A Temporary Absence

rain on leaves

Dear Readers,

Please note that I will not be sharing a new blog post this coming week.

As some of you may already know, I will be in Boston for several appointments on Monday, June 25th—including a surgical procedure. If possible, please send light, love, and prayers my way. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

With Love,

Laura

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Thanksgiving in June

Thank you, Dear Readers, for reaching out to me with a wonderful list of book titles, podcasts, YouTube suggestions, movie recommendations, and songs. You truly lifted my spirits! Although I can’t say that I feel 100% recharged, I do feel as though I am free to find beauty in the world around me again.

I mean, come on, look at these irises! They were a complete surprise to me. I had no idea that they were even growing around our front porch until Luna led me to them.

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I still do not have an immune system, so gardening is not an option for me. BUT I can enjoy observing what’s already growing here (I can also dead-head—while wearing gloves—which may be an experience that finds its way into a fiction project).

Speaking of fiction, I have been writing and submitting again. My novel, Greenwood (once known as Weather Witch), is now in the capable hands of Entangled Publishing. Hopefully, this time, it will exceed expectations, be on par with the trends of the literary market and find its way into a shareable format.

It would be a dream come true to see it published.

If that doesn’t happen, it’ll go back to hiding in my desk drawer…or excerpts will find their way to this blog. I always meant for Of Pieridae & Perras to include my fiction. Maybe it’s time to start sharing it….

Thank you, again, for sending me so much positivity. I am so grateful for each and every one of you. Your support has given me—and continues to give me—strength. Please continue to send light and love.

 

With Love,

Laura

Second Chances

I have noticed a trend in my movie and television-watching habits; I’ve been gravitating toward programs that focus on second chances.

Second chances to be an all-star athlete.

Second chances at love.

Second chances to simply be a decent human being.

If I were to analyze my current viewing preferences, I would self-diagnose myself as searching for hope. I would admit that my battery needs to be recharged. I need to be spoon-fed some good, old-fashioned positivity.

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So, Dear Readers, if you were in need of hope or inspiration, where would you look? Is there a movie or television show that you would watch? A book that you would read? A friend or family member that you would call? Would you travel somewhere? Is there a song that you would listen to over and over again?

Don’t be shy! I would sincerely appreciate suggestions!

Please continue to send light and love this way. It helps more than I could ever explain.

 

With Love,

Laura

Unpredictable

We have a puppy!

luna

Our puppy, Luna, is currently snuggled up on her daddy. Daddy is clearly her favorite person. And, why not? Mama (me) is a bit stand-offish. No puppy kisses here. Mama is constantly washing her hands. Mama doesn’t—because she’s just not that mobile—get down on the floor to play. Mama often wears gloves. Mama wears a mask whenever we go somewhere as a family (i.e. the vet’s office).

luna and daddy

So, why even bother getting a dog with all of these restrictions?

First, my transplant team in Boston said that I could.

Second, a little companion to take care of, and love, is perhaps one of the best forms of medicine out there.

Third, life is too short to wait for a better/perfect time. I’ll be brutally honest with you: I don’t know how much time I will have on this Earth. Neither do you. If you stop and think about it, do you know when your last day will be? Or how old you will have grown? Make the most out of your time here. Do those things that restore you spirits and make you smile. Breathe.

My grandmother was buried last week.

A former co-worker passed away just a few days ago.

A mentor, whom I am truly grateful for, faded away this weekend like an evening star.

What can we do when presented with such loss?

We can hold on tightly to the pleasant memories and the sage advice. We can live. We can open our hearts to love. We can take chances and put up with the nuisance of washing our hands every half hour. I refuse to live my life in fear. I refuse to miss out on happiness.

I can’t live with my Alderaan right now; Luna can’t fill the hole that Wallace left behind. Despite all of that, we can be a little family. We can learn from each other, we can laugh, we can howl when Daddy leaves for work (which is a habit I probably shouldn’t be encouraging). Sometimes, though, it’s one-hundred percent necessary to throw your head back and howl at the moon.

Please, Dear Readers, continue to send light and love. I am still coping with the symptoms of Graft vs. Host Disease. On a more positive note, my MRI’s from last week showed improvement. We’re back in Boston this week (to monitor the Graft vs. Host Disease). Hopefully, we can gain control of the GVHD soon.

Thank you, as always, for all of your kindness and encouragement.

 

With Love,

Laura

Counting Blessings

Well, Dear Readers, as you know, I have Graft vs. Host Disease (GVHD) again. I still do not have full control of my arms, but the swelling in my left arm has gone down a bit.

