arteyesalways: February 2011

Monday, February 28, 2011

Light My Fire

5x7 acrylic on canvas panel.

Painted for www.dailypaintworks.blogspot.com/challenge

Only using burnt sienna,ultramarine blue and white

What a challenge

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Red Jewels #1

7x5 acrylic on canvas panel

A plate with blue flowers filled with

red jewels, cherries that is.

To purchase contact me

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Things are pretty tough right now. I believe that I used up all of my energy in the first two weeks of SGN-35 recovery. Now that I'm in the third week I'm getting a very rude and sudden slap in face from the drug. And here I thought we were friends. But I must say, I took full advantage of the days when I wasn't feeling its effects and that was wonderful.

Craig and I had a fantastic trip down to the Virginia/D.C. area last week spending time with my college roomate, Frankie, and her husband Steve, and Craig's cousins Kim and Brian who just recently settled there. We explored areas of the D.C. suburbs that we'd never seen (Old Town, VA and National Harbor, MD), vegged with homecooked meals and movies, enjoyed a Friday night adventure to Frank and Steve's unreal grocery store, Wegman's, met their cats (pictured in sweaters below), sang our hearts out at an uber fun dueling piano bar, and perused the United States Botanic Garden, Washington Mall and National Gallery of Art sculpture garden.

Literally the day after we returned, Tuesday, the sacks of potatoes starting falling from the sky and smashing me down. The fatigue is tremendous. For the past several days I have been achingly tired, but unable to sleep. My sleep patterns are all over the place. My eyes are constantly burning and sometimes it's just hard for me to keep my head upright. Even the "siesta" idea is not working. Naps have been very difficult.

I slept until 11 a.m. on Sunday. This has not happened since college. I felt Craig come up and check on me several times, putting a hand on my forehead testing for fevers. I had been up the night before at 1 a.m., 4 a.m., 8 a.m. ... and as much as I don't want to admit it, this is even with Ambien sleep aid. And when I do "awaken" it takes me a tremendous amount of effort to get my bearings and to wake my creaky body up. But this Sunday, when I did roll out Craig had a warm fruit crisp prepared, the kitchen cleaned and the dishes put away. So amazing. It really helped me to start the day with a big smile and not let the fear and aches get the best of me. Sammy helps too. She has been extra cuddly and cute. We are very tightly hitched. She nuzzles with me as I get out of bed every morning and she follows me around faithfully as I do my routines. She's always right next to me copying my downward facing dog if I'm doing yoga or sitting patiently in our closet while I put clothes away. I do envy how easily she can fall asleep in the craziest positions and before long be twitching and grunting as she falls heavily into dreams about squirrel and Frisbee chasing.

Coupled with this fatigue are the body aches. Someone may have well clocked me with a sawed-off shotgun to the mid-back leaving it constantly pulsating. It's like my back muscles are welded too tightly to my spine causing them to be tremendously taunt. Just a simple self-hug, crossing my arms across my chest, reveals the stiff pull. And my hips? No they don't lie. They are angry and the bearers of an incredible amount of tightness and tension. Every single time I stand up after sitting for a while, I stretch ever so slightly and they make an audible pop like rubber bands snapping. The hip openers section on my Rodney Yee yoga DVD has been playing quite frequently.

I suppose this is how I felt during the final week of my last infusion recovery. I do remember being dreadfully tired and waiting for my PET Scan results and was so surprised to hear that the drug is working so well. This is what I hope continues to be the case. All of the work the SGN-35 is doing against those cancerous cells is causing quite a ruckus – especially in my chest where I've been experiencing a lot of fullness and have been coughing and gagging as if my body is trying to eject something. I deeply, deeply pray that this is because there is so much cancer bombing, not cancer growing.

On Wednesday night I'll head back to NYC with my mother and sister to spend the night at Miracle House then into the hospital for 8:30 a.m. where I'll get SGN-35 infusion 4 (hopefully my last!) and catch up with my transplant doctor. Obviously this causes me a tremendous amount of anxiety (which could be another reason why my chest is exploding and my body is so drained). I'd put the transplant out of sight, out of mind since we couldn't go through with it back in September. Now here it is, suddenly back in focus, and there is so much to mull over: good, bad, and real ugly. I have a feeling this is all going to be barreling at me real fast.

Sunshine on a Summers Day

Three little sunflowers can just fill any room

with a burst of sunshine. So bold and bright and wonderful they are sitting on the table

in a clear vase they are just waiting for a crooked smile. They can make even the grouchiest

grouch crack one.

5x7 acrylic on canvas panel

$80

To purchase contact me

Saturday, February 26, 2011

Girlfriends

Two heavy cups will have heard many secrets.

Secrets only told in whispers over a cup of joe.

They have been held tenderly through both giggles and tears.

Girlfriends

The things they share...

$80

5x7 acrylic on canvas panel

To purchase contact me

Friday, February 25, 2011

Joyful return....

