Haiti Orphan Update

Yowza!

The 82 Colorado-bound orphans are in the air as I type, being flown to Florida. Governor Ritter has chartered a flight with a medical crew to meet them there and fly them into Denver. They'll be medically evaluated while in the air.

Then their families will pick them up this evening! They shall sleep in their new beds tonight!

Our church alone will be welcoming 19 new children this weekend.

(I think that's the number. . . And, actually, I doubt any of them will be brought to a church service so soon upon arrival. But still!)

Thank God for their arrival, for their families, for the hundred of workers on both sides of the border who worked to make this happen.

And let's continue to pray for the orphans who were not already matched to families before the earthquake. There is still hope that they will be evacuated, too, under a humanitarian visa.

Breast Loose and Sugar Free

I have a lot to share from the last week or so, but Bryan has been out of the country this week, so I've had extended kid-duty on top of the extreme fatigue from radiation.

After reading that, I know what you want to know, so I'll tell you: Naples.

He's due home in an hour. I'll be sure to tell you if he got me anything nice. . .

Speaking of promised reports, perhaps there is a question among you about my hair. It is coming in. 2 weeks ago, Josh felt my head and said, "You feel poky." One week ago, he felt it and said, "You feel like a caterpillar." Yesterday: "You feel like a cat."

It seems to be as thick as before. It also seems to be the same color, though this is deeply disappointing for Gemma, who was hoping for purple. It's not long enough to know yet whether it is curly.

My body hair is back, too. Up until a few days ago, I had gone 5 months without touching a razor! Of course, I went longer than that once while in college, with a very different result, but that was not cancer-related.

The shocking part about the Return of Hair are my eyebrows. There they are! I had gotten used to seeing my face bald, and had been drawing in thin brown lines when donning a wig. But here are the real things again and can I just say that eyebrows are strange. Go ahead and look in a mirror right now. Stare at your brows. What are those things all about??

But enough chit-chat. Time to turn to our title for the day:

The radiation is burning through the layers of my skin such that I cannot wear any supportive garments. Way too uncomfortable. Instead, I've been wearing Bryan's big denim shirt over a top and that has at least protected me against an appearance that is both immodest and freakish, what with one swinging free and all.

I've been able to exercise each day (so the fatigue can't be as bad as that from chemo, I keep reminding myself), but even then, athletic support is not an option.

I happened to explain all this to Mandy who expressed utter disbelief. Wasn't I completely uncomfortable on that side? Wasn't it killing me not to be supported?

Hmm. Come to think of it: No. And that's odd. I figure it's because my breast is trying to stay under the radar right now, kind of like, "Hey, girl, don't mind me. I'm totally fine here. Not going to bother you at all. Not going to turn cancerous on you. So, like, there's reason to cut me off or anything. It's all good."

"Yeah, well, you know what, breast? I appreciate your co-operation and all, but next week I'm calling Mayfield's office to schedule your date with destiny."

So now you all understand the phrase "Breast Loose."

As for "Sugar Free," let me back up to about 3 years ago. In January of 2007, I started experiencing screaming headaches and throwing up a lot. I saw a few doctors. We ruled out things like ciliac disease and lactose intolerance. And I eventually figured out that I couldn't tolerate refined sugar. There was something about the chemical used to refine it that was toxic to me, and even a small dose of it sent me into the same symptoms as food poisoning.

A lot of good came out of this. For starters, I broke what was actually an addiction to sugar. I had been swamped buy a post-pardem depression that just wouldn't go away--until I stopped eating sugar. On the whole, I was very, very glad to be free of it.

And I could eat organic sugar, which is not refined in the same way. So it's not like I've had nothing sweet to eat for 3 years. The difference is that once broken of the addiction, I had few cravings for a dessert. Chocolate no longer held power over me!

The intolerance was still evident as recently as this past Christmas, when I did a lot of baking with the kids. This required testing the batter (and I wasn't using organic sugar), and just a lick would trigger the start of the headache, so I knew not to eat more and trigger the rest of the consequences.

Then. Then. Then. . . The kids decorated a Gingerbread Train. And the jelly bellies on the rim of Gemma's box car called to me. Surely one wouldn't cause a headache. And one did not. Nor did two, nor three, nor, well, that was the end of the box car trim. I ate them all. To no ill effect.

Hmm. Maybe the makers of jelly bellies don't use refined sugar. Maybe it's all fructose corn syrup. How about Twizzlers? Josh had slapped a few onto the side of his car with great abandon. And. . .nope! No problem at all!

Boy, this was strange. Last week, there were Holiday MnM's leftover from our baking that were having such a fun little party together in my cupboard, I couldn't resist joining them. I loved to eat them! They loved being eaten! I tried just a few. . .no headache! Later, I ate several more. . .still fine!

