So vain

I may have reached a new height (or low?) of vanity yesterday. For the first time in my life, I colored my own hair.

Mind you, this is newly regrown hair that is only about a quarter of an inch long in most places. And most people I encounter don't even see it because I keep it hidden under a wig when I am out in public. But it was more gray than I cared to see when I passed a mirror while puttering around the house, and I was concerned that a stray gray might pop out around the edges of my wig.

The coloring supplies were already at hand. My niece and former colorist made sure I was stocked up last year on a visit from her new home in South Carolina, back when I still had plenty of hair to color. Her mother (my sister) had taken over the hair-coloring duty for several of us in the family, but my supplies sat unneeded on a closet shelf since I began chemo in October.

Making yesterday's exercise even sillier is the expectation that I will begin a new course of chemo in the next few weeks. The follow-up treatment has not been decided yet, but that is the direction it has been pointing. In that case, the gray I hid yesterday likely wouldn't stay around long enough to grow long enough to be seen in public.

No matter. I still see myself in the mirror often enough to wince at too much gray hair. Now I smile back at myself, partly because I like the new youthful image and partly because I know how silly I am to color hair that so few people will see.

Wig comb-over

One of the great things about wearing wigs is you don't have to do much with them. Every now and then they get a quick bath in special wig shampoo, a rinse, a good shake and then they air dry on their pedestals after I comb out a few tangles.

Probably because they are so low maintenance, I couldn't resist a little tinkering this morning.

What started out as my new "special occasion" wig back in January has become my everyday wig, while the wig I resurrected from Cancer 1.0 has been largely ignored. Wig #1 isn't a bad wig; it's the one I'm wearing in the photo I finally posted to this blog. I have been shunning it, I admitted as I combed it out, because it seems so much flatter on top than my shorter, sassier wig #2.

What if I gave it a bit more lift by combing part of the crown in a different direction? It seems to have helped, which is especially funny because I typically hate to style hair and have never been very good at it.

There is another hair dilemma I have yet to resolve but may need to figure out soon: Will it be better to golf wigless?

Too close for comfort

My willpower is a function of proximity. That was underscored yesterday as I saw the volume in the bag of trail mix on my desk shrink considerably over the course of a few hours.

I have learned over the past couple of years that it helps to have a mid-morning and mid-afternoon snack to keep from overeating at lunch and dinner. The strategy of eating smaller amounts at more frequent intervals has helped keep off the weight that I fought to lose before my daughter's wedding almost three years ago.

Usually my snacks are a protein or granola bar and a piece of fruit. Earlier this week I reasoned it would be easier to have the trail mix handy and not have to remember each morning to grab that day's snacks on my way out the door to work. Bad idea.

A serving of the trail mix is one-quarter cup. At that rate, it should have lasted a couple of weeks, but yesterday afternoon it was almost gone. My hand kept diving into the bag as I worked, reaching my mouth before I had a chance to think about it.

Some of my coworkers regularly keep candy and huge snack jars on their desks and never gain a pound. I can usually walk right by free muffins and chocolates at the coffee station, but put something tasty at arm's length on my desk and all my resolve disappears. As with anything else, a key to success is knowing what triggers your downfall.

Planning ahead

I'll make another inquiry to Houston today to see if the sarcoma specialists at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center have reached consensus yet on a second opinion for me. They said last Thursday I should contact them again in a week if I had not heard anything, which I haven't.

My feelings are mixed about finally obtaining their recommendation. I have been feeling so good lately, so strong and normal. I hesitate to encourage any movement toward treatment that will make me sick again as a strategy to keep me well.

But I would like to be able to plan for activities looming over the next several months. Ben asked yesterday if we might visit Mississippi for his birthday in June. Mandy has a couple of baby showers coming up that I want to attend. My golf league starts in May. And then there is a huge project I am managing for work.

If I have to be in the hospital for several days at a stretch to receive more chemotherapy, I want to schedule it in a way that will allow me to still do the things I want to do. Being able to finalize some plans might be better than the limbo I'm in right now, even though it's a pleasant limbo.

Fast forward

I had to choose between two fun outings after work last night. One was an overdue get-together with high school girlfriends. The other was with a group of women writers I don't yet know well but have been wanting to join.

