No strings on me

 I'm freeeeee! The Blue Fairy granted the wish for me to lose the oxygen tubing last night and I'm holding steady with 90-ish percent blood oxygen, which is totally normal here at altitude.

I'll still get the occasional antibiotic, blood product or other fluid  through the IV as these amazing professionals keep track of the complex system that is our body.

So now we wait. Sitting in a hospital bed doesn't carry the same temptations of Pinocchio's Pleasure Island but it is a scary new world out there. From Covid to plain ol' pollen, anything could trigger infection.  

This gives me a chance to offer a shout-out to a really neat product for this very situation: My sister-in-law Sally found Fresh Cut Paper to send a beautiful 3D pop-up bouquet. No mess, no watering, just the floral fanfare!

At least I have pretty things to look at even though I'd love to be home in my pine-shaded bedroom. Part of being a real boy is weighing the risks and benefits and listening to the wisdom of my own Jiminy Crickets.

Cresting the peak

 In Colorado, we love our mountain analogies. I started this journey almost 2 weeks ago, and I probably have about two weeks of hospital time to go. So, I've climbed my 14er...

Though it really has not been a mountain for me. I've been so very lucky, and I credit the well wishes of so many in my life. But sometimes the way down the mountain is just as perilous. 

I have virtually no natural defenses now so infection is a real worry. That's why I get to enjoy the amenities of Swedish Medical Center a few more weeks. 

The people here are amazing. From the sweet little lady who cleans my room to the legions of caring, smart, encouraging, all-around amazing nurses, the team here is top notch. 

With that team and your thoughts, it won't be hard to get back on solid ground.

Cutting some slack

 Whether we are Olympic athletes or plain-old human beans, it seems we all expect too much of ourselves. Do more, go further, reach higher. Why not just be happy with where we are?

Sitting in my hospital bed, feeling so much better than I thought I would, I have various choices each day: 

--the always popular sleep (which admittedly is interrupted often enough around here);

--daily exercises for breathing, bladder control, leg muscles, arm muscles;

--my long-standing habit of beating the daily solitaire, sudoku and word game challenges on Microsoft. I've rarely let a month go by that I don't get perfect scores on the latter two, but seeing as I missed a few days earlier this month, I have officially given in and decided July will not be on the leader board.

-- the lure of junk TV, from the insipid to the intellectual;

--communicating with everyone who has shown such care and affection in this journey. It is warming and touching but sometimes overwhelming. Still, I know that I want to to know what is going on with you when you are in need so I will try to keep you in the loop as well.

It's much more fun that arm exercises anyway!

Great expectations

 Getting back to the Olympic parallels (not the apparatus), the huge hype over who's going to win what  sets up unrealistic ideas about what these humans can do.

Likewise, we always hear about the awful side effects of cancer treatments. My dear friend from Dallas must've done research and sent a early-attack pack of ginger chews. I hesitated to try before I needed one, not wanting to jinx things.

The Americans have had some success, but not in the big name sports. The earliest one I saw was the first woman to win foil fighting .We've since seen a brother-sister pair who both won gold in the sport (which escapes me). I think I saw something about a Colorado teen who  grew up in Rifle and won gold in, what else, air rifle.

So, it hasn't been a blockbuster Games so far, and I'm happy to say I haven't had any starring-role side effects either!! The hair is still thick as ever, and all food has stayed where it should be.

Olympians certainly have more folks cheering them on as I do, but I have to think the beautiful outpouring of affection from all corners of my life has had a positive effect on me.  No self-respecting spirit could resist the earnest thoughts and prayers sent on my oh-so-grateful behalf.

So no matter how many hairs find their way to the brush, or if a little of (not-too-bad) hospital food goes astray, I will remain incredibly touched and blessed by all of you. 

Thank you.

Freedom is not just another word

 Earlier in the day, I struggled with what to write. OK, I'd completed the first trifecta of treatments: 500 ml of curing chemicals/poison coursing through my veins, 4 chunky tablets down the hatch and a shot in the belly repeated at 4 am. 

None of it made me react in any way (other than needing to urinate a bit more urgently). And therein lies the rub.

Because I had come in to the hospital in pretty bad shape, I was assigned as needing assistance at all times, entailing:

--a bed alarm sounding like your worst gym teacher if I moved off center

--wires and tubes connecting: oxygen from nose to wall, a self-contained (thank goodness) heart monitor, an IV and a Pic line with two outlets directly from my heart to the Christmas tree-like IV pole that held an ever-changing array of antibiotics, blood products, saline solution to keep me hydrated and various other pharmaceuticals

--a Velcro sleeve connected to a pump that keeps my legs from developing clots cuz I'm stuck in bed...

