The Epic and the Odd

That's what June 2010 has been.  One never ending drama.  I really hope the next half of this year (which has blown by in a blur) is lighter, slower, more digestible.

On Day 4 of our residency in the new 'hood, a previously well-kept secret location, two people jumped on my car and dented the quarter panel and the hood.  At eleven o'clock at night.  I was getting out of the shower, the Hubby and I were talking, when we heard crunching noises and voices outside the window.  He looked out and saw a guy on the hood and a girl on the roof of my car!  So he yells, "HEY, GET OFF OF THAT CAR!!"  then, "(MOTHER—!)"  He runs down the hall ("Call a cop!") and out the door, watches the couple split.  The guy (white jacket, red stripes) runs across the green between the houses across the street, the girl runs towards the next door neighbors' houses.
There's a police department right on Alameda Point, about half a mile away.  It's a pretty quiet island, so they're in my driveway in minutes.  The hubs tells me to get inside, he'll handle it.  The passenger side fender is incredibly dented with a large chip of paint missing, and the hood has a small dent and several rubber scuff marks.  I am numb. I literally feel nothing, except that my heart is pounding.  I know the hubs is having a psychological break-down, wondering whether we just made a mistake and this neighborhood isn't what it was when we last lived here, 4 years ago.  I think, well it's not too late to change our minds and move back.  We're only out $2500 and gut-busting effort at this point.  I'm feeling terrible for my husband, feel nothing about the car.
I wash pots and pans so I can look out the window and watch, if not hear, what's going on.  There are two other people talking to the policeman besides the Hubby.  Turns out the neighbor across the street saw the guy run past her house, and the neighbor one over said the girl hid behind his car in the driveway.  The police dusted his car for fingerprints as well.  Nice way to meet the neighbors, eh?
He comes in after awhile, says the guy's been caught, he's going for a ride with the cop to ID him.  Later he tells me there were 5 police cars at the arrest scene.  The guy is in handcuffs.  He admits to jumping on the car.  The girl somehow shows up, her three kids in tow.  Hubs says she doesn't look 20 years old.  She denies being on the car.  They both swear they were chased by a dog.  My car was the first thing they saw to get up on.  We neither saw nor heard a dog, and suspect they may have been altered.  But there's no way of knowing, and the police don't think charges can be pressed.
The next morning we view the specter of what seemed like a bad dream in bright summer light.  Unbelievable.  Appears as if someone went to town on my car with a kettenmorgenstern, aka military flail, fitted with an unspiked ball.  Add to that black fingerprint dust everywhere.  I go inside and wouldn't you know, a burgundy Taurus drives by.  It backs up, parks, and a guy walks up towards the Hubby.  It's the "vandal".  A heavy woman resembling Aunt Jemima in torn turquoise sweats gets out of the car and joins the conversation.  The guy apologizes profusely to the Hubby, says he can't believe he "did all that" to the car and didn't mean to do it.  He offers to cut the grass, or do anything around the house as restitution (there are gardeners that maintain the entire neighborhood).  They told Hubby the dog was found, its owners admitted it had gotten out, but we're still skeptical as we neither saw nor heard it.  I'll just have to read the police report.  
Everyone, from friends to insurance adjuster to body shop estimator describes the whole thing as "Odd".  "Odd" cost me more trauma plus a deductible.  I just hope it won't be considered a total loss and it'll be repaired.  Ironically, we just paid it off a week ago.
Two days later, the cleaning service we hired to do the place we moved out of broke a window (and charged me extra for requesting window cleaning and for having an extra worker).  I actually think we wound up paying for that broken window but whatever, at least we're getting our whole deposit back.  (I'll believe it when I see it)
If that's not enough, turns out one of our cats had an abscess.  It ruptured in a projectile of pink liquid, two days after the car incident.  She had to be hospitalized.  I left the clinic, went to check on the housecleaners and discovered the window break and the bait-and-switch (I'll post a rating to Yelp as soon as I get the deposit check!).  Boy, I needed a drink in a major way.
Did I mention Hubby's epic dishwasher/garbage disposal installation while this was all happening (our cabinets are steel and the plumbing is from the 50's so not set up for a dishwasher)?  Or the epic search for a new bed, because the hubby finally feels the pain from our current bed (it isn't that old and wasn't cheap, and I've hated it since day one), which is parked in the guest bedroom?  Did I say I have to do lung-function tests, get a chest x-ray, and see a pulmonologist because I can't breathe?  I need a drink and an inhaler.
It ain't over, but I'm being optimistic.  I see the pulmonologist tomorrow.  I'll have to tell him I walked a moderately hilly 3 miles the other day and didn't get winded more than usual.  But my knees and hips are killing me!
The To Do list is so long, not including unpacking stuff.  I'm very tired.  I just want to sit somewhere and read books for awhile.  I need a vacation…

