On Sunday, I finished round 12 of max bonus chemo. Temodar, the Chemo Teller, is once again quiet. Based on how the earlier rounds have gone, sometime around Thanksgiving I should be back to a semblance of "normal". And this being the last round of chemo for now, there is a possibility that the normal period will go on for a period of time. A Year? Maybe two? Based on what I've got, it's not something that is beaten back and we keep an eye on it to ensure it doesn't come back. My Chevy Astro Cytoma will act up again, with the questions being when and how. And after the when and how comes the "what next?" Radiate, rinse, repeat? Cyber knife? Cyber bully? Some new cool nanite technology? Brain transplant? [less likely].
Just need to plow forward, and take things as they come. Between the last two rounds, I had a series of mundane dreams again. These were not about weirdly constructed hotels or polite visiting Unitarians, like last year. The two I remember were about Spotty and fried chicken.
A few weeks back I had a very convincing dream that I had gotten a a new dog. She was small, white, and fluffy. She had black marks on her tummy, and I named her Spotty. Not sure how I knew this, but Spotty was a very good dog.
Then last week, I had a very vivid dream where I was talking to Alex on the phone, and walking her through how to fry chicken. She has been cooking a lot in New Orleans in her apartment, between hurricanes, and apparently it was time to fry some chicken. From the two or three times I have fried chicken at home, I even think it was fairly sound instructions. I remember telling her to soak the pieces in buttermilk, for example.
The next day I called her. If she had actually fried chicken in the last couple of days, I believe that would have been sufficient proof of a new superpower. Chef Mentale! Able to dream about what people are cooking. About as useful as Super Doppler, but you take the superpowers that are offered.
Unfortunately, no chicken had been fried by Alex or any of her roommates. She had recently fried some plantains, but even though I have done that before, Chef Mentale was clearly talking chicken.
So, 12 rounds of chemo are in the books. And then yesterday was my 55th birthday. "I can survive.... FIF-ty FIVE!" Which is the bastardized version of a terrible song by either Sammy Hagar or David Lee Roth that has been going through my head. I'd look it up, but I don't want to give it the attention. I just want it to go away.
I was not feeling fantastic, so I took 1/2 day off work, lay on my new couch, ate Tiff's Treats (thanks Joyce, Susanne, and the folks at AGE!), and watched what can only be described as the perfect antidote to this awful year. I found the movie "Pick of the Litter" on Amazon Prime. It was a documentary following five black and yellow Labrador puppies from birth to about 1 year, as they are trained to be potential Guide Dogs for the Blind. Not all of them are chosen, and sadly, the rest are put down. NO!! That would be a terrible, awful, no good movie. The ones that don't make it become breeders, or pets, or go back to their trainers. This was a 90 minute movie about very good, enormously cute labs, some of whom (I won't spoil it for you) become amazing Guide Dogs. Trust me, see this movie. You need it. We all need it.
It wasn't included on Amazon Prime, so I had to spend $3.99 to rent it. Jill gets notices anytime someone buys something on our Amazon Prime account ("that's a lot of haircare products for someone who was bald a year ago". It's aspirational).
I texted her about my amazing movie find, and she responded:
"Good, from the email I got, I thought maybe you had bought a dog on Amazon."
"Yes, a $3.99 dog from Amazon, to be delivered in the next few weeks, is exactly what I ordered."
I can get away with the sarcasm because it was my birthday. And, you know, brain tumor.
And now I realize I actually do have a set of mundane dreams for 2021. Nothing huge, just some small, mundane hopes and wishes:
1) the removal, voluntary or otherwise, of Cheeto Voldemort from the presidency, the news, our lives, and all of the other spaces he fills so profanely.
2) the distribution of one or more CoVid vaccines so that we can start to extricate from the pandemic.
3) several months, if not years, of stability in my Chevy Astrocytoma, accompanied by the lack of a need to do other treatments.
4) a growing "better" feeling as I get further away from this last round of chemo.
5) Twina and Twinby able to go back safely to college and re-start their college experiences.
6) and assuming 2,3, and 4 happen, maybe some travel, some dining out, some date nights, some of life pre May 2019 (for me, for most of ya'll it's life pre March 2020).
7) And, as it is becoming more and more apparent, maybe a new dog. Named Spotty perhaps.
