Beneath Cancer’s Shadow

Cancer, Third Time's a Charm6 Comments

It is February now. My summer trips are over. I no longer watch the blue-footed booby dart through the crystal blue waves to fish. I no longer hear seal lions frolicking on the beach in front of our hotel. As I look over my calendar, I note that I have no job and nothing planned besides this month’s doctor’s appointments. The skies are starting to darken, and cancer’s shadow seems to be growing.

When I returned from the Galapagos, I was really dizzy and wanted to rest.   Even with Jon’s help, transferring from one rocky boat to another was difficult for someone with balance issues. I enjoyed myself, but I have a lot of bruises on my body as a result. I had an appointment scheduled with Dr. M right when I got back because he was soon to go on vacation, like most Chileans during the month of February. Since I am still mareada (dizzy), Dr. M decided to switch up my medicine before he left. His consultant at M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston suggested I take a pill that more accurately targets brain tumors than the previous oral chemo pill. Xeloda, the new drug, is a chemotherapy pill as well.   Like my other medicines, I have to take it at a certain time in the morning with stomach medicine. The steroid pills remain at the same level as before. I no longer take my daily hormone therapy pill (Femara) or the monthly oral chemo pills, Tamoxifen. One day I will ask Dr. M if there will ever come a time when I don’t have to take any pills, but I’m afraid I already know the answer.

The pharmacist at CLC told me about the possible side effects of Xeloda and they frightened me. I’m not sure why, since I’ve taken worse. Nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, oh- and my hands and feet might become red and painful. I don’t know why, but the last effect frightened me the most. I really didn’t want to take this new pill now, especially right before hosting my very good friend’s baby shower.   But like a dutiful patient, I swallowed the pill when they told me to. My cheeks have become rosy, but so far I seem to be tolerating the new drug.   I take Xeloda twice a day for two weeks and then I have a week off. I guess it could be worse.

Despite the rosy cheeks, there are some days that the cancer shadows are dark and gloomy.   Some days, as I rest my head on my pillow in the morning, the shadows knock on my window and enter the room. Some days I cannot push the murky silhouettes away, no matter how hard I try. After wallowing in self-pity, I give up on dressing, and become angrier at my situation. It seems so unfair. I allow the shadows to become permanent fixtures as I shuffle to the living room to take a nap. I’m not sure why I’m so tired, as the only physical activity I’ve done is wake up, eat a bowl of cereal, and force myself to take a myriad of pills.

However, as I press the button to open the living room shade, I see there is still light outside. I move towards it slowly, hoping that cancer and its shadows will go away for good.   Today I flipped on the computer and began searching for a future. As the sun grows higher in the sky, the light shifts. Events begin to appear on my calendar. Even though it might be fleeting, there is some sunshine beyond the shadows after all.

Traveling with Cancer

Cancer, Travel4 Comments

     I am dedicating this blog to my incredible, indispensable, husband, Jon. Our trip to the Galapagos really hammered home how much I rely on him for just about everything. Jon has led me through this jungle called life, and most of the time, with a smile on his face. For the last four and a half years Jon´s words of love and devotion have kept me alive, far longer than I anticipated. He is the one who voluntarily carries my backpack so I have a prayer of ascending the rocky path without falling. He is the one who finds my phone under the bedspread, or in the purse I used last night. Jon, although I know you hate public recognition, I want to thank you, out loud, for driving me down bumpy dirt roads with a bleeding ear. Thanks for lending a hand on a “flat” path, an uphill slope, or stairs without hand railings. Thanks for buckling my sandals so I don´t get too dizzy doing it myself. Without your help I couldn´t function, especially at such a high level. Thank you for all that you do and put up with. I love you forever! Too.

Whoever decided that cancer girl needed to deal with a busted eardrum at her sister´s wedding has a mean streak. They also have a healthy sense of irony. I wasn´t able to drink more than one alcoholic beverage at an all-inclusive, nor get my ear wet in one of the twelve pools at the resort.  Let me back up a little, because last time I left you, I was at my sister´s wedding, on a Costa Rican beach, with an injured ear.

The first thing Jon and I did at Dreams Las Mareas was visit with the resort doctor about my ear.   Besides being good looking, the resort doctor inspired a good deal of confidence. He tried to insert the otoscope (Yes, I looked that up…) in my ear, but there was too much infection and puss for him to see anything. I know: gross, right?! He said the antibiotic drops were not strong enough to fight the infection, so he prescribed some antibiotic pills.   He claimed that, for sure, the horse-sized pills would get rid of the leaking and pain in the ear… and magically, they did.  However, unfortunately, I don´t remember much of my trip to Costa Rica. I know my sister looked beautiful and that she and Dustin got married on the beach. I know I gave a speech at the reception and danced a lot afterwards. I know I nearly stepped on a venomous snake as soon as I entered the country. But, mostly, I just remember the pain radiating from my ear.

As soon as we arrived home, Jon and I drove to Las Condes to have a qualified doctor examine my ear. The doctor at CLC looked inside the ear canal, and showed it up on the TV screen so Jon and I could see too. He removed a lot of wax, and declared that I could snorkel and get my ear wet in the Galapagos. I perused the seven-day itinerary, and decided his declaration was a huge boon. The Galapagos would definitely have been a much different trip without those two stipulations. He also told me he gets ear infections often, and that when he gets back from vacation, he will drain my middle ear of liquid. The ear has been clogged since I first had radiation a few years ago, so maybe that will help me hear out of my right ear again. Yay!

After my ear cleared while I was in Santiago, I immediately swelled up from hemorrhoids. I don´t know if you´ve ever had hemorrhoids, but they are painful, itchy, and in a very private place. That´s why, for most of my life, I thought they were a back injury brought on by lifting heavy objects. Now I understand why they are forbidden from conversation. However, as you know, I don´t shy away from taboo topics on this blog. The hemorrhoid is better now that I have doused it in cream. However, sitting down on a five-hour plane ride to Guayaquil, Ecuador, was a special kind of torture.