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Home Sweet Home

Burly movers who managed to move most of the big stuff, after we already moved a 6×12' trailer full of boxes.  Check.

2 Cats, stressed by all the commotion and relocation.  Check.

Really fast internet.  Check.
Satellite TV with a few trimmings.  Check.
Micro-cell signal booster, because Alameda island is a dead zone.  Check.
A new bed.  Maybe tomorrow.
Giant cardboard pile ready for the dumpster because WE'RE NOT MOVING ANYMORE.  Check.
Complete exhaustion.  Check.
Move not quite finished, but I can crash on the couch and enjoy the peaceful view out the windows.
Feels like home 😉

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4-year Anniversary lunch

At Whole Foods, after oncology appointment. Mac-n-cheese, escarole,
apple, pistachio & currant salad, curried chicken salad, Kombucha. I
was hungry, and plans fell through with the Hubby! I didn't get to
the chicken salad, anyway.

It's criminal to have so many yummy-looking foods at exhorbitant
prices on display.

The place we're moving to is finally vacant so we're going to try to 
view it today. A peek in the windows last night confirmed what we 
expected. One more day after today!

Today is the anniversary of my diagnosis but I'm popping the bottle of 
champagne on Thursday, when we actually move stuff in. Then the 
movers finish the job on Friday, and we'll go bed-shopping.

So many, many blessings to be thankful for, and I thank the powers 
that be for every single one!

Sent from my iPhone

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1 a.m.

What am I doing up?  Watching Alton Brown cook asparagus, reading research abstracts and blogs, going through fashion magazines to see which ones I want to keep…Or maybe it was that Thai iced tea with dinner.

After reading Linnea's blog (which I hadn't visited for quite awhile), I came away with another wake up call to the huge divide between feeling "normal" when your meds work, and how things get bad fairly quickly when resistance sets in.  For some it's the appearance of fluid—I've had a pericardial and a pleural effusion, and the wheeziness I feel now is…what?  Interstitial lung disease?  "Inflammation" in the lower lobe of my left lung?  An effusion slowly creeping in? I'll find out next week, I guess.  But it's troublesome.  The inhalers aren't doing the trick.
The hubby gets home tomorrow.  I've been packing but mostly I feel like I've been taking the time to do this—read and write, go through stuff—rather than cook and clean, which seems to be what I do continuously when he's home.  Moving always comes with fights over "my stuff".  It's all my stuff, it seems—all the kitchen stuff—even though he hates eating out because of his constant travel.  He doesn't realize that his increasingly discriminating tastes and my health concerns has created the need for a kitchen that looks like the housewares section of a department store crossed with a Mormon storehouse.  The Slow Food movement is alive and well at my house.  Then there's furniture, books, decorative items, clothes…
Must be time to sleep, I'm getting cranky!

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Packing, schmaking…

Uggh.  Do we really have this much stuff?  It's all kitchen—jars of peaches from my parents' garden, roasted tomatoes from my garden, Moroccan preserved lemons from sister's garden…I need a big bomb shelter to store this stuff in—and I just need to use it up, give it away, etc.  Packing sucks 😦

