Tag Archives: Hoag Hospital

Let the Healing Begin/Let The Sunshine In

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On Thursday afternoon, June 24th, I drove home from my final radiation treatment with the sunroof down, the song “Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In” blasting from the CD player and my vocals working hard to keep up with Marilyn McCoo’s high notes.  A few weeks ago I couldn’t belt out much more than a squeak.  Cancer treatments even wore out my vocal cords in addition to every other muscle and organ in my body. I was emotionally and mentally drained at this point, but overjoyed with relief after having just completed the last of thirty-six radiation treatments over the past seven weeks.  I was done with having cancer and enduring chemo, surgery and radiation.  My only duty now was to heal from all that, which would take probably just as much patience as it did to undergo those harsh treatments.

As I approached Laguna Beach, while inhaling the salty sea aroma and watching giant waves crash against a lofty cliff jutting out into the ocean, it occurred to me that it was almost eight months ago to the day that I’d been diagnosed with endometrial cancer, which ended up being stage IIIC—fairly advanced.  On that day, I had driven down Pacific Coast Highway on the way home from Hoag Hospital shaking with uncontrollable sobs and mental chatter driven by fear, which drowned out the sound of crashing waves and whatever song was playing on the radio.

As my drive home from my final radiation treatment continued, I reflected back to what has transpired over the past year since cancer made itself known with it sneaky symptoms that I initially thought were stress or a hormonal imbalance.

I’ve gone through varying types and phases of physical, emotional and mental torture beyond anything that my imagination could have concocted.   And this went on for seemingly so long, it’s hard to believe that the curtain finally closed on the debilitating dance that cancer and treatments choreographed in my body.  But the overwhelming sense of joy I felt as I made my way towards home was proof that the real-life nightmare was over.  The only thing missing from my celebratory drive home from Hoag Hospital was my long hair blowing in the wind.

Heather, one of the radiation therapists, all of whom were so inspirational and kept me coming back during those days when I almost quit. They were such a joy to work with.

Ringing the bell after my last radiation treatment.

Just a few days before my last zap of radiation, I awoke feeling so beat-up, I was questioning if I could even get myself to Hoag for my thirty-third radiation treatment.  I have to move, I thought to myself.  I rolled out my yoga mat and after several Sun Salutations, Warrior poses and overall body stretches, I truly felt better.  I got up to make breakfast and in the meantime, Samantha took advantage of the yoga mat still on the floor and showed-off some of her own feline style yoga poses.

Let the healing begin—and let the sunshine in!

Alisa and Kurtis who were part of my kick cancer team!

To my “Help Cat Lady Kick Cancer” team of precious family members, friends and my supportive blogger and social media follower friends, THANK YOU with all my heart for your undying support and love.  I could not have been a cancer-fighting warrior without you!

And I have such gratitude for my loving Bobcat (RIP) and new feline sweetie-pie, Samantha, who are true testaments to the healing power of animals.

Bobcat…I miss you so much!

Samantha Jo, my new feline healer…you are so adorable!

XOXO

Cat Lady’s Last Chemo

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On Friday, April 16th, I spent my last day in the infusion lounge at Hoag Hospital receiving my final chemo treatment.  Getting chemo isn’t uncomfortable or painful; it’s the knowing of the week-long (sometimes longer) side effects that lie ahead that I always dread, even with the final round.  But this time knowing that a sweet spirited kitty would be awaiting me at the cottage helped to quell my anxiety.

Chemo side effects kick-in two days after all of the long acting premeds given before chemo subside.  So when I get home from a chemo treatment, I feel peaceful and relaxed from the Benadryl buzz, and when that wears off by Saturday, I’m left with the lingering energizing effects from the steroid.  Last Saturday after my final chemo, my kitten-like energy rivaled Samantha’s as we played “get-the-mousey,” “toss-the-pom-poms,” and hide-and-go-seek throughout the day.  I asked Alexa to play some Sly and the Family Stone and danced my booty off as Samantha watched, saucer-eyed and intrigued with my movements until she joined in by prancing alongside me (no kidding).  I organized my closet, vacuumed, did laundry, washed dishes, watered my garden then finally slowed down about sunset (oh to have that kind of energy everyday!). I got through Sunday with only mild nausea.

