Kathryns Walk

This morning I realized that my life is very much on track. I wish that, 15 years ago, I could have seen a glimpse of what my life would eventually become. A very rough time could have been a little easier. I've made mistakes. Some of them I regret very much. But I've made good decisions too. Now I'm reaping the results. In the words of a very smart friend, "make sure that every step you take leads you in the direction that you want to go." Thank you Micki for that very good lesson, even though it hurt at the time. My kids are wonderful. Most of them still love me and want to be around me. My job is wonderful - I love my co-workers. And my husband is better than I ever could have wished for. I'm so blessed with Dave in my life. I didn't see this coming, but I did the work and tried hard not to repeat mistakes. Therapy helped me get through some very hard times, as well as the love of family and friends. If your life is currently very hard, hang in there. D...

On this day the woman who birthed and raised me was born. In many ways she was a wonderful woman. I choose to honor the good in her today - the things she passed on to me that I recognize as wonderful and valuable. The things that made me a better person.  Among many other things she taught me generosity, love of cooking and food, and the value of trying to do the impossible when it’s in service of a higher purpose.  We shared many, many great times over the years. Peeling apples for pies and a love for discussing religion and the Bible. I'll never forget our white water rafting trips, and her joining me to jump off a 25-foot cliff into a raging river. I cherish those memories.  She wasn’t so hot at some other things. Her Evangelical passion was the "Unstoppable Force" to my queerly "Immovable Object." It destroyed our relationship over the last 3 years of her life. Her dedication to the Bible often trumped her dedication to family, with sometimes disastrous res...

At 66 I looked around and saw: A man I love dearly, who loves me right back.A bunch of kids who’ve turned into amazing young adults. A shiny new granddaughter. A bunch of friends for whom I’d give my life. A life rich in hope, wonderful memories, and love. I hope this happiness for every one of you. 

  If you've worked with me you know that I set deadlines. I learned this at first from an old boss - Jim Roda at Kitsap County Public Works. He taught me "if you don't set a deadline, it won't get done." He was right. I've gone a little overboard on urgency and deadlines. Nowadays I set them a bit earlier than it might be possible to complete them. Sometimes probably drive people around me a little crazy.  Here's why. I have a tumor in my chest. It's the size of a softball, lodged in the middle of my right lung, and adjacent to my heart. It's been radiated - it's not dead, but it's not really growing either. It just sits there. I feel the tumor with every breath I take. I feel the pain from it pressing against nerves from my shattered rib (where it started) every moment of every day. Yes, the drugs help. The pain is a tolerable reminder that I won't live forever. How long do I have? No one knows. Given how fast this one grew, and given ...

(A bit redacted) You’ve been on my mind alot lately. Here’s what’s going on. Yesterday my daughter had her first baby. The baby is simply perfect ❤️ The timing is so good since the return to chemo has really gotten me down. I’m reconciling myself to the truth that the future for me will be a gradual grinding decline. Age does this anyway right? But multiple myeloma is its own special grind, inevitable and painful.  Could take a year, could take a decade, but inevitable. Might come slow, might come fast. There’s simply no way to predict anything but the decline. The decline is for sure. Life is a combination now of trying to be numb interspersed with occasional moments of beauty. I used to feel so invincible. It is what it is and I’m sorry to dump it on the table like this. We don’t need help or meals or money but the occasional check in and inspiration is most welcome. I’m resolved to ‘not live in fear’ and won’t be following all of my doctor’s instructions. I won’t make these rema...

After a brief but loving chiding I've received from a few close friends, here's an update. The chemotherapy and stem cell transplant didn't do the job. Cancer is unchanged in me, neither for better or for worse. The radiation last year slowed down the tumor in my chest, and no new ones have appeared. Turns out my cancer and bone marrow are just as stubborn as I am. Sometimes stem cell therapy doesn't work, they tell us. That was disappointing, to say the least. Pain is a constant companion, dulled at least by the medications they give me. Beginning in a few days, I begin weekly treatments, which could last the rest of my life. Or as long as we can afford them anyway. Don't get me started about politics and medical insurance please ;-) What goes through your mind when you learn the name of that thing which will probably end your story?  Plenty. Such a combination of sorrow, depression, but also joy over the wonder of this earth, the things and people you've been ...

