!
Con man furtiva
quante miserie conobbi aiutai.
Sempre con fè sincera
la mia preghiera
ai santi tabernacoli salì.
Sempre con fè sincera
diedi fiori agl’altar.
Nell’ora del dolore
perchè, perchè, Signore,
perchè me ne rimuneri così?
Diedi gioielli della Madonna al manto,
e diedi il canto agli astri, al ciel,
che ne ridean più belli.
Nell’ora del dolor
perchè, perchè, Signor,
ah, perchè me ne rimuneri così?

We are a little early, so we get directed into the bar.  Did we tell them to meet us here?  Or were we supposed to go to the hotel?  No, they said we will meet in the restaurant.  Highlands.  Kathy orders a Shirley Temple.  I get some water.  “I have to go to the bathroom.”  So I wait, and think I should call them.  But as I am trying to find the number, yes, find it, certainly not remember it, here they are.  Steve and Yay.  So we are out for dinner.
“I want a glass of champagne.”
“I think I will get a vodka rocks.”
“Yes, I’ll have a vodka, instead of the champagne.”
“Okay, three vodka rocks.” (Was it Stoli? something nice anyway.)
“Vodka rocks.  Half of dad’s drink.”
“Yes, he always had a double vodka on the rocks.  Or maybe just a shot when no one was looking.”

Okay, the tables ready, and we are dressed appropriately for the dining room.  Coats, ties were maybe optional, but why chance it.  Anyway, I don’t get much opportunity to wear ties anymore.  So, good.  An old jacket from what was a suit years ago.  I guess one does not gain weight everywhere at once.  I didn’t anyway.  Steve is worried about his shirt/tie combination, but it is fine.

Our table is in the corner.  Two chairs (Steve and Kathy) and two on the bench (Tim and Yay).  The table can be adjusted, a bit too close, or now too far away.  We are not fat.

Mark brings us menus and, more importantly perhaps, the wine list.  It is a long list, but Steve finds something from the right bank.  That is a kind of Bordeaux, right.  But still I can’t resist something from the left.  A different bank, maybe, but still.

Saint-Émilion Château Haut-Segottes, Grand Cru 2006
Margaux Château Deyrem-Valentin, Cru Bourgeois 2001

Oh, and there are a variety of oysters offered as appetizers.  I remember seeing one of those cooking shows on TV and they were preparing some sort of Appalachicola oyster dish.  Not raw, some sort of baked maybe.  I don’t really remember, as with everything I try to remember, it is only about half correct.  Fortunately, I am happy to be an antirealist about the past.  We get to make it up as we go along.  We can, as a matter of fact, always hope to have a better past.  As, for example, maybe those dinners involving the double vodka on the rocks were not so enjoyable as I remember.  But the vodka rocks right now are pretty nice.  That seems pretty mixed up to me right now, but someday, I will try to figure it out.  Anyway, I remember the old vodka, in the manner of this vodka.  Which makes my past life better.  But maybe I am just making stuff up.  Yes, maybe.

The restaurant empties out.  The people at the table next to us are leaving.  “What do you recommend?” “Oh everything is wonderful.”  “The snapper is excellent”.

Mark comes with the wine.  He, or someone, recommends the 2001 as the first selection.  He primes the glasses.  The wine service occupies the table next to us that was recently vacated.  I guess we are lucky.  A late Saturday meal.  Risotto, veal, pork, scallops, grits, oysters (the smaller ones, “We just prefer the smaller ones” . . . strawberries, french press.  What else?  You want me to remember?  Would it help?

I am wondering whether I will ever again remember anything correctly.  It would be nice if I would always err on the side of pleasant, and then never be corrected.

Well, for at least a few days, and one special night, we are treated pretty well.  And that’s not just how I remember it.  And I am not quite sure why I am treated this way.

We’ve been waiting to see the great ophthalmologist to see how the eyes look.
He sees no change, which is good, because breast cancer tends to shower tumors into the brain and eyes.
He recommends radiation therapy and we hope to move forward next week.
We all think this means that the new chemo, Halaven, is holding the existing metastatic disease in chemo prison. :*)
Love,
Kathy

Hi, dear family and friends,
It is getting so pretty here with azaleas, pear and cherry trees, and daffodils and tulips in bloom. Somehow the first wave of pollen has died down.

