And Home Again

I'm pretty sure all cruises come standard with a complimentary take-home virus.

Unfortunately, mine turned out to be Covid.

Fortunately, it stayed in my right sinus. No cough, no fever, no sore throat, no loss of taste/smell. (The only reason I did the test was because I knew I'd been exposed on the trip, and had an appointment with the radiation team right after we got back. I wanted to make sure I wasn't sharing anything nasty with the people waiting in that room - they have enough on their plates.) 

This is the first time I have gotten Covid. I am so grateful I've had all the shots. I'm sure they are a large part of the reason I got off so lightly.

While the virus took just a few days to clear my system, I still isolated myself for the week. I wasn't feeling too bad, and so got a lot of things done around the house, albeit at a slower pace than I usually work.

I installed a new outlet and water descaler in the basement ceiling. I sure hope that thing lives up to its billing - I've had to replace the guts on one of my faucets twice in a decade because of scale buildup. 

I raked the lawn, put down (with Joe doing most of the work) some new dirt in a low patch, and reseeded.

And I got most of the windows washed.

Three weeks until my next surgery, which is going to have me down for the following six weeks. Which means ALL THE FALL THINGS need to be done before mid-October.

My inner nesting mama bird is quite happy with last week's restless isolation.

As I started radiation, I knew there was a good chance it was going to ruin my current implants. As advertised, it did. Last spring, as I was getting ready to start treatments, I met with a plastic surgeon about getting replacements - they need to replaced every 15-20 years anyhow. 

To my surprise, as we were talking about options, he very professionally leaned forward and palpated my belly fat, evaluating something. It was the oddest sensation. He leaned back with a satisfied grin, and told me I shouldn't get new implants; rather, I was a good candidate for DIEP flap surgery - the same surgery Kate had last spring (and is very happy with).

I am told the recovery process is two weeks of "what the h-e-double-toothpicks have I done???", followed by a long period of "that was a GREAT idea!"

It's a complicated surgery, will take 4-6 hours. It involves cutting out a section of fat, skin and blood vessels from my abdomen and migrating it northward to my chest. They somehow attach the lump, find blood vessels to feed it, and shape the tissue to become new breasts. (I dunno how they do it. Staplers, straws, and tape? Jello molds perhaps??)

While apprehensive about the six weeks I'll need to sit still and not lift more than 10 lbs, I am looking forward to the day I no longer have cold hard lumps where I once had breasts. I didn't admit to myself how much I disliked the tightness of the implants until not having them was an option. 

The new ones still won't have much sensation, but they will grow and shrink and move with me. No more Barbie boobs! I plan, once the surgery is healed, to get some sort of viney tattoo to cover all the scars. I am looking forward to the day when I can take off my shirt, look in the mirror, and not wince.

No small blessing, that.

Alaskan Beauty

My cruise adventure was not as trouble free as I would have hoped. 

The hard part was living with a clogged sewer vent in the bathroom of my stateroom. I reported it as soon as I arrived, but the ship was full, and I couldn't switch rooms. For obvious reasons, leaving the ship altogether was also not a feasible option. So, I sucked it up. 

The first two nights, my entire room had an odor of cleaning fluid covering eau de stench. *sigh* The next day, after they sent a plumber down to check on it, and he wasn't able to fix the issue, I requested and was given a fan to use. This made the situation bearable - moving air does wonders for bad smells. The fourth day, I wrote a letter to the guest services manager; they found and fixed the problem on day five. So, I had two good days, better than none. 

As unpleasant as the odor in my room was, I was DETERMINED not to let that one piece ruin my entire experience, and I didn't.

The food on the ship was plentiful and the quality ranged from good-enough to delicious. I ate more than my fair share of the fresh-cut melon which was served with almost every meal, but it turns out that not everyone feels the way I do about fresh fruit, so there was plenty for all. 

Someone on the ship was in good with the weather gods, because while it was supposed to be chilly and rainy each day we were in port, we instead had blue skies with temps in the lower sixties each afternoon. Perfect weather for being out and about, learning about Alaska.

I saw glaciers and waterfalls and four-month old bald eagles. I saw baby orcas and a raft of otters. I got out of the van on a mountaintop while we were on a photography adventure, and just stood there breathing the air for a timeless moment. It was brand new, smelled of pine trees and glacier water and fresh beginnings.

The sight of the shrinking glaciers was heartbreaking, but the new life springing up on the bare ground left by their retreat spoke to me of hope. We, people, haven't managed to completely ruin the earth just yet. 

I spent hours each day just watching the beauty - mile after mile of stunning wilderness unfolding as we steamed by on the ship. It doesn't seem possible that there are that many pristine forested hillsides in the world. After a while, it made me feel small, in a good way.

The trees haven't read the news, don't appear to care about political divisions. They just are. 

They spoke to me. All is well, all is well, and all manners of things shall be well. 

Stop. Breathe. Relax.

North to Alaska!

Back in March, the week before I found my latest lump, I had just put down a $100 deposit on a cruise to the Alaska Inside Passage with my sister and her husband. As I went through the initial rounds of tests and evaluations, I told one and all that I NEEDED to take this cruise. After all, I didn’t want to lose my deposit! Or something like that.

Lo and behold, as treatment progressed, it looked like the trip might be able to go forward despite all the things. Once I recovered from my initial surgery at the end of April, we worked with the travel agent to solidify our plans. I still held my breath just a little (and made sure I had good travel insurance), but was thrilled to find, as the launch date drew near, that I’d be able to go!

I was uncharacteristically nervous last week as I procrastinated yet another day on packing, but Saturday came and I had run no obstacles which would stop me from going, so I decided the Universe was probably going to let me make the trip, got out my suitcase and threw in some clothes.

The last few days have been beautiful. We flew into Seattle and met up with friends there to share food and see just a few of the sights. Yesterday, we took the train up to Vancouver - it follows the coastline, and we enjoyed watching the beauty unfold outside the windows. Safely in Canada, we got to the hotel to find our travel agent had done an amazing job. Our hotel here is both luxuriously lovely and right across the street from the dock.

We board in another hour or so; I’m beginning to think this trip might actually work. (I mean, I hate to jump to conclusions, but the signs are good…)

I am so grateful to be here. To be well enough to travel. To get to spend time with Julia and Ed. To, for the first time in too long, be able see new beautiful places. 

To Stop. Breathe. Relax.