Those pesky parasites

Ten days ago, Andy and I were talking about where we should go for the months of October and November. Should we stay in Mexico or head down to Belize? Maybe it’ll be time to visit Nicaragua or Guatemala.

Within a few days, the conversation had changed.

Suddenly I was talking to Andy about moving back to Oakland. About where we’d live since our house is being rented. About whether our part-time income would be able to support us in the expensive Bay Area. Suddenly the topics in my head were not pleasant ones: Spending the next four months undergoing chemotherapy for a recurrence of my ovarian cancer. Shopping for funky hats to hide my baldness. Filling prescriptions at the Kaiser pharmacy and visiting the local cannabis dispensary (has the first legal store opened yet?) to control chemo-induced nausea.

I wasn’t at surprised by the abrupt change in our conversation. Statistics don’t lie. Seventy to 80 percent of people with my stage and type of ovarian cancer get it again (and then again), with most first-time recurrences at around the 18-month mark. Only 46 percent of us survive five years after being disgnosed. I’ve already been cancer-free for almost 27 months. Much luckier than so many.

But had my luck run out?

Some abdominal symptoms started abruptly. I had an upset stomach followed by days of nausea, constipation and loss of appetite. I was also very tired. Many of these are symptoms of an ovaraian cancer recurrence, so I was concerned, needless to say. But at the same time, Andy was having a few similar symptoms. He had toughed his way through a 24-hour food poisoning bug the week before, and he too was constipated. But he still had an appetite and no nausea, and, unlike me, he was getting better.

After days of hoping I’d magically get better too, I reached out to my Mexican oncologist, Dr. Miguel Flores, and asked to be seen. He didn’t waste any time, agreeing to see me in his office the next day (a Saturday); he also had me take a series of blood tests, including the CA 125, a test for my ovarian cancer marker. Although cancer was a concern, the doctor (and I) both thought it was just a parasite or some such intenstinal woe. A disgusting worm wreaking havoc on my digestive system. Sure, but it could be something else, too. Just to be on the safe side, the doctor set me up with a prescription parasite killer and prescribed one for Andy, too, since he was having some stomach issues.

I couldn’t help it. I turned the conversations to, “Should we move back into our house in Oakland?” “Should we rent an apartment just outside of the Bay Area, Davis maybe, so we could keep the rent money rolling in?” Maybe we could stay with Andy’s mom in San Jose until we figure out our next move.

My reality is this. Every twinge, every muscle ache, every upset stomach is a constant reminder of a potential cellular party I don’t want to be part of. I try very hard to keep it all in check. On many days I’m able to distance myself from what was.  And some days, (especially recently) I wallow.  I read Inspire.com, (the ovarian cancer board) over and over.  I search the internet for the latest ovarian cancer clinical trials and I read about new drugs that will magically push other women past the 5 year mark.

I was sad. And anxious. But I kept focusing on the fact that at least I got all this time — 27 months — without batteries of tests, without surgery, without chemo. Without cancer. It’s been more than two years in which I’ve been able to spend amazing times with friends and famly. Time that I got to enjoy several different cities in Mexico, and Japan, and South Korea, and a two-week cruise from Yokohama to Vancouver, and a road trip from there down to Oakland, seeing friends along the way. And to be with the man I loved. Time that has meant the world to me, and time that could not be taken away.

While I was in my scared mode, I spent a lot of time in wallow mode reading depressing cancer statistics. This did not improve my outlook or my mood, but it did help me cope. I was contemplative and quiet, a rarity for me. I shared the news with my immediate family. I told them I thought my cancer might be back.

Today I got my CA 125 test back from the lab. It was a low number and that’s great news.  In the next few days I’l l get a CT scan just to make sure, but having a low CA 125 is a great indicator that the cancer hasn’t yet returned.

I think Guatemala sounds perfect for November, don’t you?

Stacey

 

 

Fond of fonts

Dear readers of believeitohrnot,

Thank you so much for your comments about my last blog post where I talked about fear and the debilitating effects it can have on our psyches. I’m really happy that the post  resonated with many readers. Many of you shared stories of your own fears in the comments section of the blog and through email.  I encourage you to continue to share your fears with friends and trusted family members. Their support will be essential if you hope to overcome what’s hanging you up.

Now it’s time for something lighter!

Font fun

I’ve always been fascinated by fonts. Fonts are cool and they tell stories. I like how fonts can  express playfulness or seriousness. In some perverse way,  I even like how fonts are used to capture and engage us into buying products we don’t need and we really don’t want.  I like how some fonts scream and how some fonts whisper.   I could probably talk about fonts for longer than the average person, but I really do enjoy them. Comic Sans is one of my favorite fonts, Arial, not so much.  More about fonts in a second.

Recently, my friend and I went to Patzcuaro, Mexico to enjoy their annual Cantoya, (lit lantern) festival.  We got to see hundreds of both big and small lanterns being launched into the day and night sky. Teams competed from around the world and built their cantoyas over the weekend.  In the evening, we joined throngs of happy revelers and launched our own cantoyas.

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I’m watching my Cantoya soar!

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Patzcuaro is only an hour from Morelia and is a really special place to visit.  We lived there last summer for three weeks and it’s a great place.  It’s filled with indigenous people peddling their wares at the market and it’s also filled with some very good regional cuisine from the state of Michoacan.

Patzcuaro is also a place filled with great fonts!  These amazing fonts dot the fronts of restaurants and give the entire town a very surreal, old- Mexico feel.

Here’s a little bit about the Patzcuaro font.  Yes, the name of the font is actually called Patzcuaro which I think is effin cool.  This description states…

Patzcuaro is a summer resort by a lake of the same name. It is situated 370 km west of Ciudad de Mexico and a visitor from Europe, on seeing it, will be reminded of the Austrian Rust or the South Bohemian Trebon. The town’s colonial architecture is protected as a historical monument, the reddish-brown tint of the footings of the buildings, their white facades and even the type of lettering with red initials is prescribed – and these regulations are also complied with as far as cars are concerned.

This colour scheme is splendid in combination with the rich gamut of greys of the stone window jambs, vaults, lintels and pillars. Joking apart, even the local petrol station is 16th-century in appearance. Patzcuaro Regular is a cosy, welcoming type face which is good for use on labels.

I really love looking at the myriad of buildings with this killer font.

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Photo courtesy of Kara Goldhamer.

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photo courtesy of Kara Goldhamer