The De-Calibrated Life

CALIBRATE: to standardize (as a measuring instrument) by determining the deviation from a standard so as to ascertain the proper correction factors; to adjust precisely for a particular function; to measure precisely; especially: to measure against a standard

Let's face it. We are all attached to our routines. Even the most free-spirited, artsy-fartsy, fly-by-the-seat-of-one's-pants individual has consistent things in their lives upon which they balance the rest. It could be as broad as the seasons, or as minute (and maybe neurotic) as the precise schedule of the before-work morning ritual. having a certain amount of predictability in important aspects of our lives allows us the freedom of, well, sort of planned spontaneity. It's our individual calibration that we all live by - even those who deny so. And when life throws us curveballs and disasters or surprises, we flounder for a time until we re-calibrate, so we may begin ticking along in our new comfortable.

Don and I have had to recalibrate many times in our 35 years together. Sometimes for the good (marriage, children, moving, children, finances....and may I mention CHILDREN!!), and sometimes, for the not-so-good. But each times we adjusted our perspective and our internal clocks and moved on with life. Until now...for we have discovered......

The DE-calibrated Life.

When Don got this new job, we knew that it would bring many, many blessings - but there were also challenges. His days off, for instance. When he first started at Diamond, his days off were Tuesday and Wednesday making Monday his Friday and Wednesday his Sunday. The he got Saturday and Sundays off!! Praise God!! That not only meant that I got to go to church with my sweetie again, but every day was the actual day it was supposed to be!! Then, new sales team and new days off - Thursday and Friday - making Wednesday his Friday and Friday his Sunday. No sooner had we figured that one out than it changed again to Friday-Saturday days off. So now Thursday is Friday and Saturday is Sunday. Confused? Feel our pain....

In the midst of the last change was the diagnosis and the launch of the thrill ride through the land of oncology. We now had to try to organize our life around tests and visits and more tests and stuff and things and e-stinkin'-gad more tests!! talk about a loss of routine and comfortable. We have never, ever been more out of control of anything in our lives. And never have we felt such freedom.

Huh?? I know. You think it's the morphine speaking....ummm...writing. One might think, but one would be wrong. Since there is no "why" to be answered, since there is no cause to be discovered, since there is no blame to be laid - there is only moving on and doing what needs to be done. And being able to rest in the knowledge of God's ALL-ENCOMAPASSING POWER, brings me peace that can only be explained through Him.

So, now for the update and the what's up next: a week ago Wednesday, I got the awaited call from O'ahu to arrange for the P.E.T. scan. They wanted me there on Monday. Knowing that my M.E. (Medical Entourage) here was trying to get me in to see the O-cubed (Ortho Onco of O'ahu), which could mean we stay for a while so the surgery could be done, and that my sister was coming in on Tuesday, and we were supposed to have mani-pedi's (or as my beloved spells it, manny-petty) on Wednesday, and I wanted to have fun so could we not do it on Monday!?!?!?!? okay....so cooler, less silly heads prevailed, and plans were made for for us to fly out five days hence. The cool thing about this is that the insurance paid for my flight and cab, and we only had to pay for Don's flight. He could ride in the same cab with me. They also arranged for us to remain in Honolulu late so we could do something fun - not that having scans and stuff isn't just heap load o' chuckles! yee-haw. Anyway, more on that later....

Two days after we found out about the Honolulu trip was the biopsy for the soft tissue mass in my right thigh. This was to be yet another fasting test. Why do these people keep making me stop eating!?!?!?!? But we did have time to eat early in the morning, so Don took me to my favorite breakfast place on the island: Longhi's on Front Street, Lahaina. Grand Marnier French Toast....Coconut Syrup....blackberry preserves....side of the best bacon ANYWHERE.....and fresh, squeezed o.j...... Okay, so maybe this would hold me for six hours until my test. We managed to use up the time constructively for a while, then spent a couple hours at our Maui aquarium watching sharks and rays and jelly fish just move through the water which utter grace and ease. Yes, this IS how I relax!!

Finally, it was back to Maui Memorial and the crazy path from admissions to the refrigerated radiology department. Don got to freeze along side me this time. By this time, we also had noticed that our yummy morning meal - big and luscious as it was - was no longer keeping our tummies satisfied. We were hungry. In earnest. The tv in the waiting room had on the travel channel. About cruise ships. About all the FOOD on cruise ships. Cruel and unusual.... The biopsy itself was not as bad as I expected - thanks to the capable and kind hands of the doctor...whose name is a mystery to me. There was also the perfect air of goofiness, even though it was a bit chilling to her the nurse say matter-of-factly "She's mets", meaning metastatic. hmmmm... But it got back to funny when I said something smartmouthy, and then we got going. The actual instrument sounded like a very cheap staple gun, and before too long, all was done. Being the practical sort, I pointed out to this kind man that I lived in Napili, and since we were here on this side (meaning Central Maui, 45 minutes away from home), would it be okay if we went and did shopping at Costco and Walmart? He looked at me and said "No.". No discussion. No "if you feel up to it. No "as long your husband puts you in a papoose". He then pointed out that he had just poked a rather significant hole next to a rather significant artery. In fact, I was not even allowed to ride back home sitting up, but reclined in the jeep. Yikes. Anyhow, I was finally released, and because I was a good girl, didn't fuss too much, and promised to ride home in reclined comfort rather than taking care of some much needed shopping, I was rewarded with three stickers and a straw. I was very, very good.

