November 14, 2007
Dear Family and Friends,
The Thanksgiving holidays have begun, and this year in particular there are so many things in life that I am grateful for. My faith, the love and outreach of my family, my health, and the many thoughts and prayers of friends are high on my list. I enter this season with gratitude to God, for the gift of sight. The biggest miracle is that about 75% (my estimate) of my sight has returned. Something that I was told might happen by one doctor, and with another doctor saying that I might be permanently blind in my right eye because the tumor and the area radiated were very close to the optic nerve. I now understand the frustration the hospitalized patients feel when they say, "But Dr. A. told me something different than Dr. B....why can't they agree before they talk with me?"
I return to UCSF in February for more testing and a visit with Dr. O"Brien to determine if the radiation was successful. Currently I am not anxious about that appointment. It will be what it will be. Perhaps the day before I will be very anxious, letting all my crazy questions and insecurities play havoc in my mind and ultimately wanting to know immediately how effective the healing has been.
In my heart I know that healing within my body, not just my eye, is occurring. These past few month have been times of rest for me, and I have made it a practice to not rush....something that has seemed to be an integrated part of my being. I have slept more that I ever have....with naps being part of my daily routine, enjoying leisurely evening baths (water therapy is very healing for me), and going out for coffee and lunch with friends. And perhaps most importantly, I have been able to establish a morning meditation ritual that has enabled me to appreciate and look forward to silence in different parts of my day. In the silent moments and in the rest, I have been able to reflect upon my life and at a different level, understand, accept, and love the woman I am today, and for that opportunity, I am very grateful.
Travel has also something I have been able to do during this time. In September I was able to go to Rhode Islant to visit Shannon and his family, and in October, I went to San Diego for a family wedding. I was there when the fires came, and that was a true devastation. I was amazed by the outpouring of goodness by the people of San Diego for the victims of those fires....generousity was everywhere. On November 15 (tomorrow) I depart for Rhode Island for the Thanksgiving holidays. While there in September, my granddaughter, Abby, auditioned for the role of Clara in the Nutcracker, and her question to me was "Grammi, if I get the part will you come back?" Of course, I could not say "no" to her. Again I am grateful that I have the flexibility to travel and not have to respond to a work schedule.
There has been so much goodness in the unstructuredness of these past few months. I consider this time to be my Sabbatical....a time of rest, spiritual renewal, and trusting that I will know when it is time to become more active again. Most of the time I am at peace with this gift of time. However in my humaness, there are moments when I become restless and discontent, thinking that I should be doing something productive. In my moments of clarity, I have come to realize that the productiveness lies in faithful waiting, and giving my spirit and my body quiet and unstructured time. A total new concept for me.
Thank you for your expressed concerns for my wellbeing, and the recent feedback I have received from some of you, informing me of how you have treasured this blog. I value you and will carry you in my heart this Thanksgiving season. May the blessings of gratitude and God's love give you strenth for your journey and peace in your heart.
Leni
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Thursday, August 9, 2007
This posting is a photo easy of my photon treatment at UC Davis. To be sure you all get the idea, this is a nuclear research lab (not really a clinical setting).
After the foyer, you walk down this hall. On the right, behind the forklift is the nuclear facility. It is a 76" diameter steel magnet accelerator, surrounded by 10 feet thick cement walls on all sides.
Another view of the wall.
The you turn the corner and walk down this hall. The nuclear facility is through the wall on the left.
Continue down this hall
Until you get to the Patients waiting room.
Which really looks like this:
On the other side of the waiting area, are two of the staff, at a stand of computers.
To the left of the computers, is part of the research lab.
Down to an area, with more computers.
Then, there is this smaller room, where they dialate my eyes.
I sit there for a minute, then turn the corner and sit in this chair, in front of the proton beam.
They made a special mask for me last week at UCSF. They lock the mask, into the chair, then lock my head in the mask. I bit down on a mouth piece, which is also attached to the chair. This ensures I can't move.