Where to start re Kathy’s chronic illness? As always, Im sure I feel better than many people our age.

Speaking of age, did I tell you we got a bird spotting-scope for our birthdays? Wonderful for birds of course, and we recently saw Jupiter’s moons from our Callaway Gardens hotel balcony.

Okay. I have stage iv breast Cancer which means there are deposits in the body apart from the original tumor, which showed up in 1997. Thats a long good ride.
The locations of these gypsy clones are in 4 categories and tend to be followed in their own different ways.
1. Chest. Multiple nodules in lungs, with lymph involvement within the lungs, which is probably making me cough and hoarse! This is treated by chemo. The lymph involvement will be the trickiest problem so far…. we have to get that under control.
2. Bones. Scattered in spinal bones, no impingement on nerves or cord. This is treated with the same chemo plus Xgeva.(Look it up it is really interesting.) I also had a round of radiation to 2 spots.
3. Eye. It is a very common for breast cancer to migrate to the retina; the good news is there is only one and I have no loss of vision. Treated by chemo, possibly radiation if needed.
4. Brain. Few chemos can get to the brain, so we have a brilliant neurosurgeon following this and treating it with gamma knife. Had one yesterday. This is super lucky, as I told you before, because most women are getting Whole Brain Radiation. You would not want this is you did not have to have it!

NOW. Saturday night we went out to listen to one of our 2 favorite bands, Blue Galaxy, and I danced and sang until 11 pm. No booze for me, not needed. The music gives me so much energy. Maybe its a legacy from the Capitol records we listened to 20 hours a day growing up. (But I dont recommend that to you young parents out there)

So, I rest, then go do what I want to do, rest, repeat. The tricky thing is to be mindful of Tim’s needs too. He works a good week at UAB, takes care of bills, all outside work, and much more.

Matt is riding the bronco-horse-of-life and doing pretty well with a tuff ride. Alaina is starting to talk. Both parents working, we get to babysit some evening when Tim and I are BOTH home as I drop things frequently, Broken dishes, spilled drinks, and the cat who lands on his feet. No real harm.

We may go to the gulf beach tomorrow!

Thats all I can think of…. please ask if not clear.

Love,
Kathy!

In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again.
The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down what seemed to be a very deep well.

Well apparently there are some Red Cockaded Woodpecker colonies somewhere south of here.  Want to try and find those?  Well, why not?  It will take an hour to get there.  And of course, as usual, there might not be any there.  But it is a nice day.

Peterson says:  “Zebra backed with black cap.  White cheek is obvious field mark.  Male’s tiny red cockade is hard to see.  Endangered.”

Okay, so that will be something.  Anyway, I like it when they name the bird after its least noticeable feature.  So, we can have lunch and then go in search of . . .

We go east, then south, and then I realize that I don’t really have a map with me, and I only barely remember the name of the town that is nearby, Brant or something like that.  “Did you bring the book with the maps?”  “No.”  “Okay, then I am going to turn west at the next opportunity because I am pretty sure we are on the eastern edge of the habitate.”  “Yeah, go ahead.”

So now we are going west (sort of).  “Hey wasn’t that a woodpecker that just flew.  It had that sort of flight pattern.  Maybe we should stop and look around.”  “Well, there are not many pines here, but I am kind of sick of driving, so yes.”  So, we stop and it does seem to be a woodpecker in some oak trees some ways off.  I can’t quite make it out.  Kathy notices a hawk even further off.  We get the scope on it, and it looks like a Red Tailed Hawk.  I remember Matt mentioning that the Red Tail has the band across the front.  Eventually the hawk flies to a different branch, and is mostly now hidden from view.  So we move on.  West, but maybe a little North as well.  And now maybe a little East as well, and then back to our original South.  “There’s that cross again.”  A small pink roadside monument to bad driving.

