Chapter 13: Chemo Ends

Hope.

____________________


From: Laura
Sent: Saturday, June 30, 2007 2:15 PM
To: Jennifer
Subject: Emma went to camp

Hi Jen. Today we took Emma to the bus to go to her sleepaway camp, which is called Mountainview in upstate New York. When she was younger, and went to day camp, they had a one-week optional trip to Mountainview, and she loved it. She started going there the summer after that; this will be her fourth summer there.

The bus leaves from 5th Avenue on the Upper East Side. Because they’re only allowed to bring two small bags on the bus, we have to ship most of her stuff in advance. It’s funny—there’s a weekend in early June where every kid in the building seems to be sending their bags to camp—the lobby is littered with duffel bags, suitcases, and trunks, ready for pick-up by the various camp trucking services. So we had sent most of Emma’s things already, but there were still a few items she packed at the last minute.

Dropping her off is always bittersweet. She loves her camp friends and has always had a terrific time at camp, but it’s hard to say goodbye, especially since they don’t allow the kids to have cell phones or Internet access. We can email her letters, and the camp prints them out and delivers them to the kids during “mail time,” which is every day after lunch. We’re allowed two phone calls and one visit.

We always have to get to the bus about an hour early, to help her load up her luggage and to touch base with her counselors. It’s great to see how happy Emma is to reunite with her friends, and how delighted they are to see her. After the luggage is loaded and the kids take their seats, everybody waves and the bus takes off. I’ll write to her. And by the time she gets home, my chemo will be done.

Love
Laura

____________________


From: Laura
Sent: Sunday, July 1 2007 10:00 AM
To: Emma
Subject: Camp

Dearest Emma,

It's Sunday morning at 9:30 am. I can't believe you've only been gone one day! It feels like longer. We got the "safe arrival" phone call from camp late yesterday afternoon, so I know you're OK. Did you have your swim test? If so, what was the effect of the chlorine on your beautiful washed and blown-dry hair?
The rest of the day after dropping you off was uneventful. Dad took me home and then he went to work. I went out to drop off clothes at the dry cleaners and then to the Vinegar Factory to get some fruit—we were out of plums. I came home and tried to nap, but couldn't. After a couple of hours, Dad came home and fell asleep on the couch in the living room, reading. Nate went out and I went up to the pool around 5 pm. I swam laps for 40 minutes and then came downstairs. Dad had already woken up. I took a shower and got dressed for dinner—the sleeveless black dress with a silver sparkly jacket from Eileen Fisher that I haven’t worn yet, with my favorite hat (the Butterfly—mauve crown with muted gold silk bow). We took a cab and picked up the Sterns to go out to dinner.

The restaurant we went to was one we'd been to before, called Knickerbockers. The food was delicious. I had sole and Dad had a T-bone steak, and they had the best onion rings I had ever tasted. Dad, John, and Hannah shared a chocolate souffle for dessert. Hannah was wearing the elegant gold jacket that was part of the suit she wore at Sarah’s graduation, with jeans. It was a great combination. We had fun with them. Sarah already left for camp; Lisa is still around, but will be going to softball camp for a week and then to be a counselor at her old camp for about a month. After dinner, a trio played jazz; the pianist is someone John and Hannah know, who played at both girls' Bat Mitzvahs.

I'm going to take it easy today. I'll take a walk and go to the pool to cool off. I'll read in the air conditioning, and then maybe do one of my favorite things — napping!

I love you very much, Emma. I can't wait to hear about camp, your bunkmates, your counselors, and what you're doing. Where is your bed? Did you set it up with the soft blanket and pillow?

Much love
Sun Moon Stars
Mom

____________________


From: Laura
Sent: Tuesday, July 3, 2007 6:11 am
To: Emma
Subject: This and that

Dearest Emma,

On Sunday, I hung around most of the day, working on the computer and reading the paper. Then in the afternoon I went for a walk by the river, and then a swim. Since Sunday was July 1, the pool is now open until 8 every night, and 9 on Wednesdays. When I came back to the apartment, Dad had been giving Nate a cooking lesson. They covered some important ground—meat and potatoes. Dad showed Nate how to make a steak, which came out delicious, but Nate said really Dad made it. The good news is, no matter what becomes of Nate’s cooking skills, he will always be able to order out.