Then they raise the beam right up to my eye, and direct it directly at the tumor.
The screen on the upper left, shows me from above, so they can see that I do not move.
The screen on the upper right shows some settings on the beam and the angle of the beam, written with a sharpy on the screen.
The screen on the lower left shows me sitting behind the beam. Here the doctors are leaving the room
The screen on the lower right shows my eye, close up from a camera attached on the beam. They mark the iris with a sharpy on the screen, again to measure if there is any movement.
After the foyer, you walk down this hall. On the right, behind the forklift is the nuclear facility. It is a 76" diameter steel magnet accelerator, surrounded by 10 feet thick cement walls on all sides.
Another view of the wall.
The you turn the corner and walk down this hall. The nuclear facility is through the wall on the left.
Continue down this hall
Until you get to the Patients waiting room.
Which really looks like this:
On the other side of the waiting area, are two of the staff, at a stand of computers.
To the left of the computers, is part of the research lab.
After waiting, you walk past the computers (they look old), down a smaller hallway.
Down to an area, with more computers.
Then, there is this smaller room, where they dialate my eyes.
I sit there for a minute, then turn the corner and sit in this chair, in front of the proton beam.
They made a special mask for me last week at UCSF. They lock the mask, into the chair, then lock my head in the mask. I bit down on a mouth piece, which is also attached to the chair. This ensures I can't move.
Then they raise the beam right up to my eye, and direct it directly at the tumor.
A large needle is inserted into my eye to ensure the beam is directed at the right spot.
Everyone then leaves the room, and watches and directs the treament from outside the cement walls on these four screens.
Everyone then leaves the room, and watches and directs the treament from outside the cement walls on these four screens.
The screen on the upper left, shows me from above, so they can see that I do not move.
The screen on the upper right shows some settings on the beam and the angle of the beam, written with a sharpy on the screen.
The screen on the lower left shows me sitting behind the beam. Here the doctors are leaving the room
The screen on the lower right shows my eye, close up from a camera attached on the beam. They mark the iris with a sharpy on the screen, again to measure if there is any movement.
Another view of all four screens.
After about 2 minutes of the treatment, they take the whole assembly apart. At this point, I can leave out one of the back doors.
Monday, August 6, 2007
Moving into the Next Realm of Treatment
This evening I opened a letter from a friend who was describing her feelings and the process she was dealing with as she sought insight into the untimely death of a friend. It again brought to mind the opportunity we have to share our lives with one another and why this blog has become important to me. All of us are on a journey and we experience the unknown, pain and questions along the way. This method of sharing a major "detour" in my summer plans is again a way of making this experience more real to me and to assist me as I process my feelings. If I write about it, I cannot deny that it is occurring to me. Perhaps the good to be learned and the feeling of today are not always evident to me, but at least I spend time with where I am as I share with you.
The surgery to implant the Tantalum Ring Markers has come and gone, and my son, Michael, gave such a descriptive narrative of that procedure. I returned to his home in Sacramento the following day, and spent several days of recuperation with his active and full of life family before returning to my home on July 26. During those mornings, I would often awaken to one or two of my grandsons saying, "Good morning, ;Ama, your eye looks better today" or "Ama, I love you", as they went along with their morning routine....how grateful I am to be surrounded by family love and presence.
My sister, Jeanie and her husband, Ted, arrived on July 26th to assist me as I moved back into my home....what a beautiful gift to return to my environment. They helped me unpack, filled my freezer and refrigerator with food, served me meals, and let me rest and move at my own pace. Anesthesia has slowed me down greatly. Several days after their departure, I asked my brother, Tom, to come for a few days and help with my computer, and a few other household tasks. He assisted me with the computer, hung some hooks in different closets, fixed my patio fountain, changed some outside lights, and drove me on a few errands. These family members all live in San Diego, and they have made the trip to walk with me emotionally and physically. I have been truly well cared for during this process of letting my body heal. I have also learned the value to ask and to accept help from others...something that I have not integrated into my life style.