And so it is. No more intolerance to sugar. I feel like I've been healed. (Yes, that's a little rich, coming from someone who has escaped the grip of Stage III breast cancer.) And I've been having a great time revisiting my favorite deserts of yore: Culver's Chocolate concrete with peanut butter cups; molten lava cake from AppleBee's--not to mention their spinach vinaigrette salad I'd had to forgo because the dressing is made with sugar.

Ah. . . The week has been delicious.

I don't at all know what to make of this. I don't think I'll know, this side of eternity, what was going on inside of me. And I don't think I would mind if the intolerance returned, though it is nice to partake of some yummy things.

It's a good sign that, though I've been Sugar Free (e.g. free to eat sugar!) for a week, I am actually down 2 pounds of weight. I have the ambition to avoid an addiction this time around--the secret of which, I think, will be to eat only the sweet things that are really terrific, and to avoid the myriads of other sugar sources ever present.

In short, I think I'm going to be OK.

Haiti Orphanage Press Release

Orphans begin procedures to depart Haiti at U.S. Embassy

(Port-au-Prince, Haiti)

On January 20, 2010, 133 orphans from the Maison des Enfants de Dieu
(Children of the House of God) orphanage will begin the difficult process
outlined by the U.S. Department of State for humanitarian parole and onward
transportation to the United States. In accordance with instructions received
from the State Department, as relayed by the Joint Council on International
Children's Services (JCICS) at 8 p.m. today, orphans along with orphanage staff
members have been instructed to arrive at the U.S. Embassy as early as possible
on Wednesday morning. JCICS warned that no food, water or facilities
would be available for the children while processing at the U.S. Embassy
Port-au-Prince.

JCICS further relayed that orphanage requests
to the U.S. Embassy for security and transportation for the children have been
denied by the State Department. The U.S. ministry associated with this
orphanage, For His Glory Adoption Outreach (FHG), was also asked to stop
requesting security, transportation or even water at the orphanage location.

Following discussions with staff and board members in Port-au-Prince, the
difficult decision was made that all 133 children, including approximately 60 children under the age of 3, will begin early in the morning of January 20th to walk the over 2 kilometers to the U.S. Embassy Port-au-Prince. This decision was made due to the limited staff available and the increasingly dangerous security situation at the orphanage in Port-au-Prince.

The staff will carry as much water, food and baby formula as possible with
them for the orphans while processing at the U.S. Embassy. JCICS relayed that
once processing is completed, the orphans will travel to the United States on
"cargo jets to locations that are not often known until an hour or so before the
flight leaves."

Kim Harmon, President of FHG, acknowledged that "this
arrangement is far from ideal for the safety and well-being of the children. We
are calling to all who care about these precious children to pray earnestly for
their safety tomorrow."

AP!: They might have made it to the Embassy at the time of this posting. But if not yet, then, God, please complete that journey for them and bring every last one safely there. And please provide water for them at the Embassy as they await their transport.

Haiti Update

There is a tremendous story unfolding for about 300 orphans in Haiti. 54 of them made it home to PA, as I'm sure you've heard. My friends here have been told that the way has been cleared for them to come to the States within a week.

The big concern right now is transporting the children to an accessible air field. The other concern is for the orphans being adopted by Canadian families. There is some kind of big hitch between the Canadian and Haitian governments. . . We hope that can be straightened out very soon.

As my friend Suzanne points out, a lot goes into these international matters. I didn't mean to suggest that there's one piece of paper in front of the leader of each country that simply awaits a signature. But at the end of the day, there is either the will to make something happen, or there is not. All indications show that our Secretary of State wants to see these children evacuated. The big question was what kind of attitude the Haitian government would have. Thank God, it seems they are willing enough.

Let's continue to pray for these children as they await the execution of plans designed for them. Scarcity of clean water is still their biggest danger, and of course, lack of medicine for those infants who need it.

I so look forward to reporting to you about the day I meet these children at church! It's not that their survival and joining with their families makes the devastation any less heart-breaking. But it is good to rejoice when we can over what we can.

Lymphedema Update

I also went to my follow-up today. The therapist measured my arm again and the swelling has gone down a bit. She's very glad to see this. It means I am 'responding well' to compression.

I am now wearing a more permanent sleeve, made out of that heavy-duty panty hose one sees advertised in coupon additions to the newspaper.

Overall, I'm very hopeful, too, that this lymphedema will reverse. I have plenty more to tell you about, and I know you're all dying to know how one "drains" one's own arm. All in due time.

Live from the Chemo Barn!: Down the Road I Go

(Written while there this morning, but posted after getting home.)