The new medication regimen promises to be (slowly) successful.

With steroid use, though, you must be mindful of how you’re behaving. As some of you may have experienced in your own lives, steroids can alter mood. While I don’t usually “rage” on these medications, I have caught myself getting angry. Thinking mean thoughts. Becoming jealous.

These are all things that I do not want to be.

When I relapsed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (A.L.L) in February of 2017, I was determined to weather cancer treatment with grace and gratitude. I’m still not sure if I accomplished this…but it’s a life-goal goal I continue to work toward.

It’s hard to resist a chemical mood swing, but I am learning that being mindful of my temperament and of my surroundings helps. I can find comfort in the little blessings that have been coming my way—and reset my mood.

Blessing #1: This little guy or gal:

robin

She or he lands on the windowsill, every morning, and watches us (or the television). S/he tapped on the glass until I got up off of the couch and took a picture of him/her. It made me feel like some sort of fairy tale princess instead of the Hulk.

Blessing #2: The shrubbery growing along the house:

I have no idea what these plants are, but the new growth makes me hopeful for the future.

This coming week brings an MRI appointment. My neuro-oncologist just wants another peek at my brain. It’s precautionary. Still, good thoughts would be appreciated! Please continue to send light and love. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

 

With Love,

Laura

Graft vs. Host Disease

First, Dear Readers, I apologize for the tardiness of this post. I spent Monday at a follow-up appointment with my bone marrow transplant team in Boston.

As some of you already know, I’ve been experiencing shoulder and arm pain. I had originally thought that the pain was the result of relying on my arms to pull myself up the stairs in the new house (my legs are a bit wobbly still).

The source of the pain, however, is not as simple as overuse or a strained muscle.

I have graft vs. host disease (GVHD) again.

 

Just a little vocabulary review:

Graft – harvested and transplanted bone marrow from a donor

Host – me, my body.

 

Some of you may remember from an earlier post in 2018, that I’ve already experienced GVHD as an irritating skin rash. This time, GVHD is causing inflammation in my shoulder joints. Lab results also show elevated liver functions. So, yeah, it’s most likely in there, too.

The truth is, 70-75% of bone marrow transplant recipients experience GVHD on some level. Thankfully, it’s not all gloom and doom. GVHD means that my donor’s graft is capable of recognizing foreign substances. Right now, I—my organs, my joints—they’re foreign to her. She’s kicking my butt, too, which means if Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia ever decides to pay me another unwanted visit, the graft will know exactly what to do with/to it.

Due to the fact that so many bone marrow transplant recipients develop GVHD, my doctors know precisely what to do to clear me of it. I will be taking a higher dose my anti-rejection medicine and adding a steroid to my daily regimen. Together, these two steps should tame the GVHD enough for me to gradually become comfortable again.

Please continue to send light and love, Dear Readers. I need them. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

 

With Love,

Laura

 

A New Home

We closed on our house!

It doesn’t quite feel like home yet, but, given some time, it will. We will fill these rooms with laughter and happy memories. We’ll add new colors. We’ll play music and celebrate the holidays with family and friends.

Owning a home, for me, is so much more than signing a stack of papers. It’s more than a financial commitment spanning a handful of decades. I realized, while watching the wild bunny in our backyard, that buying a house is an immense leap toward rebuilding my life.

backyard bunny 3.0
(Sorry that the quality of this picture isn’t better.)

Buying a home is another step toward recovery.

It’s an act of hope—hope that I will not relapse again, that the bone marrow transplant will be 100% successful, and, ultimately, hope that I will live long enough to leave my mark on this house.

I know. It sounds a bit pessimistic, but this is how you think after surviving cancer. You are constantly looking over your shoulder to see if the disease is following you. Amidst this worry, you learn how to breathe again. You learn how to live. Or, at least, you try to.

Thank you, Dear Readers, for all of your support and encouragement. Please continue to send light and love. Alderaan is back at the vet’s office. Poor little guy had a urinary tract blockage. We’re hoping that he’ll be discharged today.

 

With Love,

Laura

We’ll Build Upward from There.

In my thirty-one years on this Earth, I have had to learn how to walk three times:

  1. As a toddler, just like everyone else.
  2. After a ten-day stay in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU) when I was 23 years old.
  3. And, when I was 30, after developing drop-foot during in-patient cancer treatment.
treatment with OR and brace
Relearning how to walk with a leg brace February/March 2017

Learning how to walk as an adult is downright painful. It’s also a slow process. I thought that I had successfully “gotten back on my feet” when I was able to ditch my cane, but after having an appointment with my neuro-oncologist in January of 2018, I realized that I needed help.

