Birthday trip for my Dad

After my second infusion last Monday, I boarded a plane Tuesday morning to go to Carpinteria to celebrate my dad’s 93rd birthday. I had some concerns that I wasn’t going to know how my system would be doing, but based on the hope that I’d be doing better this second time around, wasn’t unduly concerned when I made the reservations a month ago. And indeed, my first week into chemo seemed to go reasonably well. My travel plans included four days with my parents, and then stopping in Santa Clara over the weekend to spend a couple days with son Guy and his fiancée, Joahnna.

Well, my body had a few surprises for me. The flight down went fine. And the birthday party was enhanced by the fact that Guy flew his plane down with Joahnna along, to join the birthday celebration. As part of that celebration, Guy was to take my dad up for a birthday flight. All went well for that part. Guy & Joahnna arrived shortly after I did, at which point he took my dad up for a 30 minute tour of the area. After they returned, we all went out to my parents’ house.

During the afternoon I began to feel a little unsettled, and while running an errand with Guy, ended up loosing the banana I had just eaten (after which I actually felt much better). We returned home, but then my body gifted me with earlier onset of diarrhea than I’d yet experienced—just one day after the infusion! So dinner was out for me—I didn’t feel like eating and didn’t want to be dealing with my body’s needs in a restaurant. So Guy & Joahnna went off with Alton & Dene to celebrate, while I curled up to try to stay awake through enough of the election returns to see what was happening. I made it to 7:15 (by which time the trends were clear, at least), and then was off to bed.

I spent the next two days being a somewhat miserable guest, putting myself back on the BRAT diet to try to tamp my system down. It finally took a dose of the most powerful stuff I’ve used yet, Paragoric, to pull my system back onto the “sort of normal” path, finally achieved Friday, in time for my flight to Santa Clara.

The flight itself turned into an adventure, after the commercial flight I was scheduled to take on USAir ended up delayed, without any explanation provided, and no agent to talk to, for a good 25 minutes past its scheduled departure time. I was flying to San Jose via a connecting flight in Las Vegas with 25 minutes between flights, so it was obvious at that point I would not make the connection. I had no way to gauge what might happen to me if I went to Vegas—how long it might take me to find another flight to get to San Jose or even if I would be able to do it that night. So I called Guy, who was delighted to take off work and fly down (again) to retrieve me. My treat ended up being a night flight back to San Jose in his Piper Commanche, which was really fun. Nice to have a pilot in the family when an airline decides to through that kind of mess at you!

I had a wonderful weekend in Santa Clara, and arrived home Sunday evening. I’m now feeling pretty much back to my current normal, able to eat the low-fiber diet I’ve been maintaining, which is MUCH nicer than Bananas, Rice, Applesauce and Toast. Back into my normal exercise routine, and energy feeling good. So I can gather myself up and get ready for the 3rd infusion coming up next Monday. Hair’s still with me—hasn’t started to drop out yet, but I’m expecting that shortly.

The somber events of the week are two celebrations of my rowing coach, Charley McIntyre, who passed away on October 29th. Though he was 85, it wasn’t his age (he was very active, and still rowing a couple months ago, as well as coxing our quad about a month ago). It was my good friend cancer (in his case, lung cancer). In addition to a service and reception on Friday, the more meaningful part of our celebration will be a memorial row we are doing around Lake Union, Portage Bay and the Montlake Cut—all areas with facilities and rowing lanes where Charley was active in his long-time support of the rowing community in Seattle. He taught me to row eight years ago, and through that helped me find a wonderful new way to be on the water, as well as a great group of people to row with. I will miss his running narratives and even his bad jokes, as well as being amused by the unsolicited advice he tended to give to passing rowers. Here’s to Charley, the most graceful rower I’ve ever seen!!