I’m not here for chemo, of course. Just an early morning zap, and then a visit with Dr. Science, and then my Herceptin.

About the zap: Today was the last day for treatment to the larger area. I did 28 of these, consisting of 3 zaps each, resulting in a rectangle-shaped 2nd-3rd degree burn on my chest wall, with a few trailing burns over my shoulder. The other result, I say with great hope, is that any remaining cancer cells hovering near the tumor were burned crispy.

My last 5 treatments will be an electron treatment focused closely along my scar. “So far it’s been photons,” Dr. Tanner said.

I’m glad someone bothered to study physics.

They’ve rearranged the chemo barn since last I stopped by. They took apart those rows of 3 chairs and turned the whole room into pairs only, each chair tilted towards its partner. I’m not going to call it cozy, but it is much improved.

Other improvements: the pharmacist. He is a tall guy, 30-something, and he works in the room behind the nurses’ desk, preparing our various bags of drugs. Before, he had a hairy neck, scruffy face, and he wore sweatpants and t-shirts. After, he is clean-shaven—even the neck!—and he’s wearing a crisp set of scrubs.

Before and after what?

Before and after I commented to one of the nurses about “that guy” seeming a little creepy, and why didn’t he have to follow the same dress code as everyone else who works here?

It wasn’t a complaint. It was a comment. Delivered with a smile. I think.

Lest we give into the fallacy of the false cause, I should emphasize that the nurse didn’t say to me right then, “You’ve got a point: I’ll mention it to management.”

Am I going to follow up to learn what really happened? No.

Ah, I’m back now from my appointment with Dr. Science. Only, he was on call today at Penrose hospital, so I instead saw Rose Gates, the nurse practitioner. Remember her? When she walked in the door, I thought, “Doh! We never reached consensus on what to call her!”

I had some questions about future treatment that only my treating physician could answer, like when would I do a routine scan? And when would I start taking Tomaxacin? And what is that drug, exactly?

Rose Gates asked me when I would see Dr. Markus next. I said, “It’s not that I’m not pleased to see you, Nurse Practioner Gates, but I was actually scheduled to see Dr. Markus today.”

And so it is settled. This is what I have called her. This is what I will continue to call her. You all can go ahead and call your nurse practitioners whatever you like.

Did I tell you before about Nurse Nicole in the Chemo Barn who is a Canadian married to a USAF officer? They were stationed in Alabama for 3 years before moving here and when I first met her, she spoke with a Southern accent.

A heavy one.

“It’s so embarrassing,” she told me. That would probably be a rude thing for her to say, or rude, perhaps, that she’d find it embarrassing, or rude for me—though she both felt it and said it—for me to report. But there it is.

Maybe if it had been felt and said by an American and not a Canadian, I’d be slower to share it. Instead, I'm slow to blame a Canadian for feeling embarrassed about picking up an American southern accent. Eh?

Today, she is my nurse and I noted that she had lost her accent all together. She smiled broadly and told me that she’d just had a visit from her family for 3 weeks. The traces of Alabama have been flushed away!

“But you don’t sound Canadian, either,” I said. “You are now Every-woman!”

What else can I tell you?

I look around at the place I’d seen every Monday morning for 18 weeks in a row and it’s different: The patients are all new—no Kathy from my first day who was also here on my last; no British lady whose breast cancer turned up stage IV 12 years after her diagnosis; no young guy with his father who though Courtney the med tech was cute; no middle age businessman who worked on his laptop the whole time and fiddled with the cell phone clipped to his belt and hustled off at the end of treatment as though being here was just one more appointment to knock out in his day.

The whole crew is new. And the start of their sojourn reminds me that I’m so near the end of mine. You’d think I’d be all smiles about that, about the sheer prospect of moving on. But when I consider it, I start crying. Another layer of grief I didn’t see coming. A layer that will fade away as the others have, I’m sure.

Haiti Update

Salvation Army has reached the orphanage, and they now have water and food to last a few more days. Praise God for this.

But there are several babies there who need special medication and other urgent attention, so their need is still very dire.

The amazing news is that all the official "boxes" have been checked to evacuate all of these orphans--recall that they had already been matched to adopting families in the US.

Only 2 boxes remain: The Secretary of State needs to approve this evacuation, and so does the President of Haiti.

I do not know what would go into Clinton's calculus for deciding, but on the Haiti end, we recall that this President is not a very good man, and that he doesn't care much about the welfare of his people and that part of the reason the adoption process takes so long is that his government milks thousands upon thousands of dollars out of the adopting families under the guise of 'paper work.'

Whether he will let these children--and the cash they represent--go without another cent spent is a matter for prayer.

Please pray that both leaders will sign off on this and that these children will join their "forever families" in just a few days.