Covid round 2

I keep trying to get back to normal. Normal schedule. Normal routines. Normal bike riding and walking the dog. Normal health. But that's not quite working the way I want it to work. Not yet. 

This last week I worked the fair in the Bazaar building. Demonstrated the Accuquilt Cutting system for quite a number of people. Sold a few. Pulled interested sewing and embroidery enthusiasts into our exhibit so they would get introduced to the machines we had available to sell. There were many, and our display earned the Best Indoor Fair Display for 2022. Such a nice honor.

The weather was good for the most part. The crowds were pretty amazing actually, especially as the day progressed. More and more people came to enjoy the fair atmosphere. I thoroughly enjoyed them, especially you who frequent the Aurora Sewing Center stores. It was so fun to see you and chat about the projects you are working on. It was equally enjoyable to hear how your summer has been.

Well, with all that, I landed Covid again. Started feeling funky after my Monday infusion. So now I am returning to that Covid way of feeling, and I pray it is short-lived. I've been in touch with the Cancer Clinic to see if I should be medicating. If I don't hear anything, I'm on my own, letting my existing immune system do its thing. Maybe this will help it become stronger.

Monday morning - before the Covid blossomed - I had an appointment with my surgeon. She was happy to report that I do not need to see her again for six months. So in January, I will have my first mammogram and follow-up appointment. That feels really good. AND I only have three more infusions remaining. The count down begins!

I do find myself thinking about that first mammogram and wonder if I will spend time worrying about it over the fall and winter. That worrying business is not something I want to do. Somehow I have to choose to put my concerns on a back burner and move forward with living, again trusting that God will lead me into my enthusiastic way of being. Onward is the word of the season. January is six months away!

Signed with a hope for new health, the quilting cancer girl

Adirondack vacation

We took a vacation to celebrate my completion of chemotherapy, surgery and radiation. From August 8th to August 12th, my husband and I tent camped in the Adirondacks. What a relaxing joy that was! 

My Chicago sister, Betty, and my Indiana sister, Donna, were there with their husbands. Each family had a different campsite. Canoes were rented for trips out on the lake. Cameras snapped photos. Campfires were built. We ate suppers together, and of course, we talked non-stop.

Where did we camp? At the 8th Lake Campground above Old Forge and Inlet. The 8th Lake  campground gave us access to 7th Lake where for years - as kids growing up - our family tent camped for an entire month, transporting all our camping gear across the lake in a small motorboat. I will never forget how hard my dad worked, getting camp set up for all of us. 

It was where we learned to swim, canoe, kayak, hike, manage a small motorboat, and survive the curves that nature threw at us. We chopped wood to cook our meals. Dad dug a latrine, surrounding it with tarps to make it as comfortable as possible in all kinds of weather. We read together, played board games and card games, made family memories to last a lifetime. On Sundays, we planned worship services overlooking the lake and learned about God as our supportive, loving Father.

Our soul was filled by 7th Lake camping, and to this day, it captures our hearts. That's hard to explain to husbands, and you. Those early years like a rite of passage helped us girls be resourceful, discover independence, and find ways to entertain ourselves. We developed an internal strength in the wild that has followed us through life, helping us realize that we can handle anything.

It is one of the reasons I knew I could tackle this cancer and survive. My family has been behind me every step of the way, and so were you, my friends. At the same time, God lives within me, holding my hand when I need his strength and guiding me to caring doctors and nurses who are experts in their field. As I have said all along, "I am so blessed".

I am not finished yet. Four more infusions await me. However, I will complete treatment at the end of October, and then I will pray everyday for the rest of my life that cancer never fills me again, and that cures and treatments improve even beyond what they are today. So many 'out there' await miracles. I pray those miracles become reality. Look how far we have come already. God is in the process. Amen.

Signed within total relaxation, the quilting cancer girl

Healing mindset

This last week was a busy week. Our Block of the Month Quilt Show came off without a hitch on the 23rd of July and then there was a week of camping and craft classes. 

I can't believe that quilt show was over a week ago! For so long I looked forward to seeing my quilt block ladies and the beautiful creations they designed. It was my focus, my much anticipated fun event, during chemotherapy, surgery and radiation. That goal kept me going: I had two quilts to finish and I wanted to be well the day of the show. 

Well, my quilts got finished during the week prior to the 23rd. Hurrah! And I was stand up ready for that Saturday, although mid-day I thought I might not make it. I had finished radiation the day before but recovery from radiation therapy literally does not happen overnight.

That is the reason for this post. You who may be experiencing radiation therapy need to know that it takes time to get your expected normal back. I still have mornings or afternoons and sometimes a whole day when I feel crummy with like morning sickness. I keep eating crackers, and then I'm okay. My ankles still swell. So I walk the neighborhood with my dog, ride my bike, and put my legs up in the recliner. Sometimes I feel bloated. 

