Peg turned 55 yesterday

She spent the morning meditating. I was in meetings downtown. Last night we ate at a wonderful Afghan restaurant with our dear friends who were visiting from Grass Valley. And indulged in our latest "can't get enough of," "30Rock" on DVD.

Today Peg had a fun lunch and walk with our friend Marilea, who gave her a card with a wonderful poem (author unknown), which I will share with you here:

When you come to the end

of all that you know

you must believe one of two things:

you will find earth upon which to stand

or you will be given wings.

Peg at 55. Life 2.0.

Six down, one to go

Peg had enough "oomph" last night to plant some winter flowers with Zoë, as long as she was sitting down. Swapped out the zinnias for pansies and put in red snapdragons around the grass. Can't remember the last time we were able to work out in the garden as a family, and what a beautiful time to do it-- magic hour just before sunset with the amber light hitting the upper canopy of the trees, leaves turning gold.

Our family doc emailed Peg yesterday to tell her the CA-125 marker is now down to 6. The cancer is in remission and her numbers look good, but she's getting knocked down a bit by the chemo. One of the side effects of chemotherapy is neuropathy, which is numbness in her toes and the balls of her feet. She's got a bit of numbness and tingling in her fingertips as well.

Her weight is back up about where she wants it, and we've started to eat a more balanced diet again. But we have fond memories of horking down mass quantities of mashed 'taters, gravy and all the other yummies our friends brought us over the last four months to get her there.

Peg's last chemo, the seventh, is two weeks from tomorrow. Then she'll be monitored closely for a few months, then less frequently. After three or four years with no recurrence, the odds are in her favor that her future is cancer-free. Our friend Jon, who went through this 11 years ago with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma, says that he looks back on it as a bad dream. We're looking forward to saying that down the road as well. For now, we're enjoying the flowers, and each other.

Tears of joy falling on the onion rings

Dr. B gave us the official word: Peg's cancer is in remission. She's got two more rounds of chemo, one on Wednesday and one three weeks later... and she's done.

We celebrated by going to Habit, our favorite burger joint. I was hoovering down my cheeseburger and looked up to see my sweet wife, burger halfway to her lips, crying really hard. I started to freak out until she told me she was so happy inside she just couldn't contain herself.

After she had a good long cry I took one of my onion rings and made a little heart shape out of it as a greasy love offering.

Peg's a lot stronger these days. Takes two long walks a day, hardly naps at all. Yesterday she drove herself to get a flu shot and some groceries. It was the four-month anniversary of her surgery... a third of a year. Wow.

Chemo hat mania

Peg has an assortment of chemo hats to keep her sweet bald head from getting cold... but they're a little too practical. I suggested some alternatives, especially as she gets out more. The conehead, for example, would certainly enliven a trip to the grocery store.

We're keeping a close eye on her CA-125 numbers (the marker for ovarian cancer), and they're still heading in the right direction-- 178 to 33 to 11, and this week, down to 7. Yesterday she had visitors, did two walks and washed the dishes, all with just a 45-minute nap. Next Thursday we visit Dr. B, and may learn then whether Peg has one more round of chemo or two.

Can't believe how fast the Bus of Time is hurtling down the Freeway of Life. I'll try to be better about updating the blog more frequently. It's been awhile!

Peg's eyebrows are starting to thin out. She tried (and quickly abandoned) eyebrow makeup. I told her she could glue on some trimmings from mine, but she didn't think the Andy Rooney thing I've got going on would be a good fit.

Thanks for all your calls and visits. It's a huge help in keeping her spirits up... probably the single most important and helpful thing you can do for the Pegster.

Inside the pinball machine

This morning Peg felt good enough to help put sheets on the bed, crawl around hooking up the electric blanket, and go for coffee with our friend Mary. She worked in a visit with Suzanne, her office partner. We took a brief walk before dinner.

And wham, it all caught up with her.

She said after dinner her legs felt like cement. She's watching "Mad Men" on DVD right now, which is all she has energy for... her short-term memory does short-circuits on and off during the day. She gets weepy and profoundly sad, seemingly out of nowhere, then she's fine a few minutes later.

And yet we laughed really hard today thinking about lines from the movie "Baby Mama," which we saw as a family last night. She loved feeling the breeze and the sun on her clothing on our pre-sunset walk. We both delighted in seeing our daughter being a teenager, skipping through the house and yakking about homework with her friends.

And so it goes inside the pinball machine. Chemo is not a trajectory, as we had thought, where you can predict your "good days." It's all over the map, like some bizarre gizmo with the seven dwarves, three stooges, the four horsemen of the apocalypse and Pee Wee Herman pulling the levers. Surprise!

Big thumbs up from Dr. B

Just got back from seeing Peg's oncologist, who was delighted at her progress. Peg's up to 128 pounds, still no nausea, and all the numbers are headed in the right direction.

She's starting to feel some of the odd side effects of the chemo, like numbness on the balls of her feet. Mornings are good for her these days... late afternoon, not so much. Her belly bothers her a bit then and she feels kinda lousy.

Dr. B said not to be too concerned about fluctuations in how Peg feels. Part of the gig. She did say, though, that the effects of chemo are cumulative, so as we head toward November there could be some rough days. There's also a possibility of a 7th round of chemo, since the first round in the hospital was abdominal and didn't distribute properly in her abdomen. It was loculated. (Now you have a new scrabble word to try out).

Tonight Peg's going to meet with her women's group for the first time since June. They've met every other Thursday for almost 20 years. She may be too poohed to stay the whole time, but it's a big step for her just to be out. Yay!

Good numbers, but still a hard day

Peg's CA-125 markers (indicators of ovarian cancer) are down from a high of 178 to 11.  20 is considered baseline normal.  Three weeks ago they were at 33.  And her blood tests showed her red cell levels are approaching normal, up from being very anemic.

Yesterday was still a hard day for Peg... it really hit her hard that she's not able to wrestle with Zoë, swim with her or be as present as she was before she was diagnosed.