There have been many phone calls from family and friends this week, and again I express my gratitude for your loving concern for myself and my healing. I am convinced that it is your prayers and the positive thoughts from all of you that have brought great peace and ease to my recovery period. Throughout my ministry as a Chaplain, I have encouraged others to pray and I have been given the opportunity to pray with many people....never fully understanding the miracle nor the depth of compassion and grace that God freely gives us in all our human conditions...especially when we are faced with crisis. In this experience of ocular melanoma, I have been given the gift of trust in the unknown, and the knowledge on a deep level that I am daily being given what I need to live each day to its fullest. Now that I am a recipient of prayer, I have no words to adequately express what God can and does do for us as others lift us in prayer. It is just an awesome experience.
My moments of doubt and fear have truly been minimal. Yes, they do come. Things like when I am in the grocery store and cannot see the products on the shelf unless my nose is 6 inches away from the shelf or when I am walking and must carefully survey the sidewalk to be sure that I won't trip on something or when inner questions surface about my independence and my ability to safely drive again. I certainly did take my eyes for granted all these years. Fortunately, these questions do not stay and haunt me. The doctors have told me that I will have down time. Yet these times have been minimal in the grand scope of things.
My work has taught me that there are specific emotions that all of us feel when faced with a trauma or grief. I have asked myself if I am in denial or am grieving the loss of sight in my right eye. These feelings do present themselves, yet they never stay long. I have had thoughts that this radiation therapy may not be successful, but neither do these materialize into worry or feelings of being overwhelmed. Perhaps when all this is over, some of these feelings will present themselves and need to be processed. Until then, I will be grateful for the peace I have been given.
I now am spiritually and emotionally preparing myself for the Proton Beam Radiation therapy that will begin on Monday, August 6. Here again, are many unknowns. I have been fitted with a facemask and a mouth guard to prevent any movement during the next segment of my care. Tonight I cannot identify any specific feelings. I am neither numb nor anxious, although I know that I will be come Monday morning. I just know in my heart that I will move ahead with this treatment with the same spirit of faith that has embraced me prior to the surgery...again the direct result of the prayers and positive thoughts of others. Gratitude is the word that comes most freely...gratitude for God's love and direction, gratitude for each of you and your outreach to me, gratitude for the tools of life that enable me to live one day at a time and not worry too much about tomorrow, and recognizing that the one thing I do have control over is my attitude.
The miracles of these past 2 weeks:
1. Acceptance that there is an ultimate plan, and I have only to live today
2. Feeling deep gratitude for the love and prayers of family and friends with the understanding that the prayers of others are directly responsible for my feelings of peace and acceptance
3. Coming to an understanding that this cancer is isolated in my eye cavity and has not spread elsewhere
4. Believing and trusting (the majority of the time, although there are some moments of doubt) that the Proton Beam Radiation will stop the tumor growth and kill the cancer cells
5. Knowing that only 7 weeks have passed since my first symptom appeared until the completion of my treatment by one of the leading ophthalmology oncologist in the US (with my health care spanning from Canada to California)...what a modern day miracle in our health care system.
May God's peace and love be with each of you.
The surgery to implant the Tantalum Ring Markers has come and gone, and my son, Michael, gave such a descriptive narrative of that procedure. I returned to his home in Sacramento the following day, and spent several days of recuperation with his active and full of life family before returning to my home on July 26. During those mornings, I would often awaken to one or two of my grandsons saying, "Good morning, ;Ama, your eye looks better today" or "Ama, I love you", as they went along with their morning routine....how grateful I am to be surrounded by family love and presence.