I don’t think we are technically lost because we can just turn around an go home.  But we are a little bit lost because we don’t know how to get where we want to go. And a little less lost, because Kathy finds the book with the maps, and we now have some city names that we can put in the GPS.  That helps.  We find another road West.  This feels better.  I don’t really trust the GPS.  But West seems good, and we are getting more pine forest.  Apparently the Red Cockaded Woodpecker likes pine trees that are infected with some sort of disease.  Heartwood disease.  Before too long (too long counting from where we turned the last time) we are in the pine forest and in front of the proper habitate.

We are here, the woodpeckers, however, are not.  Even without the birds, we have a nice walk along a nice pine forest.  It seems as though they will be there someday.  Though they are endangered.  If we come again, we won’t be so lost.  And for all the apparent rabbit holes I have fallen into lately, this one doesn’t seem so bad.

I let Kathy drive home, and on the way I fall asleep.

Hello out there; I know some of our friends and family rely on this update, so I’m posting to let you know that things are okay. Radiation to back caused digestive system to rebel but they turned the dose down and its better. Adele says its okay to eat Girl Scout Cookies if that makes it easier. Thank you! :*) (They’re not made out of real girl scouts, right.)

No big news until scans which are scheduled March 5 & 6.
Meanwhile, baby Alaina is cute and the weather was great today. I look forward to seeing Tim get on the bike again. We do go to the YMCA and we are enjoying birding with our new scope.

The chemo called Xeloda is history so I will start Halaven Feb 29. This is typical, as I read on Breast Cancer.org; with stage 4, the oncologist changes meds to stay ahead of the mutating buggers. I had 7 months with no trips to infusion clinic. “Home Chemo”. But this will be a break for us; one less egg to fry. haha. It was a bit of a hassle because you take Xeloda twice a day for 7 days, then off 7 days, repeat. And you have to BUY the meds through the mail!

Did you know that Delta allows workers to pilfer stuff out of checked bags? My iPad was stolen in November and I finally decided on this Toshiba laptop. Heavier, not as fun as the touchscreen, etc, but a more realistic choice. And it will stay in the house.

Again, love to hear from you and be assured, with this issue, no news is good news.
Love,
Kathy

Well, it’s an ongoing, changing thing every week. One thing I can tell you is this: If you saw me, you’d never know anything was going on.
Since last time…..Did I tell you that they could not reach the 9th tumor via the Gamma process? My head is too big. Seriously.
So, tomorrow we get another high tech procedure: linear accelerator. This can zap the last head tumor with just one treatment. But, then she will zap the back using a series of treatments and then the eye. A “series of treatments” is what usually tires people out. Sounds tiring, doesn’t it?
The only concern is that Radiation Oncology will need to stop the chemo during these treatments and that increases the odds of the other buggers growing. I do trust these doctors, so we will go with what they think is best.
Still, no one needs to get concerned as long as we are going out to listen to music and playing with dogs at the dog park.
Saw some great news today. US Food and Drug Administration approves 1st drug that treats root cause of cystic fibrosis
Love,
Kathy

Random visit to optometrist prompted look at eye which begged peek at brain…. MRI of brain reveals extremely early involvement. Most common treatment is Whole Brain Radiation…. but, noooooo, we have the latest technology here at UAB and we will have a simple gamma knife procedure done Tuesday BY THE Director of Gamma Knife at UAB. Home same day, party next night.

No brainer!
Love,
Kathy

I’m all aleak myself.  Aye! leaks in leaks! not only full of leaky casks, but those leaky casks are in a leaky ship; and that’s a far worse plight than the Pequod’s, man.  Yet I don’t stop to plug my leak; for who can find it in the deep-loaded hull; or how hope to plug it, even if found, in this life’s howling gale?  Starbuck, I’ll not have the Burtons hoisted.