I had mentioned to Jon that this trip was going to be different than those of years past, but I didn´t want to actually believe it. I have been struggling for months to acknowledge that I am not getting better. After several boat to cliff transfers, I realized I am going to be dizzy for the rest of my life. There are certain things I will never be able to do again like hike (especially on uneven, rocky, lava paths). As I found out this summer, I have difficulty snorkeling, walking a straight line, spinning when dancing, or exercising of any kind. For an ex-university soccer player, this is difficult to come to terms with. I have always prided myself on my athletic prowess. I can do some of the above activities, at a low level with Jon´s assistance, and, an even lower level, independently. The brain radiation has also affected my language skills and my handwriting. Both are worse than before. Jon agrees with all of the above. Luckily, I still have the ability to grasp the phrases and vocabulary words that distinguish me from other writers.

The steroids have caused a great deal of weight gain, which annoys me to no end. If I have to endure all that is thrown my way, it would be nice to have some modicum of control over my physical appearance. Not luck there, though. Sometimes, after an hour or so of trying, I can make myself look like a non-cancer patient; if I don´t have an hour to spare, I fail in that endeavor. I know that growing older is partly to blame for some of these changes, but it also has to do with my disease, treatment, and the various pills I take on a regular basis.

Alright… enough complaining. Even I am sick of my kvetching. I still am fortunate to do and see many amazing things. Even though I fell three times yesterday, completely bruised and battered my body and pride, I still saw some out-of-this-world wildlife. By the end of our trip I had seen blue-footed boobies, Darwin´s finches, pelicans, many different species of crabs, two Galapagos sharks, dolphins jumping beside our boat, manta rays leaping from the water, the majestic frigate bird, and several different colors of iguanas. How many Metastatic Breast Cancer patients can say they took pictures of the Giant Land Tortoises in the highlands of the Galapagos Islands?

*As soon as my husband is done sorting through and editing the million pictures he took of animals endemic only to the Galapagos, I will share them with you.

 

 

Costa Rica: Dama de Honor

Costa Rica, Family and Friends, Travel1 Comment
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Sissy and me at the rehearsal

Hi, I’m Eli, better known as Lizzy to my family, and I am the Dama de Honor, (no Matron of Honor for me, my friends) flown in straight from Santiago, Chile.  I want to thank Dreams Las Mareas for putting on such a beautiful event, and I especially want to thank all the family and loved ones who made it down to Central America for Ali’s big day.

As Maid of Honor, it is my duty to tell you some funny and memorable stories about my sister and the love she shares with Dustin. Hopefully I’ll be able to make it though the speech without crying too much. I took a speech class senior year and gave my appreciation speech to Ali. I think our speech teacher, Mrs. Wiley, had to pull my sister out of class no less than three times in order for Ali to hear the speech through my tears. Here goes…

They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. If this is true, than I have certainly been flattered by my sister throughout my lifetime. Growing up, Ali did basically everything that I did it, and she usually did it better than me. We played piano together, we caught softballs, we sang in the choir, and we were the twin forwards on the Cooper Dragon Soccer team. Other teams referred to me and my sister as the “Little Green Midgets.” I chose to believe the nickname referred more to the color of our jerseys, and not our height.   When it came time to choose colleges, I was happy to have my sister follow me to a rival Southern California school. Now, instead of playing for the same soccer team, we were going to be enemies. In particular, I remember a very important SCC soccer game during my junior year. The Athenas were playing the Bulldogs in the league finals. After spending most of the game tied zero to zero, my coach pulled me out of the game about the same time that Ali’s put her in. The clock was winding down and Ali received the ball near the goal. She dribbled about half the field and readied herself to shoot.

“Stop her! “ I yelled. “She’s gonna score!   That’s what she does… ”

And sure enough, Alison Timms, star freshman for the Redlands Bulldogs, scored an amazing shot in order to win the game. As a result, the Bulldogs went to the NCAA playoffs and we didn’t. As you can imagine, I was pretty upset after the game and, for the first time, didn’t really want to have much to do with my sister. We had planned to eat after the game and to party together afterwards. Well, I tried to ignore her and get back on the bus, but I heard this familiar voice calling out after me.

Baby Voice: “Lizzy,” she said. “I know you’re mad at me, but can we still go to dinner?”  Well, what do you say to that?

In the movie, White Christmas, Irving Berlin sings about the kind of sisterhood that Ali and I share. And what would a speech be without some singing? In the movie, he croons, “Sisters, sisters, there were never more devoted sisters.” And I believe there were no more devoted sisters than Ali and I. Since we were old enough to write letters to each other, my sister and I have spent much time finding the perfect cards expressing our love devotion for one another….The cards have evolved over time. The first ones I remember were simple stories full of time spent at home, as well as a memorable pinworm infestation while I was away at Girl Scout camp.   In particular, I remember receiving one of these cards on Valentines Day one year. I was in college and was particularly lonely. I hadn’t had a boyfriend for a few years so I was hoping for a surprise care package of chocolates or flowers from a secret admirer (Obviously I had very realistic ideas about the holiday). I looked around the mailroom, but there was no such package with my name on it and no secret admirers in sight. So I took the keys hanging from the lanyard around my neck and opened my mailbox. Inside there was a card with my sister’s distinctive handwriting. I opened it, and inside there was a simple saying that struck me. Inside, the card said, “A Sister is love that you never outgrow.” I felt safe because no matter what was happening in my life, I knew Ali would always be there for me. And she has been.

Most of you know that the past four and a half years have been tough on my family. Through it all Ali has always been one of my biggest supporters. She has come down to Chile many times to be there with me for whatever I’ve needed. And when she couldn’t be there she has been there in spirit through her daily “Hit Me With Your Best Shot” messages as well as organizing a Team Eli Race for the Cure event in Oregon with her Portland friends and my friends in attendance.

