Letter to My Younger Self

Dearest Peggy,

I am writing to your innocence, to the happy, optimistic person you have always been. At this moment, you have no idea what awaits you, tho you may think you do. Truth is that life is about to be turned upside down, and you’ll never be the same.

First the mind-bending, shocking news—ovarian cancer. Then denial—how could that be? No symptoms. No risk factors. No history of cancer in our family...and finally the loss of control-- and the realization that you never really had it. But this is a learning experience in progress. Number one lesson--give up any semblance of control and give into the medicine, the treatments and the love that is pouring your way.

I’m writing to you from the future, so I’m giving away the punchline, but yes, you’ll come through the treatment with flying colors. Still, there is so much to discover before you get here. For example, you’ll be humbled by what it means to be a patient—on the receiving end of the work we do. You’ll find some people can’t or won’t acknowledge your illness. You’ll meet with a therapist who’s too frightened to hear about how scared you are. You’ll hate your wig. You’ll much prefer going commando, but you’ll wear a cap because you see in other people’s eyes how uncomfortable they are with a hairless woman

On the other hand there’s a whole shadow universe that will suddenly become visible--a whole world out there filled with networks of information and dedicated caregivers and kindess, and people who talk to each other. And there’s another world you didn’t really appreciate. The world of what friends do for each other at a time like this. They will knit shawls, they will write to you, they will call you daily, they will bring dinner, they will send hundreds of cards, books, lotions candles, and they wear green bracelets that say Team Peggy.

Some days it will feel like having the blindfold peeled from your eyes and seeing for the first time. Other days will thankfully ordinary. But from now on you will struggle with some things continually. Above all, the question: If time is limited how do I want to spend it? What’s surprising is that you don’t really know.

But you’ll think about it:

See more musicals
Be honest with yourself and others
Enjoy your good jewelry
Give to NPR
Go on a safari
Do pet therapy, --with someone else’s dog
Sit on your porch watching the sun come up on summer mornings


You never felt like much of a nurturer, but you will definitely become a far better friend. Relationships that ended badly, or were left hanging, will be settled. You will resolve to make time for your friends, no matter what it takes.

The hardest part of what lies ahead, in addition to letting go of control, is not knowing what lies ahead. You know the statistics but you’re determined not to be one. You will do your best to enjoy every moment and get comfortable with uncertainty. For the first time, not knowing is better than knowing. It’s hard to get used to.

But you and I, we’re tough, resourceful, we’re smart, we’re positive and we’re going to make it together.


With love and hope,

An Older and Wiser Peggy

A Bientot!!!

with love, Paul and Cathy

Happy Anniversary

Today is our 39th Anniversary and I feel so blessed to have met and married Steven. We've shared alot over the years--highs and lows that are part of life--but we've never been better as a couple than we are right now. He's my rock, my friend, my partner. We're celebrating with a road trip and long weekend at Lake George at the summer home of dear cousins Anne and Richard Adler. Red Bluffs is a magical, healing place where we hang out, rediscover the marvels of nature and share good times with family. , Thomas and George (arriving from LA this morning) will be joining us for the weekend; Emily's working Monday and Tuesday so won't be with us (we're all sad about that). I'm delighted to be out and about and traveling like a regular person.

Musings

I continue to be amazed (and a little scared) at how good I feel. With the exception of a few days following a chemo treatment, I'm really feeling more or less like my old self. Stamina isn't quite the same--I get tired more quickly and relish a quick mid-afternoon nap--but I'm in good spirits and eager to resume normal life. I sometimes worry that this isn't the norm, that I should be "sicker" from the chemo and most importantly, that maybe I'm not getting enough drugs in my system. But the numbers are going down (a good thing), and my hair is gone (a good thing, I guess) so something must be working. I'm in a dosing and tolerability clinical trial which could account for my tolerance. I only hope that the good outcome will be long term as well as immediate.

Chemo II

Sorry for lack of postings here. I guess the goods news is that I've been busy trying to get on with it, rather than spending time just talking/writing about it.




Chemo II was uneventful except that my beloved brother Paul Fulton came down from Boston to join me for the day in Philadelphia. We left early morning (me driving like a demon thanks to steroid-load the night before), spent a peaceful day watching me get marinated, and then home by dinner (Paul driving this time.)








Guess Who


We also had a welcome visit from my friend and colleague Eve who brought love and news from Vox Medica.

As expected, I had a few difficult days (we postponed Fathers Day until this weekend), somewhat more intense than last time, but nothing unmanageable. Once again (knock on wood) no nausea which makes a huge difference in one's ability to tolerate this stuff As I've said before for various reasons, God Bless pharmaceuticals. Happily, the chemo is working. My CA125 number is way down (a good thing) after only one treatment so we're very excited. Now that I'm starting to get this chemo thing down, I 'm more able to anticipate my physical responses, timing, and recovery rates. Which means there's no need to wait around. Life doesn't resume only after I've completed 6 treatment cycles, it begins everyday all over again. I'm ready (make that need) to be out there, engaged, and productive NOW. Maybe a few more naps here and there,but recovery is a process and I'm in it. So I'm ready and eager for dinner with friends, the stimulation of work, weekends away and the resoration of normalcy. Stay tuned. I love you all.

Solidarity

Sister Jane and Cousin Robbie Adler sending positve energy from Chicago

From Drew and Jocelyn

We've been wearing these and thinking of you. We love you Peggy! xoxo Drew + Jocelyn