Yesterday was a good day at work. It was quiet—when July 4 falls on Wednesday, some people take off Monday & Tuesday, and others take off Thursday & Friday, so it ends up being quiet for the whole week. I’m off tomorrow for the 4th of July. We’ll probably sleep late and go to the pool.

I hope you’re having a fantastic time at camp. I can’t wait to hear the stories. I love you always.

Love
Sun Moon Stars
Mom

____________________


From: Laura
Sent: Wednesday, July 4, 2007 11:02 AM
To: Emma
Subject: 4th of July

Dearest Emma,

Happy 4th of July!

Today looks light for all of us. No work, and Nate is still sleeping. Dad is writing to you now on his laptop. We may go see the Michael Moore movie “Sicko” later. They had a sign up in the elevator for the fireworks on the roof, which was odd because with the new building next door you can’t really see the fireworks anymore. It’s gray today but not raining yet, so I may swim.

Emma, I only have 22 days (less than a month!) left before July 26, which is the date of my last chemo. I am so excited—I want to buy a big bunch of pink balloons and release them when it’s all finished.

Have a wonderful day today and every day at camp.

Love always
Sun Moon Stars
Mom

____________________


From: Laura
Sent: Sunday, July 8, 2007 6:14 AM
To: Emma
Subject: New Jersey

Dearest Emma,

Today is Sunday. The boys are still sleeping, but I’m awake.

Yesterday I had fun! My friend Cindy invited me and two friends of ours who we work with to her house in New Jersey. We met at 10:30 am at the Time Warner Building, and drove to New Jersey. We had each brought flowers. There was almost no traffic, so it only took about 20 minutes to drive there.

The house, which is in Fort Lee, NJ, has three floors. The lowest floor is this huge beautiful open common space, with a kitchen that has tiles like ours, and a family room that has a dining area. Then, on the second floor, there’s a sitting room, formal dining room, and 2nd kitchen. The third floor has three bedrooms and an office. There is a front yard and a gorgeous back area with an in-ground pool, table and chairs, and a fabulous garden, and it’s all surrounded by tall trees, so it was nice and cool and shady even though it was hot outside. The house is nicer than any place we’ve ever rented in Hilton Head! I asked Cindy if we could spend our vacations at her house. She laughed.

They had made such delicious food. Cindy’s significant other, Juan, made the most spectacular guacamole I have ever tasted, right in front of us. He explained what he was doing as he went along. It reminded me of the TV show where all these chefs audition to see who gets his/her own Food Network Show—Juan would have won, hands down! They also grilled chicken and made this delicious salad with orzo and vegetables. I felt like we were eating all day!

After lunch, we all jumped in the pool. We floated around and talked. That’s where I was when you called—I am so sorry that I missed your call! But I hear from Dad and Nate that you’re doing great. After 5 we came back to the city.

My friend Hilda gave me a terrific DVD called Mad Hot Ballroom, which is a documentary about a bunch of New York City public high school kids who learned ballroom dancing and participated in a dance competition. Dad and I watched it last night after I got home. You would love it—when you get home, we’ll watch it together.

I’m getting admitted to the hospital on Thursday of next week, which will hopefully be my last admission, and should be home by Monday. Dad will come to Visitors’ Day this Saturday without me because I’ll still be in the hospital. We got permission for both of us to come back to visit you at camp on Sunday 7/22.

How’d you get to be so beautiful?

Love
Sun Moon Stars
Mom

____________________


From: Laura
Sent: Thursday, July 12, 2007 3:38 PM
To: Emma
Subject: Last admission

Dearest Emma,

I just got to the hospital for my last admission! I have the same room that I had the first time I was admitted. When I logged onto AOL, your login came up—you must have been the last one to use it. This is the room that has the bulletin board where you arranged the pins to spell your name, remember? Well, the pins are still there, and they still say “Emma.” I love those signs of you; they make me feel like you’re here with me. I’m getting a late start on the chemo today, so I’ll probably get discharged on Monday.

It’s been incredibly hot for the last two days. Tuesday in particular was unbelievable. They had a picnic for lunch at my work but it was too hot for me to go! Today is a little cooler (finally). It rained last night, and I think that broke the heat.