For fear of veering into sappy territory, I would like to specially recognize the love and devotion that Ali and Dustin have for one another, because that’s what we’re here to celebrate.   For those who don’t know, this union is a long time in the making. I think about eight years, several small apartments, some Gracie-boo moments, nursing school, and purchasing a condo together. Whatever the obstacle, Ali and Dustin, have made it through together. I think what drew me to Dustin initially was that the first place he traveled to outside of the country was Cambodia. Not exactly your most gringo friendly destination. During our time there it was clear he wasn’t afraid to delve into the unique history of the country or eat new and unknown food. Also, I am very proud to welcome a certified nurse into the family. Dustin has worked hard and the two of them have formed new schedules in order for him to complete his residency, mostly through night shifts and working holidays. Because of this devotion, I know Ali and Dustin will continue the kind of love and devotion that I will always carry for Ali. Indeed, “A sister is love you never outgrow!” Please raise your glasses and give a cheer to Becoming a Timmitchell.

“Pura Vida!”

Costa Rica: Playa Hermosa

Costa Rica, Travel1 Comment
Having a moment
Playa Hermosa. Really: A rainbow too?

Close your eyes. Imagine the most beautiful beach you can think of. The stretch of sand is shaped like a crescent moon and ringed by palm trees and green cliffs. Now, take away all the people, so there´s only about twenty shadows walking the beach. I´m guessing the sand is white, so turn it the color of volcanic ash. Despite the darker color, the sand is just as warm and soft as its counterpart. The water is colder and darker than it is on the Caribbean side, as this beach is on the western Pacific Coast. However, due to your proximity to the equator, the water is still warm enough to let the tide wash over your feet and ankles. The light hits the cliffs, bathing the fishing boats in a golden glow. The sun shines a brilliant yellow and then pink as it hit the clouds above. As I walked the length of Playa Hermosa, at sunset, I must confess I had a moment. I don´t go to church or believe in an organized religion, but I would call it a spiritual moment. I stared at the incredible landscape and tried to take it all in.  I closed my eyes, did a few yoga stretches, and a tear ran down my cheek. Now that´s the type of image I want to think about when it comes time for the end. I stopped to recover my senses and quickly dried my tears.

Playa Hermosa, translated simply as “beautiful beach”,  was my favorite stop on the itinerary. Our four days at Arenal felt like an eternity, because I was desperately trying to keep my ear dry in the dampness of the rain forest. Finally we drove to Liberia Airport to pick up Jim and Sandi. Jon was very anxious about picking up his parents on time, so we arrived at the airport about two hours early. Since we were sick of rice and beans, I looked up the best restaurants in Liberia. Trip Advisor came up with a German beer hall near the airport. Although fried meat was a far cry from what I would call tasty food, Jon and I were happy to have something a little different.  We met up with Jon´s parents at the airport in our trusty, dusty Toyota RAV4  (I totally want one now), and Jon drove the 17 km to Playa Hermosa.  Famous for its spectacular snorkeling, diving, and fishing on the Golfo de Papagayo, Coco and Hermosa are largely expat towns. Foreigners, mostly older Americans, Canadians, and celebrities, rent condos there for several weeks or buy vacation homes so they can snowbird in Costa Rica during the cold, winter months. Despite its reputation as an expat hangout, I preferred Hermosa to Coco because it is a tiny blip of a beach, and therefore, pretty authentic. Also, the town also had some great restaurants that I couldn´t wait to try out.

We stayed at Villa del Sueño, a quaint, colonial, boutique hotel. In addition to its well-landscaped grounds, the hotel had two pools for guests and a beautiful garden restaurant where we dined on Costa Rican food that wasn´t that bad. The four of us played the card game, Euchre, before dinner and listened to some live Latin music while eating. It was a great atmosphere! The first day we were supposed to take Sandi snorkeling for the first time and see some really cool fish. However, when I woke up, the liquid from my ear hadn´t gotten any better, and in fact, was heavier and full of blood again. So I numbed the ear up with painkillers and decided a relaxing day of tanning by the pool and watching the sunset at the beach was much better than snorkeling. That night we ate a delicious Asian tapas meal at Ginger Bar and Grill. The seared tuna with ginger slaw was delicious, as was just about everything we ate. Jim met up with some friends he hadn´t seen since college, and it was a lively evening.

The second day we took Jim and Sandi on a wildlife river-cruise in Palo Verde National Park. The tour was very similar to the one we took at Caño Negro, but I was glad that Jon´s parents were able to see some of the animals that we saw on the other trip. We also were a lot closer to most of them including the white-faced capuchins and howler monkeys. There were also many crocodiles in the water: 342 reptiles for every 2 miles. Make sure you don´t go swimming or fall in the river!

Do you guys need a room?
Howler Monkeys
Bats on a rock- they almost look like stickerss!

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The last night in Hermosa was pretty magical. We found a beachfront restaurant called Aqua Sports Bar. Upon hearing the name spokenout loud, it doesn´t sound so magical but it was complete with sand, boardwalk, and a live band playing 90s music like Dave Mathews, Counting Crows, and REM, among others. Also the singer had a really good voice, so our last night in Hermosa was quite idyllic. The food tasted better, especially the seafood and the burgers. Sandi and I both had fresh mint mojito slushies with the national liquor, Cacique, a sweet alcohol made from sugar cane. Along with being quite large, the mojitos might have been the tastiest drink I´ve ever had.  The whole experience is highly recommended!