Radiation in my body did funky things with water. So this is the way my body reacted to radiation. Your reaction may be totally different. Perhaps you will be fatigued. I was not.

The problem is that people around me have no clue I am feeling lousy. They are ready for me to be my enthusiastic self, back into daily life where work and play and routines are handled with ease. I do my best, believe me. I want to be there for my husband, friends, family and students, and then suddenly I fear I will be ill, and crackers come to the rescue. Thank the good Lord for Ritz!

I am learning there are moments when I need to withdraw to rest. Or I need alone time to recoup and separate myself from the noisy activity around me. But it's difficult claiming that time. I have been away from regular life for so long that I don't want to miss a minute. Besides, folks depend on me. 

Getting used to healing from this last year is my new challenge. I am still getting infusions once every three weeks. They are rebuilding my immune system. There are four more infusions on the calendar so I will be finished by the end of October. Then, the big bell is rung signifying the start of genuine recovery where I will no longer be putting something foreign into my body. Nurses tell me I may be back on track by the end of 2023. My initial reaction: that's just way too long!

I know better than anyone that I have run the gambit. You who are taking the cancer path know we have it rough because we fight for the privilege to live. That's the name of the game and it is not easy. Now with my making adjustments, being flexible, and practicing patience, God and I will work together to restore peace in the bodily house I so enjoy. 

With faith as my foundation, I have travelled this journey, trusting God as my guide, every step of the way. His support is amazing. Most days He carried my troubles and made my load lighter. Now I am ready to walk in His love into the healing year ahead, setting new goals for growth while nurturing my health. I am up to the next new adventures, and you will be as well, one day at a time.

The radiation bell

Celebration ensues! I finished radiation therapy this morning bright and early. My sister, Donna, from Indianapolis is visiting and she went with me. So, I had a witness to my grand finale: ringing of the radiation bell. 

The two of us were moved to tears, I will say. It has been a long haul this year. Donna has been right there with me, texting messages during cancer treatments, and listening to me complain over the car phone as I drove home from radiation. 

What I would have done without Donna, I do not know. She was my constant, my go-to person when I was down and discouraged. There would have been lots of quiet time. Her cheerful conversations kept me positive.

Of course, this is not the end of my cancer treatments. I continue with infusions every three weeks until November. But I can handle those. I am on the home stretch now. Fact is, I can see light at the end of this very long tunnel.

On the ride home this morning, unlike any other morning, there were what Donna calls 'angel rays' reaching down from the skies above. They were reaching through the clouds, letting me know very clearly that life is good and the future is bright. Thanks be to God for the direction this healing is going. Like I have said in many earlier posts, I am so blessed.

Tomorrow I celebrate in yet another way. The two Block of the Month Clubs I lead at the Aurora Sewing Center are joining together for a quilt show at the East Aurora store from 10-3. My wonderful quilting ladies are bringing their quilts and quilt tops to show what they have accomplished; I am so proud of them, and pray many folks pop in to applaud their learning efforts. I promise you will be amazed at their fabric choices and quilt designs.

As for me, this is the best way to celebrate. Since I view myself as the quilting cancer girl, this shows everyone how sewing has kept me going across the year. Whenever I did not feel well, I forced myself to sew, focusing on much more than cancer. Not once did I cancel a class because cancer interrupted. For that, I feel totally satisfied and grateful.

So, I close with a photo of my bell ringing this morning. I ask that you join us tomorrow in East Aurora at the Aurora Sewing Center for a chance to see quilting at its finest. Come celebrate with us: quilts, quilting knowledge, the quilting process, patience with this learning, and supportive friendships that are truly magical.

Here is my hair

So this week, I removed my cancer caps. Yup. Cold turkey. Just took off the caps and here I show what hair has grown so far. Is it curly? Nope. Flat as a pancake and colors are mixed white, grey, a little brown. Will be interesting to see what I look like in November when they tell me I will love my hair.

Right now I'm thinking I may end up looking like Claire, my Yorkshire terrier. Kind of a brindle look is okay with me. We'll be a match made in heaven, literally! LOL

So why does one remove their cancer cap? Frankly, I was tired of wearing a hat everyday. In the heat, I was hot and sweaty. And then I wondered if my hairs would grow better if they saw the light of day a little more often. Probably an old wives tale but it made sense to me...like flowers grow better in the sun...and after all, I am once again a budding flower!

What really made me take my cap off my head was listening to my husband in conversation with friends. He said those who survived the concentration camps in Nazi Germany were glad to bare their heads as hair returned because it was symbolic. They were survivors and proud of it, and I should be proud too. Besides, he thinks I am beautiful, and that is enough for me.

To all my cancer friends out there, I will confess that going without my cap makes me feel vulnerable. I am exposed. I am showing you my natural self and my big ears and hoping you don't mind. I also don't want to make you uncomfortable around me. For some reason, I thought the cap would make us all more at ease, but who knows, maybe you seeing naked me is easier, and yes, it's okay to talk about my hair. I welcome it. Want to pet it? Go ahead. It's sooooo soft. Tom pets sit, often in his sleep. LOL

Signing out in good humor, the quilting cancer girl with five days of radiation left!!!

