The Terrain is Always Changing

Over the past 15 months on this metaphorical Unexpected Journey, I've written about summit goals and en route trail objectives.  I've written about breathtaking views and in-progress pull-out dance parties.  I've written about the rewarding joy of presence along the path of awareness and the bounties of gratitude and learning.  

By my count, this is the longest break I've taken in posting a blog since I started.  It seems for the most part that I've covered the expansiveness of the Journey's terrain (and then some) in the last 49 posts.  Then I get a stretch like this last one that just goes to show, the terrain is always changing . . .

 Base Camp:

The week of the TACE (trans-arterial chemo-embolization) procedure, I spent most days in base camp.  Although my post-embolization syndrome symptoms were mild -- some nausea from the slug of Doxorubicin (the "C" of TACE), some referred pain from the procedure itself and a doctor-imposed break from workouts beyond easy walking (something about the femoral artery intervention . . . ) -- it still took some time and an intentional healing pause before I was ready to resume the trek.  

Back on the Trail (with a dose of humility):

And in my resumption, I was reminded that this Unexpected Journey includes the visually stunning and motivating grandeur of the trail ahead, AND the (rather in-my-face) hard work that every present moment of trekking across an ever-changing landscape requires.  Trekking, lest I romantically have colored it as less, can present some breath-sucking, limb-numbing challenges that demand an engaged, determined, unflinching mindset of progress.  It's on some of those hunched-shoulder, head-down, one-foot-in-front-of-the-other approaches -- when this climber is drenched in humility -- that I hail the mountain for her greatness and respect she will not yield to my steps.  There will be rugged terrain to navigate and confounding obstacles to negotiate.  The work is mine to do.  This journey -- unbounded by geography, prescribed routes or clearly delineated timelines -- chastens and champions this climber as surely as alpine spires, western hoodoos, Himalayan high ground and crags and cliffs on the Dark Continent.  It is my job to stay alert.  Stay present.  Stay the course with grace and curiosity.  And when things get really weird, to keep a sense of humor, let go and get over myself.

Such skill and mindfulness were essential in the week after the TACE, when I resumed the trek (to include my targeted therapy), and immediately noticed a root-y path underfoot:  For the first time since starting targeted therapy, I suffered the skin reactions of Panitumumab.  Who knows if it was somehow exacerbated by TACE, or if it was just a "thirteenth time's a charm" thing (I've now had as many rounds of targeted therapy as of chemo), but acneform dermatitis colored a stripe down my face from hairline to chin.  I know my reaction was pure vanity; still, I cannot tell you how happy I've been to be able to hide out under hats and masks!  Head down, watching the trail for these roots, I simultaneously was assaulted by a profusion of trail-choking limbs hellbent on pummeling my shoulders to submission (courtesy of my other targeted therapy drug, Encorafenib).  These days it takes two Boltz to get my shirts on and off as lifting my arms above my head is pretty much out of the question.  Chastened, but not broken, we can shake it off, smile, vote early and carry on.  What else are we gonna do?

My Trekker Rhythm Returns (Dale gets her groove back):

This week, I'm back on an unobstructed path across rolling terrain.  On Sunday I had a fabulous long walk on the tread -- virtually accompanying Cliff and our friend Marty on the loop hike.  On Monday, I turned in a nice HIIT power walk.  On Tuesday I resumed one of my sewing projects (this time it's Cliff's Warrior Jacket) and finished reading Where the Crawdads Sing.  This morning, I'm feeling a smooth calm energy that signals I've hit that luscious trail rhythm that soothes my soul and buoys my spirit.  And yes, I did dance to U2's Miracle at the end of my tread workout today!

Quote of the Day:

 "So far we've survived one hundred percent of our worst days.  We're doing great!"

                                                                             ~Unknown

Progress Report:

• TACE was a success.  The follow-up procedure (to eliminate whatever is left of the single lesion) is scheduled for 5 November.
• The Panitumumab skin reaction is fading -- fingers crossed next treatment doesn't wake it up again.  And if it does, my eyes will be smiling above my mask.
• 
  My liquid biopsy showed zero circulating tumor cells (signaling no ongoing metastasis).  This along with no colon cancer maker readings for six months and a strong basophil count (strong immune system) all point to a good prognosis.  (yay!)
  
• I'm on a 26-week Peloton streak. 
  
• The renno/remodel project continues . . . Granite install has been a major slowdown.  Hoping now to be done by Thanksgiving.
• Christmas puppy adjustment:  Unfortunately, there was no autumn Brussels Griffon litter with our
  breeder.  We're hoping now for a December birth and spring adoption.  AND, yours truly, who believes in puppy magic, now has a backup plan.  We're wait listed for another puppy (Papitese) with a local breeder.  Worst case now, two new pups.  In other words, there is no worst case!
•  Winter came early to Santa Fe this week with a snowstorm on Monday.  Illy is Snoopy-Dance happy!
  

 

VIA FRANCIGENA!