Costa Rica: Vacationing with a Busted Eardrum

Costa Rica, Travel1 Comment
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Marsh Sparrows
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Capuchin Monkeys eating fruit- so cute
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A capuchin monkey swings down by the river
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Iguana in a tree
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Hey there, I’m pretty much the coolest monkey ever.
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Howler monkeys- parent and baby
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Caiman looking ferocious
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Spider monkey
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Monkey swinging from one branch to another. Total gymnasts
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Crawling up a tree vine
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Me and my man
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Lake Arenal from ARenal Observatory Deck
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Spot the Toucan
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Arenal Volcano from our observatory deck. The top of the cone is always shrouded in clouds
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Cool iguana- waddle to attract females
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Maybe I’ll have more luck if I move to a tree
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Such a cool lizard

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More Capuchin pics

For about a week of our trip, I was more concerned with how to control the pain in my ear, than seeing and doing cool Costa Rican things.   My main objective was to see the doctor at the wedding resort and get his confirmation that I didn´t need surgery, as well as get some proper medicine. And there was also the big goal that I´ve been working on since April: to be healthy enough to enjoy sissy´s wedding.   At first the antibiotic ear drops from Clinica La Fortuna seemed to work, but my ear continued to secrete liquid several days out, so I´m guessing it stopped working effectively at some point. I had to take a lot of pain medicine in order to numb the right side of the face, so when the drugs wore off I was, again, in excruciating pain. But I took enough medicine that this rarely happened. My face almost went numb, but anything was better than the throbbing in my ear.

I had planned for us to do a lot of different kinds of activities while we were at Arenal, but in the end we only really did one activity a day and rested for the rest of the time. The first day we didn´t really sleep much due to the middle of the night hospital run and the early morning trip to get my ear seen by a doctor. So when we got back to the Lodge we enjoyed the jacuzzi and pool in the Costa Rican rain forest, and that night we bought a night pass for one of the hotel hot springs, which Arenal Volcano is known for. So we headed to Tabacon Hot Springs because the one our friend recommended had a lot of slides, and I had been told that I needed to keep my ear dry, so we went with Tabacon.  I knew I was probably going to get my ear a little wet, but how often do you get to go in hot springs in the Costa Rican rain forest?  We enjoyed our evening at Tabacon. It was nice to go at night, with the lights in the pools and on the bridges. Aside from the dull ache whenever the steam from the hot springs entered my ear, it was a pleasant evening. The dinner buffet that came included with our night pass wasn´t so good, but it was food, albeit expensive, mediocre, tourist food.

The next day we had planned to go on a tour of Caño Negro Wildlife Reserve, about 2.5 hours north of La Fortuna.  Tissue in hand to catch the ear leakage, we boarded the back row of the van so Jon could have some extra legroom, but unfortunately our tricky guides had counted all the seats in the van and filled them with people. After moving over, my tissues and I were jammed in between Jon´s leg and the back right hand window. Basically I was stuck and I wanted to avoid any ear pain, so I just went to sleep. When we got to Caño Negro we sprayed ourselves down with bug spray and hopped on our river boat for the wildlife tour. Caño Negro is a wildlife refuge so the animals have been rescued from other places in Costa Rica, and roaming around the reserve in order for them to have as natural a life experience as possible.   The scenery and the wildlife was much like that of the Pantanal in Brazil. I would call it a mini-Pantanal, because I spent most of the time on a boat with binoculars stuck to my eyes, looking for animals. Like in Brazil thought, I was often the last to see the wildlife, if I even saw anything in the green trees of the bank at all. Things I did see: white faced capuchin monkeys up close, giant iguanas, howler monkeys, caiman, great white egrets, kingfishers, some jabiru storks, as well as the famed red macaws, which I hadn´t actually seen before…(They looked more like black blobs to me than red birds). Our guide really knew her stuff, and If I hadn´t previously seen those same animals in Brazil, I would have been very impressed.   However, since I HAD seen those animals, and with a scientific researcher on his own boat, I didn´t care as much, and focused more on my ear than the animals on the sides of the river. After wiping up nasal drip and ear goo for at least two hours, we ate our fifth meal of typical Costa Rican food: rice, black beans, plantains, and grilled chicken, fish, or meat. The first two times we ate the meal it was pretty good, but by this time, we were ready for something different. Alas, we had to make do with beans and rice.

On the ride home, we decided just to eat dinner at Arenal Lodge because Jon was, understandably, tired of slowly driving the rocky 17 km road from La Fortuna.   There were many other things we were supposed to do in Arenal, but due to my ear, we just sat in the Jacuzzi, enjoyed the property, and ate more rice and beans.   Jon really enjoyed his hike to a waterfall on the premises, but I just stayed dry in the cafeteria overlooking the volcano and lake. Go figure- it rained a lot in the rainforest! And I was trying to keep the ear dry so I stayed inside a lot. We ended up not doing a zip-lining tour, the canopy bridges during the day, or any hikes in the National Park, where our hotel was.   But I figure that if we really missed out on something, we can do it at the end of the trip.

A Visit to Clinica La Fortuna

Costa Rica, Travel2 Comments

Part II

I promise I did finish this story two days ago, but somehow the ending didn´t save and I was so tired and annoyed that I just split the story in two. Sorry; bad idea to leave you hanging like that. Where did I leave off. Ah, yes- clutching my leaking ear, which is still leaking by the way.

In the middle of the night all Jon and I could think about was how we didn´t want to drive to a strange town and hospital down an unknown dirt road.  Jon suggested we go back to our lodge and sleep a few hours until the clinic was open. I didn´t disagree. I´m not sure how I slept since my ear was causing me agonizing pain, but I must have been tired enough to catch a few winks, because the time flew by quickly. We set our alarm and when the ringer went off we grabbed a box of tissues and our hospital bag and set back out on the road.

