Neighbor’s dock. Photo by K. C. Gravely

Dear family and friends,

I know that every day, every hour, very strong and brave women go through what Nora did today. I can do nothing but sit back in awe. Joking with our surgeon and anesthesiologist just prior to the operation

   (Nora: You think you’re going need a stool to reach me?
    Surgeon: [who is not tall] You know these tables go down, too.)

might be placed in a special category. You decide on the category.

5:50 a.m. We arrived at the hospital a bit early. Daughter Sarah and beau Jeremy were kind enough to let us use their place on Hilton Head last evening (they came out to the Ridge to take care of the dogs). Everything was so efficient, so nice, so … nothing prepares you, nothing. It is one minute, one hour at a time. Clock checking. Too often. We have brought a change of clothes. We are scheduled to stay overnight at the hospital. (Nora does not like the schedule.)

7:30 a.m. Nora is under. Dr. Herrmann is doing her magic. (Of course it is not magic, it is extraordinary skill, a tremendous team effort, decades of knowledge and training, a special gift …nonetheless, to me, magic.)

9:30 a.m. Patsy, recovery room nurse (our friend and Aaron’s Godmother), notifies me Nora is coming out of it and I am to meet with Dr. Herrmann. I find out (in a small room off the family waiting area) that all went well. More this and that. I’ll get a copy of the pathology report, etc. She tells me (I have heard this since yesterday) Nora wants to go home. No overnight stay. Dr. Herrmann smiles (it’s a hellova smile) and says “Probably.”

10:45. I am with Nora. She’s in pain. Patsy shoots her up with some good stuff and the pain dwindles. Dr. Herrmann has said that if Nora continues to respond well, she can be discharged. Dr. Herrmann believes in “quality of life.” I used to use that phrase in ad copy. I am embarrassed. I do not know squat.

12:30 Pain, other meds called in to Main Street Pharmacy in Ridgeland. Better living through chemistry.

Very happy “mama”
is home

1:16 p.m. We are in the car, headed back to the Ridge. Same day surgery (or as our friend Walter Palmer – who, with wife Karen — were to cover tonight on the Ridge – calls it “drive by surgery”), and we’re home. Nora is elated, if groggy. Sarah will spend the night and will learn what the home health care nurse has to tell us tomorrow.

Nora did well. “Same day surgery” for a mastectomy. Incredible woman.

Oh, yes. Hair growing. I say it’s blonde. She says gray.

Thank you all. Radiation begins in about 6 weeks.

Paul

Storm coming over Boyd Creek

Dear family and friends,

Except for five weeks of  late afternoon and early evening thunderstorms, with beautiful lightning shows followed by self-congratulating thunder (nature’s version of a standing ovation), it has been quiet on The Ridge. Nora’s appetite improves along with my cooking. It’s still somewhat of a guessing game, but as the effects of the chemo recede, it’s better. But I know there is no normal.

One of the many features of our “new” home (we will have been here a year in August … impossible) is the fireplace. Nora could do without a kitchen, possibly a bedroom, but not a fireplace. Our young neighbors (the only ones within shouting — or barking — distance) had five pretty massive hickories cut down last week and, through their kindness, we won’t have to worry about firewood this winter.

Our conversations tend to be about what we need for after the July 29 surgery. Pillows, sheets for guests/helpers, loose clothing, changing bandages, the “surgical arm.” Nora’s experience as a home health aide for ten years have prepared her for what is to come. Though not me. I read, I watch, I listen. None of that matters. This is not “the new normal.” This is very different, believe me.

AT THE TOP OF MY VOICE
oh there is rage why
select a beloved
for such an ordeal where
is fairness how do others
not break bonds with God why
such random selection?

enlightenment evades me
I learn to trust only the beloved
pax vobiscum

 Your cards and notes and emails and comments mean so much to Nora. Thank you. Nora says she’s “excited” about the surgery. Figures.