When I realized a couple of weeks ago that both events were on the same night, I told myself the choice was between looking back fondly or stepping into the future. The options were equally attractive, but the comfort of familiarity drew me to the gathering of old friends, some of whom I had not seen in years. I sent my regrets to the writers' group, but still wished I could have attended both.

Pondering the two invitations helped me to recognize a growing need to focus far into the future. I have glorious events to anticipate yet this year -- the birth of my grandson in July and a niece's wedding in August -- but I cannot separate them from the follow-up treatment I expect to be concurrently enduring. Thoughts of the baby are coupled with prayers that I will be well enough to help my daughter with him.

As I headed to meet my old girlfriends, I wondered if my urge to leapfrog well into a future past all cancer concerns would have been better served by meeting with the women writers. With them, I might be encouraged to entertain possibilities of writing more than this blog, I thought.

It turns out the high school gathering provided a nice future focus after all. We're starting to plan our 40th reunion for October 2010! It's easier for me to picture cancer as an afterthought by then.

In search of ZZZZZs

It's one thing to have a restless sleep, but at least the emphasis is on sleep.

Lately I seem to be having more sleepless rests. I'll climb into bed early enough, read for a little while, lie there completely comfortable and then stare at the ceiling for the next couple of hours, wondering why sleep is so elusive.

When post-surgery pain and healing were factors, the pain pills at least helped me sleep in four-hour increments. Now it seems like I've forgotten how to sleep more than a few hours at a time when I do finally nod off.

The weather this morning would be perfect for staying in bed. It's what Tom and I like to call a good sleeping rain. But I answered the alarm after about three hours' sleep and I'm heading off to work. Maybe being extra tired will help me find Mr. Sandman tonight without too much effort.

New face; no friends

I have no idea what I am doing when it comes to a lot of social media, but I can now proudly report that I am on Facebook. And I also worked up the courage to post a photo of myself on this blog! The photo is one from an especially happy day -- Ben's OSU graduation.

I thought I had created a Facebook account several months ago when a tech-savvy colleague required one to sign up for a conference she was chairing. I followed her directions at the time, then immediately forgot about it. My daughter told me the other day there were some "Mary Yost" Facebook accounts but she couldn't tell if any were mine. I still don't know how Facebook works, but maybe having my photo on my account will help me learn.

I think it would be fun to have some Facebook friends, but I have no illusions about two people who are not likely to grant me friend status. I know they need to preserve some space for themselves. That's OK, Mandy and Ben. Being your mom is enough for me.

How things work

It's crazy sometimes how things just work out the way they are supposed to. I have seen that play out a couple of times this week.

One example was my shorter-than-expected trip to Houston. Had it gone as planned, I would have still been there until today, leaving my department at work especially short-staffed. Looking back on a hectic day yesterday, I sent up a prayer of thanks for being where I needed to be.

Even the smallest details sometimes fall into place nicely, often against expectations. I had cancelled our newspaper delivery and had our mail held for the part of this week that we expected to still be in Houston seeking a second opinion for my follow-up care. Trying to reverse those orders when the trip was shortened, I thought we had succeeded in getting the mail restarted but not the paper. As it turned out, the newspaper has been on the doorstep each morning but the mailbox is still empty. Thank goodness! It is much easier to live without mail than my morning paper.

I have a basic philosophy against worrying because it zaps your strength for no good reason. When I am tempted to worry, I tell myself fretting is negative energy and won't help change outcomes. This week has reminded me of another good reason not to worry: Things have a way of working out exactly the way they are supposed to, even if they are not the way we planned.

Marking time

Thursdays have become my new touch point.

The farther out I get from my surgery on February 12, the more healing I see, and the more amazed I am at the miracle of the human body. Today marks nine weeks since my tumor was removed, and I can't believe how little is left in terms of physical reminders.

There is the long scar dividing my abdomen. It will always be there, both as a blessing that the tumor was excised and as a cancer trophy. It bothers me less all the time. On Monday, it did not prevent me from sun bathing in Houston in a two-piece bathing suit. Knowing I was not the only cancer patient at the hotel encouraged me both to bare my scar and to go wigless to the pool, showing off my Jamie Lee Curtis-style without a care.

Just a month ago, I was concerned that fatigue and lingering pain would hamper my planned return to work after six weeks' recuperation. Now I feel almost on par with my pre-surgery energy level, maybe even my pre-tumor condition! Heartened by my progress to this point, the logical next step would appear to be some strength training to tone my leg and upper body muscles.

