I can’t believe my last post was on March 7—I knew it had been awhile since I’d written but yikes! I would like to apologize to those of you who may have worried in the absence of an update. The good news is, it’s all good news!
Way back in April I quietly marked the ten year anniversary of my diagnosis with NSCLC. That’s right; a decade. I am absolutely understating when I say that I never, ever thought I’d live this long. Heck, my oldest child is thirty now and my youngest turned eighteen in April. I’m fifty-five—old enough to qualify for a senior discount at the Salvation Army Thrift Store (a privilege I don’t let go to waste).
Speaking of kids, my oldest son August came for a wonderful-if-too-brief visit in mid May and I had the pleasure of all three of my children’s company for a blissful 24 hours. We threw a party in my loft and celebrated any number of momentous occasions.
Peter, Jemesii, Linnea, August.
I’d also like to do a little bragging about my other two children: Jemesii manages a store on Beacon Hill called December Thieves—they just received Best of Boston and Boston Best Awards. And Peter is interning at the Koch Institute this summer—doing research on pancreatic cancer! Proud, proud mama.
May was also the month that my excruciatingly painful, protracted and expensive divorce proceedings culminated; everything is signed, sealed and submitted and will be final on September 1st. I shall write a bit more about this particular part of my journey at a later date. In the meantime, I am just so happy that the most difficult part is over with and that I can turn my focus to other things.
Fortunately, I am feeling really, really well (more than a year of stability on the PF-06463922 clinical trial) and my physical energy is generally exceeded only by my creative energy. I’ve got so many projects in the works, and one of the biggest is The House of Redemption: my combination studio/second chance clothing venue. I’ve been working behind the scenes for more than a year now, but the doors shall (actually! really! finally!) open on July 31st. Inside will be a splendid selection of both vintage and fine used clothing and accessories—as well as an artist (me) painting away in the back of the shop. More details and photos to follow!
Home of brave new art and second chance clothing.
In some ways I feel as if I am experiencing an unprecedented personal renaissance. The art school atmosphere of the lofts is a big part of why—this community is creative 24 hours a day. Much interaction is delightfully spontaneous—conversations, meals, sitting around an outdoor chiminea. There are also movies, parties, museum visits and gallery openings. And it’s not just about art—If we are in need of something, a request goes out on the community email (a ride, a pet watched, an extra pair of arms). If we have something to share with our neighbors, a similar email goes out. Frequently I come home to flowers (Rufiya!), some food treat left outside my door or an invitation to dinner. Sometimes I feel as if I have found my Oz (as in, Land of).
I am also doing my part to maintain good health by staying active; walking remains one of my essential pastimes. I am always shooting photos on these jaunts (my camera being my iPhone!) and shall soon be printing and displaying a large number of these images on the wall outside my loft.
Pipe dreams
In addition to exercise, I pay careful attention to how much I sleep. An interesting side effect of this therapy is that at higher doses it seems to induce a state similar to sleep deprivation, which might explain some of my cognitive challenges early on. At this lower dose I have few troubling side effects (neuropathy and some arthritis—still to be determined if the latter is drug related). However, I do require a lot of sleep—a minimum of ten hours nightly.
I am also increasingly mindful of what I eat. Sugar and white bread are for special occasions only, meat is kept to a minimum and vegetables rule. I have a plot in a community garden and a raised bed here at the lofts as well, so the salads I eat each day are grow your own.
Writing remains my greatest challenge; sadly it no longer comes easily. However, I am well aware that there is only one way to get over this hurdle—put one word in front of another.
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life and breath: outliving lung cancer 