This morning I took my walk on the boardwalk, and I went to the Vinegar Factory to get fruit for this admission. I got plums and cherries and nectarines and pluots and grapes. That should do for a few days. Dad will bring them when he brings my clothes later. And, of course, frozen yogurt.

There is a pile of bags in the hall of all the stuff Dad is going to bring you to camp on Visitors’ Day this Saturday. I know you guys will have a wonderful time.
I love you so much.

Much love
Sun Moon Stars
Mom

____________________


From: Laura
Sent: Thursday, July 12, 2007 2:41 PM
To: Cindy
Subject: Balloons

Hi Cindy. Can you remind me where you got the beautiful bouquet of pink balloons that you gave me for my birthday? I want to order some.

Thanks!

Love
Laura

____________________


From: Laura
Sent: Sunday, July 15, 2007 7:40 AM
To: Emma
Subject: Home today?

Dearest Emma,

It’s Sunday morning. I’ve been up since 5:30. I walked laps around the nursing station for an hour. They checked my pulse, temperature, and blood pressure, and they sent some blood tests to the lab. The one I care about the most is the methotrexate level—if it’s under 50, I get to go home today. I can’t believe that this may be my last admission—#5 of 5 admissions, and chemo #15 out of 16.

Q came to visit yesterday. She brought me the book On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan, and showed me some new digital photos of Nick and Ben. After Q left, Dad came. It was a little after 4. He said he had a wonderful time visiting you at camp. We watched a rerun of Monk on the hospital TV and took a nap together. Nate went out with his friends and I didn’t see him yesterday.

I finished the fabulous book I was reading: Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. It’s about a woman who goes through a bitter divorce and depression and then takes a three-part trip, to Italy (to discover the pleasures of the body—“eat”), India (to discover spiritual pleasures—“pray”), and Indonesia (to find the balance between the two—“love”). I loved it! When she goes to Italy, she describes all the delicious food she eats. She would get to a town and ask, “Where do you get the best food in this town?” And when she went to a restaurant, she would say, “Don’t bring me the menu—just bring me the best meal you can cook.” Her food descriptions make your mouth water. Definitely something you want to read near a stocked refrigerator or take-out menus. The story is genuine and the writing riveting.

I’ve just got 11 days left, Emma. And I’ll see you at camp a week from today, in seven days. I love you so much.

Love
Sun, Moon, Stars
Mom

____________________


From: Laura
Sent: Saturday, July 21, 2007 5:58 AM
To: Emma
Subject: Tomorrow

Dearest Emma,

It’s Saturday morning at almost 6 am, and I’m writing to you on my laptop. The boys are still asleep. It looks like another beautiful day. I have no plans for the day except resting.

Emma, I have five more days left until I’m done with chemo! And the countdown continues. I can’t wait until it’s over. I also can’t wait until I see you tomorrow—Dad and I are taking you out to a delicious lunch! And I’m going to give you a great big hug.

I love you very much.

Much love
Sun Moon Stars
Mom

____________________


From: Laura
Sent: Thursday, July 26, 2007 9:12 PM
To: Emma
Subject: Finale

Dearest Emma,

I’m DONE WITH CHEMO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The pre-celebration started yesterday. I ordered 2 dozen rainbow-colored balloons in various shapes (stars, hearts, etc.) and 1 dozen pink balloons, all made of Mylar instead of latex (because some people have allergies to latex) to be delivered to the hospital yesterday afternoon. I ordered them from the Balloon Salloon, which is where my work friends had ordered the balloons we got for my birthday just as I was beginning chemo. Great place—Tiffany, the balloon expert, was very helpful, and when you’re on hold you get to listen to a great song that goes “Let’s go sail away in my beautiful balloon,” which I have loved since I was a kid.

For an extra 50 cents per balloon, you can get a special treatment that makes the balloons stay on the ceiling for a week instead of a day. When I told them I’m getting the balloons to celebrate the end of chemo, Tiffany said that they would throw in the treatment for free (that may be the last time I get to “play the cancer card!”). So yesterday these 3 dozen balloons were delivered to the Women’s Office. I brought the 2 dozen rainbow-colored balloons in various shapes to Athena, our informal group for women faculty, to celebrate the last night before chemo.

