so it went like this...

According to Dad, Mom's 9:30AM appointment ran until about 10:15AM. Dad had apparently called the radiology department last night about rescheduling Mom for an earlier time; he and Mom went to radiology after the visit with Dr. Leiphart and snagged a noon radiotherapy appointment. Dad and Mom hit lunch after that, then came home. Dad went right back out to perform some errands. He's home right now (4:30PM), but is going out again to do more errands while I watch over Mom.

When Mom and Dad were out, I managed to get the laundry done, and also mowed the front lawn. When Dad went back out, leaving Mom home with me, Mom started puttering around the kitchen, ultimately spending two hours obsessively wiping the counters and the sink. She also did a few dishes, but because of her perseveration (a mental tendency to linger over or repeat ideas, utterances, and actions), she left the water running a long, long time. I'll have to do a better job of curbing some of Mom's stranger tendencies.

Dad's heading out to do more errands, and I need to start thinking about what's for dinner. We're finally done with all the hot dogs and hamburgers, and we just finished off a major load of salad.

Ah, yes-- Dr. Leiphart. He's apparently happy with Mom's healing, and he wants to see her again on August 13. Mom is supposed to finish up her daptomycin regimen at the end of July; her radiotherapy is in full swing, and the chemotherapy is supposed to start sometime in early August, if I'm not mistaken. Dr. Leiphart answered a question I had about the phase shift in Mom's chemotherapy schedule; as you'll recall, I had wondered about what was to be done, now that the two therapies are no longer in tandem. The answer is that Mom will not make up the chemo she's missed. In other words, she'll resume chemo in early August, finishing it up in tandem with the radiotherapy. Dr. Leiphart believes that Mom's chemo can't be made up as if it were missed coursework. When radiotherapy ends, Mom will have her one-month break, but during that break, she'll have her new synthetic bone flap put in.

I hope we speak with Dr. Meister about all this. I'm vexed that Mom is being deprived of her full chemo regimen. The doctor's rationale, according to Dad, is that giving Mom the full six weeks of chemo will be ineffective because it won't be happening in conjunction with the radiation-- the two go together. But if that's the case, then (1) why is Mom supposed to take the Temodar over the weekend, when radiotherapy doesn't occur, and (2) why will Mom be taking Temodar for several months after her one-month break? The doc's answer doesn't make immediate sense to me, which is why I need some clarification. I'm not pretending to know more than the doctor, but as things stand, the information I have doesn't add up to a coherent picture.

Aside from the above concerns, though, it appears that Mom is back on track, therapy-wise. I imagine she'll have her PICC line removed at the end of July or in early August, once the daptomycin regimen is finished. It'll be nice not to have to tiptoe around Mom's right arm all the time.


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...without yours truly

Mom went off to her appointment with Dr. Leiphart without me: Dad's acting as Mom's chauffeur and on-the-road caretaker today, for reasons I don't feel comfortable mentioning in public (don't worry: it's not internal family conflict). I doubt that Dad and Mom will be returning from the appointment to spend a bit of time at home; Mom has her regular radiotherapy appointment at 2PM.

I, meanwhile, am taking care of some laundry and mowing the front lawn. It's a hot, humid day, with a chance of rain. Lovely.

More later.


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appointment

Tomorrow, Mom's going to be out for most of the morning and early afternoon, as we have to take her to a 9:30AM appointment with her neurosurgeon, Dr. Leiphart. One thing we'll be wanting to ask him is whether there's going to be any effort to get Mom back on an in-tandem routine: per the doctors' orders, she still hasn't restarted chemotherapy (Temodar). I'm worried about this because, according to the original treatment calendar, Mom was supposed to have a month off from both treatments. As things stand now, Mom is about a week ahead with radiation. Will this mean that Mom will have only three weeks' rest before the resumption of chemo (radiation ends after the initial six-week treatment period), or will she receive a full month of rest, thereby distancing her from the last day of radiation treatment before she resumes chemo? Perhaps Dr. Leiphart can help us in this matter, or maybe he can refer the question to Dr. Meister, who's in charge of Mom's chemotherapy.

We also need to start thinking about taking Mom back to MD Anderson and NCI so that those facilities can take their respective MRIs. The plan was to do this during Mom's one-month break from therapy, but we need a clearer idea of the treatment calendar before we can take Mom anywhere.

Mom's also got her regularly scheduled 2PM radiotherapy appointment, so we'll be tooling about the area for a few hours, and won't be back home until mid-afternoon.