Saturday and Sunday flew by too quickly, and then Monday was upon us. Once again, I had to fast before this next test. Oh, yes - my "last meal" at 6:00 a.m. could only be boiled or baked protein. No dairy. No carbs. No fruit. No flavor. My intent was to have a boiled egg, but Greg had used the last of the eggs and forgot to tell us. Good thing he's ridiculously cute and an unbelievable blessing, otherwise,, I would not have like his chances of surviving the night. So my breakfast? I had some cooked cocktail shrimp. Cold. With lemon. Nasty... But it got me by.

Since I have finally acknowledged that perhaps it might be in my best interest to behave as though my leg is not fully functional/reliable, I have gotten a cane (a cool wooden one, though not a magic Harry Potter one like my great-nephew thought I should get) and a handicapped parking placard - which makes me the first to get the invite to all girls' shopping trips and movie nights. This also meant wheelchair at the airport. In San Diego, getting a wheelchair means reserving one and having your own driver, as it were. In Maui, they point you to the stand of wheelchairs, you take one you like, and whomever your traveling companion is gets to be your chauffeur. Don't know what you do if you're alone. So, there we were, with only three carry-ons. Yes, I know that we were only supposed to be there one day, but this time my hubby insisted that we pack for the possibility of staying for the consult with O-cubed and the surgery to follow. That still meant my two chic olive stackables on wheels and his very butch small duffel. My spouse is extremely coordinated (making up for my lack thereof), and in no time he was pushing with one hand and pulling with the other while I had the duffel on my lap.

Everything went smooth as silk, quick as a bunny, no bumps - including the freakishly smooooooth flight - until we got to Honolulu. Honolulu. Home of Five-O. Land of Aloha. And also one of the largest cities in the U.S. and recent prize winner of the worst traffic in the nation. I think the last statistics have reeeeeally messed with the Aloha Spirit. The arrival was fine, and we were met by a friendly chap driving my wheels. Don had only to call the designated cab company and simply intone my name and ALA-KAZAM!! Our friendly chariot would appear. yeeeeeaaaahhhh,,,,not so much. Don called the magic number. Don invoked the name, Denise Dalton. The operator responded..."who!?!?" They had no record. So Don called the Imaging place which had expertly arranged all travel. They called the cab company. Again. Don called the cab company. Again. In five minutes, the cab company had lost my name. Again. My husband firmly but politely suggested that they write it down. They finally relented and sent a cab.

I have gotten used to Maui's little and efficient airport. I can't speak for other days, but on this day, Honolulu International was neither. Don followed the directions to the area outside Baggage Claim B, passing through Baggage Claim C. Keep in mind, he is still doing the push and pull and carry and stuff with his seemingly able-bodied wife. We make it out to the curb outside Baggage Claim B. Don called the cab company. again. They lost my name. AGAIN. But then they found it. Then began a series of actions that combine Three Stooges, I love Lucy, and the Amazing Race. The voice from the cab said we had to move to the cab stand. This meant pushing/pulling across a street in one of these lower level of an airport departure/arrival garages We went to the cab stand. The young lady there, with NO aloha, began yelling at us that we couldn't be there, that this was for paid fares only. We went back across the street, Don pushing and pulling - and now trying to get the cab company on the phone. Again. This time they had not lost my name, just their cabbie. So, now my husband is pushing/pulling/talking on the phone to a cabbie - for whom English is not a language yet mastered. We see him coming down the drive. Hallelujah! he slowed....said something through the open window about not being allowed to stop there...follow him..... So, Don begins his best to push/pull us to the cab - who keeps moving off anytime we get close! I also have to stop my harried hubby from running my off the sidewalk in his haste to get us to the fleeing cab. Finally, the cab pulls away entirely, leaving us in the proverbial dust and the literal exhaust. At this point, Don parks me, and slowly walks away while talking on the phone. My beloved is a very patient man in most circumstances. But...I noticed as he walked away, his voice got a little more loud with every step he took away from me. Keep in mind, this is in one of those echoey giant garage-y structures, so the acoustics are AWESOME!! I couldn't hear much except Don asking if this guy could not see the lady in the wheelchair (we were totally by ourselves, wheelchair or no) and other stuff, which my husband later confessed to me had a little something to do with the cabbie's training. After a bit, we saw this guy parked beyond Baggage Claim C - right where we had started!

