Image: Emrboidered piece in a hoop reading #FuckNNM2021 with a rainbow of flowers around the left edge on a black background. A gift from a friend.
Dear friends, family, and fellow travelers.
I feel like this past week is illustrative of the farcical levels of bullshit we have been juggling since mid-February here in the Clutterbuck-Cook household. (If you haven't read my medical update of April 2nd you can read it over at the feminist librarian; the tl;dr is that I have been diagnosed with colon cancer and will be embarking on chemotherapy treatment next week.)
- On Monday, we had to drive Hanna in for a COVID-19 test prior to her long-scheduled Wednesday hysterectomy. We ended up bundling that Zipcar trip with a stop at the kitty E.R. to have Christopher attended to because a mouth sore that he has had issues with in the past had flared up over the weekend, making it difficult for him to eat and also becoming infected. Some readers may remember he's FIV+ meaning his immune system is weak and less able to fight off infections on its own. We have a dental procedure in May to hopefully move toward addressing this more permanently ... but in the meantime he needed antibiotics, which we were able to get after a couple of hours wait on Monday. That meant all week we had three new medications to give him 2-3 times per day, in addition to his usual anti-seizure medication.
- On Tuesday, the construction crew our landlady hired to tear down our back porches and construct new ones, in the wake of the tree that fell on our house last autumn, arrived to begin demolition. Our landlady has been extremely kind to us during this medical circus and was super apologetic about timing -- but construction crew are ready when they're ready and she couldn't really ask them to wait. So yay!
- On Wednesday, Hanna had her surgery which was a day-long procedure. It went very well but was also more intensive than anticipated due to extensive endometriosis and she ended up staying in the hospital overnight. While Hanna was at the hospital I continued to cajole Christopher into taking his medicines and trying to get him interested in food/water and also had a nice long chat with a friend who has gone through chemotherapy before about what to expect. This same friend has offered to help us coordinate material support (meal drop-offs, gift certificates, etc.) so we spent some time looking at care coordination apps etc.
- On Thursday, I was able to bring Hanna home from the hospital in the early afternoon and then I had a telehealth appointment with my care coordinator from the cancer treatment center going over what to expect during chemotherapy (which begins next Tuesday).
- On Friday, I had an outpatient liver biopsy to determine whether any cancer cells have migrated from my colon to my liver. This won't change the immediate trajectory of my treatment (chemotherapy regardless) but is important in determining what drugs they use etc. Oh, and I also had to have a COVID-19 test of my own before starting chemo! Because Hanna couldn't drive me to either appointment the cancer center kindly offered to pay for transportation ... but used Lyft vouchers and there were no available vehicles to either get me to or from my appointments when the time came, so the care coordinator was left scrambling to find me alternative options while I waited. (Wouldn't scheduling a taxi ahead of time have been easier???) And did I mention that all of this was happening in the midst of a windy April snowstorm.
Image: A bed of red and yellow tulips under heavy, wet snow.
It's been ... a lot. But we're glad to have Hanna's surgery behind us, a long-planned intervention that will hopefully address a lot of the chronic abdominal pain she has been living with for the past several years. And so many of you have come forward to offer emotional and material support -- we don't feel like we're facing this difficult season alone, which helps.
Image: Crocheted fingerless mitts. Yarn was a birthday gift from friends.
During and around all of these health challenges we've been doing fun and rewarding things too. We've started watching Schitts Creek and I've been working my way through New Tricks. I'm doing a lot of knitting and crocheting for myself, for friends, and for future Persistent Stitches listings. Thank you to everyone who has bankrolled beautiful yarn!
Image: Skein of the Pouty Prudence colorway from Lady Dye Yarns. I plan to use this one for a crocheted hat.
Image: Two cakes of Pink Armadillo by Fiber Optic Yarns flanked by From the Bog skeins from Dirty Water Dyeworks. I plan to make this Forest Mosaic shawl with these skeins.
