Marilyn Rang the Bell! and NED is My New Favorite Name
There are few things as satisfying as reaching the best ending to a story. There's that awe moment followed by a smile...and the smile lingers! As those of you who have been following my blog know, my sis-in-law Marilyn was diagnosed with breast cancer last September. (Read Nov. 11 blog posting, "Helping Hearts.") I could use up all my words describing what "treatment" entailed (and still not get it right) nor do I want to. That's not what this is about.
This day is for rejoicing, for celebrating, for breathing a long-overdue awe and for smiling.
I'll let Marilyn tell you her news, her way! (excerpted from e-mail note, Mar. 13, 2012 entitled "10 Days After")
Hi Everyone!
Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your love, support, humor, and so very much more. I've made it through my last chemo treatment and the hardest days that follow chemo. I feel good, am able to get out, drive, swim, take restorative yoga classes, and then rest as needed. My mind has more energy than my body so I have to watch what I think I can do versus what I actually should/can do.
I've never been a big fan of "losing" an hour each spring, but this year the gaining light matches my coming out from under the cloud of the last 6 months of cancer treatment. Like the light, the dawning that the chemo is behind is coming slowly as I absorb the reality. I saw one of the oncologists this morning, not my primary one, to get the needed results of blood work at the 10 day mark after Taxotere chemotherapy. It's the point when the blood counts can be at their lowest. All were in great shape. The way any meeting with an oncologist starts is with side effect: "Is it normal that all my teeth feel like they have cavities?" "What should I do about this red rash on the top of my hand?" "Still have tingling in fingertips and some pain." I forgot to ask, "Do you think these fingernails are going to fall off?" (Losing fingernails sometimes occurs with Taxol and Taxotere.) Not that any of these side effects are big concerns, the tingly/numb fingers are the worst of them. It's kind of interesting to see what happens.
When I happened to review the list, the brutal mental/emotional testing made more sense. By this last treatment, the emotional part was much, much better. I think it being the last treatment helped in a couple of ways that I wasn't aware of before. First, I wasn't having to unconsciously conserve my energy for the treatments coming. There was a certain amount of steeling myself for the long run that I wasn't aware of. Second, again unconsciously, I was always wondering how long the various side effects were going to last, if they would increase in intensity or be long standing: sores in mouth, nausea, diarrhea, fever, pain, numbness, etc. (I list these here for a look into the experience of chemo.) There is a term "the new normal" that is batted around a lot, meaning there will be side effects that will stay with you after treatment that weren't there before. One new normal is the numbness on my underarm after surgery on my lymph nodes. It feels like I'm putting deodorant on over clothing. I'm very fortunate. There are many, many side effects that I don't have.
I asked the doctor today what I should call my present state --post cancer, cured, what? He said that I was "no evidence of disease" (NED) and that my breast cancer has been "treated."
"NED" is what I think I'll throw around at cocktail parties. The drugs that I'm taking now, one he called a heat seeking missile, significantly reduce the chance of cancer returning.
At the cancer center, when a patient finishes the final chemo treatment, she/he gets to ring a bell. I was a little shy about doing it, but it was very satisfying once I did.
NED...the name has a lovely ring to it!
World Read Aloud Day
Today, March 7th is World Read Aloud Day!
World Read Aloud Day is about taking action to show the world that the right to read and write belongs to all people. World Read Aloud Day motivates children, teens, and adults worldwide to celebrate the power of words, especially those words that are shared from one person to another, and creates a community of readers advocating for every child’s right to a safe education and access to books and technology.Lit World is a non-profit organization dedicated to spreading the written word! (According to LitWorld's website, there are 793 million illiterate people in the world. ) Find out more about LitWorld, register to be part of the worldwide read aloud, donate, get involved--and most importantly READ and spread the written word!
What better way to celebrate World Read Aloud Day than by Buddy Reading...and, it just so happens some wonderful reader posted a read-aloud of NOT NORMAN, A GOLDFISH STORY on U-Tube. So, get cozy, grab a buddy and READ!
NOT NORMAN, A GOLDFISH STORY, Buddy Read-Aloud: If the hyperlink doesn't click, cut and paste this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qE_bId4fr28
And here's a little ditty to celebrate the day (Get ready to channel Karen Carpenter's version of Sing!):
Read/Read a Book/Read out loud/Read out looooong/
Don't worry that you're not good enough for anyone else to hear/
Just read/Read a Book!