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while I was at home

Mom went to the hospital without me today: Dad drove her. As before, she was in and out in a flash. Because we're still at the beginning of the radiotherapy calendar, Mom hasn't shown any ill effects from treatment. We've been told to expect such effects (fatigue, hair loss, etc.) around Week 3, i.e., about two weeks from now.

Mom's appetite seems to vary from day to day. Yesterday, she was voracious, eating both a large lunch and two substantial dinners (she often wakes up too late to eat breakfast). Today, she hasn't eaten much lunch at all, and I suspect she won't be wanting much for dinner, either.

Meal prep remains an interesting part of my day. My role as the house cook is well described by the Marine Corps mantra I heard in Clint Eastwood's "Heartbreak Ridge": improvise, adapt, and overcome. I follow the vagaries of Mom's appetite, suss out what she's in the mood for, and adjust her menu accordingly. The same goes for Dad, who seems happy to eat a steady diet of bland cold-cut sandwiches. Were Dad left to his own devices, his menu would never change, and he'd be fine with that. I try to change things up as much as I can, but Dad's and Mom's tastes rarely coincide when it comes to food, often resulting in the need for two completely different menus.

Such is life. Improvise, adapt, and overcome.


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how to help Mom

I should write a book and sell limited-edition copies of it for $1000 a copy. Ted Kennedy, who has the same type of tumor as Mom, is doing just that, it seems.


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well, well!

An American friend of mine, who lives and works in Seoul, just wrote to say he got married in Manila to the Filipina love of his life. Tom shuttles back and forth between Korea and the Philippines, so I'm not sure whether he's planning to uproot himself from the hustle and bustle of Seoul life in order to take up residence in Manila or somewhere else in the Philippines. I wish Tom and Sherny the best, whatever they decide to do.


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Bonne Fête!

J'aurais dû écrire tous mes blogs en français aujourd'hui-- c'est le 14 juillet, après tout. Mais au lieu de faire ça, je me contenterai de gribouiller cette petite note juste pour dire "bonne fête" aux Français qui célèbrent ce jour.

Liberté!
Egalité!
Fraternité!


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itchy hands

Today, we arrived at the hospital about the same time as we did yesterday, but we left around 2:15PM. I was sitting in the waiting room, facing away from the hallway that Mom usually pops out of, when Mom was led out by a nurse. I didn't know Mom and the nurse were behind me until the nurse called out, "Son!" --not knowing my name. It occurred to me that I had actually heard the nurse talking right before she'd called out son, and that's when I realized the nurse had asked Mom what my name was. Mom either couldn't or wouldn't say. Perhaps she hadn't understood the nurse's question, which is why the nurse ended up addressing me as "son."

Mom's been walking around the house a bit more these past few days, and her hands are all over everything. She walks into the kitchen and often tries to clean things up as she can, but she needs to be supervised: she'll wipe a surface with her hands instead of using a cloth, or she'll try to wipe the interior of the kitchen sink with a dishcloth. Yesterday, she saw a pan full of strawberry sauce and she tried to scoop it into a plastic container full of mi-yeok (a type of seaweed). I stopped Mom in time, and she exclaimed, "Oh, what am I doing?" It's amazing how compartmentalized the brain can be-- one part can realize that another part is doing something wrong.

Right now (4:30PM), Mom's sitting and talking with Pastor Kim, who's visiting. As has been true for at least the past week, she seems to be conversing on more than a rudimentary level. The exchanges remain fairly basic, but now Mom is able to elaborate on her initial thoughts. We celebrate what progress we see.


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off soon

Mom received a visit from the home care nurse this morning. The nurse re-dressed Mom's PICC line (this is done weekly) and performed her usual battery of checks. In all the hubbub, though, Mom apparently didn't eat any breakfast. When lunchtime came around, Mom was hungry, gobbling everything in front of her.

We're off to the hospital in a little bit. Dad's napping, so Mom and I might sneak off without him.


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an inside glimpse

I've been hesitant about showing my readership some of the more candid moments that have been immortalized by our cameras, but in reviewing some of the pictures Dad has taken (his camera contains hundreds of photos that he apparently hasn't downloaded to his hard drive), I found a few that might give you, Dear Reader, some idea about the cast of characters swirling around us as this cancer drama unfolds. Two of the photos also show you how Mom looked until recently, with her head heavily bandaged. The fourth photo, which shows Mom gingerly gripping a baby's hand in one of her own, choked me up a bit: it says so much about where Mom is, mentally speaking. Mom can no longer express complex thoughts; it's quite possible that she is no longer capable even of entertaining such thoughts. She is, however, still able to respond properly to the simple things in life. She no longer does so with the same light that used to inhabit her eyes, but in a sense, the light is still there, visible in her outreaching hands.

