SHE WHO RANTS!!

Well, we should have continued to stay away from the hospital on Wednesday, but noooo, we went in, flushed with glory and hopes to start the process of the Stem Cell Transplant. But God has other plans for us, apparently, because Jim's weight gain which was the source of so much optimism, disappeared in 2 weeks, along with an additional five pounds, bringing him down to 130 pounds. DRAT! He is experiencing some dizziness, which makes his walking unsteady, thus thwarting any attempt at walking for exercise. Oh, also the red cell blood count is down, so he needs another couple of blood transfusions to go with the ones last month, and the ones the week before that. Um.....REALLY???!!

Oh, and the SCT? Isn't happening until he gains back the weight or the burden of recovery could kill him!!! I knew we shouldn't get our hopes up!!

We keep trying to get food into him, but after 2 bites, he feels sickeningly over-full. Shouldn't have sweets; although they are rich in calories, they are bad for diabetics. How about a PBnJ sandwich, or a bowl of spaghetti? Nope, they contain gluten. It's like an evil puzzle, trying to figure this all out, made grave by the knowledge that if the weight loss continues, irrespective of the cancer, Jim could be in dire trouble.

He remains very calm... drugs will do that for you. Of course he doesn't have much choice given his energy levels. I must say that there has been more kindness and common sense in BI Boston than anywhere I have been in the last 10 years. Consistently, people just seem to take care of one another, patients, staff, medical personnel, other care-givers. Virtually no one has been less than exceptional.

The icing on the cake came this evening, Nut-job, our resident squirrel has apparently spoken so warmly of our hospitality last winter that even this early in the fall, there is the sound of many, many paws in the second floor walls. Sounds like Park Street Underground. Creeps me out entirely. Used to be just in the ceilings, but this winter is shaping up to be the landlocked version of Noah's Ark.

I AM GOING TO

LOSE

MY

MIND !!!!!!!!!!

Psst. If I'm not back by Monday, toss some Dove Dark Chocolate bars down the cellar stairs. I will be the one in a fetal position, mould overtaking me, hugging my dusty, empty ceramic Aunt Jemima cookie jar someone gave me back in 1979.

P.S. Don't tell.

Marriage is an Institution, and so is an insane asylum.

We liked last week's results so much we didn't go back this week, so the next visit is Wednesday. Eating hasn't been such a cake-walk for the past week, and staying awake is more of a challenge. The "getting the Revlamid two step" has begun, with a promise of delivery on Tuesday. We'll see.

Yesterday was our 39th wedding anniversary. Yes, fourteen years of wedded bliss. If anyone had said a 24 year old right-brained travel agent/music teacher could find happiness with a 28 year old left brained nuclear engineer whose IQ was greater than his weight (okay, he was in good shape) I would have believed them. That's how naive I was. We have been through thin and thick together (even our profiles). We moved to Maryland six months after we wed, where he had a job and I had extended family. I commuted to AAA Headquarters, just a block beyond the White House. Our first apartment there was nice, with a big balcony and a pastoral view. Through some ingenious jury-rigging, Jim was able to bring in hockey games on WBZ. We'd drink chablis, watch the evening lightening storms, sitting on cushions out of the balcony, while the cooling rain pelted down. Life was good.

Then we bought a town house. Three thousand down. Cathedral ceilings, brand new, with a room destined to be a nursery. Lynn joined our lives while we were there, and Jim worked for Bechtel and NUS. But homesickness stirred in us both, so he scored a job at Boston Edison, and back to MA we came, Baby on Board. This was 1974. We passed papers on a cute little cape on the day Nixon resigned the presidency. The rest of the 70's flew, and with Three Mile Island, came the end of the "charmed" part of our life.

Work issues and a general decline in nuclear power plant starts left Jim in an untenable position. On the plus side, Laura put in her appearance, and we knew we needed a larger house. Oh My. So we held our breath and bought our current house, a place we have adored and loathed alternately. It has charm, it has character, it has history, it has no insulation, unless you count 130 year old horse hair. There IS no such thing as a small repair. To this day, we lose communication with feet, fingers and the tips of ears every year between November and March, the ultimate unexpected consequence of home-grown cryogenics. We have lugged a forest worth of tree parts into a Vermont Castings stove (7 cords in one winter) then tried heating by a supplemental gas heater in the kitchen that left a permanent basket-weave tattoo on Matthew's forearm where he fell on it. Last year, we had two electric faux fireplaces going. With Jim feeling cold on the hottest summer days, I really can't imagine how we will keep him even tolerably comfortable, which is one reason for selling this place.

The 1980's were tough. Although we gained Matt in '84, we lost my dad to lymphoma in '86. Jim was gone weekdays, every week, commuting to Long Island, to Syracuse, to Groton CT. I hauled wood, hauled the kid, hauled catering. Jim's eccentric dad (who will be the subject of my first book) came to live here while Jim was away. Wunnerful! Jim brought computers into our life, self-teaching every night. His brother became a quadriplegic, my sister developed Lupus, we had a fire, I ground up two kitties under the hood of our car... I had an ectopic pregnancy... lost the diamond out of my engagement ring, then just over a year later, Matt joined our lives. I started my catering business. The 80's were very BUSY and sometimes in a good way.

The 1990's really were all about Jim settling in as State Nuclear Engineer at Mass Emergency Management Agency, part of the Commonwealth. Insurance, income, some security, then getting RSH off the ground, which has been the great passion of his life. We traveled pretty often, attending conferences, presenting papers, holding workshops. We saw Paris and Nice together, and Japan, New Orleans and the radon mines of Montana. And Washington.... lots of Washington. Matt and Laura joined us to see San Francisco, the wine country, the gorgeous scenery along the coast to the south, and on a trip to Orlando.

So here we are today, about to begin our 40th year, with no more certainty about our future than we had on this day so long ago. Jim weighs about what I did as a bride (but doesn't look half as nice in my wedding gown). We foster the small flickering light of optimism as best we can. I've learned life is full of opportunities to take a huge risk. One of the biggest is the decision to commit to one another for life, as we did. Too bad young kids can't fully appreciate the awesomeness of "as long as you both shall live".

Then again, I'm still finding out!!

Overtime!!

Wonderful news. Jim's test results came back, and the Revlamid has kicked the cancer down to where he falls within the "normal" range making him a candidate once again for a stem cell transplant. They hope to fast-track this, since there are only several weeks left in the clinical trial, so things could proceed quickly. He has also gained another five pounds in an inspired collaboration between Jim and the Burger King, which is quite the mental image if you know Jim. Ronald McDonald, eat your heart out. Not exactly a ringing endorsement of my catering business, though!

So I guess now we all need to climb aboard the believers train. The transplant could be as little as several weeks away, or if that timing can't be accommodated, further into the fall, but apparently the stars are coming into alignment. We met with Jim's oncologist this morning before the test results were know, and he was encouraging. Jim's reaction was a little like someone finding out the Pope was coming to the US: detached, calm, glad, but not what you would call giddy. Sometimes he can be inscrutable to me, a mere woman. We will be married 39 years on September 12, and I still don't understand parts of him at all.

Even now, when we are in overtime innings.