We arrived at the clinic at 7:08 in the morning, and it was teeming with people.   Those in the clinic took one look at my bleeding ear and immediately showed me to the door that said “Emergency” on it.   At the time I was worried about losing my hearing permanently but really stopping the pain was first on my list.   Since we were foreigners and had no idea how the clinic worked we were very thankful to the residents of La Fortuna who told us which of the lines of people to stand in and when. After the visit with the emergency doctor he proclaimed that the only thing he could do was give me some pain-killers and clean out my ear. To do so we had to stand in no less than five lines.   There was the line to be admitted to the hospital, the line to pay, the line to see some woman who sent us away, the line to get my blood pressure taken, and finally, the line to get my ear cleaned up in. By the time we stood in the last line I had almost passed out from the pain. Two doctors cleaned out the ear with Q tips and told me not to get it wet and to shower with Q tips and Vasoline in my ears, to keep the ear dry. They told me in Spanish that if I had facial paralysis I should go to the hospital. Um, yes… And also not to go towards a wall. The youngest doctor with adult braces gave me a handwritten prescription on a torn piece of paper that told me I needed antibiotic ear drops three times a day and a pill. We waited in yet another line for forty five minutes, in order to receive…. Wait for it…. A magical Ibuprofen pill!

“We just waited in line for close to an hour for Ibuprofen?” I asked.

“Yes,” replied Jon drowsily.

I could not WAIT to get the ear drops in my ear and get some relief from the pain. Luckily the combo of the ear drops, a decongestant, and the Ibuprofen has sufficiently numbed the ear. I´ve been taking that combo for a few days now and the ear, for the most part, feels better. Since the injury doesn´t directly have to do with cancer, my What´s App messages to Dr. M haven´t been too fruitful. Whatever the local doctor says to do, he agrees with. My ear still leaks heavily though, although more puss and goo than blood … Jon and I have decided to see the resort doctor when we arrive later this afternoon, but at least I haven´t been in pain. In fact, I still haven´t let my ear ruin my vacation, although I have basically run out of my pills and need my sister to relieve me today at the resort where she and her fiancé arrived last night. Hopefully the doctor will tell me to keep doing what I´m doing and hope for the best, but you never know. You guys should see me… short hair, steroid neck, swimsuit, and tissues in hand to wipe up nasal drip or ear goo leak. I´m quite the sight… Perfect to be photographed with my family as the maid of honor in my sister´s wedding.  Ill let you know what the doctor says.

 

 

Costa Rica: A Visit to Clinica La Fortuna

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    Part ONE

Jon and I burst through the doors of the tiny local clinic at 7:08 AM. I clutched my bleeding ear with a tissue and howled in pain. Jon wished he could do something, anything, about it. The clinic was already full, five minutes after opening. Perhaps someone had a medical emergency in the middle of the night and found that the only clinic in town didn´t open until seven o clock!!! Okay, rewind… I´ll take you back to the beginning of the story. Picture Eli and Jon driving down the dark, dirt road from Arenal to La Fortuna at 2:35 AM. Now picture us returning from our night hike at Mistico Hanging Bridges around four hours earlier. My ear hurt then, but I was so tired from my physical exertions and almost stepping on a venomous snake, that I just passed out. Around 1:30 AM I awoke to the sharpest, longest lasting pain I had ever felt. I couldn´t breathe due to all the congestion in my sinuses and the pain in my ear was intense. It hurt so badly that eventually I stuck my finger in my ear in order to plug the hole and hopefully stop it from throbbing. I felt a painful pop and then the pressure released. I could feel this cold liquid dripping down my face.

“Oh good, the pain is going to stop soon,” I thought.

After a few good minutes of this liquid dripping down my face, I hobbled over to the bathroom and flipped on the light. The liquid that I felt was thick blood.

“Oh shit! I´m bleeding from my ear! It hurts so badly! We´re so far away from town!” were the thoughts I uttered from the bathroom.

With all my noise, Jon turned on the light to the bedroom. He took one look at the blood leaking from my ear, down my chin, and onto the pillowcase, and immediately began packing a bag for the hospital. Neither of us wanted to drive to an unknown hospital, down an unknown road, in the middle of the night, but it didn´t seem like we had a choice. There was no one around to ask for directions to the clinic so we just plugged it into GPS and off we went. Forty minutes later, the pain intensifying, we found the town´s clinic. Now, La Fortuna is a small town, but it´s also a tourist hub, so I didn´t find it ridiculous that there would be a 24 hour emergency clinic open.

Guess what though??? There wasn´t! Good thing I wasn´t actually bitten by the snake, or my leg would have rotted off and I might have died from asphyxiation. The Clinic, as much as a small concrete building can be called a health care facility, was totally dark with not a person in sight. I stared at the barred up windows, clutched my ear some more and let my tears mingle with the blood from my ear. We drove around a bit, found two men at a garage station and told them about our predicament.

“Oh, the Clinic doesn´t open until 7 AM, “ they offered in Spanish.

“Follow me,” said one of the men, who took pity on us. Apparently this man knew of some 24-hour doctor and took us to his house.   Well, the sign above his door also stated that he was “Open All Night”. However, our new friend called the doctor several times, and the light stayed off. Clearly he was not home or chose not to answer our pleas. I was still holding a tissue in my ear to catch the drips and Jon and I looked at each other and the two men who had tried to help us. One of the men shrugged and said he couldn´t help us anymore. The nearest hospital was “That Way” for about an hour in the dark…

To be Continued

Costa Rica Day Two

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The Night Hike and a Viper

Two evenings ago, Jon and I arrived at Arenal Observatory Lodge and Spa. It is the closest lodging that you can get to a volcano in the world. The hotel is famous for being the country´s first eco-lodge. It is a working, scientific, research center. Renowned for its observation deck complete with amazing view of the volcano and Lake Arenal, we spent the first evening checking out the sights. We tossed back a few happy hour drinks and ate another expensive yet mediocre meal at the hotel restaurant. Well, maybe the fruit or the veggies weren´t washed properly or maybe the ice in the piña coladas made me sick. Either way, whatever Costa Rica´s version of Montezuma´s Revenge is, took hold of us during the night. We politely took turns expelling our stomachs in the bathroom.      Meanwhile, while our innards were settling themselves, Jon and I had seen interesting critters on a friend´s night hike in the Arenal region.   Of course I was now desperate to go on a night hike to get pictures of green snakes, tree frogs, and tarantulas. Unfortunately, though, I didn´t really think the tour through properly.