Can golf be far behind?

Son shine

I woke up to a wonderful message this morning. My son arrived safely at my sister's Mississippi Gulf Coast home after a long solo drive to begin what I hope will be a great new chapter in his life.

Ben had been living at home while finishing up his last year to earn an English degree at OSU. We enjoyed his company but shared his conviction that he needed to get away to explore career options. This move should help him figure out if he'd like to follow his Uncle Jim in the food and beverage industry, or maybe he will gather material for some future novel.

His e-mail confirmation of his arrival was filled with joy and possibility, putting a smile on my face to start the day. It will take some time to get used to not having him here but I look forward to hearing that his hopes for this move are being realized. I know his Aunt Joy-Joy and Uncle Jim will be great role models.

Now I have another good incentive to get through whatever follow-up treatment I need and be well enough afterward to travel. Tom and I have to get down to Biloxi in a few months to see for ourselves that Ben is doing great.

Heading home

What was supposed to be a five-day trip was accomplished in one. Tom and I are flying home this morning after the doctor we met at M.D. Anderson' Sarcoma Center told us my presence was no longer needed. Sarcoma experts here in Houston will study my case and get a follow-up treatment recommendation to me within two weeks.

Short as it was, we feel good about this trip. The Houston medical personnel seem highly competent. Chemo looks more likely now, but also a bit less scary. I better understand the need for it to be inpatient to ensure good hydration. I am also comforted to hear from the Houston doctor that the University of Michigan, where my two Columbus oncologists have conferred with colleagues on my care, is also a respected sarcoma center, just not as experienced as Houston.

The bonus with this trip was the Houston warmth and sunshine. That makes it harder to head back to Columbus' chilly rain, but it will still be good to be home.

Houston bound

The call I've been anticipating came yesterday. My appointment to get a second opinion from the M.D. Anderson Cancer Center on follow-up treatment starts Monday. It is impressive that they responded so quickly to the request I initiated just a week ago. I just hope their physicians can agree better than those I have seen in Columbus.

The radiation oncologist I saw earlier this week recommends a course of radiation over the entire area of my abdomen where the tumor had been. That should keep it from coming back in that vicinity, he said, but would not prevent a recurrence elsewhere. Given the entrails that occupy that neighborhood, the treatment would likely produce nausea and diarrhea, he said, in addition to the usual fatigue.

Even more disturbing, the radiation oncologist said seeing two different types of sarcoma in one tumor was not unusual. It was just a matter of one stem type differentiating in two directions, he said casually, shaking my confidence in the medical oncologist who said he had never seen that occur and giving me even more reason not to jump at the medical oncologist's request to hospitalize me for heavy-duty chemo. The chemo-pushing medical oncologist had urged me to keep the appointment with the second doc this week, even though he didn't think the radiation oncologist would recommend radiation at all, since the margins around where the tumor was removed were clean.

So far, this quest for a decision regarding follow-up care has me feeling like the OSU docs are various hammers who see me as their own special nail. I hope the doctors in Houston -- where I'm told they have the only dedicated sarcoma center of any of the major cancer hospitals in the country -- do a better job of conferring with each other to reach a consensus for the best plan to keep me healthy. Even better if their plan would be to keep a watchful eye and forgo more treatment just now.

Hi Grandma!

My Cancer 2.0 journey since September has exposed me to a lot of great medical technology but nothing compares to what I saw yesterday. On a video screen in an obstetrician's office, my first grandchild waved to me!

The image was grainy and fleeting, but the physician confidently interpreted the greeting for me and my daughter, pointing out the right hand alongside the face of my grandson, who is due to make his grand entrance in mid-July. We watched his heart beat, examined his toes, admired his nicely shaped head and smiled proudly as the doctor noted he has long leg bones that predict he will take after his 6-foot-plus father and grandfather.

The doctor knew what a treat it was for me to share this sneak preview. She is herself a new, first-time grandma. I had seen her for my annual gynecological checkup a few weeks ago and she was saddened to learn of my recent illness. I think she invited me to accompany Mandy for a yesterday's ultrasound exam as a get-well gift. It was the best one I have received so far!

Muse or snooze?

Approaching eight weeks post-surgery, I am amazed at the recovery I have enjoyed so far. I have energy to get through most days easily and any lingering pain in my abdomen is almost an afterthought. As I rise up out of bed using stomach muscles that I so recently had to protect from stress, I have toyed with the thought of trying a couple of crunches. I'm not quite there, but close.