Paul

Update, July 11, 2013

As the side effects of the chemo slowly recede and Nora’s hair slowly returns, today is something of a relieved sigh. Yesterday (Wednesday) we met with Nora’s wonderful surgeon, Dr. Herrmann. “We” included our daughter, Sarah. Dr. Herrmann scheduled a mastectomy for July 29 at Hilton Head Hospital. From the first, Nora has responded to Dr. Herrmann. Our meetings with her have been emotional for Nora. Herrmann returns the emotion. Hell of a bedside manner. “You’re extended family,” Herrmann says. Herrmann is not tall. Nora is. But they hug. I get emotional too, but I am good hiding it, or so I think.

Surgeons have a bad rep: god-like, life-giving, steady-handed, arrogant SOB saviors. I know two surgeons, Herrmann, the hugger (so much more than that to Nora), and a guy who is the epitome of kindness, generosity and understanding. Also something of a genius, though limited . I have yet to meet the arrogant SOB surgeon. Maybe I am blessed.

Today we visited the chemo suite in Savannah to check Nora’s blood. Numbers were appreciably up from last week so another infusion is unlikely. One of the nurses teased Nora and said, “You’re just showing off.” Chemo humor.

I mowed our lawn Wednesday, a four hour chore. It is not really a chore, I like it. I get a beer at half time. Nora said my dad would be proud. (My dad was a lawn connoisseur. We had a hardware [feed, and hatchery] store back in Kankakee, Illinois. Dad had the best grass in the neighborhood.) He would be proud. But he would have comments.

The only reason I bring up the lawn is because of the treasures Nora found. We rent this creek home on The Ridge. Rental homes always have artifacts, a slip of paper, an ill repaired window, a light bulb that needs replacement. Nora found these four glass stones in the creek-side yard. Unlike Chekov, here are four sisters (based on color, Nora is second from left). Notice the sparkle, the hue, the sense of togetherness, yet each stands out. Bright. Bright. Do they know? Of course. I (along with my brothers-in-law) have always been slightly awed (and frightened) by these four gems.

QUESTION

The banana tree
outside my window
fears frost she
fears it will not
produce bananas.

Who is right?

Paul

July 4, 2013, twilight. Nora is attempting to sleep. While this round of chemo (the last we hope) is over, Taxol is a drug that just keeps on giving. This afternoon she got her hands dirty in the flower garden and enjoyed (while sitting) watching me spade up a few clumps of dirt, sweat pouring off me, to prepare a flower bed. The pain in her joints and muscles is supposed to go away soon. And I’m supposed to get in shape.

Across Boyd Creek there are some fireworks over the water. One long dock stretches out forever to the deep water and is lighted. A beautiful display of light, without explosions. With all the whooshes and pops there are no night birds. Our evening egret is in hiding. So are the dogs (3), under Nora’s bed.

We have the pleasure of our son, Aaron and his dog, Buddy, as guests this week, up from Aaron’s work in Orlando. He calls “The Ridge” home. That moves Nora. And me. Daughter Sarah, beau Jeremy, and spoiled (beautiful) dog Indy, are due this weekend. Full house, big breakfast, maybe some golf (9 holes).

Nora has finally broken down and is taking some Advil(!) for the pain. She can have stronger stuff but she hates to be under the spell of pills (though I very gently remind her about the stronger stuff).

Our June fund raiser, with the 50% added to each dollar incentive, was a big success. Thank you, everyone.

Today was a double holiday. This is the first time in five months we did not have to go to Savannah on Thursday. We learn more next week…surgery, radiation. Keep sending that positive energy, the prayers, the thoughts and notes, in whatever media.

I don’t necessarily like poetry, I just happen to write it. My first (and greatest mentor – in poetry) was Raymond Roseliep. If he had fame, it was his brilliant haikus. I was too stupid at the time to really appreciate what and who he was. And what he gave me, gave us all. Ray and I give this to Nora (and you):

“And I cut stars from sunlight
for your dream
and my night.”

— Raymond Roseliep, A Beautiful Woman

Paul