As we bounced up the dirt road to Mistico Hanging Bridges, I thought more about the night hike and what a bad idea it was. A dizzy person should probably NOT go anywhere with slopes and suspension bridges in the dark in the jungle of Costa Rica. Especially if said person might have to regain her balance by putting her hand on a handle or banister without checking for venomous spiders and snakes first. Hahaha! So I put on my rain jacket, which was made for Patagonia and hot as hell, because I didn´t want any creepy crawlies leaping onto my head or arms. I lathered up with bug repellent and pretended to be brave in front of our intrepid group of five tourists, who had also decided they needed to see snakes and frogs. As the guide told us, it was a fairly easy hike of two and a half hours, through the forest, I gripped my new walking sticks even harder. I tried to do the path independently but I soon ditched the walking sticks with Jon, as they were too tall and definitely not helping me gain purchase on the rocky uphill path. Instead, I grabbed Jon´s hand and clung on for dear life. I was sweating profusely in my raincoat but I kept the hood on because I didn´t want spiders falling on my head.

The guide gave us each a flashlight, which made me feel better because at least I could see where I was walking. I could avoid brushing up on walls covered in wolf spiders and vipers. Well, after about an hour where we saw many species of frogs, spiders, and even a snake, I was ready to go back. My ear was starting to hurt very badly because of whatever sinus infection I had picked up from Jon´s kindergartners. I struggled along, but must not have been very quiet about it because Jon tried to hush me multiple times. I quit whining and tried my best to walk instead. Unfortunately, with the end of the trail nearly in sight, I wasn´t as vigilant at shining the flashlight on the path in front of us. I guess neither was the guide or woman in front of us, because they didn´t see it either. We switched to a potholed pavement and I started to lose my balance and walking rhythm. Clutching Jon´s hand, I lurched to the side and very nearly stepped on a Fer-de-Lance viper. Jon, luckily, saw the snake rear to strike my ankles, and pulled me back just in time. I screamed and jumped into Jon´s arms. Luckily he didn´t fall with my additional weight, the camera, my walking sticks, and giant water bottle. As we grew quiet, the snake recoiled on the right hand side of the path. We carefully skirted the snake and all I could think about was curling up safely in the car. When we reached the parking lot, the guide was very happy I did not get bitten since the snake was the most aggressive venomous snake in Costa Rica! And there you have the full story of Eli and Jon, intrepid night hike warriors… (I´m sure this story will only amplify when we return….)

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The snake I almost stepped on. He is very well camoflauged.

 

 

 

Costa Rica: Zip Ya Down, Poas Volcano

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After 13 or so hours of travel, and one five-hour layover in the Panama airport, Jon and I finally made it to Costa Rica! We are joining our families for Ali´s beach wedding in Guanacaste, but are doing some traveling first. After the plane ride I was exhausted and definitely coming down with some sort of flu. We rented our Toyota Rav 4 from the Budget Rental Car near the airport, and finally plopped ourselves down in our hotel airport beds for a bit of shu t-eye. I was tired. My eyes closed before my head hit the pillow.

The next day we rose at an early hour since Costa Rica is nearly two time zones behind Santiago. San Jose airport is north of the city, closer to the mountain town of Alajuela, so we never even really saw the bright lights of the capital. The most we experienced of San Jose was a long line of English speaking tourists in the customs department of the airport. Even though the best coffee tours in the country are around Alajuela, we opted instead to drive up to Poas Volcano and peer into “the coolest volcano” in the country.

Well, on the way to the volcano, Jon and I had a bit of a kerfuffle over directions. He wanted to plug an address into the GPS system he bought while I wanted to rely on my maps and the Guide Book that I had read cover to cover. I knew there was a faster road to Poas Volcano, but Jon was intent on taking the slower country road with potholes because the GPS told him to do so. I was upset, but since my New Years resolution was to care less about the little things and not try to have so much control, I chose not to say anything. However I was infuriated to have machine directions chosen over my carefully researched ones, and my displeasure could not be contained. All the way up the twisty, potholed mountain road the two of us went at it. Obviously, by the time we reached the tope, we were no longer just fighting about directions. As we reached the GPS destination, which was clearly NOT Poas Volcano National Park, Jon finally admitted that we had been on a back road up the mountain. It was clear that the newly built road was merging onto our road from the right. There was a steady line of cars and tour vans summiting from that direction.

Jon and I made up, and then joined the line of cars headed into the National Park. They were charging 15 US dollars a person to enter. We paid the fee, walked about two kilometers down an easy road and took the most expensive picture known to man. You could have walked around the volcano and taken pictures as you went, but since we had our shot (and about twenty others) we really felt no need. After our thirty-dollar picture we went to the gift shop where I purchased not one, but TWO eight-dollar magnets and a bottle of water. We headed back to the car where Jon correctly proclaimed Poas Volcano to be a “zip ´ya down, twenty five cent”* visit. I put my head back and fell to pieces laughing, because Jon rarely gets that phrase right.

*Zip ya down, twenty five cents” is a Deidrick family phrase uttered in reference to a much too short, yet expensive tourist visit. Apparently, Mom and her siblings were given a quarter and expected to use the funds for an entire night´s worth of entertainment in Cedar Park. My mom used the quarter on just one ride, and after the slide down realized that the money had not been used wisely or correctly. Basically, she was paying for nothing.