I'm almost all the way back to the level of functioning that I want to be at, and I am thankful that it has taken less time than I might have guessed.

My final concession to recuperation has been sleep. It is important to rest, I keep reminding myself. So the alarm clock has not been set quite so early; leaving more time in the morning to capture dreams, less time to share dreams in this blog. Soon I will be writing again every morning, starting the day with the mental exercise that has become as important to me as a good physical workout once was. And maybe then I will even get back to the gym!

Perspective

I violated one of my cardinal rules yesterday and ended up giving myself a needed reminder. The rule is to always look on the bright side.

For me, the rule stems from this axiom: You can't control all the circumstances in your life, but you can control how you respond to them. I have tried to model a positive perspective as much as I have encouraged my children to find the good in whatever bad things come their way.

Often, events that threaten our outlook are little things or temporary setbacks, though they loom as monsters of the moment. Even silly situations can trigger a bad mood, as in my case yesterday. It was a sunny spring Saturday with all kinds of promise, but I kept letting our finicky home computer dictate my disposition. My energy level was already low from a poor night's sleep. As I tried to complete our city tax return, the computer kept crashing and dashing my spirit along with it.

What a bad day, a little voice kept whispering, and I found myself uncharacteristically agreeing. As evening gathered and I assessed the day's events, I had to admit it was actually a very good day. I had accomplished much and enjoyed interactions with family, despite allowing a gloomy filter to color frustrations that I should have shaken off.

The lesson is to balance setbacks against the backdrop of my many blessings so I can respond positively to bumps in the road. My well-rested perspective this morning can see more clearly the upside of yesterday's computer crashes: they were invitations to take a nap and regain my equilibrium instead of plodding on in a foul mood. Next time, I'll take the cue.

Agreeable work

It's a rainy Friday morning and plenty of people are pulling the covers up over their heads right now; ready for the weekend and wishing they could sleep in rather than finishing out the work week. I've been there, too, but my experience this week has shown me how much I am actually energized by my work.

My game plan was to ease back into it this week by working half days. Instead, the only day I was able to limit myself to four hours in the office was the day I had to leave early for a follow-up appointment with my oncologist. I didn't feel like I was pushing myself too hard the other days. It was a welcome break to think about other matters. I could forget about cancer for a while, and I did.

A call from the OSU oncologist yesterday morning pulled me back to reality with a gentle scolding that I needed to make progress on my quest for a second opinion regarding follow-up treatment to try to keep the cancer from returning. Now I am waiting for a call from Houston that will put me and Tom on a plane to learn what sarcoma experts at a cancer center there think we should do next.

I know I can't pretend just yet that February's surgery removed all my cancer concerns, but it has been nice this week to have other things to think about for a while.

Rare

Most of us want to be special, but not in the way the OSU oncologist described it to me yesterday.

Tom and I met with the doctor to learn results of two scans I had last week and to hear his recommendation for any follow-up treatment. The good news is the CT scan and the bone scan were both clear; there were no findings of cancer still lurking. While that was a great relief, it was not comforting to hear what has the doctor perplexed and his proposed course of treatment.

The report back from a sarcoma pathologist who had double-checked slides of the mass taken from my abdomen confirmed two different, rare cancers were present in the tumor. Most prevalent was the leiomyosarcoma initially diagnosed in September. Along with it was a bone sarcoma, which rarely occurs in adults and rarely occurs in tissue that is not bone. My doctor has seen adults with a bone sarcoma in non-bone tissue, but he has never encountered that situation in combination with another sarcoma in the same tumor.

While my scans showed no lingering or recurrent cancer, his initial recommendation for preventive care is a nasty regimen of chemotherapy requiring another 15 days in the hospital. It would involve a five-day admission for intravenous chemo, to be repeated in three weeks and then again for a total of three treatments. The hospital stay is due to the drugs' harsh side effects.

Thankfully, the oncologist encourages a second opinion, especially since he hasn't treated a case like mine before. He is also consulting some of his peers, and he called last night to report another sarcoma expert advised a wait-and-watch approach for now.

My homework is to work with my health insurer to explore a second opinion from specialists at a top sarcoma center in Houston. I'd like to hear them say they have seen this before and know just how to keep it from coming back -- something that doesn't require a hospital stay for rumpus-kicking chemo.