The first photo is of Maqz, Sean's chihuahua, dozing blissfully in a sunbeam. Maqz has been a part of Mom's life for a few years, now; she loves that dog. It's a shame that she hasn't seen Maqz since early May, but our caution about infection has played a role in Maqz's absence. At some point, though, we do want Maqz back in the house.

The second photo is of my i-mo (pronounce it "ee-moh"), i.e., Mom's big sister, who left the Houston area to visit us for two weeks. She'll be back here again sometime soon, I think. I've written about my aunt before; she's one of the major characters in this story.

The third and fourth photos show Mom with one of her oldest friends, the lady whom we kids always knew as "Miss Lee ajumma." Even after all these years, I still don't know her given names. That's true for a lot of Koreans, who address friends and relatives by using titles as a sign of respect. The baby is Ziggy, Ajumma's grandson, the son of her second daughter. Also shown in the final picture is Ajumma's youngest daughter.

I hesitated about showing the pictures of Mom, but the way that these images pulled at my heart impelled me to share them with you. They're just moments, of course-- here and gone-- but they retain a certain quiet beauty. Kudos to Dad for taking such great shots.

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views of the completed ramp

Here are six views of the completed wheelchair ramp. Enjoy the rigorous perpendicularity, the subtle sloping.

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done in a flash

Today's trip to the hospital went by so quickly that it was almost as though we hadn't even gone. I left home with Mom at 1:07PM; we drove through decent traffic and arrived at the hospital at 1:38PM, walking into the radiology department around 1:42. At 1:50, a staffer came out with a wheelchair for Mom and took her back for her treatment. By 2PM, Mom was done-- poof. We checked out and were back on the road by 2:05PM. Incredible.

Fairfax Hospital has done this before, I noticed: they'll sometimes take a patient early if they have the time to do so. That's a very good thing, in my opinion, and I thank the hospital for taking the opportunity to be more than prompt when it can be. I know there'll be days when treatment will occur late, but thus far, after four treatments, Mom has started and finished early 50% of the time. Not a bad track record.


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...and away we go again

Mom and I will be leaving for the hospital at 1PM again today. Dad has a 2PM dental appointment, so as happened this past Friday, it'll be just Mom and me in the van.

Thanks again to all the people who helped us out, physically and emotionally, this past weekend: Ruth Guirard and Mrs. Kopf, Pastor Jeri and Bill Keezer, the MVPC team and the Home Depot team. The previous blog post is a tribute to the ramp builders; as you'll see, there's no photo of the completed ramp. I'll slap that up later today, along with a few other photos I stole from Dad's camera.


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many thanks

The following pictures of yesterday's wheelchair ramp construction are brought to you by Dad. On behalf of our family, I'd like to thank the following folks.

From Mount Vernon Presbyterian Church:

Mike Frady
Don Dickstein
Bill Kennedy
Eric Frady
Nat Wheeler
Pastor Jeri (who watched over Mom and ran a hardware errand)

From the local Home Depot:

Tony Barnett, manager
Alvin Hughes
Bryan Thomson

Watching the wheelchair ramp's progress throughout the day was impressive. The above-pictured guys (plus Mr. Barnett, not pictured) worked all day in the heat and humidity to complete the project, and the end result (which I tested by riding a wheelchair down the ramp myself) was marvelous.

My thanks as well to Pastor Jeri, who played a major role in getting Mom out of her hiding place inside the house, so that Mom could watch the project firsthand. That was, for me, a major turnaround. At first, Mom hadn't wanted to come out at all, so self-conscious was she. But there she was in the afternoon, first leaning against the deck railing with Pastor Jeri, then sitting on the deck in a folding chair, magisterially surveying the proceedings. Quite a sight.

Special note: Dad not only helped me with the cooking by baking two cakes and doing all the grilling: he also helped the workers as he could. Paying everyone back by feeding them was the least I could do. I'd also like to offer a long-distance thank-you to Bill Keezer, who wrote this tribute to our family.

Thank you. All of you.


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late risers

Dad says he woke up at an uncharacteristically late 8:50AM today. I woke up around 9:30AM, but didn't get out of bed until sometime after 10. Mom didn't get out of bed until close to lunchtime, and she doesn't appear too hungry at the moment: she ate only part of her lunch. We don't force her to eat, but at the same time, we worry that she isn't taking in enough nutrition.