My sister, Jeanie and her husband, Ted, arrived on July 26th to assist me as I moved back into my home....what a beautiful gift to return to my environment. They helped me unpack, filled my freezer and refrigerator with food, served me meals, and let me rest and move at my own pace. Anesthesia has slowed me down greatly. Several days after their departure, I asked my brother, Tom, to come for a few days and help with my computer, and a few other household tasks. He assisted me with the computer, hung some hooks in different closets, fixed my patio fountain, changed some outside lights, and drove me on a few errands. These family members all live in San Diego, and they have made the trip to walk with me emotionally and physically. I have been truly well cared for during this process of letting my body heal. I have also learned the value to ask and to accept help from others...something that I have not integrated into my life style.
There have been many phone calls from family and friends this week, and again I express my gratitude for your loving concern for myself and my healing. I am convinced that it is your prayers and the positive thoughts from all of you that have brought great peace and ease to my recovery period. Throughout my ministry as a Chaplain, I have encouraged others to pray and I have been given the opportunity to pray with many people....never fully understanding the miracle nor the depth of compassion and grace that God freely gives us in all our human conditions...especially when we are faced with crisis. In this experience of ocular melanoma, I have been given the gift of trust in the unknown, and the knowledge on a deep level that I am daily being given what I need to live each day to its fullest. Now that I am a recipient of prayer, I have no words to adequately express what God can and does do for us as others lift us in prayer. It is just an awesome experience.
My moments of doubt and fear have truly been minimal. Yes, they do come. Things like when I am in the grocery store and cannot see the products on the shelf unless my nose is 6 inches away from the shelf or when I am walking and must carefully survey the sidewalk to be sure that I won't trip on something or when inner questions surface about my independence and my ability to safely drive again. I certainly did take my eyes for granted all these years. Fortunately, these questions do not stay and haunt me. The doctors have told me that I will have down time. Yet these times have been minimal in the grand scope of things.
My work has taught me that there are specific emotions that all of us feel when faced with a trauma or grief. I have asked myself if I am in denial or am grieving the loss of sight in my right eye. These feelings do present themselves, yet they never stay long. I have had thoughts that this radiation therapy may not be successful, but neither do these materialize into worry or feelings of being overwhelmed. Perhaps when all this is over, some of these feelings will present themselves and need to be processed. Until then, I will be grateful for the peace I have been given.
I now am spiritually and emotionally preparing myself for the Proton Beam Radiation therapy that will begin on Monday, August 6. Here again, are many unknowns. I have been fitted with a facemask and a mouth guard to prevent any movement during the next segment of my care. Tonight I cannot identify any specific feelings. I am neither numb nor anxious, although I know that I will be come Monday morning. I just know in my heart that I will move ahead with this treatment with the same spirit of faith that has embraced me prior to the surgery...again the direct result of the prayers and positive thoughts of others. Gratitude is the word that comes most freely...gratitude for God's love and direction, gratitude for each of you and your outreach to me, gratitude for the tools of life that enable me to live one day at a time and not worry too much about tomorrow, and recognizing that the one thing I do have control over is my attitude.
The miracles of these past 2 weeks:
1. Acceptance that there is an ultimate plan, and I have only to live today
2. Feeling deep gratitude for the love and prayers of family and friends with the understanding that the prayers of others are directly responsible for my feelings of peace and acceptance
3. Coming to an understanding that this cancer is isolated in my eye cavity and has not spread elsewhere
4. Believing and trusting (the majority of the time, although there are some moments of doubt) that the Proton Beam Radiation will stop the tumor growth and kill the cancer cells
5. Knowing that only 7 weeks have passed since my first symptom appeared until the completion of my treatment by one of the leading ophthalmology oncologist in the US (with my health care spanning from Canada to California)...what a modern day miracle in our health care system.