I had read about some hummingbird/butterfly gardens in the national park, which I thought would make the thirty dollar fee worth it. We asked the guide, on the way out, how to get to La Paz Waterfall Gardens and he told us 12 km down this dirt road. So we took it. Luckily it was a beautiful drive, and we did not get stuck behind any large trucks or busses that were barely moving. When we arrived at the butterfly gardens we saw immediately that it was a tourist trap. But we had come so far, that we dare not turn around now. Jon and I exited the car, and he waited in line with all the other suckers (I mean tourists…). The La Paz Waterfall Lodge was very similar to Bird land and Monkey Land in South Africa, in that it was a Wildlife Refuge Center that saved animals from the illegal wildlife trade. It also was enclosed on a very steep hill below the main lodge. It also was not included on the original National Park ticket and cost an additional arm and a leg.

The ways that it wasn´t the same were pretty much everything else. There was something inauthentic about the way the animals were separated and sometimes caged off, from the others. Although some animals roamed free like a few bird species, and some tree frogs, the rest seemed trapped somehow, like in a zoo for exotic Costa Rican creatures. We did see our fare share of monkeys, colorful birds, snakes, and butterflies, but it wasn´t quite like the parks we saw in South Africa. I left feeling pretty bad for the animals, but Jon got some good pictures, and the place was immaculately landscaped.

When we got to the bottom of the hill and looked up, all we saw were crisscrossing slopes, stairs, and pathways all the way up to the lodge. I had read that there was a shuttle to take passengers back up instead of making them trek all the way back up the hill. Well, when we saw the shuttle map, we realized that the transportation was 2 km away, by the waterfall, and that there was no way we would make it to our next hotel in the daytime if we took the shuttle. I looked up the hill again and wanted to cry. I am not so good at slopes. I whined and sighed like a pathetic puppy dog, took a running stance up the hill and did the best I could. Jon supported me by waiting with me at shady rest stops and pushing me up flights of stairs that I thought I might not have the strength for. After a bit, though- we made it and I didn´t fall. I did, however, take a fatty nap in the car on the three-hour drive to Arenal Observatory, where we were spending the next four nights.

The New Hundred Percent

Cancer, Third Time's a Charm16 Comments

Last Year’s Christmas Festivities at St. Arnold Brewery, Houston15271846_10154695055810883_3708006019656483288_o

The last three weeks I’ve been prepping myself for a long awaited boxing match with my disease. My fists are up, gloves tied, and I’m poised to knock out my opponent, even if it takes all twelve rounds. When I returned from my trip to the states I was pretty exhausted. After two weeks of being on my A game I was ready to lie on the couch for a day or so and tune out the world. I was also scheduled to take my monthly oral chemotherapy pill for five days, so I closed the curtains and settled in for the long haul. At this point I had been off steroids for more than a month. I had about enough energy for one to two activities a day. (Yes, showering and putting on clothes counts as an activity…) My head really hurt when I tried to lie on pillows and sleep. I mentioned it to Jon in California a few times, and we agreed to get an MRI scan as soon as we returned to Santiago.

The only hiccup was that, while I was away, Dr. Majlis moved to a rival hospital in Santiago, Clinia Las Condes(Clc). Before I left Chile we scheduled my treatment for when I returned at Clinica Alemana. I messaged Dr. M about the pain I was having in my head and after some texting back and forth, I also had an MRI scheduled at the same place, on the same day. My mom declared that the online message exchange between doctor and patient NEVER would have happened in the states. I was pleased at how much personal attention I was getting in Chile and happy with my decision to follow my doctor to the other hospital. I psyched myself up, took a few practice swings, and danced around the ring.

Unfortunately, since Dr. M moved permanently to Las Condes, I had to go pick up the MRI results at Alemana and bring them to him at the new hospital. I figured that since I spoke Spanish I could do some preliminary analysis of the results before handing them to the doctor. Unfortunately, though, the analysis was extremely hard to translate and interpret. There were whole sentences that I couldn’t manage at all. Needless to say, my inadequate translation of the scan results did not indicate anything positive from what we could tell. I put up my fists ready to deflect some cancer blows. I took a picture of the lab analysis and sent it to Dr. M. After perusing it, he quickly set up a new MRI at Clinica Alemana, to take a closer look at the area surrounding my brain lesions. The previous MRI hadn’t clearly indicated whether the lesions in the area were growing, or if they were surrounded by necrosis, or scar tissue. Either way, the lesions appeared bigger on the scan. I still had two more days to wait. Cancer had stuck the first blow but I went back to my corner. Jon gave me some water, fixed me up, and gently sent me back to the match.

Our first visit to Las Condes went very smoothly. Traffic was not as bad as Jon feared, and it was much easier to find parking than at Alemana. When we made our way up to the Cancer Clinic we were greeted personally in the waiting room by our assigned administrative assistant. She was lovely and told us she would be setting up all my appointments and communicating them to international patients for me. That way my insurance company would be informed and I wouldn’t have to pay out of pocket. I was ecstatic.   It seemed a lot easier than the system at Alemana, which I guess is one of the major reasons Dr. M left. I threw a tough right hook/upper cut combo and it landed squarely on my opponent’s jaw.

Cancer seemed a little deflated but got in a few jabs of his own. When we finally sat down with Dr. M to analyze both of the scans, he said, unfortunately, that the second MRI was also inconclusive. He and the radiologist still couldn’t say for certain if the lesions were growing or if they were surrounded by necrosis. He needed ten days to send the scans to his friend at MD Anderson Cancer Hospital in Houston to get a second opinion. I saw cancer pull his fist back and take a big swing, but Jon and I ducked just in time so we weren’t hit. After avoiding the blow we sat in our chairs to hear what the doctor had to say.