Mom's leg seems to be doing better. When she wears white pants (as she often does), we occasionally see spots on the back of the left thigh where the harvest site has been weeping a bit, but over the past week, these spots have become increasingly rare. That's another reason why we want Mom to keep eating: the nutrition helps her heal. (Because Mom ate so little for lunch, we're giving her vitamins.)

We're all moving around a bit sluggishly today; Dad's back is hurting him, and even though I had the luxury of staying indoors while everyone worked, I'm still a bit tired from yesterday's food orgy. My brother Sean is here right now, but he'll be leaving soon to play in a opera-- one that was just composed, libretto, music, and all.

I'll be back later today with some pictures of yesterday's project, which was indeed completed by evening. A tribute post is in the works.


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busy

It's been a busy Saturday. I've been inside, prepping food for a crowd and watching over Mom. Dad's been outside, moving tables, doing the burger and 'furter grilling, and helping the workers. Pastor Jeri stopped over for a bit, as did at least one of the workers' wives. Mrs. Kopf also stopped by with yet more food. The wheelchair ramp construction crew, about ten strong, has been out in the heat all day, toiling ceaselessly.

Progress on the ramp seems brisk to my untrained eye. I'm definitely having flashbacks to our recent renovation; the back yard is once again filled with people, lumber, and equipment. I'm not sure whether the ramp will be finished by tonight, but with so many people on task, it looks as though the team will succeed in making this a one-day affair.

Our family's thanks go out to all the people who have contributed to today's work. Thanks especially to Dad, who's been almost literally moving mountains to make things as smooth as possible for the workers. Last night, Dad even made two of his famous rum cakes, which were a hit during the 2PM break today.

More later. Break's almost over for me.

UPDATE, 3:56PM: Dad says a storm is moving in, which might cut things short. The ramp has definitely taken shape. I'm marveling at how fast this was done, as opposed to the construction of our deck, which took months. Many hands do indeed make light work.

I also wanted to note some good and bad news on the Mom front. Bad news first: Mom remains forgetful, and she also exhibits some of the obsessive-compulsive behavior we'd been warned about, behavior that normally accompanies damage to the frontal lobe. The bright side is that, when Mom toddles into the kitchen and starts cleaning something, she really cleans it. On the not-so-bright side, it's often necessary to pull Mom's focus away from one activity to get her to focus on something else. The other bit of bad news is that Mom's balance remains precarious. She can walk, but today she had trouble turning around while in the kitchen. I'm being a bit negligent, right now, by typing this update: Mom is outside with Pastor Jeri (Mom enjoys her company; I'm glad Jeri came back to see her), but Dad is helping the guys, which leaves Jeri to watch over Mom.

The good news, though, is that Mom is trying to re-engage with normal, everyday activities: putting on makeup and working in the kitchen, for example. Today, Mom de-stemmed and washed a bunch of strawberries; this was a huge help to me, as it allowed me to get dessert out to the crew in a more or less timely manner. She also washed dishes and trays after lunch was done, which was also an enormous help. Mom is still shy about appearing in front of people in her helmet, but that's changing. The fact that she's out there right now, watching the construction happen, is a testament to the diminution of her self-consciousness.

I'll end this update with a special note of thanks to Mike Frady and his work crew, as well as to the crew from the local Home Depot. Dad has taken down everyone's names and has shot some pics of the ramp-in-progress; either tonight or tomorrow, a post specifically dedicated to today's construction will be written. I still can't get over how quickly the ramp is forming.


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gracias, comme toujours

Many thanks to Mike Frady and Don Dickstein for stopping by and dropping off supplies for tomorrow's rampfest. Our back yard is starting to acquire an Amish ambiance, as if we were setting up for a barn-raising. At the same time, I'm being reminded of how the yard looked back when renovation was in full swing.

Thanks, as well, to Ruth Guirard, who came by to drop off enough food to feed an army. We'll definitely enjoy the rice, beans, and salad. Thanks, too, for the raspberry vinaigrette: my favorite salad dressing.

Dad came back from an errand at the local Home Depot on Route 1, and told me that the manager-- a gent named Tony, who became familiar with Dad during the madness of our of September-to-March renovation-- decided to donate a mess of supplies to us: material to build a stairway off the wheelchair ramp, as well as a shower chair, a "bath transfer" chair (it straddles the bathtub's edge, allowing the user to sit on it and swing safely out of the tub without falling), and grab bars to allow Mom a chance to stand up in the bathroom without fear of collapsing. The price tag for all this would have been over $200, possibly over $300, but instead, it was all free.