So, ASCO (American Society of Clinical Oncologists) just concluded their annual meeting yesterday.  The big news as far as lung cancer goes was the new drug Crizotinib, which is dramatically effective for those with a previously little-known gene translocation (ELM4-ALK).  Pfizer is probably relieved, as they're losing patent protection for Lipitor this year and have to find something to mitigate that, even if the target market is about 5% of patients.  Unfortunately for me, I won't have that gene translocation, because I'm fairly certain to be EGFR-positive, and the two are mutually exclusive.  
Less in the news is another novel molecular therapy, ARQ 197, which is going into Phase III studies following positive outcomes in Phase II.  After the announcement at ASCO, the company's stock rose something like 300%.  Science, schmience…anymore it's a business venture.  I feel like curing cancer isn't the point, it's making money, which means they'll never find a cure.  But okay, I can cope with being chronic.  Just hurry up and give me 10 more years.
I haven't found much post-meeting news about the two drugs I'm most interested in—Tovok (BIBW 2992) and XL-184. Both are targeted therapies, the first being my best hope when resistance to Tarceva sets in, and the second can potentially prolong Tarceva's effectiveness.  I found this from a Canadian news agency pre-meeting, otherwise, not a whole lot.  I almost joined Twitter just to see if anyone tweeted about it.  I should be interested in the drug I was sent to consult about at UC Davis–Eribulin/Halichondrin B (the sea sponge drug)—which had good results against breast cancer.  I'm not seeing much splash with lung cancer data, hence the ambivalence.
Steve Betz's vacation posts in the eastern Sierra had me longing for my old stomping grounds (predating Jackson Hole!).  Happy, happy, hippie days.  Remember the "Save Mono Lake" bumper stickers?  I did one of those protest marches where hundreds of people brought bottles of water to pour back into the lake.  Ohhh, the hot dry years of the 80's.  When you summer in Yosemite and winter in Mammoth (slumming it, not jetsetting about), you get drawn into things like that.  Back then, June Lake wasn't surrounded by big, fancy houses, and Mammoth was still a bit skanky.  But Leucadia was just a flower grower's town then, too….
Ok, enough reminiscing.  Time to drink 3 more cups of Irish Breakfast (its frickin' freezing today, whatup, weather?) and whip stupid-heavy Pyrex dishes into boxes.
Scenes from moving:  Hubby cuts up bamboo couch I've had for 15 years because he doesn't like it/it's weathered from being outside and the cats are having a field day with bubble wrap and newsprint.

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Moving. Again.

We've officially passed through the gateway to summer (known as Memorial Day weekend) as the trashman hauls away the barbecued rib bones, shishkabob sticks, lemon seedbags, sod leftovers, and the detritus of DIY-ing.   We toasted our servicemen past and present.  On to more labor-intensive activities, namely Moving.

Yep, we're moving on.  Hurray!  Back to Alameda Point.  One has to wonder how I can be excited to move into old base housing which hasn't seen any meaningful renovation in 50 years, located in an area undergoing eternal environmental clean-up.  Well, liberation from crime, for one.  Liberation from a stupid landlord and from the oppression of a neighbor straight out of "Desperate Housewives", for a couple more reasons.  Need I go on?  It's by no means perfect nor anywhere near as nice as the prior house, and we haven't even seen the interior yet (I'm trusting my sister's judgment), but we have a basic idea of what it is and we just wanted to get back to the area.  Renting there has mirrored last year's unsuccessful house-buying experience.  Competition!  It's ridiculous!  I can't believe I had to muscle the rental agent over the phone while I was touring the Mayo Clinic!  We'd lost a couple of great houses by not being diligent/aggressive enough, so I decided to be confrontational, which I'm so against.  The current tenants have lived in the house for 14 years!  They both lost their jobs and the kids are grown and gone so they're downsizing.  I'm sad for them but what a grand relief to know we'll be in a better place in two weeks.
Meanwhile, the reality of packing has set in.  Blah 😦  I've discarded much over the past 7 moves (since Carlsbad, 2001), and lost quite a bit along the way (the Packrat Fairy must be tossing stuff when I'm not looking).  I'm torn over parting with the work wardrobe…suits, heels.  Seriously, it's been 4 years.  Just let it go.  I need to repeat this mantra over and over:  Just. Let. It. Go.  Right.
Sunnyvale Art & Wine Festival this weekend with friends, perhaps a parting walk at Lake Chabot, and some oysters at the Ferry Building.  All work and no play makes Jazz a dull girl.  
Finally, 15 June is the 4th anniversary of my diagnosis.  I'll have a private celebration once we're moved in.  I toast all who've been with me on this journey as often as I can, and this is certainly a milestone.  I carry you all in my heart to my new home. 

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