Day #3-1/2 - The Kindness of Friends and Neighbors

O.K. So I have to admit up front that I'm probably going to be a slacker blogger. Last night after getting home from the hospital -- and I was very tired -- it was "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince" or blog, and Harry won--although I only made it half way through the movie.

So about that snow I was talking about. Well it just kept on through the night dumping multiple inches. When I took the dogs out they were up to their necks, which delighted Moe who just starting spring ing through the air instead of walking,

and was o.k. with Sophie too who now was able to walk in the trail he was blazing. Shoveling out the car, however was a little daunting, with about three feet of snow all around it.

For a moment I had a sense of panic that I wouldn't be able to get to the hospital, so I charged out there with broom and shovel and started going at it. About ten minutes in I was joined by my neighbor Kevin with his broom and shovel, and we worked at it together for about a half

hour until we were at least able to see the wheels. He said to me "You go in and have a cup of tea, and get ready to go, I'll finish this." So I did. And emerged an hour later to find my totally clean car moved to the other side of the road waiting for me. . .

Meanwhile, Zeke called. His lovely wife Karen, my friend and co-conspirator in acts of novelistic indulgence, had baked brownies for Andrew. Now I have to tell you that Karen brownies are not normal brownies. Karen's brownies are acts of love and caring in and of them selves. Made from scratch with REAL chocolate, each bite just puts you in a state of bliss and the minute they reach your line of vision they make you drool. Perfect for the man who has been starved for two days because of pre-op and post-op rules! Zeke tells me he will walk them through the snow to make sure that I have them and not get stuck on their street.

In my clean car with brownies in hand, I finally make it to the hospital. "He's sleepy today," the nurse whispered to me as I walked in the room. More than sleepy, he was out cold and didn't even hear me. So I just sat down and watched him sleep for a while. Now my friends with children have all mentioned to me the wonder of watching their kids sleep --- well, now i think I get it. Its a very peaceful experience to watch that rise and fall of a loved one's chest in a contented and oblivious-to-the-world sleep. It sure does make everything seem o.k. . . I was tempted to take photo for the blog but I knew he'd kill me.

When he woke up he was in good spirits but struggling a a queasy stomach because he hadn't eaten in more than 24 hours. The staff was totally doting on him (They have all obviously fallen for the accent) and checking on him all the time, adjusting medicines to try to make him feel better. In typical Andrew fashion, he could tell me that the night nurse has three children

ages 8, 10 and 14, and that she was his favorite because she didn't wake him up. 3 p.m. was the magic hour that he would be able to eat again, and he said his main man, Jeremy, the day nurse was scheduled to whip him up something as soon as the clock ticked over. I left him to sleep it off.

Later when I came back that evening he was much more perky and talkative. "Did you eat?" I asked. "Yes, some fish that's never seen the sea and some potatoes that have never seen the earth." I thought at first that this was a drug induced existentialist statement, but then realized he was just commenting on the quality of the food. "I'm eating everything they give me" he explained (whether he likes it or not -- a good thing). Left him at about nine contently watching the Olympics. I asked him if he wanted company tomorrow, i.e. other visitors.

He thought for awhile and said "No, I just want to sleep. They don't give you enough time to sleep around here." So there's the word on that.

When I came home to check on the dogs between visits, I could see that the snow shoveling

fairy had obviously been around. This time I recognized the work of my other neighbor Joseph, the ex-Marine. The military precision of the edges was amazing, and not a drop of snow on all my steps, sidewalks and paths, front and back of the house. A work of art! And I was so grateful! As I walked up the stairs my neighbor Matt across the street came out to yell over, "Just let us know if we can help you. We can take care of your dogs for you." Found soup on my doorstep from my other neighbor Barre. Like manna from heaven compared to the diet of cold cereal and hospital food of the past few days. . . All this kindness is almost overwhelming. . .Sam and Jenny taking care of my dogs; Ann exhausted still finding time to visit; Suzanne and Tracey protecting me and warding off the masses so they don't bug me; Denise's texts, Carla's calls, postcards, and massage gift certificates! The tons of emails, and phone calls from friends, students, ex-students, and colleagues all over the place! I thank you all!!!

I've been telling my students in my art history lectures for years that it is our ability to rationalize that historically distinguishes us as human beings, but I believe now that that is far surpassed by our ability to be kind. . . this is truly what makes us special. ..

So, I leave for now (since Moe is begging me for his walk) with the work of the soon-to-be famous artist Max Wysocki (age 5)and his marvelous double portrait "Andrew and Lucinda, holding hands about to go down a slide. in the sunshine." --- a most accurate portrayal of where we are.

Day #2 - Telling stories. . .

Day #2 started with snow. . .and snow. . .and snow and more snow. Syracuse University actually cancelled classes in the afternoon which says a lot, although its didn't seem that bad. Walked the dogs through the winter wonderland and then headed to the office to take care of a little business or at least pretend I was working.

When I finally arrived at the hospital around 1:30 I found an empty bed

with a note that said "Gone hiking, be back soon."

The nurses filled me in that he was in surgery having his chemo port put into his chest and his feeding tube put in the belly. (Just in case the snack kitchen does lose its appeal).

I hunkered down in the the sofa to wait -- drinking coffee, grading a few design history exams, and having a great e-chat with my brother in law in Sweden. About an hour later they wheeled

him in as he traded jokes with the two nurses. He was chipper but in a bit of pain from the surgery, so they administered a little morphine, which cut it and put him in the mode of telling me stories in a soft voice that I found very gentle and soothing.