People are something else.


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garrulous

The trip to and from the hospital was pretty straightforward. Driving and parking weren't a problem, and Mom's session began promptly at 2:10.

Mom and I had arrived about 25 minutes early, and the waiting room was fairly full. We found two chairs against the wall, separated by a small table on which were piled some magazines. Before I sat in one of the chairs, I asked the lady next to it whether anyone was sitting there and hoping to come back to it.

Little did I know that I had flipped on a switch. From the moment I addressed the woman until Mom came back out from radiotherapy, I was subjected to an constant stream of verbiage. The discourse ranged over a variety of subjects, with special attention paid to the virtues of marijuana over cigarettes ("What I wouldn't do for a doobie!"). The lady noted that marijuana is easier to grow and process than tobacco-- a fact I knew from seeing the news about foreigners in Korea who stupidly attempt to grow their own weed. She also (1) told me I needed to get Mom enrolled quickly in various "Life with Cancer" programs, (2) gave me advice on where to find the best wigs and bandannas for Mom, and (3) told me something about her own cancer.

Though I was a bit turned off by how chatty the lady was, I also saw that she was a kind soul and very well-intended. With nothing to do other than wait for Mom, I sat and nodded politely as my interlocutor talked and talked. When Mom came out of therapy and we ambled off to the elevator, I turned and waved to the lady. She's in her final week of radiotherapy; I wish her well.


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birthday

Happy Birthday to Madame Landgrabe, my French teacher for two years in high school, and my semblable in terms of worldview. Thank you for always believing in me.


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bustle

We're going back to radiotherapy today for the second time. As happened yesterday, we'll be leaving at 1PM.

Some of the gents from church who will be working on the wheelchair ramp tomorrow are supposed to stop by today and drop off building materials. I'm not sure when this is happening, but it might occur while we're out of the house.

Later this afternoon, a member of the Congregational Care Council will be dropping off food (cf. last Friday), so I won't have to worry about cooking dinner. Again, our sincere thanks to the church for this show of support.

The builders coming tomorrow should know that we're planning on grilling lunch and dinner for them, so they needn't worry about hunting around for food during their breaks. Thanks in advance for that ramp!


UPDATE, 11:55AM: Thanks, Pastor Jeri, for contacting Mr. Frady. He called me and we've worked out a rough schedule for today. Dad's planning to stay home while take Mom to therapy, so Mr. Frady and Co. can drop off building supplies with no worries. Someone will be home to meet him.


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back already!

The lady who led Mom to her radiotherapy treatment told us that Mom wouldn't be getting a new mask made. Sure enough, Mom popped back out of the treatment room almost as soon as she had gone in. I barely had time to read a few poems out of a Shel Silverstein collection (A Light in the Attic). Dr. Tonnesen also came out, and he barely had time to speak with Dad and me about Mom. He expressed pleasure at Mom's progress, noting that Mom's renewed interest in making herself up bodes well. (Actually, Mom has been self-conscious about her looks this entire time, even when her mind was foggier, but it's only been over the past week or so that she has actively tried to make herself up on a routine basis.)

Mom had no real complaints about the experience this time, so I imagine that there were no problems during the treatment.

And now we're home, finishing up a very late lunch. The back yard has been mowed, and I'll be spending the next little while planning lunch and dinner for Saturday. I understand that five guys from church will be coming over on Saturday at 9AM, and they plan to make the ramp in a single day, assuming there's no problem with the weather. I'm therefore planning to make lunch and a probable dinner for everyone.

And that's where things are at the moment. Mom's watching her Korean channel, I'm typing away, and Dad's running some errands.


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mowin' and goin'

I'll be mowing the lawn from 10:30 to about 12:30. We'll be leaving home around 1PM or 1:20PM at the very latest so as to have Mom at the hospital in time for her 2PM appointment. She might be getting a new radiotherapy mask today. The last mask was made back when her skull was a full dome. Because the shape of her head has changed, a new mask might be necessary. Today's procedure might therefore take longer than a normal radiotherapy procedure.


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thwarted

We were supposed to take Mom over for her first radiotherapy session at 2PM today, but Mom, who had wanted to shower, chose to perform her ablutions far too late in the game: 12:30. Because Mom moves at an understandably glacial pace, a shower is a large and involved project for her. We had intended to leave at 1PM for the hospital (squeezing in a quick lunch before setting off), but Mom wasn't finished showering by then.

