Laurie White’s Blog

I am my father’s daughter.

When I was born, the story has it (I was a bit young, so have to go by the stories I was told), people asked what I looked like. The answer was “She looks like John spit up.”

I had a student ask this week how I became so good at statistics. I was a little surprised. Didn’t everyone grow up doing probability at the dinner table? Dad and I would solve problems like what’s the probability of getting a royal flush with just 5 cards. How does it change with 7 cards? Didn’t everyone else? When I had to come up with an example of how condensation worked in 8th grade, he almost disassembled the entire air conditioning system to show me.

Of course I went on to get a degree in engineering. I am my father’s daughter.

And Dad didn’t send flowers when he heard I was sick. Instead, I got a handcranked radio/flash light/cell phone charger. Dad knows me–say it with gadgets!

Well, for a lot of years, I was my father’s little girl. Dad sorta didn’t admit I’d passed the age of 6 for a lot of years. I sent him a picture of me in battle dress on the DMZ in Korea. I think I moved up to 8 years old with that one picture.

He was with me for my 40th birthday, but I still don’t think he’ll admit he has a child who’s over 40. That was the weekend when Tiger won the Master’s, so he’s allowed to pretend to be distracted.

Now, being my father’s daughter is not always a good thing. When I passed by signs advertising discounts at a local hair salon this week and immediately thought what fun it would be to have a perm now and go in and scare the hairdresser when I lose my hair next week, I didn’t need DNA analysis to tell me which gene carried that trait.

He knows when to call me on things. When I go to the track, I’ll call and tell him how much I’ve won. His next question is always, “And how much did you lose?”

As an engineer who moved into management, Dad didn’t suffer fools gladly. He’d tell stories of “those old fools who won’t retire.” Of course, I know to call him on things too–he was typically older than the people he complained about. I get a little of that from him.

He has simple advice on how to succeed in the business world. “I found I did much better on the job when instead of telling people ‘That’s bullshit’ when they came up with some damnfool idea I told them ‘That’s fascinating.'” (My apologies to everyone whose ideas I’ve called ‘fascinating.’)

And being his daughter’s father wasn’t always easy. Apparently, even as I was being born, the hospital didn’t answer his questions quickly enough and he almost got himself thrown out of the waiting room.

Dad didn’t quite know what to do with a liberated daughter all the time and we had a few days when we got to share the vocabularies we’d learned during our respective times in the Army. (Remember, for as much of a sweetheart as I am now, I was a snotty kid. Yeah, the sweetheart part is sarcastic, but Dad knows that.) He’s gotten much better and delights in talking to new people about his kid who was in the service and has a PhD in computing. He especially likes when he finally lets them know that kid is female.

Now, we’re a fairly subtle family. Dad didn’t spend a lot of time lecturing me about living right. Instead, he read me The Sneetches and Other Stories by Dr. Seuss. (In my memories, he read to me nightly from it for years. Probably not true, but nice memories, so I’m gonna keep ’em.) If you’ve never read it, you must. It’s full of life lessons on prejudice, compromise, living through fears, and why you shouldn’t name your children all Dave. (I probably should read The Pale Green Pants again before my next chemo session. Maybe I can get Dad to read it to me.)

We don’t get together every Thanksgiving or Christmas for some big traditional thing, but when Mom was dying (years after Mom and Dad were divorced), I got on the phone to Dad and just cried and he was there the next day. I know whatever I need, I can get from Dad. (How’s that cure for cancer coming, Dad?)

Looking back, one of the things I’m happiest about in life is that Dad and I have become such great friends. And how I realize that being my father’s daughter is a pretty special thing.

So, happy birthday Dad.

I went in for what turned out to be a non-appointment today (since I had bloodwork that was good Tuesday, I didn’t need it today).

I did get good news. My PA says that how you react to your first chemo is a good indicator of how you’ll react to subsequent chemos.

And I don’t have another appointment with the medical community for two weeks!

So now I really have no excuse not to grade.

Well, things are mostly good.

This is what the house looked like when I came home.

All that stuff on the floor used to be on top of the refrigerator. The top of the refrigerator is taller than I am, but it’s not taller than Ike can reach. I didn’t feed Ike this morning since he had so much food left over from last night. I figured it would be enough. I was wrong.

Yesterday was an ordeal. It looks like a lot of the little things are going to become ordeals. I had an appointment for a routine dental cleaning and check-up. But because I’m on chemo, I needed blood work first. Because of silly mistakes, a 15 minute appointment took an hour and a half. And my port didn’t work, so they ended up trying to flush it 4 times, leaving a sick taste in my mouth all day. (Of course, I had no idea why I had such a crappy taste ’til the evening. Knowing sure made it better.)