One of the great blessings about being able to live between two beautiful places in the world is that by being away for a few months, my eyes are clear and bright to soak in the beauty everywhere.
It is easy to be grateful.

We returned to cold temperatures in Northern California and rainy days, but there is the great joy of opening the front door of our little cottage....of meeting friends for coffee and pastries.....of the flowers tickling Spring's fancy....and of course....there are the smiles of my grand children. Ahhhhh......Blessings Abound.

Is That Us?

Painted for a challenge at

http://www.rookiepainter.blogspot.com/

Unavailable

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Saying goodbye to Hawaii.....

It's time to leave.......it's time to return to the mainland and the cold.....Ugg boots and coats instead of slippahs and sarongs.
Whispering....alooooha....
till we meet again.

Maters

What could be better on a hot summers day than a BLT?

That would consist of a sandwich filled with bacon,lettuce and of course some maters.

7x5 acrylic on canvas panel

$80

To purchase contact me

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Pan Seared

Two tasty fish side by side

3x5 acrylic on canvas panel

UNAVAILABLE

Monday, February 21, 2011

My Cup Runneth Over

When I finished this and stepped back for a look for some

reason I was reminded of all the blessings of my life.

I have three children who are wonderful each in their own way.

I have a loving husband who has always treated me with respect and I

have a dog who finds comfort in my arms.

As I looked at this painting I am reminded once again

that My cup truly does run over.

5x7 acrylic on canvas panel

To Purchase contact me

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Now That's What I Call Family

Sticking together like birds of a feather,

I mean like heifer's of a herd.

These pitiful little cows are what I truly love to paint.

I don't know why except for the fact that are

so much fun to paint.

7x5 acrylic on canvas panel.

$80

To purchase contact me

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Peeled

A banana peeled.

7x5 acrylic on canvas panel

To purchase contact me

Friday, February 18, 2011

Cracked Up

I needed an egg for a familiar southern recipe.

Corn Bread such a wonderful treat. I will have some today with

fresh cooked Collards, Pork Chops and Mashed Potatoes.

5x7 acrylic on canvas panel

$80

To purchase contact me

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Sailing on Dreams.....

She's done.... :)
May I present......."Sailing on Dreams"

18" Antique beading, netting, fabric and trim.
Metal wings covered in antique metallic lace and rhinestones.
Abalone shards
Glass bubble covered with rhinestones
Nautilus shell
Antique iron base

Available for purchase.
ikons@hawaii.rr.com for any questions or more photos.

SGN-35 Treatment 3

Things have been all quiet on the cancer front. Quiet in the sense that there have been no spiked fevers, no ER visits, no scary symptom onsets, no shortness of breath, no loss of feeling in my limbs. I've been a No Drama Mama. In fact, I've been incredibly busy taking advantage of this "feeling good" time. I know that it will be short lived so I am sucking the marrow out of every minute of it.

The sun has been shining lately and the gutters and roof corners of our home are no longer jammed with thick beds of ice. Though I admit they were foreboding, I do miss the massive icicles - some literally six inches wide and five feet long that hung from the eaves. Hopefully Craig won't have to balance on the roof with a long shovel anymore or attack the real nasty stuff with his hammer and ski goggle eye protection. The path to our front door has actually melted so much that it's revealed the yellow, straw-like grass that had been gasping for air underneath it for all of these months. Sure, the path is flanked by snowbanks that are still the height of three, Sammys stacked atop each other, but there is a hint of spring nonetheless. Earlier this week it was 54 degrees ... such a drastic change from the below zero temps we'd been feeling. Sammy and I hit our trail for a snow shoe and on the way back down the hill I had stripped down to just a sweatshirt. I can't remember the last time I had dared to let more than a sliver of face be exposed to the painfully cold air. It was glorious here in Connecticut, and apparently will be so for the next few days. It's a good time to be feeling good.

This relative "warmth" was only a pipe dream last Thursday when Craig and I drove down to New York City for my third infusion of SGN-35. The brief transfer time from warm cab to hospital entrance was enough to shrivel our lungs and frighten our arm hairs even underneath their protective layers of fleece and thermal. It was another early appointment so the morning sun hadn't yet had its chance to enter the temperature battle, though it didn't have a fighting chance anyway.

After a vitals check and a finger prick to analyze my Complete Blood Count (CBC), Craig and I got right in to see Dr. Moskowitz. It was exciting to celebrate with her and my nurse, Brynn, in person about the good news that my PET Scan showed. She explained that in the terms laid out by other SGN-35 clinical trial studies, I would already be considered as having an objective response and are that we are now working our way toward a complete response with at least one more (a fourth) injection of the drug.