Dad also blames himself for having abetted Mom in her poorly-timed endeavor. He's been letting Mom sleep in on the assumption that the extra time in bed is allowing her to heal. I think Dad has a point, but Mom's need for sleep must also be balanced with her need for both increased physical activity and adherence to a proper circadian rhythm.

Mom is generally off to bed around 11PM and has, for the past little while, been waking up in the very late morning-- usually after 10AM. That's about 11 hours of sleep per day, not including long afternoon naps. We need to be more assertive in making sure that Mom gets up and takes care of herself in a timely manner, moving along from point to point on her daily schedule without slacking. When life slides too far out of rhythm, the body is affected. That, I think, is the flip-side of Dad's concern for Mom's need to sleep. Sleep shouldn't dominate her schedule, just as it shouldn't dominate the schedules of healthy people.

Assertiveness in dealing with Mom is becoming more important as Mom regains a measure of will. The problem is that, given the damage to her frontal lobe, she is experiencing no corresponding return of her logical faculties. This means we may have to treat Mom like a child, occasionally blocking her desire to fixate on this or that item, or to remain in one place for an over-long period. We-- Dad and I-- need to do a better job of viewing Mom's radiotherapy appointments as sacrosanct, which is what they are. For my part, I sleep only 6-7 hours a night, but I may have to wake up much earlier to provide an example for Mom. (As a night owl, the thought of waking up early pains me.)

So while we might, in some measure, fault Mom's slowpoke ways for today's missed appointment, the primary responsibility falls on Dad's and my shoulders. We need to be ready to push Mom, and if she becomes crabby in the process, well, that shouldn't deter Dad and me from doing whatever needs to be done to get Mom to her appointments on time.


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thanks again

Once again, many thanks to Dale Molina for making the long trip all the way from Gettysburg, Pennsylvania to visit Mom. Thanks as well to Rhee Burke for coming directly over from work to see Mom. She appreciated both visits, as did the rest of the family.


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chicken scrawl no more

I tried a writing test with Mom today, asking her whether she could spell out the word ajumma (aunt) in hangeul, and whether she could write her own name in both hangeul and Chinese. She did all this, and more: not content simply to write ajumma (Dad keeps mispronouncing it as ajima), she also wrote ajeoshi (uncle), halmeoni (grandmother), and halabeoji (grandfather). Most striking was that her script looked almost as it did before April 16-- clear, neat, and lucid. This improvement matches the improvement we've seen in Mom's ability to recall people and events, though she can still be shaky about such matters as her previous meal. Mom's nowhere near full speed in terms of conversation, but she's making a real effort at listening, and does interact in slightly more than rudimentary ways, sometimes even offering a concise opinion when called upon to do so.

We need to enjoy this while it lasts. I don't mean that in a sad or cynical way: we often forget that every moment needs to be enjoyed while it lasts, cancer or no cancer.


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visiteurs

Mom's got quite a few people to see today. Our family friend Dale Molina arrived at 11AM and has been regaling us with tales of her life in the Civil War town of Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Sometime in the next hour or so, a home care nurse will be stopping by. Later today, at 5PM, Mom will be visited by a Korean friend, Rhee Burke. I expect Mom to be quite tired by the end of the day.

Saturday, a team of folks from church will be over at the house, constructing the wheelchair ramp. Assuming it doesn't rain too much (Weather.com is predicting "isolated" and "scattered" thunderstorms for the weekend), I hope to do a bit of grilling. Nothing fancy-- probably just burgers and dogs, along with soda, chips, and some healthier options.


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bone flap and other matters

The news I got from Dad just a few minutes ago is that Mom's synthetic bone flap won't be put back in until two weeks after the end of radiotherapy. I'm relieved: I had worried that the docs might want to do some something crazy, like installing the flap during the six-week radiotherapy period, when Mom's ability to heal will be diminished.

Some other doctors have chimed in about Mom's situation:

Dr. Yoho (infectious disease specialist): Hold the Temodar treatment until after Mom finishes the daptomycin regimen.

Dr. Mirali (plastic surgeon): Mom's ready for what's to come.

Dr. Meister (medical oncologist): As Dr. Yoho said-- hold the Temodar.

Dr. Leiphart (neurosurgeon): As noted in the first paragraph above, the bone flap won't be put in until two weeks after the end of radiotherapy.

Dr. Tonnesen (radiation oncologist): Will call back (later today?) with the new radiotherapy schedule. Mom might restart as early as tomorrow.


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