Teri’s pace of speech is deliberate – she still has trouble finding words – but her voice has progressively strengthened. She gives thanks and love for family and friends who have come and helped, sneaks her off hand wry sense of humor in, manifests her strong will, breaks out in spontaneous song or sing alongs (musicals), and expresses hope and even dreams for the future.
This week she will only be in the Day Hospital for three days, a record low. Yesterday, it was 9 hours for lab draws, doctor visits, and intravenous blood transfusions (2 units), platelet transfusions (2 units), albumin and lasix (diuretic).
Teri baby
Teri is 99.9% umbilical cord to her (marrow) core. Everyone tells her she will get better by appropriately taking baby steps. When I help her dress, she says roll up her pants just like dressing a baby. “Wahhhhhhh, I’m your baby,’ she says, “I’m starting over!” As she has now regained enough dexterity to maneuver chopsticks, she says, "I'm now up to age 5." Teri may be a real babe in the making but for now, with all the compression dressings encasing her legs and tummy, she looks more like a mummy.
Watermelon cool
Teri continues to crave watermelon juice. We buy whole half or whole watermelons, cut them into small sections, and then blend them instantaneously in a Magic Bullet on the spur of her thirst. As she drinks it through a straw, her closed eyes reflect ecstasy. Watermelon we learned from one of the oncology nurses is one taste that post-chemo patients desire.
This past week it has been in the high 70’s. It’s summer here, finally, but even at 78 degrees inside our condo Teri invariably feels cold. She dresses in 4-5 layers enveloped by a hooded sweat shirt and full length sweater and topped off by a knitted hat and scarf. When she reaches the Day Hospital, she adds one or two heated blankets (to 180° F). This coolness (? hypothalamic thermostatic dysfunction) is we learned yesterday common to SCT patients and lasts six months.
Cancer relationships
I learned that over this prolonged ordeal Teri has developed uniquely intimate relationships with many of her oncology team, from cleaners to receptionists to aides to physical therapists to social workers to nurses to numerous fellow and attending physicians. At first, I thought it perhaps was initiated by garnered respect of being a faculty wife as the nurses once referred to her as a ‘celebrity’ patient. I now know quite otherwise. As I observed her on rounds, in clinic and in the hallways, I believe it is her innate ebullience and ability to reach out with warmth that has endeared her to them. As she rolls down the hallway, she says 'great to see you', 'it's a great day', 'have a great day' to her extended cancer family and identifies each and everyone to me that is special to her ... "she took care of me on a day when I had to go urgently and accompanied from the lab to the bathroom ... ever since then she has been there to for me [to draw my blood and comfort me] every time I go to the lab ... one of my angels."
Yesterday in clinic.
Yesterday in clinic.
Dr. H. “I’m sorry I didn’t receive your text message about worsening kidney bleeding since I was asleep. Next time, I want you to call me on my cell phone.”
Teri: “I can’t do that.”
Dr. H. “Yes you can, you are family!”
Yesterday, Teri’s sleep-over team included a record three including Linda (college classmate from Sacramento), Grace (niece from San Jose) and Mary (a close close friend from Madison who is preparing for her daughter’s wedding next week) seen below.
Several more friends encouraged me about the book. Hmmm …
So glad to hear that Aunt Teri/Shaoliang is doing so well! And very glad to hear that she has a steady stream of good company who are helping to care for her. I'm also SO GLAD about the iPad 2--woo hoo! I'm planning to get one myself as a special treat now that it's July 1. And finally, Uncle B, you should definitely write a book. I've been talking with folks in Asian American studies, esp. who work in illness and disability studies, that there aren't enough people writing about the Asian American experience with illness and disability. They've encouraged me to write about my breast cancer experience--I think you should write about it from your unique perspective as an Asian American physician and caretaker and partner. We should talk more--call or email whenever you like to brainstorm book ideas--I can also help with potential publishers if you want to go the academic press route.
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