When bad things lead to good outcomes

I had a lovely brunch yesterday with my friend Bev Bloomberg at Jake's in Northampton, where I reminisced about how Jim and I, when living in Florence, used to bring our newspapers down there.

When the conversation turned to seemingly bad events that had led to positive outcomes, I realized I had a new medical adventure that was turning out differently than I expected, namely the ECP, or photopheresis to treat my graft vs. host of the skin.

I was dismayed when I learned in May that I had to do this for two consecutive days for three hours at a time for 12 weeks and then one day a week for another three months (where I am now) and then  after that with decreasing frequency.

But in addition to improving my overall movement and my tennis game, it has led to meeting a new group of warm, funny, caring nurses and another great doctor, William Savage, medical director of the Kraft Family Blood Donor Center. He is so easy-going and friendly. The first time I was in there I was squirming in my chair with that big needle in my arm and couldn't believe I could last for three hours, but he said, "Just make yourself as bored as you can get, and the time will pass."

Actually (except for the matter of the big needle and keeping my arm straight), I can now say, although it is hard to believe, that it is pleasant to be there. The nurses fuss around, arranging your pillows, bringing a warm blanket, joking and sharing their stories. I mostly read the New York Times on my computer, or watch a little something on Netflix, or read a bit of a New Yorker or a few pages of a book. It's hard to turn pages with one hand. Most often, I fall asleep.

Dr. Savage is especially interested in the changes in my tennis game. First thing he says when he walks by is, "How is your tennis game"? I'm the only tennis player who has passed through there. I said maybe they'll do a study on me. I also told him that I'm moving better in yoga because my skin is less tight.

The other things that came up with Bev were:

#1 Bad thing: losing 12 teeth due to being immunosupressed for so long, with the positive outcome of one of the surgeons seeing a suspicious spot on my tongue and that spot turning out to be precancerous cells. I'm not saying it was fun to have a piece of my tongue scooped out – it hurt like hell for a long time afterwards – but that was the end of it, and I was saved from a worse outcome. I thought about this when beautiful Ann Gregory survived a blood cancer and a bone marrow transplant but succumbed to a squamous cell cancer that started undetected on her tongue.

#2 Bad thing: missing my cousin Nancy's 60th birthday bash in California due to double pneumonia that landed me at Brigham and Women's Hospital instead of on a plane going west. Positive outcome: a scan to find out the extent of the pneumonia led to the discovery of a small kidney lesion (euphemism for cancer) that otherwise would have gone undetected and most likely led to full-blown kidney cancer. A surgeon was able to remove a small section of my kidney. Not that it was fun to have that kidney resection surgery on Katie's birthday two years ago – and again, I remember standing in my kitchen crying hysterically because the pain medicine wasn't working and the doctor's office hadn't returned my calls – but now all I have is the scar and the memory of another narrow escape.

As I write this I can hardly believe this all happened to me.

But it did, and I just want to say, you just never know how things will turn out.

Run your own race

I just read Julie Goodale's post on Fitness for Survivors about running your own race, physically and metaphorically.

A breast cancer survivor and ultra-marathoner, she was referring to her recent 100-mile race, in which she vowed to not compare herself to others. This is good all-around advice.

In that spirit, I will say that I ran one mile over the weekend – once around the lake – and maybe a little more because I went to and from my house. Over the weekend it seemed like every other runner was wearing a different colored St. Patrick's Road Race T-shirt. I dug through my drawers to find my latest one, from 2012. I wondered if I could do the race again. Maybe, maybe not.

In wanting to run, I am not trying to prove anything. My feet start on their own. My mind picks up a beat.

In other sporting news, I played my first round robin in months last night. I held my own. Some people hit it harder than I can, but thanks to George I can (sometimes) neutralize these strokes with spins and slices. Afterwards, some of us sat and talked. I had a delicious chocolate cookie with M&Ms.

The weekend was great. I had a special guest, one of my high school BFFs, Emily. We walked with friends (and dog), went to yoga, enjoyed coffee and conversation and had a candle-lit dinner party in which I took out my mother's silver.

And then last night, the "Breaking Bad" finale. It all came together so beautifully.

This morning, writing and cleaning up, then a walk. It's nice to have a 6-year-old dog who waits patiently in her corner of the couch while I get things done.

Toothache!

As most people who have had a serious toothache know, it can really drive you crazy.

We had chicken grilled to perfection last night, but I had to give part of my piece to Joe because it hurt so much to chew. I am glad that I have leftover hydromorphone, the narcotic that was prescribed for the pain from my kidney surgery. Pain is pain, and I felt much better this morning after taking some. Tylenol just doesn't do it, plus I am not supposed to take too much of it because it's bad for the liver.

I am counting down the days to Thursday, when I can get the damn thing pulled. Everyone reacts to these things differently; I predict I will hunker down and take more pain meds.

I also hope that at my post-op on Wednesday, I will be cleared to return to yoga. When I first get out of bed in the morning, I limp to the bathroom like an elderly person. I am feeling very uncomfortable in my body. Some of the steri-strips are peeling off my incision and it looks totally healed, so I think it's OK to do a little yoga on my own without fear of having the thing pop open.

It doesn't help that after watching "Breaking Bad" last night I had terrible nightmares.

A walk around the lake

I took my longest post-surgery walk this morning, going around the smaller lower lake and back through campus with Mary and Jerry.

We were about two minutes from my house when I said I couldn't make it anymore. Mary asked if I wanted Jerry to pull the car out to come get me. It was a joke, but I really was tired.

As I write this, my legs hurt. I drove to Best Buy this afternoon, and the only purchase I could think of was rechargeable AAA batteries for my land line. Last time Ben was home and the land line rang, he said, "I can't believe that you people still use land lines." Well, what can I say, I don't want to give it up.

When I got to Best Buy, I parked my car and took a power nap in the middle of the busy parking lot. I really needed to do it in order to get home safely.

I feel like I need to push it a little to build back up. After all, my legs hurt from lack of use. I'm going for my post-op Wednesday and will ask about it.

In any case, I have to stay awake for "Breaking Bad."