May God's peace and love be with each of you.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Surgery Notes from July 23 (2)
Notes with the doctor – After surgery (about 1:30 pm)
My mom asked me to post this for all – Michael
Mom is out of surgery. The doctor (O’Brien) came out and talked to me. She said it went really really well. There are four clips in mom’s eye around the tumor forming a box (3d). The clips are 1.5 mm in size, about the size of the tip of a pin. The clips are placed so that they are inset from the four corners of the tumor (which is actually round), if you can imagine the tumor being square. It was basically a very successful deal. There is one very small concern. The clip in the front towards the center of the eye (front right as you look at mom) might be too close to the front of the eye. i am not sure of the anatomy, but the clip might intersect with some portion of the eye, which mom could feel. Dr. O'Brien said the clip 'might' bother mom (as in be irritating), and it might fall out. The clip is only useful for the radiation treatment, which is in 3 weeks. So really this is only an issue for the next couple of weeks. If the clip 'falls out' then it just hangs out in the eye and causes no harm or issue. If it doesn't fall out and is cause for irritation, Dr. O'Brien recommends that she come back to here and have it removed. Apparently this is a very simple procedure where they basically take it out. No big deal.
I asked Dr. O'Brien about the probability issue that she told mom before she went into surgery. She laid it out for me much more clearly. It goes something like this:
My mom asked me to post this for all – Michael
Mom is out of surgery. The doctor (O’Brien) came out and talked to me. She said it went really really well. There are four clips in mom’s eye around the tumor forming a box (3d). The clips are 1.5 mm in size, about the size of the tip of a pin. The clips are placed so that they are inset from the four corners of the tumor (which is actually round), if you can imagine the tumor being square. It was basically a very successful deal. There is one very small concern. The clip in the front towards the center of the eye (front right as you look at mom) might be too close to the front of the eye. i am not sure of the anatomy, but the clip might intersect with some portion of the eye, which mom could feel. Dr. O'Brien said the clip 'might' bother mom (as in be irritating), and it might fall out. The clip is only useful for the radiation treatment, which is in 3 weeks. So really this is only an issue for the next couple of weeks. If the clip 'falls out' then it just hangs out in the eye and causes no harm or issue. If it doesn't fall out and is cause for irritation, Dr. O'Brien recommends that she come back to here and have it removed. Apparently this is a very simple procedure where they basically take it out. No big deal.
I asked Dr. O'Brien about the probability issue that she told mom before she went into surgery. She laid it out for me much more clearly. It goes something like this:
- 97% of people who under go this radiation treatment have their tumor killed
- 75% of people keep their eye
- 50% maintain some sight.
The percent who don't in all cases (3%, 25% and 50% above) all have complicating issues like glaucoma, diabetes, and/or are much older than mom. In short the prognosis for mom is really really good. The dr. really shied away from any notion of mom regaining sight, because she just can't predict it, even though there is a 50% chance of maintaining sight (how much is an issue). With mom, her tumor has a high degree of vascular involvement and is close to the front of the eye, meaning that it could 1) continue to bleed (which is causing her vision loss) 2) break through the cornea or block vision. The dr. couldn't tell, but was really positive about the procedure and mom's outlook.
In all a very successful procedure.
Surgery Notes from July 23
Notes with the doctor – Before surgery (about 11 am)
My mom asked me to post this for all – Michael
Mom and I waited for about an hour in the ambulatory surgery center waiting room. She was really calm all morning, and had a very positive attitude. It was almost like there was not going to be any real issue with the up coming procedure.
She was called back, and then about 5 minutes later they allowed me to come back with her. She was in a hospital gown, and they had her sit up on the bed, and covered her with warm blankets. This made her feel really comfortable.
After taking initial vital signs, a nurse dilated both eyes. They dilated both eyes, so the doctor (O’Brien) and Fellow (Tsai) could double check the eye to operate. In fact they all (both doctors, and two nurses) went over several times individually with mom which eye they were going to perform the procedure on, made mom sign a document saying which eye it was, and the doctor even initialed (in marker) her forehead above the right eye.
