Thanks, Kaffe

One of my best friends, Sue, has been in the hospital for over a week. The long-term prognosis is not good, surely not what any of us wanted to hear. Even though I'm in a bit of a bind, timewise (more on that tomorrow), I decided I needed something to cheer me up. I headed over to Barnes & Noble. A large cup of coffee and Kaffe Fassett came to the rescue.

Kaffe has a new book out:

Spectacular doesn't even begin to describe it. I spent a long time totally immersed in color, shapes, gorgeous photography, stunning fabrics...

(click to enlarge photos--it's definitely worthwhile!)

This is not a cheap book, and I could have saved a lot of money by ordering it on Amazon. But I needed it today. I needed the color and optimism today. I needed the hope and inspiration today.

Sue sent a text message saying "Don't be doom and gloom. Call me." I called her. Her voice sounds really good today. I think I'll take Kaffe to the hospital this afternoon, and Sue and I can spend some time turning the pages together...becoming lost for a bit of time in simple shapes and spectacular colors.

Color Therapy Thursday: House of Blues

My friend, Sue, is a warrior. She is fighting one of the toughest battles there is: to become strong and healthy again.

She loves blue. Loves.It.

And here is the proof:

Her friends knew she needed to be surrounded by a shield of love. We have done this before with friends who have battled cancer. In fact, when Sue was helping to finish the last quilt, she said, "I sure hope I'm never the recipient of one of these quilts." Little did she know...

Friendship quilt made by Sue's many friends

Making a quilt for someone you love is about so much more than the fabric you pick and the time you spend. It is about putting your heart into each little stitch that goes into it, and then letting them wrap themselves up in your love. Ready to face their foes, not alone, but surrounded by those ready to fight the battle with them.

The label on the back of the friendship quilt (thanks to Maggie)

"Guest book" quilt made by Dotty Warkentine

Truer words could not be spoken...

What does CR actually mean?

Maggie, Debbie and I went to U.C. San Francisco yesterday with George and Sue, as part of Sue's support/care team. She had an appointment for yet more blood draws, an appointment with her physician and transplant coordinator, and then an appointment with a social worker. The staff was very insistent that she bring her care team with her and stressed the importance of having them along at this appointment. There were five of us altogether, including George and Sue. We didn't think that seemed like a huge group, yet amazingly they had a hard time finding a place for all of us to meet. Do most people only have one person who comes along as the support "team"?

We ended up in the Chancellor's office, sitting around one end of this ginormous granite table used for meetings with all the regents.

We very impressed with Sue's physician, Jeffrey Wolf, and also the transplant coordinator, Brigette. We were able to learn about her upcoming schedule, risks, benefits, answers to some really hard question, WHY she is undergoing the transplant when she is CR.

So the answer to the blog title: CR means complete remission. Sue is in complete remission, according to Dr. Wolf, and this was the first time Sue had heard that. Cause for celebration, for sure. But it brought up a whole lot more questions.

What does it really mean? She isn't cured. There are still lots of renegade cancer cells floating around, not congregating into a big enough group to be detected, but there nonetheless.

The stem cell transplant will be a long and arduous process. For Sue especially. For her family. For her close friends and caregivers. She will be in San Francisco for a couple of short stays, and then the biggie, three to four weeks. Then she will basically be on "house arrest" for one to two months after she gets home. She will need round-the-clock supervision. And round-the-clock prayers.

She is at the half-way point and there is light at the end of the treatment tunnel.