Sampai Jumpa, Nanti, Jakarta
Last Jakarta News Note March 1, 2012
Seven years ago today I arrived in Jakarta to begin my Indonesian adventure. Curtis was already here, having arrived mid-January to begin his new position on the “BP Indonesia New Wells Delivery” Team. The next day we were handed the keys to our freshly painted, curtained, empty new house. Having signed up for a 3-year assignment (which morphed into 4 years seconds after Curtis said yes), we’d chosen a house quickly on our look-see trip in December. We weren’t buying it so what did it really matter we told ourselves. Settling into a new country, new customs, new people and language was an experience I wanted to capture and share, so I began writing Jakarta News that 1st day. As happens, different became familiar; unusual, customary; awkward, comfortable; Jl Pejaten Barat 1, No. 11, Kavling 5 became HOME. So, it’s been a while since my next-to-the-last Jakarta News posting.
Yesterday, a day shy of seven years later, I turned the keys back to the landlord, pulled the door closed and said goodbye to our Jakarta home.
Along with the house came staff: a housekeeper, Rusnati and her husband, Rohemon. “Try them out,” the HR rep told us. “At least while you get settled anyway.” There were several people in our garage that day, all brown, quiet, shy… some older, some in uniform, one hugely pregnant young woman. I recall wondering if she was, in fact, our maid, and if so, if she was going to expect to have her baby in our house and what I’d think about it…
Rusnati (not the pregnant one) stayed when the others left and so identified herself as our housekeeper. She didn’t speak much, nor did I, as I assumed she couldn’t speak English. Speaking wasn’t much of an issue at that point as the house was empty but for our suitcases, a rented bed, borrowed lamp and boxes for tables.
Every time I wandering into the garage or out those first few days, Rohemon was sitting in the garage. I’d smile; he’d smile. But we didn’t exchange words and I was clueless as to exactly what he was going to do, or when he’d begin doing in. After a few days later, our company-assigned driver, Aan, who did speak English (extremely well) set me straight. "Rohemon would," Aan explained, "clean up the garden—if he had scissors and a broom..."
Clean Rohemon did, and plant and prune and nurture. Having won the battle for ownership, Rohemon’ s pond now gurgles pleasantly as water tumbles down the waterfall where the fat rat drank. The orange and white pond fish, which replaced the monster ikan lele, which replaced the bobble headed goldfish, and the soap suds-poisoned fish and saltwater-suffocated fish before them are plump and fluttery. We’ve hatch a few batches of babies. And the few remaining ikan lele, descendants of the nasty, spotty monster fish that once lurked in the shadows, only darting out to terrorize their pond mates, are as tame and friendly as the rest. (Proof that it is nurture vs nature?) At last report, Chris’s blue-tongued lizard family was still romping about—even the one Joy’s dalmatian, Cale,mangled. And Andrea’s turtle still takes the occasional dip in the pond.
After the packers pulled away, while Rohemon swept the grass one last time, Rusnati, Curtis and I wandered through the rooms, straighten the curtains, checking cupboards, turning on fans and off lights.
Even empty, the once white-washed rooms, pulse with color, life, memories of parties and people, visitors, adventures, achievements. Rusnati’s two older daughters graduated college, as did Max and Lexi; Rusnati’s younger daughter, naughty Andrea, who it was feared wouldn’t be allowed into middle school because she wasn’t doing well, is now a computer ace with a paid high-school internship; Aan’s oldest son also graduated from Uni and is now a videographer traveling throughout Indonesia (including filming SBY, Indonesia’s President); Aan’s daughter is in her last semester in Uni, and his youngest son, Izwan, is top student in a multilingual honor school. Izwan is going to Singapore with his school this spring—the first in his family to hold a passport and travel out of the country!
When we first moved in, our voices echoed in the high-ceiling-ed rooms. I’d tilted back my head and yodeled once and Rusnati had come running, fearing the worst. Over the years, I yodeled many more times. Curtis hollered back, which always made Rusnati shake her head and laugh. Earlier today, when I was gone for a bit, Rusnati let out a yodel. She told me about it later, laughing about how the packers ran in from the garage to see what was wrong.
Last evening, after turning over the keys, Rusnati and I sat on the front steps as we have grown to work together, side-by-side, with a plant between us. The street cats, Ochie, Aan's pet, and a new younger one who looks like Ochie and is also learning to yowl for attention, lounged on the porch steps, taking turns nibbling snacks. (We left several full containers of food. Warjo, our pool man and relief gardener--the only one of us who'd return tomorrow--had promised to feed the cats, and the fish, and water the plants, too, until the new tenants moved in.) The sun was low, the call-to-prayer a low background chorus. Rusnati and I didn't say much, but not because we couldn't communicate; we speak the same language now, our own Pigeon Indo-English-Sign blend, a language of like minds, common goals, kindred spirits.
We’ll be in Jakarta a few more weeks, while Curtis wraps up his job. Then we’ll say farewell to our Jakarta Life. We’ll say it the Indonesian way: not “goodbye” but “sampai jumpa, nanti!, Until then…”