Category: Lifestyle

Good evening. Thanks for sticking with me. The general update is that I’m holding my own, but between you and me, some days it ain’t easy.

I have created a special deck of cards. One side of the cards is blank, and the other side says “Cancer.” So now, whenever I can’t get something done, or can’t show up somewhere, I deal one out. That is, I play the cancer card – literally!

I’m thinking everyone should have a deck. It could say things like “Chronic back pain – can you pick that up?” or “Arthritis,” “C.R.S.,” “I’m ridiculously overbooked,” “Going through a difficult breakup,” “Get off my lawn.”

This could be big.

Beelzebub is more or less living up to his name. He is a pain, but on most days a manageable one. I appreciate your thoughts and prayers standing between me and his worst. I am often able to work and play, and that’s a gift.

SKIP THIS PARAGRAPH – DEFINITELY TMI. One of the current side effects is mucositis. When the medical team mentioned that possibility, my first thought was: “Pft! What’s a little extra spit?” It turns out, however, that the name does not refer to mucous, but rather to the highly sensitive mucosa membranes in the mouth. My mouth and tongue are sprinkled with about a trillion ulcers. Oral lidocaine and soup are my new best friends – except that I have to eat the soup cold, because heat makes the sores worse. You should try cold coffee. It’s pretty good. Well, that’s not true, but it definitely beats no coffee at all.

Life is good, though. The thought of getting more of it makes Beelzebub seem like Bambi. The joy of my life right now – apart from having another day with the redhead – is seeing and hearing from so many people I love and admire. Thank you.

Next up: Chemo with a side of Beelzebub tomorrow afternoon. Happy Halloween! Our hearts go out to those affected by the tornadoes in Dallas. Much, much love . . . Liza

Generally speaking, I’m proudly shallow. Whenever I’m in danger of having a deep thought, I tend to pick up a People magazine or watch a British sitcom until it goes away. But something has emerged that I would like to share. WARNING: It concerns death and dying, so read further at your own risk, and preferably over a cocktail.

What a gift it is to have advance notice that one’s life is approaching its end.

I know we are all aware that none of us is getting out of this alive. And we try to live our lives in daily appreciation of that fact. But to be given an irrefutable heads-up that death is on the horizon? With months of time still (with luck) to live and love and say goodbyes? With basic health and energy to get stuff done? I’m telling you, it’s an out-and-out blessing. To say that I’m grateful for this time is to say that the taste of a dark chocolate truffle paired with a Barossa Valley Shiraz is merely mediocre.

Of course, I’m doing everything in my power to stay alive as long as I can. And I will continue to share way too much information about the process. But if you see me laughing and wonder whether it’s denial, or possibly a break with reality – no. It’s just plain old happiness. Or maybe it’s that the redhead has said something ridiculous. But whatever.

As for moving forward with treatment, we have chosen Option #4. Chemo has begun and will happen about every two weeks. So saddle up, and thank you for being here. All is well.

All is well and on track. Apart from chemo fatigue, I have no complaints. Well, I do feel that Glenn Close was robbed at the Oscars, but no complaints other than that.

Back in September, after the first six weeks of dense-dose chemo, my immune system pretty much packed it in. Since then, a germ so innocuous that a healthy person might not even notice it could send me to the hospital for a few sun-soaked days of intravenous antibiotics. Not to be a drama queen about it, but there it is.

So for five months – on doctors’ orders and because sepsis scares the heck out of me – I have been in “boy in the bubble” mode. Only on a handful of occasions have I gone rogue and seen anyone other than my medical team and the redhead. Living on a sailboat for six years prepared me nicely for this degree of isolation, but . . .

Without the virtual contact I have enjoyed with all of you here, I would certainly have lost my mind a long time ago. So in addition to everything else, thank you for saving my sanity, which, of course, my family and oldest friends would argue has been unsalvageable for decades. But be that as it may, I owe you big-time.

Tomorrow morning is double-dose chemo, along with the next lab test for the CA-125 cancer marker. Still aiming for lucky #7! Have a great week.

I woke up this morning to the bliss of being comfortable. Warm and cozy. Good night’s sleep. No pain anywhere. I lay there for a while and just soaked it up. Total bliss.

I should report that another blood clot happened. This time it was in my arm and not serious. Well, it was just serious enough for the redhead to hustle me down to the ER, where we spent most of the night “under observation,” until after looking at the ultrasound, he agreed I could sneak out the back door. The people-watching there is fantastic. One guy walked in with a butcher knife halfway buried through his track pants and into his thigh. I couldn’t decide whether it was an assault or an unfortunate mise-en-place incident.