The interaction with Dr. Tsai and Dr. O’Brien was again superlative. Both gave mom and I ample time to ask as many questions as we could. They talked about how there were going to sew these markers on the eye; how the markers were not metallic so they wouldn’t set off any metal detectors; how the markers would be left in her eye permanently; how there would be stitches from the surgery that would dissolve; how mom would observe mild discomfort in the eye tonight and tomorrow; how they have ordered as much pain medication as mom wants for tonight; how the physicist would be in the surgery with them to know mom as a patient and see where the tumor was for the photon phased radiation; how mom’s eye would look like trauma occurred (e.g. after all they are operating on her eye), including swelling, redness, blood in the eye and perhaps even black and blue; how she would be wearing a patch tonight, but she should only need sunglasses tomorrow; how the radiation treatment would not have any other affects (no fatigue, nausea, etc) other than killing the tumor; how the MRI from the other night helped confirm (along with the eye exam, liver function tests, and chest x-ray) that this tumor is a primary site. Dr. O’Brien was sure (within probable terms) that mom is clean of any other cancer. . I mean these guys were really thorough and very reassuring.
Two things really struck me in the discussion with the doctors. First, both mom and I asked again about when we might know if the photon phased radiation was successful. Our assumption was that she would not know until the follow-up appointment in January. However, Dr. O’Brien said her experience is that this treatment has a 97% success rate. We should think of this treatment as killing her tumor. Both Pat and I remembered from our first meeting with Dr. O’Brien and Dr. Tsai that this had a 50 / 50 probability. We now cannot recall explicitly if that was right on (due to the size of the tumor), or if the 50 / 50 was her eyesight returning. I will follow-up with Dr. O’Brien when she comes out to talk to me post surgery.
Second, Dr. O’Brien commented on how positive a patient mom is; her willingness to do this treatment so quickly; her calmness and assuredness. Dr. O’Brien mentioned that it has been clinically shown that being positive has an increased rate in beating any cancer. Again, this doctor is fantastic.
At last the two anesthesiologists came in to dose mom up. One of them asked my relationship to mom. After finding out I was a son, she asked “Are you too old to kiss your mom”. I laughed, and said “No”. She replied, “Good. Now kiss her”
They showed me to the waiting room, and wheeled mom down the hall.
My mom asked me to post this for all – Michael
Mom and I waited for about an hour in the ambulatory surgery center waiting room. She was really calm all morning, and had a very positive attitude. It was almost like there was not going to be any real issue with the up coming procedure.
She was called back, and then about 5 minutes later they allowed me to come back with her. She was in a hospital gown, and they had her sit up on the bed, and covered her with warm blankets. This made her feel really comfortable.
After taking initial vital signs, a nurse dilated both eyes. They dilated both eyes, so the doctor (O’Brien) and Fellow (Tsai) could double check the eye to operate. In fact they all (both doctors, and two nurses) went over several times individually with mom which eye they were going to perform the procedure on, made mom sign a document saying which eye it was, and the doctor even initialed (in marker) her forehead above the right eye.
The interaction with Dr. Tsai and Dr. O’Brien was again superlative. Both gave mom and I ample time to ask as many questions as we could. They talked about how there were going to sew these markers on the eye; how the markers were not metallic so they wouldn’t set off any metal detectors; how the markers would be left in her eye permanently; how there would be stitches from the surgery that would dissolve; how mom would observe mild discomfort in the eye tonight and tomorrow; how they have ordered as much pain medication as mom wants for tonight; how the physicist would be in the surgery with them to know mom as a patient and see where the tumor was for the photon phased radiation; how mom’s eye would look like trauma occurred (e.g. after all they are operating on her eye), including swelling, redness, blood in the eye and perhaps even black and blue; how she would be wearing a patch tonight, but she should only need sunglasses tomorrow; how the radiation treatment would not have any other affects (no fatigue, nausea, etc) other than killing the tumor; how the MRI from the other night helped confirm (along with the eye exam, liver function tests, and chest x-ray) that this tumor is a primary site. Dr. O’Brien was sure (within probable terms) that mom is clean of any other cancer. . I mean these guys were really thorough and very reassuring.