Share your cancer

Today was a little heavy. At 7:30 a.m. I was on the table for radiation. Then at 10:00 a.m. it was a trip to the cancer clinic on Park Club Lane for an infusion that lasted three hours. No more infusions now for three weeks. Six more to go, and then I'm done!!!

My oncologist, Dr. Soniwala, confirmed that radiation does cause nausea. That was a relief  because the radiologist argues how radiation never causes nausea. For me, it's a relief to know that it's not something I'm creating in my head. It really is my stomach. I will tolerate it. Only have this week and next. Then radiation is complete.

I went to the hairdresser today. She actually trimmed my hairs in the back and only charged $10.00. I actually have enough hair to trim, and it felt good to pay that ten bucks! Now I'm almost ready to bare my head and call it a victory even though the nurses tell me I won't like my hair until way next November. My comfort with going public is creeping up on me. Just you wait!

Drove back out to camp this afternoon and was so relaxed, I collapsed into a flat out 'after infusion' sleep. The fatigue I generally feel from the back-to-back radiation/infusion is often overwhelming.  Anyway, tonight we call bingo for our camp friends. Love doing that. They are all such fun.

At this point, I want to acknowledge how glad I am that God moved me to share my cancer with all of you. And my advice to anyone deep in the muck and mire the cancer scare can cause is to talk about what you are feeling with everyone. Really. I shared with my immediate family, work family, students I teach, and camp family.  Afterwards, strangers came forward in person and through text messages to talk with me about their own challenges. Our bonds are comforting. They help us live.

That my camp family knows what I've been managing this year is comforting. My husband and I can call bingo and be as normal as possible. Still, there are hugs and words of encouragement that surround us as we close down for the week and look forward to next week. 

Keeping your cancer a secret doesn't work. Honest. It is a very heavy burden. Having support and prayers from many makes a huge difference in your ability to keep going when it's difficult to get out of bed. To know you can send a text to an understanding cancer friend helps you catch your breath and find strength to move into the next day. So please. No secrets. In fact, let me know what you're dealing with. We can pray together as others have prayed with me. I will be your biggest cheerleader!

Signed optimistically, the quilting cancer girl

The radiation world

When I moan and groan about having to do radiation, I stop and look at my blog. It's been over a week since my last post already! That means only four days of radiation this week and I will have completed two weeks. Halfway through as of this coming Friday! Yippee!!!!!

I have to say that radiation has been kicking my butt. First of all, I drive to Harlem Road from Lancaster every single week day morning by 7:45 a.m. That is draining because I usually get up around 5 a.m. for a bathroom trip and then I'm scared to fall back to sleep for fear I will oversleep. So I lose out on my delicious last hours of dream time those five days each week.

Second, the radiation makes me nauseated. And I hate being nauseated. Tomorrow I intend to tell the doctor in case their are some solutions to that awful feeling. 

The whole business of checking in with the doctor though makes me laugh. Last week, he came into the room, and said, "How are you Mrs. Kisicki?" I answered with, "Well, it's the start of all this radiation. So far I'm okay." Doc came back with, "Great. See you next week," and he left the room. Don't  you wonder how much I will be paying for that 'checking in' time?

Third, radiation technicians and doctors are a whole new kind of animal. They relate to big machines and markers and CT scans and sonograms constantly. They know very little about conversation or giving a human the time of day. It's all about schedule, snapping to it, laying in your given position, and not moving. Then it's, "See you tomorrow," and you're done. 

Meanwhile, I am in awe of the huge machine that rotates around my body. You will see a photo of it here when it is standing still. The techs by the way were very uncomfortable with me using a minute of my  time to snap that photo, but human me did it anyway as I chatted away. I keep trying to let them know that I am caring and kind and interested in this process, and them. No dice.

In defense of one female radiation technician, on my first day, I shared my apprehension about radiation based on past experiences that my grandmother had with cobalt treatments way back in the 1960's. Of course, to me the 1960s feel like yesterday. 

But the tech commented that radiation had come a long way and now it was easier. I said, "Thank you for letting me share," and silly me, I was moved to tears. Very nicely and appropriately, she moved over and hugged me. For that reason, and that reason alone, I relaxed and am accepting the 'joys of radiation' as just another step in my ongoing journey.

I guess I am spoiled from chemotherapy and surgery where the nurses and doctors nurture. They are so positive, encouraging an upbeat attitude in us patients and sharing excitement when healing happens. In many ways, they have raised the bar for caring high. Quite honestly, the folks in radiation could learn a few things, and might even share a summer pleasantry or two. But you know me. I won't give up!!! I've got two more weeks. Hmmm....maybe I will win them over.

Signed, the caring quilting cancer girl