Book Update: Thank you very much for reading my book. I’m amazed and joyful on a daily basis that you are laughing at and thinking about words I have written. In particularly astounding news, “A Voyage of Heart and Song” is being ranked from time to time in Amazon’s top 100 adventure travel books. This is SO MUCH FUN. What a hoot. I feel awkward asking this, and I deeply apologize if it’s an intrusion, but if you have read and enjoyed the book, would you consider posting a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or Barnes & Noble? Thank you to everyone who has done so already.

I’m off to chemo in a few minutes. Single-dose, piece o’ cake.

Have a great weekend! And Happy Super Bowl, assuming you are not supporting the Patriots.

All is well. I hope you are loving your holiday preparations, and that nobody is stressing at all – hah! I am happy to report that I have been given a week off from chemo, which will resume Friday the 28th.

Also, I now have an official release date for my book: A Voyage of Heart and Song. It will be available January 14th.

For anyone who is so inclined, the book is available for pre-order now online at Amazon (https://www.amazon.com/Voyage-Heart-Son…/…/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_2…) and at Barnes & Noble (https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1130020711…).

Here is the back cover blurb:
“Take time in the middle of life for your dreams. That is the message of this lighthearted true story of a Dallas couple who, in mid-career, sold their house and cars, bought a boat, and sailed around the world. Author Liza Farrow-Gillespie tells of pirates, storms, sharks, cannibals, and – scariest of all – 24/7 exposure to her husband’s sense of humor. She also relates the joy and personal growth that can come from a zig and a zag along the path of life.”

I wish each and every one of you a joyous Christmas and a wonderful New Year!

I am feeling a lot like a cat. I’m not supposed to bend over, post-surgically, so whenever I knock something off onto the floor, I just kind of look down at it for a second and walk away. Whenever I pass a cozy spot, all I can think is “ooooh, time for a nap.” If I start feeling an urge to jump up on the Christmas tree and knock it over, I promise I’ll seek therapy.

Part III on the road to remission is in full swing. The current schedule calls for nine more weeks of weekly chemo, the same as before, including three double-dose sessions. It’s going to be over before I know it, and I’m still way behind on my thank-you notes.

I have some good news, though. When I was first diagnosed, one of the many thoughts and emotions that slammed into me was fear that I would not be given time to finish the book I was writing. The redhead and I spent six years (1998-2004) living on a sailboat and sailing around the world, and the book is about that experience. Well, there’s nothing like having a deadline! I have been working on the book every day that I have been reasonably able, and last night I uploaded the completed manuscript to Amazon for self-publication. It will be a month or so before it comes out, but my part is done, wrapped up, completed, concluded, finalized, finito, and in the can. I rested easier last night than I have in many months. No matter what happens, the redhead will have something to read and remember.

Hope your holiday plans are coming along nicely. Thank you so much for being here. Have a wonderful week!

Rough week. For a while, it looked as if I would get slapped back into the hospital to treat an infection. Even worse, I have had to admit an awful truth: I am a slow learner.

The pendulum has swung something like this . . .

Day 1 – Wow! I feel great! I can jump up and Get Stuff Done.

Day 2 – Ack. I feel terrible. I barely have the energy to lie on the couch all day without moving.

Day 3 – Wow! That rest day did the trick. I feel great! I can jump up and Get Stuff Done.

Day 4 – Ack. I feel terrible. I barely have the energy to lie on the couch all day without moving.

Day 5 – Wow! That rest day did the trick. I feel great! I can jump up and Get Stuff Done.

Day 6 – (well, you get the picture).

Today’s plan is entitled “Moderation.” We’ll see.

Chemo is scheduled to resume on Tuesday. And with regard to today’s Big 12 championship, I will say a hearty “hook ‘em.”

Love to all, and have a great weekend.

Great news: Alan reports that he just got Liza home from the hospital!!

Update from Alan: Liza made incredible progress over the weekend.  Walked the length of the hallway, eating solid food, and hopefully discharged fairly soon. Wonderful news!!!!

Liza is stable and doing better than expected. Very fatigued, but that is normal under the circumstances.

I am happy to report that I have nothing to report.

Have a great weekend!

As I sit here sipping a cocktail of Ensure on the rocks (with a sprig of mint), I am mindful that some of you are cancer survivors or currently in treatment, or are primary caregivers. If you feel comfortable sharing in the comments [on the Facebook page], I would love to hear about it – including any advice.

This week was a double-dose, take-it-easy kind of week. I had plenty of time to work on my napping skills, which are coming along nicely.

Have a safe and wonderful holiday weekend! All is well.

In preparation for inevitable billiard-baldness, I decided to get my hair cut, so there won’t be long straggly strands of hair everywhere when it does start falling out.  Many thanks to Brannon at Matthew Tully Salon for working me in on short notice.  For some reason, getting a “chemo cut” (and it’s the shortest my hair has been since I was about 10) makes me feel strong and ready for action.