Two things really struck me in the discussion with the doctors. First, both mom and I asked again about when we might know if the photon phased radiation was successful. Our assumption was that she would not know until the follow-up appointment in January. However, Dr. O’Brien said her experience is that this treatment has a 97% success rate. We should think of this treatment as killing her tumor. Both Pat and I remembered from our first meeting with Dr. O’Brien and Dr. Tsai that this had a 50 / 50 probability. We now cannot recall explicitly if that was right on (due to the size of the tumor), or if the 50 / 50 was her eyesight returning. I will follow-up with Dr. O’Brien when she comes out to talk to me post surgery.
Second, Dr. O’Brien commented on how positive a patient mom is; her willingness to do this treatment so quickly; her calmness and assuredness. Dr. O’Brien mentioned that it has been clinically shown that being positive has an increased rate in beating any cancer. Again, this doctor is fantastic.
At last the two anesthesiologists came in to dose mom up. One of them asked my relationship to mom. After finding out I was a son, she asked “Are you too old to kiss your mom”. I laughed, and said “No”. She replied, “Good. Now kiss her”
They showed me to the waiting room, and wheeled mom down the hall.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Pre-surgery reflections
Today is Wednesday, July 18, and I find myself continuing on this journey of treatment for ocular melanoma. Tomorrow I will travel to San Francisco for my pre-op appointments, that will include a history and an MRI. It continues to amaze me how quickly all of this has occurred, for it is only 4 weeks ago tomorrow that my first and only symptom (loss of sight in my right eye) appeared. The treatment I have chosen is Ocular Proton Beam Radiation. This treatment is preceded by a surgical procedure call Tantalum Marker Ring to mark the exact location of the tumor. This surgery is scheduled for Monday, July 23. I will be staying in San Francisco with my son, Kevin,for the days between the pre-op and the actual surgery. Today, in dialogue with the clinic, I was informed that the surgery in 2-2.5 hours, somehow longer than I had expected. I will have a light general anesthesia…I did not realize that there was such a thing as “light” general anesthesia…more education for me.
During these days in San Francisco, my brother, Tom will visit for the day, and my sister-in-law, Ethel, will be in Sacramento sometime after the first of August to be with her daughter, Kristi. My sister, Jeanie will help me move back into my home next week. I am not supposed to be lifting or moving things….something that is very difficult for my independent nature. The young woman, Kirsten, who has been staying in my home, will be moving into her new place this coming weekend. Things have a way of working out, and I continue to see God’s love and grace as each day unfolds.
My sons, continue to extend their support and love as each new event unfolds. Family is there to think of and provide for the things that I have been unable to do. My niece, Kristi and her husband Brian, have worked with his father and my son, Brian to see that my car will be transported back here sometime in August. I am very grateful for their efforts and their expertise in these matters.
Spiritually and emotionally, I am doing well. This week, there have been very specific tasks to accomplish (chest x-ray, blood work, and being sure that the results arrived at the clinic in San Francisco in a timely manner), and that has helped keep me stay focused. My daughter-in-law, Cath, and my women friends have transported me where I have needed to go, and have listened to me as I process feelings and identify what needs to be accomplished next. It is so much easier to stay with the tasks that sit with the feelings. I do feel optimistic about this course of treatment, and after the time spent in the ophthalmology clinic at UCSF, I have the utmost respect for the work that they do, and the compassionate care they give their patients and families. Again, I feel very blessed to be in their care….especially in such an expedient manner.
