Just another warm south Florida day

We decided it was time to explore the surrounding environs. We headed south to Ft. Meyers, found the historic downtown, but did not stop to walk the street, just drove through. I love the colors of south Florida and Ft. Meyers did not disappoint. Each store was a lovely pastel color. We saw a bit of the older residential area; lovely clapboard houses in those pastel colors with neat architectural additions. It is such a contrast to the surrounding countryside where every thing is flat and featureless for miles and then a brief oasis of manicured lawns, trees and shrubs... either a golf course or a subdivision or both. I can't help but wonder what it looked like before the Spanish, English, carpetbaggers, land developers, snow birds discovered it.

We returned to the park hoping that our next door neighbor hadn't slashed the tires of our little silver home on wheels. He hadn't. I think he realized we were not his kind of people, (thank God) and wasn't going to waste anymore time on us. Feeling the need to move around, we decided to investigate the park's "nature" trail. As you can see, not too much nature, but a good reason to hobble about with my cane and get some exercise.

I will close tonight with what I consider a funny story on the Six o'clock news. It seems that 4 men were arrested together in one of the local parks exposing themselves to passersby. They ranged in age from 60 to 75, which prompted Randy to quip, "what happened, did the horseshoe game get rained out." Randy has been fairly amazed at the advanced age of most of the inhabitants of the Gulf Coast. (Of course, we are not exactly spring chickens, ourselves, so I will have to keep track of that Randy, lest he join a group of "over the hill" exhibitionists.)

We are here... The Sun and Shade RV Park

Well, what can I say about this park... it was probably quite nice in the seventies. As you can see from the first photo, Randy was wrong, the drainage ditch is not the pool and there is even a sign reminding you of this fact. It may also be, given the average age of the residents of this park, that the signs are necessary in case of rapid onset Alzheimers and the inability to distinguish a drainage ditch from a man made pool. Actually, the pool is more than adequate and I seem to be one of the few who use it. I think I should buy some flip flops to wear in the shower, however.

The only down side to our site, which backs up to some sort of giant wild horse tail weeds, (The manager said they would cut them down, but it makes for a great privacy screen, so he didn't really see any need.) is that we may be living next to Charlie Manson. His name is Dominick (or so he says) he was pretty high when he wandered over to introduce himself. He seems a bit crazy and certainly did not endear himself to me when he was describing the woman across the street as heavyset and than added "just like you miss Jackie". WTH, the man is either crazy, stoned or just plain stupid. What man in this day and age doesn't know not to comment on a woman's weight. I made a beeline for the trailer leaving Randy to contend with "Charles" and his ramblings about "coloreds", gays, Hispanics... Lord help us. I think we will be doing a lot of sightseeing.

I am sure we can keep him at bay once we plaster the airstream with Obama, gay pride,and peace stickers... oh, and large photos of Keith Oberman and Rachel Maddow just in case he is a Glenn Beck fan.

Randy has his BB gun in his sleeping bag.

Dr. says the chemo is working and we are off to Florida

Randy and I have fired up the old Airstream and we are on the road again... this time to the Gulf Coast of Florida; a town called Punta Gorda. We spent the first night in south Georgia in an RV park next to a Waffle House. Having recently joined Weight Watchers, (for the 250th time) I was excited to see that the Waffle House had a "light menu". I asked for the "light ham biscuit". It was made with Canadian Bacon, a good Weight Watcher choice. However... biscuits are never a good choice and this one was slathered with butter and put on the grill...yum! Well, there will be plenty of time to count those points. When I returned, Randy had the trailer ready to roll. I jumped into the cab, a light ham biscuit in each hand, (just in case Randy wanted one) and we were on our way to Florida. We got the thumbs up from an Easy Rider on a Harley when he saw our vintage Airstream with its very cool solar panels... this even got a smile out of Randy. The good feeling didn't last long, however, as the trailer started some gentle (my word) bucking because the vintage trailer brakes were acting up... my handy Randy man pulled off the highway and worked his magic (with just a few disparaging remarks about my baby) and we were rolling again. Just a few more hours and we will be the newest and possibly the youngest campers at the Sun and Shade RV Park. I found this park online... a real bargain at $17.00 dollars a day. It even has a heated pool. (Randy says for that price it is probably a sink hole with 'gators in it.) I think it will be great and if it isn't, more fodder for the Blog.

I think the name of this blog should be The Pink Safari?