Bringing the balloons to the meeting was harder than I had predicted. Have you ever tried to get through a revolving door with two dozen helium-filled balloons? Let me tell you right now, it doesn’t work. Luckily we found an alternative, non-revolving door. Then when we got to the Faculty Club, where Athena is held, we released the balloons. Unfortunately, when we did it, we were standing in a part of the room with a particularly high ceiling, and the balloons all flew way up to the ceiling, where we couldn’t retrieve them. The tallest woman among us, Ann, stood on a chair with tongs and managed to retrieve several balloons, and we took them to a part of the room with lower ceilings, so we could reach them.

The meeting was great. We celebrated three women’s promotions. One of the women brought her mom, her two daughters, and the people who work with her in the office. We gave them each a bouquet of flowers. I told them I was celebrating the end of chemo. It was warm and supportive and wonderful. I got a lot of hugs. When I came home, Dad and Nate were here. Dad had ordered me some delicious fruit from Harry & David—cherries, plums, and peaches, which are my favorite.

Today was the last day of chemo. I woke up around 6, but went back to sleep until 7. I showered and got dressed (Caribbean skirt, brown silk sleeveless Eileen Fisher tank, Monk hat) and went to check in at chemo. Then two hours in my office while they mixed the chemo. I got my favorite room, with windows, and had two neighbors—a woman named Georgina and a woman named Bella. My nurse was Beth. The chemo went in fine—no problems. At 1:06 pm, I heard the three beeps of the pump that indicated that my Rituximab was in—the last of the chemo! They had to give me a little more IV fluid, and they disconnected me at 1:36 pm.

I gave balloons to Cindy, Beth, my neighbors in the chemo suite, the nurses and patients in the other chemo suite, the people at the front desk, Phil, and a few others. And then I came home.

I had ordered an additional 50 helium balloons (latex—we’re not allergic to latex at home and they’re cheaper), in all different shades of pink, to be delivered to the apartment. When I got home, Dad, Nate, and the balloons were here. We released the balloons in the apartment, and they flew to the ceiling of the living room, with their long strings hanging down—just like at the beginning of chemo. I like the symmetry, starting and ending with the same celebration. We’re going to do what we did before—liberate the balloons that lose helium from the terrace into the sky. Today one balloon had no string, so we liberated it—and off it went, and it was gone—and hopefully my cancer is gone too.

I get a month off and then I have my tests. If the tests are good, I get maintained on Rituximab, the monoclonal antibody that was the “R” in my “R-CHOP,” which I will probably get once every two months intravenously as an outpatient. If the tests are bad, I get a bone marrow transplant. The tests in the middle of chemo were good, and hopefully these will be too.

I’m going to take it easy for a few days. Next weekend we’ll start packing for Nate’s trip to Spain. And the three of us will spend a long weekend in Maine before you get home.

Emma, it was so wonderful to see you this past Sunday and to hear about camp. I loved our lunch and trip to the mall—I’m excited about doing more serious shopping with you when you get home! And don’t worry, I’ll be off prednisone by then, so you don’t have to worry that when I find shoes I like, that I will buy them in every color.

Much Love Always
Sun Moon Stars
And Everything Beautiful in the Universe
Mom

____________________


From: Laura
Sent: Thursday, July 26, 2007 11:14 PM
To: Jennifer
Subject: Done with chemo!

Dearest Jen,

I know how busy you are with the baby, but this is just a quick note to share with you—today was my last day of chemo! The post-chemo work-up (CT, MRI, bone marrow) is in a month, and will determine the next steps.

Kiss the kids for me, and let’s talk soon. You call me—I don’t want to violate the golden rule, Never Awaken a Sleeping Baby.

Love
Laura

____________________


From: Laura
Sent: Friday, July 27, 2007 1:28 PM
To: Cindy
Subject: RE: You're gonna make it after all!

Cindy—I'm singing along! I was so thrilled you joined me in chemo to release the balloons. It was so fitting for you to be there. You were my guardian angel through the worst of the chemo, so I’m glad you could be there for the best!

Today when I took my walk I tied a pink balloon to my fanny pack (on the side; otherwise if I tied it in the back it would look like I have a large pink tail). I was curious to see how people on the boardwalk would respond. One guy with sunglasses who was running gave me a thumbs up, and I gave him a thumbs up in return; everyone else ignored it. Typical New Yorkers. I could walk down the boardwalk on fire and nobody would pay attention. Got to love this town.