My doctor had me flex my foot into a ninety-degree angle. She then pushed down on my toes; I didn’t have the strength to resist her. I couldn’t keep my foot at the correct angle. My ankles weren’t strong enough. My balance was off. If I knelt down on the floor, I had to use something to pull myself up with. My doctor issued a referral for physical therapy. I let the referral sit on my desk from January to April.

Why? Because I didn’t want to be a burden. With my recent seizure history, I can’t drive. Due to the fact that I still don’t have a functioning immune system, I have to be very selective about who drives me (they must be 100% healthy). These parameters often result in me asking the same people, again and again, to take me places. In my mind, physical therapy was just another appointment that I would have to pester someone to take me to.

I don’t like asking for help—even when I need it.

So, I delayed setting up a physical therapy appointment…until the beginning of this month. My fiancé was urging me to take care of myself—and that includes rebuilding leg strength and balance.

I had my first session this past Friday. My therapy plan focuses first on stabilizing and strengthening my ankles. We’ll build upward from there. I am excited about it. My therapist is one of the kindest souls that I have ever met. You can tell she loves her job; best of all, her joy is contagious.

Please, Dear Readers, continue to send light and love. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

 

With Love,
Laura

Nightingales and Chickadees

 

There is a crocus blooming beneath our apartment’s front window. Every time I see it, I find myself hoping that it is spring’s herald.

crocus

My scars, and my bones, need some warmth to chase away the ache of old wounds.

My spirits could use some sunshine to lift them up.

I’ve been relying on little things to elevate my mood. In recent days, I’ve found myself laughing as tiny bubbles float upwards from our kitchen sink, filled with dish soap. It reminds me of Disney’s cartoon version of Cinderella—when she was scrubbing her stepmother’s floor. It’s been awhile since I’ve watched the movie, but I believe it was at this point in the film that Cinderella started singing a song about the nightingale.

little things desk

Unlike Cinderella, it is the chickadees in the nearby cedar hedges that make me smile. Even though the sky is often cast in gray, and it’s cold out there, the chickadees welcome every morning with a cheerful tune. It gives me the courage to pack yet another box in preparation of our move.

Handling change—even positive change—productively and with ease, is not my forte.

We’re still hoping to close on the house by April 30th. I’m not sure if that will happen, but that’s the goal. I didn’t understand how involved (and stressful) the home-buying process was until we began it. I guess, maybe, most things in life are like that. We don’t know what we’re getting ourselves into until we’re in the thick of it.

Thank you, Dear Readers, for sticking with me. I appreciate your presence here as well as your commentary. Please continue to send love and light.

 

With Love,

Laura

Cleaning Out the Clutter

At least once a week, I will see a meme or an article abstract on my Facebook newsfeed saying something to the effect of, “a cluttered home is indicative of a cluttered mind”. My mind, although scarred from cranial edema and a bit slower than it used to be, is constantly on the go. If I’m not mentally writing the next scene in my fiction manuscript, I’m composing an extensive “to-do” list. Or, I’m obsessing over something. So, yes, you could say that my mind is cluttered (or, at the very least, quite busy).

I didn’t realize how cluttered our apartment was, however, until we started packing our belongings up.

wall of boxes

I wasn’t going to write about our new house, Dear Readers, until everything was finalized; I was afraid of jinxing us. In any case, we’ve started packing as we hope to close the sale by the end of this month. Exciting? Absolutely. A lot of work? Oh my God, yes. So much work!

The two of us have somehow accumulated a lot of stuff. Most of my stuff isn’t even here at the apartment to pack up—it’s at my parents’ house.

My library? At my parents’ house.

My collectibles? At my parents’ house.

My favorite pieces of art? At my parents’ house.

Moving, I think, is ultimately an exercise in letting go. I’ve sorted through most of my clothes already (I still have one more plastic tub to go). Those clothing items that no longer fit—either my body or my personality—have been donated. Even if I love a particular dress or sweater, if I don’t feel comfortable wearing it in this present moment, it has to go.

Transitioning from this living space to the next one will be a process. I will keep you up-to-date, Dear Readers, on how closing (and then the actual moving) unfolds.

Please continue to send light and love. This week brings an oncology check-up in Burlington, VT. I usually get tremendously anxious about these appointments…and maybe that’s why my PTSD flashbacks have been on the rise lately…but it’ll be good to see the faces that took care of me during both my first and second cancer treatments. Gratitude, for your doctors and nurses, helps diminish the fear.

 

With Love,

Laura