to visit Xena

Greetings far ones and near ones,

Sorry to leave you all guessing. We are still here! Ups and downs continue. (As, no doubt, they do for you, too.) We keep meaning to brief you, but then life happens instead. For which we are grateful. Usually.

In exceedingly brief summary:

Val has reached the end of the 2-year plan for the drug she is still on (hold, please, while my brain sorts through the A files… Aviatrix? Apropos? Absalom? Absinthe? … hang on… Avastin! Avastin? Yeah, that’s it). It was not actually clear to us that  there was a timeline so it was somewhat shocking when she went in for her 21-day infusion a few weeks ago and they turned her away. Eventually (after some banging on the gate) we met with the oncologist who explained that the risks of nasty side effects appear to outweigh possible benefit (Avastin is still quite a new drug) and that’s whey she’s advising Val to discontinue the infusions. Cons: What if regular doses of Avastin have been what’s holding cancer at bay? Pros: No more sinus side effects; no more risk of quite dangerous side effects; the chance to discover that Avastin is unnecessary; no more being tethered to Portland by two or three oncology appointments a month.

So then they took a CT scan to establish a getting-off-Avastin baseline and the scan showed no new activity in the previously existing tumors… but it did show three very small new “nodules.” Which could be benign evidence of a passing lung infection, or they could be, as they say, “disease progression.” The nodules are too small to biopsy, so the next step is… you guessed it… wait in the great Unknowingness for another three months or so, and then scan again.

Val has decided to go to New Zealand.

Meanwhile, I have incurred a weird injury in both feet — apparently the mother 0f all plantar fasciitis — and have been almost completely unable to walk for more than five months. Wheelchair at work, all normal operations on hold. Quite the education in accessibility, frustration and patience, asking for help, and giving in to gratitude. Not my easiest lessons. I’m quite ready for the metaphysical weekend.

The dog, however, is in perfect health.

That’s it in a nutshell, y’all. There are sunny days and rainy days and bouquets of the last great dahlias, and we cook fresh greens from everyone’s gardens and spend lots of time with friends and surround ourselves with color and music and practice savoring every last tiny thing. Some days with greater success than others.

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