We danced on Saturday.  It has been a long time, but we made it to the contra dance party.  Most of it came back to me, the do-si-does and the gypsy, and the promenade.  The long lines, and the finding your partner at the beginning of each set of moves.  The stars turning, the steps and moves that I don’t really remember what they are called, but most of them I got onto eventually.
Sometimes you start out with a group of people who also are not sure what to do, and you sort of fake it until you reach some people who do know what they are doing.  Then it is sort of a relief, like, oh, that’s what we are supposed to be doing.  Oh, like half a hay.  What?  I know you are supposed to follow the woman, and pass on the right of someone, and the left of someone, but half.  It took me some time to realize where to stop.  Or a right hand pass and then a courtesy turn.  Yeah, I know it now.

Mostly though, to me, it seemed like a lot of spinning.  Which is okay.  I like it when I get to spin my partner, if she is willing to look at me, but it is kind of nervous.  Then if you can look at the person, it is sort of dizzying to me.  I got dizzy some.  Sometimes I just stopped and waited.  No one complained though.  I only bumped into one person, or tripped.

There were also some simple waltzes.  I had some friends who came to the contra party one time.  When the waltz came around, I told them “don’t waltz”.  But there is something irresistible about the waltz.  It seems so simple.  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6.  Right?  That should be easy.  And yet, it is not so easy.  Sometimes, on a golf course there is a sign near the start that says “No lessons on the course” or something like that.  If people abide by that rule lots of arguments and hurt feelings are avoided.  It seems somehow similar on the dance floor.  Someone has to lead, but that doesn’t mean someone has to teach.

Kathy and I have had that problem.  So, we took a few lessons.  We got some instruction on waltz:  the simplest sort of pattern that fits the 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 – or maybe 1, 2—and 4, 5, 6 — I’m not sure.  But, there we were, dancing the waltzes.  It wasn’t perfect, but she mostly allowed me to lead, and she was able to follow.  I let her do her turns, which she did perfectly, so that I could meet her on the other side.  We didn’t bump too many people.  No more than bumped us.

For some time, at least, we were out of the howling gale, and not leaky at all.

When we last spoke, Xeloda was holding most of the beast back. I’m still tolerating it very well. Overall, I feel very, very lucky.
Scary Skeleton
A month ago, Dr Nabell told me that a routine scan showed new growth in an old back thingy that anyone my age can have, but she ordered a bone scan. During the scan, the tech kept asking me if I had fallen, been in a car wreck recently….. was I SURE? I looked and saw funny white spots on the scan.

As a NUT, in between being told there was new growth and getting bone scan results, I was convinced I had mets all over the bones. I scared a bunch of people. Then, she called and said, “There is no evidence of metastases” in the bone scan, “BUT we will have to recheck it in 3 months”. I apologized and swore to take care of my back as we have all been told to do so. You know, don’t you?: walking, stretching, and losing some fat.
Ok, so I started that, but somehow, that routine “growth” thing made my back hurt all of a sudden. Again, the mind is powerful! I kept thinking: “Hmm, I do use my back a lot and would prefer to know for sure that it won’t be cracking under normal stress anytime soon.”
MRI: Please do a definitive test?
Enough fear about walking around bent-in-half led me to ask for a definitive test. Doc then revealed her inner thoughts that there would likely be “involvement” and ordered an MRI. MRI showed a fair amount of degenerative problems, many I have lived with for years, and multiple bone metastases scattered through the main spinal bodies. Nothing is making a mess or causing major nerve problems. So the upshot is that we are going to treat it in a timely fashion. Its really good to catch this early.
Just Like PACMAN:
I get Xgeva next week; a new drug that strengthens the bones. You might have to look for it or Zometa, basically same thing, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-N8ppAaH9bA on Utube, as I had to, to understand the funny way our bones work and how this helps.
Changing Concepts
“Metastases to bones” sounds so scary. But like all the other news in this fight, it surprises me to know that having bone mets DOES NOT worsen your prognosis, longevity, or however you think of it. Just need to keep them strong so you can use them.
Physical Therapy to the Rescue

Bless the abilities, knowledge and time spent by physical therapists. Yesterday, Joe showed me how to take better care of that back that holds us vertical. If any of you have any back pain, I advise you to go to PT. I felt so much better and now know what to avoid and what to do to keep the old girl in line.