  I'm coming back to life. Sometimes I feel bad, like the chemo is still inside me. But most of the time I feel better than I have for a year. My body is resilient and healing and snapping back to where it needs to be. I'm so grateful for Swedish Hospital, for Kaiser Permanente, for my husband Dave, and for all of you who have been so supportive over the past year. I truly couldn't have done this alone and I love you all more than you can imagine. New challenges and achievements are coming, and I can't wait to experience them. Hard work will pay off, and life will be good. Thank you so much for caring about me and walking with me through the last year!

This time tomorrow we'll be over at Swedish and the chemo will be dripping into my veins. I'm a little depressed and anxious. I know that it will turn out okay, but the next few weeks will be an ordeal. Three days from now they'll put my stem cells back into me, and the process of rebuilding my body and bone marrow will begin. I appreciate all of you who have supported me through this, more than you can know. Please send prayer/positive thoughts/meditation that I will be able to do this outpatient and don't have to stay in the hospital. That will be the best possible thing that can happen over the next three weeks.

 

And now the battle against bone cancer moves to a new battleground. Today we’re at Swedish Cancer Institute, where I’ve just gotten my first shot of something called GCSF . That’s a drug that will stimulate my bone marrow to produce stem cells and release them into my bloodstream. The purpose of flooding me with new stem cells is to harvest them, next week. These little soldiers will be set aside to save my life in about 3 weeks, after my bone marrow is destroyed in one shot by something called Melphalan. Sounds dramatic I know, but this treatment has been done so many times to so many Multiple Myeloma patients that we’re virtually certain it’ll work. The treatment will prevent any new tumors for years to come. They tell us that the shots will cause bone pain, and they’ve given us instructions on how to deal with it. There will be 3 more weeks of feeling relatively better before the battle to come in March. How do I feel? A little scared to be honest. This is serious stuff. But more th...

We get February off from chemotherapy, to collect my stem cells, and to rest and recover from the past 5 months of weekly treatments. Get me healthy, mind & body, and prepare for the upcoming intensive chemo. It’s been almost two weeks since my last treatment and I’m feeling better already. I’m starting to enjoy eating again, and most of the nasty side effects are fading away. I get tired easily, but I feel my body starting to be resilient again. We don’t need anything right now, other than your positive thoughts. Thank you for caring!

 ...when even water tastes bad? Iced tea. Iced tea with lemon. Gatorade. Crystal light. Anything with flavor. I can't even drink water now.

 A week 16 update, and not meant to be a downer, but a look forward to what's to come... No, I'm not dying. Except in the same way we all eventually are. Yes, cancer and chemo makes you think about things like this more often. But gratefully, I'm relatively healthy for my ripening 65 years. It's a new year though, and like most people I'm thinking about my life and what I'd like to change. And trying also to guess at some of the things that will change, whether I want them to or not. Some things, for sure, won't change.  My love for Dave, and for family and friends who have stood by me.  My sense of wonder for this amazing universe.  My desire to help people and my thankfulness for those who help me.  The joy of a well-turned word, the love of irony, even when it's slapping me in the face. The emotion of an unexpected hug, a fuzzy blanket and hot chocolate, the movie Airplane! no matter how many times I see it. Still, some things will change. Some of the...

  “Come, see real flowers of this painful world.” ―  Matsuo Bashō

For most of my life I've felt my attitude shift back and forth, like the tide, between reaching for light and clinging to darkness.  The light and darkness I speak of could also be called hope and despair, or happy and sad, or nurture and decay. But I think that you understand. Sometimes against all odds I find happiness in the smallest things that the universe has set in my reach. Other times, even when surrounded with a surplus of reasons to be happy, my heart holds tight to pain, whether it's present or in the past. Why do we do this? I'm very grateful though. The balance in me is tilted toward the light. More often than not, and quite often beyond all reason, I feel good about my place in this universe. It's the same with memories with me. When I look back at the past, most of the time I look back on good times, or remember something that brings a smile to my face and warm happiness to my heart. It's not that I haven't had my share of troubles. Like the old ...