Spring is unfolding in New England with lots of beautiful color this year, and we are taking regular walks through the Arnold Arboretum when our health allows. Pandemic conditions are still very much a thing here -- and chemotherapy will mean I need to be extra careful about infection -- but because of my cancer diagnosis, Hanna and I were able to get Pfizer vaccinations a bit earlier than we had anticipated and will be fully vaccinated by mid-May. That will give us a bit more flexibility in terms of moving around outside and also accepting kind offers of help from also-vaccinated local friends. Our landlady has been kind enough to offer her attic space to my parents, who -- fully vaccinated -- are planning to drive out from Michigan and spend a few weeks with us in May/June to help us through the tail end of Hanna's medical leave and transition back to work while I am still going chemo.
Image: Tree blossoms from the neighborhood.
Another piece of joy in the past month has been the arrival of our new marriage bands, in silver and rose gold, which we commissioned in January from Rebecca Scott of Shepherd's Run Jewelry. They are gorgeous! While our old bands were meaningful to us, the size and shape had started to irritate our hands and make them unwearable, so we have retired them to Hanna's home altar and will be wearing these instead.
While wedding rings mean different things to different people (and don't have to hold any particular meaning to people in committed relationships), I found it particularly distressing to be in the hospital without my wedding ring as one half of a same-sex couple. The medical staff from the techs to the surgical team were 100% comfortable recognizing Hanna as my wife and including her in all of the conversations related to my care, but it was within our lifetimes that hospitals would have been within their legal rights to refuse to recognize any familial status between the two of us. Not that a ring magically wards off that type of bigotry ... but it feels like an assertion of marriage rights that queer people like us still can't really take for granted.
Image: Anna and Hanna's interlocked fingers showcasing the rose gold and silver bands.
As I am wrapping this newsletter up on Sunday, April 18th, Christopher is slowly returning to his usual appetite and energy levels -- very much under foot whenever I am in the kitchen! -- and Teazle has become less irate now that Hanna is back in the house and the Right Number of Mommies can be counted at bedtime. She was a royal pain on the night that Hanna spent in the hospital (as she had been to Hanna during my hospitalization) when the math was off.
Image: Crocheted fingerless mitts. Yarn was a birthday gift from friends.
During and around all of these health challenges we've been doing fun and rewarding things too. We've started watching Schitts Creek and I've been working my way through New Tricks. I'm doing a lot of knitting and crocheting for myself, for friends, and for future Persistent Stitches listings. Thank you to everyone who has bankrolled beautiful yarn!
Image: Skein of the Pouty Prudence colorway from Lady Dye Yarns. I plan to use this one for a crocheted hat.
Image: Two cakes of Pink Armadillo by Fiber Optic Yarns flanked by From the Bog skeins from Dirty Water Dyeworks. I plan to make this Forest Mosaic shawl with these skeins.
Spring is unfolding in New England with lots of beautiful color this year, and we are taking regular walks through the Arnold Arboretum when our health allows. Pandemic conditions are still very much a thing here -- and chemotherapy will mean I need to be extra careful about infection -- but because of my cancer diagnosis, Hanna and I were able to get Pfizer vaccinations a bit earlier than we had anticipated and will be fully vaccinated by mid-May. That will give us a bit more flexibility in terms of moving around outside and also accepting kind offers of help from also-vaccinated local friends. Our landlady has been kind enough to offer her attic space to my parents, who -- fully vaccinated -- are planning to drive out from Michigan and spend a few weeks with us in May/June to help us through the tail end of Hanna's medical leave and transition back to work while I am still going chemo.
Image: Tree blossoms from the neighborhood.
Another piece of joy in the past month has been the arrival of our new marriage bands, in silver and rose gold, which we commissioned in January from Rebecca Scott of Shepherd's Run Jewelry. They are gorgeous! While our old bands were meaningful to us, the size and shape had started to irritate our hands and make them unwearable, so we have retired them to Hanna's home altar and will be wearing these instead.
While wedding rings mean different things to different people (and don't have to hold any particular meaning to people in committed relationships), I found it particularly distressing to be in the hospital without my wedding ring as one half of a same-sex couple. The medical staff from the techs to the surgical team were 100% comfortable recognizing Hanna as my wife and including her in all of the conversations related to my care, but it was within our lifetimes that hospitals would have been within their legal rights to refuse to recognize any familial status between the two of us. Not that a ring magically wards off that type of bigotry ... but it feels like an assertion of marriage rights that queer people like us still can't really take for granted.