The only conclusive information from the scans, at the time, was that I had no new lesions. I was relieved but not enough to declare the match finished. I still have massive amounts of swelling (edema) from the radiation treatment in April. The swelling was causing the pain and also the fatigue.   So, to combat these two symptoms Dr. M put me back on the steroids, albeit at a lower dose than seven months ago. At first I was excited because the drugs worked right away. The steroids were like a jolt of energy. I had bounce in my step and an appetite again. In the morning, my stomach was stable enough so that I wasn’t burping up the water I drank from the bedside table in the middle of the night. I had so much new-found energy I enjoyed being in the kitchen again, working on my travel plans, and organizing events. The other day I even walked to the grocery store, shopped, and walked home with three full bags of groceries. I was spent but overjoyed. After a series of quick jabs I made it to the next round. And with only one slightly obvious wobble…

Before I celebrated completely though, I put away the groceries, and allowed myself to be lured in by the quiet calm offered by the comfy couch cushions. I took a little nap and woke to dark cloud cover. I turned over and began to cry, softly at first, and then I just let it all go. I pulled myself up from the cushions and sat on the edge of the couch. As I sat there hopelessly without my hands to protect me, the unfairness of my reality sucker-punched me in the face and I fell back into the pillows. How sad to be thirty-five and excited to go to the grocery store. How depressing to not have a single thing planned after Feb 8th. I used to be an exercise fiend and I still can’t walk a dog to the park and back. My body is no longer strong and muscular as it used to be five years ago. I am weak and flabby and covered in bruises where I have fallen against some table or chair I wasn’t supposed to bump into. I staggered back to my corner and let the depression take over.

When I’m out in public by myself I feel people watching and wondering why a flight of stairs stops a healthy looking, young woman in her tracks. When I get a little too tired and start to lurch around corners, I envision people reaching out in horror, afraid I will fall. It embarrasses me, but there’s nothing I can do about it except ignore it. I’m sure everyone thinks I’m a drunkard who can’t walk a straight line. And they wouldn’t be far off, except that, most of the time, I’m entirely sober. Although I can walk better and straighter than I could in April, a large possibility remains that I will fall straight on my butt, and there will be nothing to stop the fall from now until eternity.

My caring husband is usually the one to offer a hand and lead me through the frightening maze of humanity, stairs, lights, etc if you go anywhere in public.  Especially if you have lost confidence in your strength and ability.  Jon’s love has been unwavering and I am extremely grateful for him. He knows if I need to take a break and rest on a bench. He understands how tired and how embarrassed I feel at having to need him so badly.  Before the steroids returned, my pain and fatigue was getting so bad that Jon and I actually sat down to have a serious talk about my declining condition. Jon watched me fall apart and let cancer get in a few blows without me even attempting to defend myself. He was now sad too.

I looked into his blue eyes and asked, “What if this is the new hundred percent?”

His blue eyes gazed upwards as he stroked the hair I’ve regrown on my head. As the questions went on I grew more and more morose, but also more matter of fact.

“What if I never walk in a straight line again?”

“What if I’m dizzy and tired for the rest of my life?”

Usually Jon and I stop our conversation at this point. Since we can’t predict the future, what’s the point of talking about it?  For the last few weeks, though, Jon and I have only told a few people what’s going on and how serious it might be. There just isn’t a way to spin it positively. We prefer to put on a brave face, smile, and enjoy life as normally as possible. But sometimes it’s very, very difficult to enjoy it. I’m tired. Although the steroids have given me energy and hope, I am still so tired. Of everything… I don’t want to be so far away from the old Eli that I can no longer reach her. After this latest radiation treatment it takes all of my willpower to bring a version of the old Eli back, even for a couple of hours.

Luckily, this weekend was one of those times when the old Eli stuck around for more than usual. We held our annual expat Thanksgiving celebration at our house this year. Twenty-five guests were coming over and I felt good. I happily put on my apron and proceeded to spend all day in the kitchen making turkey, two kinds of stuffing, and gravy. The Christmas music was blasting in the background.  Jon and Agustina were whistling as they worked.  It was a joyous occasion. Jon and I followed up our Gracias Giving success by judging and hosting an amazing Disco Mary Adventure Race where Nido teams dressed in costumes and participated in several athletic and silly cultural activities and games throughout Providencia. I stood confidently in the doorway.

“Come and get me now, cancer!” I taunted.

I thought I would continue my streak of optimism, so instead of moping around the house Monday and binging on Netflix,  I decided to pack up the computer and find a beautiful place to write. Buoyed by a glass of chardonnay, I typed away at my laptop and released my emotions into my words.  As I was typing, though, it became really warm outside. Round ten with cancer had arrived. I was sweating through my jeans. I packed the computer away, chugged a glass of water, and swung my bag over my shoulder. I headed for home.

“Only five blocks till home. If I stay in the shade and keep my head down, I’ll be fine,” I decided.

Unfortunately, though, the blocks grew longer and longer in the heat of the day. There wasn’t a lot of shade to keep me cool. My school bag hanging over my shoulder with the laptop felt like a lump of lead as I trudged along. Since I had earlier decided to keep my head down, I didn’t see the biker heading straight towards me on the sidewalk.  I looked up and quickly swerved to the left as he zoomed on by.

“Uh oh, I’m goin’ down…” I thought, as I tried to regain my balance on the slanted, cobblestone driveway.

There was really nothing I could do to stop the fall. The weight of the laptop in the bag was pulling me down and there was no way to counteract it. There was nothing to hold onto or lean against. So my worst fear happened: I fell in broad daylight, the concrete almost tearing a hole in my jeans. For a second I sat stunned in the driveway with my arms raised, desperately hoping someone would help me up before anyone else saw me sitting there. I hadn’t expected to fall today since I feel so much better and am usually very cautious. I started to ask for Jon’s assistance standing up, but realized no one was there to help me but myself. Slowly and surely I dusted myself off, put my sunglasses back on, nursed my new leg wound, and picked myself up from the sidewalk. I did not look around to see how many people saw me fall. Cancer had definitely knocked me down.

“However, I’m not down for the count yet,” I thought.  I straightened out my shirt, held my head up high, and carefully limped the rest of the way home.