Everyone involved has been so pleased with how this drug has truly been able to target and blast the diseased cells within me. I myself am pretty psyched out of my mind about it. And now I know why my body has collapsed with tiredness at certain times of day. There's a lot going on in there. The drug has worked so well that it's getting very close to FDA approval so that it can be in the hands of many more needing and deserving refractory HL patients. It now even has its official drug name on the IV bag: brentuximab vedotin. It sounds just as menacing as the rest of those villainous chemotherapy names (vinblastine, bleomycin, decarbazine ... .), so I'll continue to refer to it as SGN-35, it's much more fitting in my mind.

I had brought along yet another sputum sample of those juicy little organs I've been blowing out, coughing up and gagging about. After further analysis of the last treat I brought in to the medical team, it seems that they are not of concern ... just my body clearing out. Unthreatening or not, I did bust Brynn holding it up in the air while it captivated the attention of a group of nurses huddled around my specimen collection bottle in awe that someone could produce that. She laughed when Craig and I came out of the exam room to walk in on the scene and said:

"Isn't it funny, I have my morning coffee in one hand and your sputum cup in my other."

I told her not to mix those up. Craig told her not to mistake the little guy for a banana chip.

The chemo mixing wait wasn't bad as Craig and I killed most of the time at our favorite bagel joint across the street. Best. Cream cheese. Ever. The reduced wait time is a big benefit of 8 a.m. appointments. At that time of day, there hasn't been the opportunity yet for the inevitable wrenches to be thrown into the days of the doctors and nurses which set everything back in the variable, fluid world that is cancer care.

My chemo nurse had a beautiful Irish brogue, which she said has lingered since she left there 17 years ago. She was so kind and very calming. She had just read the book I had in my lap, "The Help," so we swapped commentaries on that and also the Stieg Larsson series.

Once the IV bag of drug began dripping, Craig and I played some mean games of air hockey on the iPad and we perused the menu of a local gourmet prepared foods shop off of which we ordered our Valentine's Day dinner to be picked up the next week. From port accessing to Heparin flush and Band-Aid placement, the process took less than 45 minutes. In fact, it went by so fast and I was so focused on protecting my goal from Craig's puck that I forgot to take a single picture. I have no documentation for the first time in more than 100 chemo infusion sessions. However, it's probably safe to guess that it looked the same as every other one. Me in a chemo recliner next to a pole with a plastic line running from a bag to my chest. The photos are pretty interchangeable.

We left the oncologist's office with a "plan" of next steps (In my writing, the word "plan" will forever be protected by a quotation mark embrace). I will go back to Sloan-Kettering on March 3 at which time I'll check in with my lymphoma specialist Dr. M and get a fourth infusion of SGN-35. I'll then head right over to Dr. Sauter's office. He's my transplant doctor, now coming back into the picture after waiting in the wings watching the drama that's been unfolding and folding again.

The last time I saw Dr. Sauter and the transplant team was this past September - nearly six months ago - when I was one day away from entering the allo transplant protocol and we all discovered that the cancer had again returned. Needless to say, I'm going to need a refresher course and by rule we're going to have to go through all of the pre-transplant testing and logistics again. We'll get that process started on March 3. We'll check another PET Scan around March 17 and if (when!) it shows an all-clear response, we could move into transplant pre-chemo and the subsequent long hospitalization/isolation as early as the following week. Like, woah.

Somewhere during all of that we also bring my sister, my donor, back into the picture and she'll again have to go through all of the bloodwork and bodily function tests. Not to mention the Neupogen shots and the retrieval of her stem cells ... . This comes just as she secured a dream job in the Spring Mountains as a Crew Supervisor for the Nevada Conservation Corps/Great Basin Institute and will be moving to Las Vegas 18 days from today. Let's just say she'll be racking up some frequent flyer miles traveling from East to West Coast and back again. We're repurposing the title "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants."

Since my latest infusion I've been feeling relatively well - more than well, I'd say fantastic for being on chemo treatment. I've had some spotty heaviness, numbness and those strange coursing blood feelings in my left side again. I've had a lot of bladder irritation, which involves incredible frequency and little spasms (now forever documented as an SGN-35 side effect that I "discovered"). I've lost all but about six eyelashes - four remain on my right eye, two on my left. And of course, the fatigue is always there. But all of that is a pleasure cruise compared to other chemo regimens.

Even with those symptoms, since last week's infusion, I've gone out to dinner three times; saw my favorite musical, Rent, for the sixth? time courtesy of mi mama; walked in the Cupid's Chase 5K with my childhood best friend, tore up the dance floor at a wedding reception with amazing friends; celebrated my grandmother's 75th birthday; practiced much yoga; remastered the art of napping; snowshoed our ridge line; lunched and learned with a famed and accomplished author; celebrated not only Valentine's Day, but 11 years of dating my husband; and am set for a husband-wife roadtrip to the Washington, DC area tomorrow to spend the weekend with my college roomie and her husband.

I have no complaints and feel so incredibly grateful and fortunate every single day. I'll continue to live and rock hard right up until transplant time when I'll have to tap the brakes for a while. I'll never stop trucking forward, I'll just be navigating heavy traffic for a few weeks, forcing me to roll at a much slower pace.