Dear One, my friend,
Somehow in your beautiful words from your heart, that I feel as though I
walk each step with you feeling your emotions, your pains, your
anxieties, your inspirations and each step I take with you, I seem to
learn. However, I feel helpless that when I walk with you, I can't seem
to provide much support other than to smile when you need a smile, or to
say the things with great emotions as you say. Nevertheless, pls know
that each step I do take with you that my prayers for your good health
and recovery is my greatest gift to you and God willing one day we can
physically walk down the path and laugh at our past trials and
tribulations with successful healthy bodies.
God Bless You my friend
marty auslander
HewRon@aol.com wrote:
>
> Dear One and All,
>
> February 18, evening:
>
> It occurs to me that before going into the events of this last week and this
> day on a personal level, one should look out at the world at large and utter a
> prayer for those about to die through no fault of their own, not even through
> disease, but because they happen to be in the way of those ambitious members
> of our species who seem to think that we as individuals are dispensable, that
> if they have a cause they believe is right they are entitled to wipe us and
> our loved ones out without a second thought. In short, that they and their
> cause are more important than us and ours. To them, I say a heartfelt screw
> you.
>
> *****I began writing this last evening*****
>
> That said, to matters more local -- i.e. me. This day was not like yesterday,
> when I felt revitalized. I did not sleep well last night, and today has been a
> little on the dozey side. But I am definitely less dizzy -- almost not dizzy.
> And this evening I took my first neupogen shot in this 10-day series. It is
> the strong dose -- 480 mcg -- at $280 a go. During our visit to my oncologist
> this evening -- I had been crammed in for a 5 p.m. appointment that didn't
> take place until 6.45 p.m., but what the heck, it took place -- it transpired
> that my red cells had not shot up as I had thought. They were not bad, that's
> all. My whites were down to 1,800, but, said the wizard, were bound to descend
> rapidly over the next few days. Thus the need for the immediate administration
> of neupogen. For the next 10 days I had best stay away from crowded places and
> lie low. Meantime I'm to be tested every couple of days to see if there is
> need of a transfusion. Seems like old times!
>
> The doctor had looked over the new T-cell bone-marrow treatment and decided it
> was not for me. And linZhu (see her/his note A Question about Leukemia of
> yesterday) is right. The chemotherapy dosage during this new treatment is from
> 25 to 50 times stronger than "normal" chemotherapy, so it does seem wise to
> give the matter deep thought before committing oneself to it. Anemia is a
> distinct possibility, and when you are already anemic, like moi, well, let's
> put it this way: I'll definitely wait for my bone-marrow biopsy some weeks
> hence to see how the brand new treatment I have just received turns out. My
> oncologist is looking into China No.1, and I might have more news on that
> substance next week from my friend who is now in China for what turned out to
> be the death of her relative. It may well be that her traumatic circumstances
> push China No.1 into the background and I don't get the information I had
> hoped to tell you about.
>
> *****
>
> I want to sing the praises of the nurses that attended to me during my
> hospital stay. I had many shots and IV needles, and none of them hurt as much
> as the end-of-finger blood test I got today in my doctor's office. I think I
> mentioned that when I last had such a test in my doctor's office it was
> administered by a woman who didn't stab the finger but gently inserted the
> needle from the side. No pain and just as good a blood flow. The hospital
> nurses were pleasant and efficient, but still obviously hampered by
> understaffing. The food, as in the past, was quite OK. I ate most of it, and
> gave it a good rating in the questionnaire I received towards the end of my
> stay.
>
> I've received a few notes about that woman I seemed to see leaning against the
> wall and watching me, who faded when I looked at her more strongly. Was she a
> ghost? The total of all you people who were sending me prayers and good
> wishes? I don't believe in ghosts, but that doesn't mean they don't exist for
> some people. I have Asian friends who absolutely believe in ghosts. It did
> occur to me that the room had become vacant rather suddenly. Perhaps she was
> the previous inhabitant. One of you wrote asking about her appearance. She was
> not blonde. She was dark, and now I come to think of it she had about her the
> atmosphere of that woman walking through the jungle and playing a pipe in one
> of Henri Rousseau's paintings. But she was still, leaning against the wall,
> watching. Seen and gone in a couple of seconds.
>
> >From possible ghosts to definite gems, it was great to talk to John and Marty
> during my hospital stay. Their voices really linked me with you all. We had
> not talked before, but there was no strain in our conversations. It felt as
> though we had talked many times before. Perhaps we have. (Hey keep that
> Buddhism out of here for a moment!) They are both sincere and humorous. Matter
> of fact, this visit I spent a lot of time on the phone. If I have to, I can
> imagine a hospital room without a refrigerator, but never without a phone. I
> spend a lot of time on the phone at home too these days. I have never been one
> for long phone conversations, but now I am getting more calls and they are
> longer. That plus all this e-mail activity and I have a pressing need for an
> extra phone line, which I aim to get after this neupogen course leaves me with
> good blood counts. They are polite about it, but I can tell some friends are
> getting a bit ticked off by all the busy signals.
>
> February 19, morning:
>
> Today Manhattan sounds like spring. With shoots evident in my potted little
> roof garden (the only thing potted around here of late), it really does seem
> spring is getting ready for some heavy flirting.
>
> Before I end this message (begun last night but I was suddenly too dog tired
> to finish it), I have to get in a grumble or two about the hospital. Not many,
> though. I am feeling beneficent today, so beneficent that I shall lie down for
> a while after I send this note.
>
> I got a private room, yes, but it was smack opposite one of the nurses'
> stations. During times of activity it felt as though my bed was located in the
> hallway itself. At other times it sounded like I was unaccountably lying
> horizontal in the middle of a party. (What kind of party would that be?) I
> used to think hospitals were places of silence and solemnity, everyone
> speaking in whispers. But unless the door was closed, and about 50 per cent of
> my visitors left it wide open, I was right in the middle of the action. In
> fairness I have to say it seemed most patients preferred to keep their doors
> open. I noticed this on my trips to the soda machine, whose tendency to reject
> dollar bills will one day get it a good kick in the teeth, though not of
> course from me, unless I have been slipped a steroid.
>
> This is a bright day in Manhattan. The skylight is aglow and all looks perfect
> for a nice trot around jumpy Midtown West. However, I will take my doctor's
> advice and venture forth only briefly and avoid people who look as though they
> might sneeze or cough or spit. By the way, what is it about so many males that
> makes them want to spit with such frequency? I have noticed a certain element
> of pride in the action. It seems to say "I can spit a bigger wad than you",
> and sometimes "This to you." I suppose it is akin to those crazy dogs who
> leave their signatures on city trees to mark out their territory. (Dogs have
> as little sense of futility as they do of shame.) I think in my whole rather
> extended life I have felt the need to spit about three times, and I have
> always done so with as much privacy as possible. But then I don't chew gum
> either. How's that for trivia, Dilip?
>
> By the way Carla, the person who asked you about painkillers was right.
> Weren't you properly sedated for your experience? Next time you must insist
> upon a good shot of something that makes you feel you are taking a trip to the
> moon on gossamer wings. (I feel we have had this conversation before.) Happily
> all the medical folk I come across seem to believe in a good strong shot of
> something or other, save the one who removed by broviac, but it didn't take
> him long to learn that I do not suffer pain gladly. I do hope things are much
> easier for you now. Next time tell them you want a good slug of atavan.
>
> Friends, may life shine on you and give you the uplift and confidence that
> makes this world, contradictory though it may seem, so very worthwhile.
>
> God bless
>
> -- Ron
>
>
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