I heard in detail about his day which include tales of his first radiation treatment, with the groovy mask, find ing out that this radiation doctor was a singer in a professional choral group; detailed descriptions of them shoving some kind of tube down his nose and his surgery that happened only under local anesthetic so he could hear the blow by blow ( and still enjoy telling the story), but best of all he relayed to me in details of a letter he wrote to an old classmate of his in Leeds who had authored a story about one his favorite teachers Patrick Oliver who had just died. I heard his letter line by line about this man he so loved and revered -- a guy who at their first meeting he believed to be a janitor (not his portfolio reviewer) because he was so dirty and straggly and pushing a broom in the studio -- who then shocked him when he sat down to start discussing his work with him. It was lovely to hear the stories of this man who feed him doses of passion for art, philosophy, Flan O'Brien and long nights drinking in the pub; who so obviously shaped my husband in so many ways. Andrew can tell a good story and I love listening to them, especially those about his days in art school at Cardiff and Leeds. I so wished I had a tape recorder.

We spent an hour or so in this special place of his memories and then I had to leave him to go take care of the dogs and let him sleep. It was hard to go with him all hooked up with the chemo bag dripping, but he was peaceful and smiling as his eyes drooped and he fell into a nice snooze.

And it still is snowing. . .

Day #1

We got the phone call around 11:30 that Andrew's room at the Upstate Hospital Hilton would be ready at 12:30. Really --- when we got to the room we thought we were in a resort. Brand new room to himself with all kinds of good stuff. The weighing, and measuring, testing and questioning began. Andrew's eyes got wide when our lovely nurse Kristen, showed him the pantry down the hall with all the goodies for anytime snacking -- ice cream, yogurt, juice cereal, pudding. One of the key objectives in this course of treatment is to keep you eating. ..

By 4:30 they had him settled in and hooked up to his first IV with fluids to "get the kidneys" going in preparation for chemo and strict orders to ring every time he peed so they could measure the amount.

(Sounds like there was a lot of peeing going on last night, all night long)

I left him to go feed and walk the dogs. When I arrived home our sweet girl dog Sophie was acting weird and didn't want to go walking. A quick inspection revealed she had ripped a golf ball size piece of fur out of her neck and it was raw and bleeding. Piled both dogs in the car (1-1/2 year old honey lab, Moe, and 10 year old Sophie) and head to the vet for a quick look-see. Turns out that cousin Georgies's dog Lucy HAD made contact in the little brouhaha they had at my father's house over the weekend and Soph had a gruesome puncture wound at the site that was filled in with hair so I couldn't see it. OUCH!!!

OK. So walk and administer drugs to dogs, leave them both, hoping that injured dog won't scratch her wound and healthy dog won't piss her off by licking it, and run back to hospital to check on the patient. Patient is now comfy in the PJs and expessing the correct attitude for the first round of chemo. . .

which arrived at approximately 11:30 that evening, thus starting the 96 hour marathon. Left him watching the Olympics, extremely disappointed that the hospital does not provide Fox Soccer Channel, with strict instructions to tape the UEFA cup soccer match that evening.

Thus ends Day #1.

The Backstory

Some time in December, Andrew finally got sick of a persistent cough that had been nagging him since October and went to the doctors. (If you all remember him as the guy who walked around for two weeks with a severed Achilles tendon, you are probably thinking "Wow, that was quick!"). Doctor #1 sent him to Doctor#2 who did an upper GI, which revealed an "anomaly" in esophagus. Doctor #3 did an endoscopy (scope of the esophagus) and biopsy. . . we waited. Finally, on Christmas Eve as we were driving back to my Dad's from the Sol Lewitt show at Mass MOCA (nice day, nice show), the phone call came. The "anomaly" was cancer located in the upper third of the esophagus, and in typical Andrew fashion, a weird one, the kind that only old men should get. The doctor asked "Did you ever drink lye when you were a kid?" The primary school menu is a little different in England, but he was able to conclusively say that he hadn't recalled doing that.

Since it seems like we just got through his last cancer (prostate, 2004), we were pretty pissed off. But we got our heads around it and proceeded to take the next logical step in a path toward recovery --Said "screw this" and went off to Mexico for a week on the beach. A very good choice!!! While we were traveling we got news that Andrew's PET scan (the scope that looks for cancer elsewhere in the body) revealed that it appeared that no wayward cells had found their way to any other parts. Good news!!

When we got back we went to Doctor #4 - hotshot super specialist in Rochester NY. Three trips to Rochester and two more endoscopies later it was decided that surgery would not be an option as it probably would have involved removing the voice box and other parts. Could definitely not let go of that English accent and since studies show they chances are just as good without surgery we agreed with this opinion.

This brings us to Doctor #5 and #6 our oncology and radiation guys. We fell in love with Doctor #5 (the oncologist) on our first visit to him. Finally someone who really listened and made us feel like he was really looking out for us! He took one look at Andrew and said "Well you are big, strong and healthy and I'm not going to cut you any slack!" The radiation guy (the doctor who put the rad in radiation) was equally accessible, cheerful, and ready to do business! They put their heads together and came up with the course of treatment: In the hospital for 96 hours straight of chemotherapy, radiation every day for 6-7 weeks, and a second course of 96 hours of chemo in the 4th or 5th week. This all happening at Upstate University Medical Center, folks known for doing a good job with cancer and only a mile from our house. . .

Yesterday was Day 1 of this journey. I will try to give you updates as often as I can. . .

Love to all

Lucinda