--the hospital gown is also a key to the level of assistance needed and for 7 fulldays mine has been the most barf-worthy mustard color

--ever-vigilant (weeell, usually) staff.

So, if I needed to remove any of said LIQUIDs from my system, I had to call staff to unhook me and help me to the commode or toilet. I quickly learned that "I'll be right there" could mean anything from 3 to 45 minutes (I am not, after all ,the only person here). Add in that my 63-year-old bladder is not the most patient on its best days, and  we had a forecast for frequent flash flooding.

Us Boomers have driven huge advances in incontinence products, so it wasn't too much of a problem but still a bit annoying when you prefer not to have to ask for every little thing.

So it was a great thrill  when the nurses at shift change this afternoon announced they were going to give me a test, and if I passed I could be independent. I've traditionally been a good student with no real anxiety about testing, but this was truly a pop quiz.  

They disarmed the gym teacher voice and I unhooked my leg brace/clot prevention system. Properly instructed, I pulled the giant plugs from the wall (never touch the red outlets) and dragged myself, the IVpole and roughly 20 feel of oxygen tubing to the toilet and back. Success!

I'll likely mess up at least once, but hopefully will not fall on my face, arm, IV or other critical piece. 

The piece de resistance:  I graduate to a much calmer blue gown (when they get to it,). I am free!

And just in time, as I expect the next day or so to bring on any nasty side effects and I'm not sure I'd be able to tell if I got anything on the old gown.

 

Waiting to exhale

Since this odyssey started a week ago, waiting has been the one constant.

From waiting to see the doctor to holding our breath on test results, the space between occupies much of life. So it seems appropriate that I watch the Opening Ceremonies of the Summer Games as I wait to see the effects of my first chemo regime.

Those paragons of athletic perfection had to wait an entire extra year to do what they had trained to do most of their lives, and such skills so not lend themselves to inertia. You snooze, you lose is all too true with the demands of sport. So, I'm excited to see them get their chance.

 I didn't even know I was waiting until a weird back pain a month or so ago sent me to the doctor. Are you waiting if you don't know what you're waiting for?

One twist to these games is the Parade of Nations is based on the Japanese alphabet. I'll have to ask my son if he remembers it from high school, but it is not what we expected. Started with Ireland but not Iran and Iraq or Israel. And it's more equitable in some ways: Zimbabwe never really got much of a chance at the spotlight, following all the other countries.

I'm not sure I'm even going to have the energy to see Team USA. But I know they'll be great and will go onto to many medals and firsts and records, making us all proud.

And that is how I feel about these chemicals the doctors have sent coursing through my veins: A lot of people have used their prowess to concoct the best defense, and I'm ready to let it do its thing, whatever that brings. 

More to come...wait and see

Let the games begin

Casa Leftwich picked up and moved to the very picturesque town of Evergreen a few months ago. Several of the roads around the Western Denver suburb are seriously challenging, with road signs showing multiple curves so that you can't be sure if it is warning of the road or potential snakes ahead...

So it occurs to me that those signs could also be indicative of my life. I've twisted and turned from Woodward-Bernstein -inspired journalist to freelancer -mom to natural chef. I was poised to jump back into that role when Life threw me another curve.

Serious health issues have a way of doing that. And I got a whopper last week with an out-of-the-blue diagnosis of Acute Myeloid Leukemia. 

Myriad tests, scans and medications have filled the week since I hit the hospital. I had pneumonia and a blood clot in one leg, and the biopsy details for some reason were sent to me, not the doctor. Yesterday,the oncologist actually took a picture of the report on my phone then scurried off to the lab to give the info to those creating my treatment...

But we got it now, and I have great confidence in my team, especially Chris Benton, a native Texan who trained at MD Anderson but had the wisdom to relocate to Colorado! 

They'll be showing up soon with a three- phase regimen:  oral meds, IV infusion and a few shots. There's no way to know how I'll react but the people have seen and taken care of it all.

With their help and good thoughts of my huge contingent of family and friends, I am sure I will come out of this ordeal in top form.

I'll try to keep you updated here so you can check whence you want to see what's going on.  I'm stuck in bed so my brain comes up with all sorts of stuff.  Having the Olympics on TV should provide great distraction so stay tuned for my unique insights.