After 2 years of living with the very doable "bone only" metastatic breast cancer DX. (diagnosis) I have joined the ranks of those inflicted with the much more scary "ORGAN METASTASES". I will now look back on years 1 and 2 of the Pink Safari, as a gift. I do, however, have a great new oncologist, one Dr. L. Emens at Johns Hopkins. She looked at my latest scans, liver tumors, new and better bone tumors, and even tumors in a place I did not know humans had... The Omentum, and said with a big smile, "we can shrink these things and put you back on hormonal drugs and you can PARTICIPATE in my Vaccine trial". (The reason I met her in the first place was to participate in her trial.) So, per her advise, I have started my first chemo drug... an oral form of chemo that is actually supposed to pack quite a punch. It has several SEs, (side effects) the most serious, Hand and Foot Syndrome. A lovely affliction that can leave you with cracked and bleeding hands and feet. This nastiness can be controlled by ice baths and many slatherings of Bag Balm. I take this disease very seriously and apply BB all day to my hands and feet. Because we own a super shedding dog, and I am not into house cleaning, I am beginning to look like a hobbit with dirty, fuzzy feet and hands. (I already resembled a hobbit in stature.) A small price to pay to keep my hands and feet healthy, albeit a bit on the gross side.

Chateaugay Lake family reunion

I have been hiding out in the Adirondacks of Northern New York for the last month, staying in my great-grandparent's home on Chateaugay Lake. We have been lucky enough to hold on to this great old house for several generations. Until last week, I had been by myself with only my accordian for company. (no TV or radio) I told Randy I was going to practice the aforementioned accordian sitting on the dock and he was quick to tell me that I had better hope there were no snipers on Lower Chateaugay Lake. (very funny, Randy). Actually, I have been catching up on my reading and spending time with old friends. (And practicing my accordian inside.)

Family and friends arrived last week for the annual Hoy-Kroeger reunion. The weather has been great and we took advantage of one sunny, hot day to swim across the lake. Some of us actually made it over and back. (a mile) A couple of us, yours trully included, resorted to been towed over holding onto an inner-tube. I swam the last 30 feet to join the others who were sitting on a large, slippery, submerged rock. Those of us over 21 were going to celebrate with Margaritas, but discovered, much to our chagrin, that sister Kath had left them in her freezer at home. Nothing left to do but swim or be towed home and celebrate with sister Barb's wine club offerings. (She thought she had cancelled her subscription to several of the clubs, but was pleasantly surprised when bottles of wine kept arriving at her door.) The day ended with the annual party celebrating mom's and cousin Jeff's birthdays.

Time for a second opinion...off to Dana Farber

I got the results of march's tumor marker test and it was now 109. This is high for me. I talked to the nurse at the oncologist's office and she said the doctor was not that concerned and would see me in May. I explained about a new pain under my ribs and it did not seem to make a difference. I got off the phone and pushed the panic bottom. I also spent a day with my head under the covers in an all day depression. Randy periodically checked on me and tried to be sympathetic and encouraging. I so rarely let myself feel scared or depressed, but today I needed to wallow in self pity.

Time for a second opinion. I have an appointment at the Dana Farber Cancer Center on April 7th. My girls are going with me. Dana Farber has a wonderful reputation and just the act of making an appointment with one of their oncologists gives me hope. I have great respect for my local oncologist, but I think it is important to go to one of the major cancer centers to cover all your treatment basics.

Not quite so panicky.

We are home, but I am going to continue writing.

I had such fun keeping the trip blog, that my friend Lynne suggested I keep writing. I was considering keeping a journal and I think this will be a good way to do it. I hope to be around for many years, but if not, this will be a way for my children and grandchildren (?) to remember me, and in the case of any grandchildren I may have, get to know me.

This damn disease is so maddening. In January my tumor marker had gone out of the normal range for the first time in over a year. My new oncologist said that it might not mean anything, but we would run monthly tests, and if it continued to climb, well... we would address it when, or if it happened. I had blood work done before the trip and purposefully did not ask for the results... I didn't want anything to take away from my enjoyment of our western excursion. Unfortunately, the marker had gone up 23 more points. I had another test last week and now the waiting, the horrible, horrible waiting. If it rises again, it will be time to try a new therapy and pray like hell that this one will work. The most difficult thing about having a terminal disease is that you have to fight daily not to let the disease define you. I tell myself not to burden my friends and family with my fears, but sometimes it is hard to stop myself. I am so lucky I have such wonderful people around me who continue to listen.

I promise this journal won't always be so depressing, but my interpretation of keeping a journal is about recording feelings as well as daily observations.

The dog has already gone up to bed, and I should, too.

Good night from Abingdon.