But Terri at the dentist’s office was an angel. She had all sorts of advice about how to deal with potential mouth problems. I haven’t had them yet, but they don’t scare me near as much any more. (And, if any of you have the flu this winter, she swears by rinsing your mouth with mint Mylanta after getting sick…it neutralizes the acid better than brushing your teeth and leaves a clean taste.)

I joined the Cancer Wellfit program at the Wellness Center this week. We spend an hour exercising, then an hour in educational/support programs. If nothing else, it gets me out of the house and stops me from feeling sorry about myself for a while. But I was surprised today to find that my appetite is much better and I made it through the day without a nap. Of course, this just may be natural progression and healing, but I’ll stay with the program.

I don’t know why things are still going so well for me, but they are and I’ll enjoy it while I can. I follow-up with the oncologist tomorrow to ensure I’m still doing well, but don’t expect any surprises.

Things are good.

Well,

I learned the hard way that I can lecture in my usual style for 40 minutes, but not quite for 50. Actually, I learned around 46 minutes that I get all lightheaded and clammy and confused (but com’on–type casting in C# can confuse the best of us). But at least I didn’t throw up on anyone. And my temperature is still normal.

Let’s see how the Cancer Wellfit program can improve that tonight.

I was gripped by massive fears Saturday. So severe, I was afraid to write about them. But I think they’re mostly gone now. Maybe temporarily, but at least they’ve left once and that gives me some reassurance they might not stick around when they come again.

Read the rest of this entry »

So, Charlie’s been in charge of feeling the tumor to see if anything changes (a task he doesn’t find wholly repulsive) and he swears tonight, less than 36 hours after I finished my first chemo session, it’s smaller already.

And the nausea regimen is working and the Neulasta didn’t burn at all, despite all their warnings.

But, since we know so many of you have been sending prayers and good thoughts and we’re incredibly touched by all you’ve done, he insisted we blog this now. Thanks for all your support! You don’t know how important it is.

Well,

24 hours after treatment and all is still going well. I had butterflies in my stomach last night, but don’t know if that was from nerves, too much hard candy to keep my mouth moist, or not understanding that whole grain cereal is not really in the “easy to digest” category. Or it might be because I had chemo yesterday. But laying down and talking to Charlie last night got my mind off of it,

The butterflies are back today (even after the nausea regiment), so I’m avoiding big meals until after I get Neulasta (to build up white cells) at 3. Even then, I think I’ll forgo Spicy Italian subs.

But, so far, so good.

Okay, my primary care physician is at Mercer Health Systems. And usually they’re wonderful, but they’ve fallen behind since I’ve been to see all these specialists. F’rexample, three days after my surgical biopsy, they called to give me the results of the needle biopsy, more than a week earlier.

But they’re trying to keep me informed.

Still, the letter I got yesterday had me confused. It states:

The results of your lab tests in our office on 10/31/06 have returned. Biopsy procedure was successful.

I wasn’t in their office on 10/31. I’ve never had a biopsy in their office. I did have a procedure elsewhere that day, but not a biopsy. I wouldn’t really call any of my biopsies successful (okay, to software engineers, a successful test is one that exposes a fault, so maybe they are successful since they’re finding cancer, but this wasn’t written by a software engineer).

But I looked more carefully at the form. The procedure was done on 10/31/06–next year. I am hopeful, but it’s nice to know my biopsy in a year will be clean!

If you’ve seen as much Florida football as I have this season, you’ve seen the “Go Gators” commercial. It’s something like:

“…Go Gators. Go write the great American novel. Go Gators. Go cure cancer…”

Well, it became very clear to me today that UF must be very involved in cancer treatment. The dye from the tracer during surgery turned my urine bright, bright blue. The chemotherapy today turned it a brighter orange. (And better yet, it’s radioactive!)

But, if that’s what I’m talking about, it must have gone well. And so far, it has!

For a more detailed (if not as colorful) account of the day, read on.

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Well,

we leave for the first chemotherapy appointment in 10 minutes. I wish I could have updated this log before now, but I have no idea what I’m feeling…I’m nervous and scared but just want to get this over and see what it’s all about. Maybe I have nothing to worry about? Maybe it’ll devastate me?

I’ll know soon.

No word on the PET scan. I played phone tag with Sharon from the doctor’s office for 3 hours yesterday, figuring she was going to say something about it. No, turns out she wanted to remind me of today’s appointment. Like I could forget. Of course, last week, they just left that message on the answering machine, so I expected something more serious.

Glad it wasn’t.