Now, I know I look like a healthy girl, but I would think that the cane and the wheelchair might hint that something was not quite nimble with this particular fare, and given the destination as Hawaii Advanced Imaging, the dots should have been close enough for anyone to connect. Apparently not. The cabbie not only didn't help me in, but he proceeded to lecture Don on the high fines given to cabbies who stop at the spot where DON WAS TOLD TO WAIT!! We got in the car, and had a nice Mr. Toad ride to the imaging place. He still was muttering things about fines, but I just finally looked grumpy enough that he stayed quiet - until he pulled up to the address. We still had no idea where we were, and there was no sign on the outside indicating that this was the right place. Instead of giving us a moment, this guy unceremoniously unloaded us, STILL LECTURING MY HUSBAND, and took off.


After finding me a planter wall to sit on, Don wandered this beautiful and contemporary plaza - that was chalk full of restaurants and other eateries. Remember!?!? Fasting!?!? He found our destination and escorted me over, still pulling, although no longer having to push. When we landed in Honolulu, it was 10:00 a.m. I didn't have check-in until noon, and we had been wondering how we would kill the time. We arrived at 11:40....

In this process, I have had so many tests that I am now almost qualified to give them. But of all the tests, this is by far my favorite. Why, you ask?? Because there was a great deal of napping involved. The nurse handling my prep was awesome and hilarious. She had my bundle up in my sweats and fuzzy socks (I just looked like a Pink Disney Michelan man), then brought forth yet another vial encased in lead. I said I really am going to be my own Weapon of Mass Destruction. She assured me all would be fine as long as I didn't run through the airport yelling "Jihad!!". After injecting me, she said she had to see if it took, then turned off the lights to look for the glow. I LOVE this woman!! After I was properly infused with Radioactive Glucose, I then had one hour of dark and quiet and calm. Nap. When it was my turn for the test, I was bundled up some more, and put into a larger, semi-open tube, that whirred and purred, instead of the cacophonous din of the MRI. More nap. When that was done, she brought me "steak and lobster": two granola bars and OJ. Yes, by far my favorite test.

The rest of our time in Honolulu was to be spent watching the Chargers at Islands Restaurant in Ala Moana Center - which meant another cab ride. Oh, Lord.... But God was gracious, providing a lovely, solicitous gentleman named Woo (pronounced oo), who drove gently, dropped us off EXACTLY where we wanted, then picked us up for the ride back to the airport later that night. In the end, we got medical stuff done - although no Dr. O-cubed - had a fun time watching our Chargers beat the Raiders, and came home with an adventure to tell.

We had our next visit with Dr. Altaha (Dr. Labradoodle) early Tuesday. This one had us all a bit tight, be we knew God was in control. God also reminded us of HIS control and our need to trust Him by letting us get stuck in back up due to an accident on our one two-lane highway from the westside. We arrived late - as did many of the day's appointments - but were once again treated with warmth and compassion.

So, the scoop: the soft tissue mass was inconclusive, as all the material was simply necrotic. Look it up. The definition is roughly: eeeeeeeaaauuuuuwwwww grooooosss!! But this means that they will have to go into the bone for the next biopsy. Waiting for the time on that. The P.E.T. scan showed no new surprises (YAY!) but the ones that exist are enough. I have the one biggie in my left femur, one small in my right., one small in my lower spine, one bigger in my mid spine, and one in the right upper arm. This means I am a Stage Four. But that's okay. God's got this. I had one more MRI on my spine (the girl actually asked me if I had an MRI before, and I was tempted to ask: "You mean today??") that showed a clearer shot of the oogie on the spine. I should hear from Dr. O-cubed tomorrow or the next day - which means, be ready to go on very short notice. He will take out icky bone and replace it with a metal rod. Wonder if refrigerator magnets will work...???

So, back to our de-calibrated life. It's a good life. In fact, it's a very good life. We are blessed beyond anything either of us could have asked or imagined - but that's simply the way our Heavenly Father works. What I want from Him is full and perfect healing!! But then again...what I want is nothing less than what HE wants for me!!

Many years ago, as Don and I changed our diet for the healthier, I adopted my "Six-Months-to-Live Eating Plan" - meaning, if Dr. Wonderful said, "Denise, six months from now, your ticket is punched and you're goin' home!!", I would start gnoshing on jack-in-the Box tacos and stuffed jalapenos, a can of Pringles a day, and double stuff Oreos and pretty much any of the Mother's Cookies brand. After our visit with Dr. Altaha, we were finally able to make that much-needed trip to Costco. As we were cruising toward checkout, going down aisles of yumminess, I pointed out to Greg the stacks of Mother's Iced Oatmeal cookies next to the Oreo Double Stuff - and kept on moving. In our cart? Tomatoes, and fruit and beautiful mushrooms and bananas and spinach.

Yup....I plan to be here a long while....