Coming back to my feelings, as I have said before, I would prefer to be with someone else who is experiencing this, yet clearly I am the patient. I am sad sometimes, yet, the sadness comes and goes…it does not stay for long periods. There are times when I cry because I do not want to loose my sight nor my independence…yet the extent of those losses are not yet totally known. And yes, the fears of not knowing what lies ahead for me do come, but they also do not stay long. Last Friday’s testing was exhausting, and it did take the weekend to recover emotionally from the tests, the conversations with the physicians, and also the reality of the process. There is much to be said for the positive attitude that was present in the Ophthalmology Clinic…they have an expertise in the treatment of ocular melanoma, and they present the data in a compassionate, reassuring manner, yet realistic manner. This gave both my sons and myself hope and for this I am grateful.
Along with the unknowns, I feel very strongly that I am being supported and carried through this process. I find great comfort in God’s continuing grace that is visible for me in the smiles and loving words of my sons, daughters-in-law and grandchildren. My siblings are doing many little things to support in the known and the unknown, and for that I am grateful. I know that the prayers that many of you are offering for me are the basis for this unwavering support I feel…at times it is almost as though I am being carried physically and spiritually….that the ocean is being parted that I may safely walk through.
Thank you for the prayers, the cards, and the telephone messages. I am most grateful for this support and on-going love that each of you are extending to me. May God bless each of you with peace and love.
During these days in San Francisco, my brother, Tom will visit for the day, and my sister-in-law, Ethel, will be in Sacramento sometime after the first of August to be with her daughter, Kristi. My sister, Jeanie will help me move back into my home next week. I am not supposed to be lifting or moving things….something that is very difficult for my independent nature. The young woman, Kirsten, who has been staying in my home, will be moving into her new place this coming weekend. Things have a way of working out, and I continue to see God’s love and grace as each day unfolds.
My sons, continue to extend their support and love as each new event unfolds. Family is there to think of and provide for the things that I have been unable to do. My niece, Kristi and her husband Brian, have worked with his father and my son, Brian to see that my car will be transported back here sometime in August. I am very grateful for their efforts and their expertise in these matters.
Spiritually and emotionally, I am doing well. This week, there have been very specific tasks to accomplish (chest x-ray, blood work, and being sure that the results arrived at the clinic in San Francisco in a timely manner), and that has helped keep me stay focused. My daughter-in-law, Cath, and my women friends have transported me where I have needed to go, and have listened to me as I process feelings and identify what needs to be accomplished next. It is so much easier to stay with the tasks that sit with the feelings. I do feel optimistic about this course of treatment, and after the time spent in the ophthalmology clinic at UCSF, I have the utmost respect for the work that they do, and the compassionate care they give their patients and families. Again, I feel very blessed to be in their care….especially in such an expedient manner.
Coming back to my feelings, as I have said before, I would prefer to be with someone else who is experiencing this, yet clearly I am the patient. I am sad sometimes, yet, the sadness comes and goes…it does not stay for long periods. There are times when I cry because I do not want to loose my sight nor my independence…yet the extent of those losses are not yet totally known. And yes, the fears of not knowing what lies ahead for me do come, but they also do not stay long. Last Friday’s testing was exhausting, and it did take the weekend to recover emotionally from the tests, the conversations with the physicians, and also the reality of the process. There is much to be said for the positive attitude that was present in the Ophthalmology Clinic…they have an expertise in the treatment of ocular melanoma, and they present the data in a compassionate, reassuring manner, yet realistic manner. This gave both my sons and myself hope and for this I am grateful.
Along with the unknowns, I feel very strongly that I am being supported and carried through this process. I find great comfort in God’s continuing grace that is visible for me in the smiles and loving words of my sons, daughters-in-law and grandchildren. My siblings are doing many little things to support in the known and the unknown, and for that I am grateful. I know that the prayers that many of you are offering for me are the basis for this unwavering support I feel…at times it is almost as though I am being carried physically and spiritually….that the ocean is being parted that I may safely walk through.
Thank you for the prayers, the cards, and the telephone messages. I am most grateful for this support and on-going love that each of you are extending to me. May God bless each of you with peace and love.
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