Image: Anna and Hanna's interlocked fingers showcasing the rose gold and silver bands.
As I am wrapping this newsletter up on Sunday, April 18th, Christopher is slowly returning to his usual appetite and energy levels -- very much under foot whenever I am in the kitchen! -- and Teazle has become less irate now that Hanna is back in the house and the Right Number of Mommies can be counted at bedtime. She was a royal pain on the night that Hanna spent in the hospital (as she had been to Hanna during my hospitalization) when the math was off.
Image: Christopher napping on one of his favorite fleexe blankets.
Image: Teazle being a little shit while Mommy Hanna was at the hospital on Wednesday evening.
Oh! And I'm a cyborg now. On the 7th of April they implanted a port at my collarbone which will allow the oncology team to do the chemotherapy infusions and draw blood, etc., without repeatedly abusing the veins in my arms inserting IV lines. I AM A FAN OF THIS. At one point in hospital I had three IV lines in, and the most visible veins I have in my arms are also shallow and a real pain in the arse to draw blood from. The team that did my liver biopsy on Friday accessed the port for the first time in order to draw blood and administer all of the meds they needed to during the biopsy and it was great (for a #FuckNNM2021 value of "great").
Image: My right collarbone sporting a bandaid over the incision site where they inserted the port. You can see that it creates a slight bump under the skin.
I start chemotherapy treatments on Tuesday this coming week. I'm grateful to everyone I've spoken to who has shared their own chemotherapy experiences so that I have some sense of what I might expect in the months to come. For the moment, my authorized medical leave (for the surgery) ends on Friday, April 23rd and I plan to return to work, remotely, on Monday, April 26th on the understanding that my work schedule will depend completely on how my body responds to the chemo. I'm grateful that Massachusetts offers intermittent as well as full medical leave benefits so that if I need to modify my workload in the months ahead, then I will receive benefits accordingly. As someone whose crisis response is planning and taking action, coping with a medical diagnosis where I can't really plan or do beyond allowing the specialists to do what they're trained to do is incredibly frustrating. But I'm working on radical patience y'all. And in being okay with the need to listen to my body and change course accordingly.
*grits teeth in person-who-always-took-custody-of-the-trail-map*
Image: Pink azaleas blooming on our street.
Thank you all for being along on the journey.
In gratitude,
Anna
Image: Teazle being a little shit while Mommy Hanna was at the hospital on Wednesday evening.
Oh! And I'm a cyborg now. On the 7th of April they implanted a port at my collarbone which will allow the oncology team to do the chemotherapy infusions and draw blood, etc., without repeatedly abusing the veins in my arms inserting IV lines. I AM A FAN OF THIS. At one point in hospital I had three IV lines in, and the most visible veins I have in my arms are also shallow and a real pain in the arse to draw blood from. The team that did my liver biopsy on Friday accessed the port for the first time in order to draw blood and administer all of the meds they needed to during the biopsy and it was great (for a #FuckNNM2021 value of "great").
Image: My right collarbone sporting a bandaid over the incision site where they inserted the port. You can see that it creates a slight bump under the skin.
I start chemotherapy treatments on Tuesday this coming week. I'm grateful to everyone I've spoken to who has shared their own chemotherapy experiences so that I have some sense of what I might expect in the months to come. For the moment, my authorized medical leave (for the surgery) ends on Friday, April 23rd and I plan to return to work, remotely, on Monday, April 26th on the understanding that my work schedule will depend completely on how my body responds to the chemo. I'm grateful that Massachusetts offers intermittent as well as full medical leave benefits so that if I need to modify my workload in the months ahead, then I will receive benefits accordingly. As someone whose crisis response is planning and taking action, coping with a medical diagnosis where I can't really plan or do beyond allowing the specialists to do what they're trained to do is incredibly frustrating. But I'm working on radical patience y'all. And in being okay with the need to listen to my body and change course accordingly.
*grits teeth in person-who-always-took-custody-of-the-trail-map*
Image: Pink azaleas blooming on our street.
Thank you all for being along on the journey.
In gratitude,
Anna