Tim went to a cooking class about what we should eat. The main thrust seems to be veggies and freshness. I’ll ask him to post about that.
Love,
Kathy

This week was a St. Martin’s summer, which passed like a remembered dream.  I felt only that it was very gentle, very comfortable, that the air was happy, and my friends content.  Conditions so perfect must needs presage the ending of our time; but this certainty, because of its being unchallenged by any rebellious hope, served only to deepen the quiet of the autumnal present.  There was no thought or care at all.  My mind was as near stilled those days as ever in my life.

The gingko tree in my back yard is starting to turn.  The leaves are barely fringed with brown, or sometimes yellow.  Today, I saw what I think was a pine warbler in it.  Looking to get at the feeder, but it was ultimately too shy.  I tried to be quieter, but it wouldn’t return.  Sort of yellowish all over the front and back, with grey wings with wingbars.  I thought the wingbars would be definitive, but nothing is ever definitive.

Looking at the brief glimpse.  Is it a glimpse you look at?  Maybe not, maybe you look at the bird and get a glimpse.  So the glimpse is “of the bird”.  But in any case it isn’t enough.  I am not trained very well.  My habit is to let more knowledgeable people tell me the truth.  I drift into that habit and get comfortable, and then I wonder how are these people so smart?  How do they know all these things.  We were visiting the Cahaba recently, and there wasn’t much action, but eventually something flew in front of the car that looked big, and interesting, so I stopped, and we began to hunt.  Before long, we see it.  “A great blue” I say, but then no.  “A little blue, but rough”.  Oh, hell, get the book.  Our inanimate reference.  The book will settle it, but it doesn’t.  There is the great blue, and we have seen many great blues and this is not that.  A Little Blue maybe?  Well, it doesn’t look like that either, but again, maybe a young one?  The young bird is often the saving of the young birder.

Getting despondent.  Kathy is patient, but I am starting to suspect she suspects.  Well, I turn the page, and what?  A Yellow Crowned Night Heron.  Yes, that is it.  A perfect match.  Definitive, we can call it.  With just the turn of a page.  Something nice about turning the page.  Maybe that is how they do it, turn the page enough times, they become familiar.  I make a promise to myself to study more pages.  Is that how they do it?  Not magic.  Turn the page.

Turning the pages does not really help much with the warbler in my gingko tree.  It flits and is gone, and I have tried in the brief moment to memorize every characteristic that I think might be identifying.  And so I have my memory, my bug in the box.  I try to compare that to the book.   Pine Warbler seems right, though it would be a migrant.  But isn’t this the time of year for migrants?

Sally told me once “Gingko trees in the fall just turn yellow overnight.”  But that isn’t really true.  Not of this one in my yard.  Which means, not true.  I have been watching my tree turn ever so slowly, brown yellow.  Some leaves are already dropping.  They will never be yellow, at least not on the tree.  I suppose that Sally must have been looking at some other Gingko.  A hasty generalization perhaps, on her part.  Not like cooking spaghetti.  My tree is different, and obeys some slower rule.  I think the gingko is a very ancient sort of tree, but I don’t know that.  I know this one, because I can sit an have a cup of coffee with it in the morning.  It is not so ancient, and it grows mostly on the south side because that is where the sun is. Tree, apparently, grow towards the sun.  On the top the branch of some other tree fell on it and broke the very top branch.  (Is is a branch on the very top, or is that just the top of the tree?)  Now it has several branches coming out of the top.  It looks better really, to me.  And it had a pine warbler in it the other day.

Happy enough with a pine warbler in the gingko tree.  And it is autumn after all.  That is the time of migrants.  And after all, it is just a bird.  Someday, it will be back, and someone smarter than me will tell me what it really is.  I will be happy to be corrected.  Though anyone who sees me when it happens will think:  “He is not happy to be corrected.”  I will refer them to this entry.  I said it once.  I will be happy.  Sometimes the correction is just what you need, or want.

Sometimes, all you want is to be wrong.  Or for somebody to be wrong.  And sometimes that is what you get.  Lucky, sort of.  So, we will enjoy our fall days with our migrants and our fading trees, and look forward to raking the leaves into the compost pile, and see what develops.  And pray.