By Monday morning, intense nausea awoke me and by Tuesday, nausea was followed by fatigue, muscle aches and weakness, and thrush.  Before my first chemo the nurse told me that chemo side effects feel like having the flu—excuse me—you mean the flu on steroids.  Even the muscles in my feet became weak and achy.

For the remainder of the week I remained sofa-bound with the exception of random bouts of playtime with Samantha.  As I would recline back on the sofa, completely worn out after playing get-the-mousey for five minutes, Samantha belted out sorrowful meows, begging for just one more round…

I awoke today almost side effect free, feeling somewhat celebratory in my chemotherapy treatment accomplishment.  I’ve been called a warrior and have been praised for my perceived strength. But coping with cancer and chemo has been so debilitating that most of the time I’ve felt small and meek.  I’ve just been riding out the storm, doing what I have to do until the clouds break and the rays of sunshine clear the darkness. I can see those rays now.  I can feel them energize my spirit and reposition my outlook to better see the approaching end of this “long strange trip” I’ve been on.

I start radiation treatments in a few weeks, and will say that I’m anxious about it.  I will be facing more side effects, but as I’m told, they are not as harsh as chemo. I hope that’s my case and that my renewed spirit can maintain its newfound power throughout radiation.

My gratitude for the love, support and understanding of dear friends, family and my beloved Bobcat (RIP) is never ending.

Wendy and Cat Lady before Final Chemo…I’m gettin’ my guns back!

And now Samantha is here to help see me through the last leg of my journey.

Recovering Without Bobcat

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Dealing with cancer without my feline companion/nursemaid has been more challenging than I expected.  I had surgery on February 1st, which was supposed to be a full hysterectomy and the removal of a cancerous lymph node, all done robotically on an outpatient basis.  My, how surgical procedures have progressed, except my surgery took an unexpected turn, and I ended up in the hospital.  Some of the cancer inside my uterus decided to take an adventure outside landing on my colon, forming a tumor that had to be removed. Rather than getting home around 5:00 p.m. that day, I awoke to my surgeon telling me I was in the hospital, and would be there for about a week.  Excuse me…WHAT?

The next day while lying in the hospital bed and staring at the ceiling, memories of Bobcat’s antics and his healing ways went running through my mind like a vivid slide show. Images of his frequent concerned stares at me in my exhausted state of being haunted me.  I cried knowing I’d be going home to an empty cottage.  But realized that if Bobcat were home, he would be all alone, wondering what happened to me, and in my post-surgery daze, I would’ve had to figure out who could take care of him.  There’s no good time to say goodbye to a beloved, but maybe the timing of Bobcat’s passing was actually good.  Or was it?

My initial recovery went much quicker than my doctor anticipated.  I was released from the hospital after only two and a half days.  The weeks following were filled with lots of reading and bird watching out the French windows while resting on the sofa.  I also did some writing, binged-watched my current favorite TV shows, When Calls the Heart and Heartland, and started taking walks around the neighborhood.  The pain was manageable with Tylenol, the fatigue with lots of rest, but the loneliness was incurable. I wasn’t sleeping well at night and waking up at 2:00 a.m. without Bobcat to talk to and snuggle created an immense emptiness for which there was no remedy.

I’ve taken to spending probably too much time on Instagram watching cute cat videos, but it’s helping me get my feline fix; a little anyway.  I started following the “cutest goat”, which, well, who can’t be uplifted by a spirited baby goat leaping, jumping and head butting with his pals?  A friend and fellow Blue Bell Foundation volunteer gave me a kitty stuffed animal.  I named him Bobcat and he hangs out with me on the sofa, but sometimes prefers the vintage chair.  I’ve learned that one is never to old to snuggle with a stuffed animal.  It’s been very comforting—thank you, Lynette!

These are Laguna’s fire mitigation goats and in this location are a hike from the cottage. The spotted baby goat leapt over the little white one. Easter 2019.

Today marks the two-month anniversary of Bobcat’s passing.  I miss him every day and every night, but I’m not quite so sad.  Some loneliness still lingers, and I suppose it will probably hang around as long as I am a cat lady with no cats, but I don’t think I can go too much longer without hearing the pitter-patter of paws on the hardwood floor.

Who knows what spring will bring…