Looks like I took a few weeks off of checking in here. Week 8 of chemotherapy means ending the second full cycle of six. So, not a rookie anymore. But not yet a veteran. That time is approaching slowly but surely. I can feel myself changing. Sometimes I can see it in the mirror too. Body-wise, here's where I am: Losing hair Maintaining weight Feel like I have the flu nearly all the time Bad taste in mouth nearly all the time Chemo fog - can't always think very well Losing balance now and then - no serious falls yet Rib pain, nearly constant, drugs help Ahem, digestive issues All in all, could be worse Mentally, I'm here: Taking my medicine Following medical advice Over it. Seriously though, this one needs more of a write-up than a bullet list. Feel free to check out here - my body is still strong and to put it in a nutshell, I'm going to make it through this, I hate feeling pathetic, and there's not a lot anyone out there can do about this other than what you're...

  Okay, I’ve got cancer. Yes, I’m in treatment. It sucks. Enough of that. At week 5, It’s time for something completely different. All my life I’ve been an artist. I wouldn’t have said it, or said it out loud, until now. I might have wished “I wish I could be an artist.” Instead I lied to myself. “I can’t draw.” “I don’t have artistic talent.” “I wish I could make art.” We tell ourselves lies, then we go believe them.  And ironically we go about our day and make art. It may not be art using the medium that most people consider “ART,” but it is no less artistic. We talk to other people, we cook, we nurture, we go to the office or the field, and we make art. Some of it is better than others, we all have good moments and good days and the other ones where we’re just hanging in there. Sometimes art is throwing towels in the dryer on a bad day, pulling them out one by one, warm and soft and fuzzy, and hugging them. And then folding them and putting them back into the closet. This i...

My full week sleep cycle - week 1 of induction chemo We're now going on a full first month of induction chemotherapy. This phase is done in 4 week cycles, and we're told that there will be 4-8 cycles of this before we go for stem cell harvest at Swedish Hospital. The nurses at Kaiser Permanente Infusion have been great. Each week it's been a different nurse to administer the treatments, and I have had two favorites, and two who were merely good. When the worst you get is "merely good," give thanks children. We arrive, get blood taken, and go up to infusion to wait for the two chemicals to be mixed by the pharmacy. It usually takes at least an hour and a half for them to arrive at our clinic, where we've been sitting, talking and reading, and in my case, sketching and watercoloring. The nurse comes in and you lift your shirt and expose your unflattering 65-year-old tummy and they gently pinch some of the fat there and slowly, every so slowly, push an alarming l...

Most of us love rebels. The underdogs, fighting repression, sticking it to the man on behalf of the poor and weak. Sometimes rebels are heroes and sometimes not, and I suppose it has a lot to do with where you sit. As my wise father says, “it depends upon whose ox is getting gored.” When it comes to cancer, rebels aren’t so great. Cancer cells themselves are rebels - they seek to overthrow the orderly system of bodily health. Multiple Myeloma is a cancer where your bone marrow, the factory for your body’s blood cells and immune system, go rebel. Bone marrow begins to produce too many of one kind and not enough of another, and the cells that get overproduced are often abnormal and act wrong. They become corrosive, making proteins and other substances that want out of the bone marrow so badly that they begin to eat their way through the bone from the inside out. A Multiple Myeloma patient will often have lesions, places where the bone has become weakened or even holes eaten through, like...

 Story Time: In 2003 I was in India, preparing to bring Sukanya home. I was sitting in some random government official's waiting room. Kamala, the boss-lady at the Guild of Service was using my talents as someone who regularly spoke with government officials, to lobby them on moving her applications for adoption to US families faster. More about that meeting in a minute. In the waiting room one couldn't ignore all 5'2" of the mighty Kamala Ramanathan, barraging a secretary with a precise Tamil verbal assault. She was telling that secretary that The Official Himself certainly had time for us.  An older Indian gentleman sat near me listening in, not that it was any effort for him. People were hearing the ferocious Ms. Ramanathan down the street. The old man leaned closer to me and asked "so you are from America? And you work for the government there?" "Well yes, I'm from Seattle, it's in the state of Washington. And I do work for the government, so...