Love
Laura

____________________


From: Laura
Sent: Tuesday, July 31, 2007 4:48 AM
To: Jennifer
Subject: The Prednisone Diaries: Finale

Dearest Jen,

Today will be my last day of prednisone! I had my final R-CHOP on Thursday, which means 5 days of oral prednisone afterwards (Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday). Today is Tuesday, so that’s it— “The Prednisone Diaries” finale!

Update on the 50 helium-filled pink balloons I had delivered to my apartment at the end of chemo—David, Nate and I placed bets on how long the last balloon would be up on the ceiling. I guessed August 2, but they’re almost all down now (although that may be the closest bet—Nate and David picked August 3 and 4, respectively). Today Nate and I liberated some balloons off the terrace, and they soared into the sky.

It ain’t over, Jen—the post-chemo work-up will be late August/early September. Rituximab or a bone marrow transplant. Come on, Rituximab!

Love
Laura

____________________


From: Laura
Sent: Tuesday, July 31, 2007 6:00 PM
To: Emma
Subject: To Emma in Washington DC

Dearest Emma,

It’s Tuesday night. By now you must be done or almost done with your Washington trip—right? Did you have a good time?

Yesterday I worked a regular day, but today was lighter. I had to go to a doctor’s appointment this morning for some blood tests and a shot (all of which were fine) and then I gave a noon seminar to new faculty members at my hospital on how to get promoted.

After the seminar was done I got in a cab to go home and called Dad—and he was already at home. Can you imagine? We were both home by 2:00 in the afternoon! Carmen had already left for the day and Nate was out. We went up to the pool for a swim, read a little, and came downstairs, made a big salad with grilled chicken, and watched a jazz video on DVD—Art Blakey and the Jazz Messengers playing a bunch of songs including one that was really great called “Moanin’.”

Now I have something else to count down. It’s July 31, and on August 10 you’re done with camp. Ten more days until my beautiful Emma comes home. I love you so much, Emma.

Much love
Sun Moon Stars
Mom

____________________


From: Laura
Sent: Wednesday, August 1, 2007 4:31 AM
To: Jennifer
Subject: Getting together

Hi Jen. I’m so excited that you’re making a day trip to New York in a couple of weeks. August 18 is perfect! Can you come to my house for lunch, and I’ll make gazpacho and get fresh bread? We can eat on the terrace if it's not too hot, and otherwise we can eat inside in the air conditioning. Let’s talk and make a definite plan.

David, Nate and I are going to Maine for a long weekend while Emma is still in camp. I used to go to camp in Maine when I was a kid and remember the rough wild beauty of the place. It will be great to relax and breathe. Emma gets home on August 10, and then Nate goes to Spain the next day.

Love
Laura

____________________


From: Laura
Sent: Friday, August 31, 2007 10:07 AM
To: Jennifer
Subject: Post-treatment work-up

Hi Jen. It was so wonderful to see you when you came to New York and to meet Benjamin! I’m glad you got to see Emma too. Nate’s having a terrific time in Spain, and will be home soon. David and I are enjoying the last days of summer.

This week I had my post-treatment work-up and the CT, MRI, and repeat bone marrow biopsies were negative! They said "NO EVIDENCE OF LYMPHOMA" three times. No bone marrow transplant—I’m thrilled! I’ll get maintenance Rituximab for at least six months, and then they’ll repeat the tests to confirm that I’m still in remission. The minute I found out, I called David at work, Nate in Spain, and Emma at home from my cell phone to tell them the good news. As I took my celebratory stroll home on the boardwalk, I couldn’t help dancing as Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell sang, “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.”

During that half-walk/half-dance, a million thoughts raced through my mind. What, beyond medicine, had helped the most during this experience? Family and friends. Seeking silver linings and savoring celebrations. Music, writing, and finding the Zen. Prayer, priorities, and playing the cancer card. Humor, hats, and the audacity of hope.

When I got home, I told Emma that I hope to be around to embarrass her for years to come. She said to me, "Mom, could you be around, but NOT embarrass me?" And I said, “Oh, no, honey, that’s not possible. Moms have been embarrassing their teenage daughters since the dawn of time. We can’t break with tradition.”

Love
Laura