7 posts tagged “househunting”
How is it that I can't steal a few minutes to post each day? I really ought to. Things get away from you when you wait too long---
The cancer situation:
After the July 16 scan showed new nodules in my right lung, I was referred to UC Davis for a consult and possible participation in a clinical trial. They took FOREVER (over a month) to review my records and give me an appointment. When they finally called, my appointment was the next day. And after all that, I got a "Fellow" who did the entire work-up, and got the main oncologist, who answered questions for 10 minutes. All they really want is to recruit - no interest at all in what's going on with you. He said, "You should be the poster child for lung cancer", as he was leaving the room. He seemed surprised I was so chipper, and the trial coordinator asked if I wanted a job! Problem is, with the Fellow and trial coordinator also in the room, I don't see how the doc could ever say something like, "This isn't very promising - don't do it." In not so many words he suggested returning to Tarceva as a single agent if I hadn't progressed.
I went on Tarceva (one of the cancer drugs I was on the past 2 years) as a single agent six weeks after my scan. It's Day 17 and still no rash, whose appearance and severity supposedly indicates its effectiveness. I'm getting worried that it no longer works, but overall pain has diminished, which I don't think is purely subjective. The accompanying fatigue is something I don't recall from last time, but maybe I felt so crappy I was just happy to breathe. If I have to move on, the next plan is a clinical trial (which can be scary, especially since I was in the "placebo arm" last time). The doc thinks the Halichondrin B trial at Davis, but I have other ideas. I'd rather do a targeted therapy (another inhibitor of some kind, like XL-184 or BIBW 2992, which isn't being tested anywhere near), and save the systemic chemos for last. It's difficult, trying to come up with a treatment sequence that balances quality of life with extension of overall survival. Research measures significance in increments, like 2 months. In real life one measures significance more in terms of quality of time, rather than length.
Recent brain MRI is clean, which is a relief for now. I was getting some crushing headaches for awhile. Also, three cheers for Naomi and Carolyn, whose continued strength, survival, and amazing characters keep me sane and inspired.
Househunting:
Still trying, though it's even more difficult now that my focus is on treatment and hubster's is on the string of non-stop, month-long work events that occurs each fall. Neither the hubs nor I care that much that we lost on offer #8 (large, half acre, end of the road). Maybe we're not really serious...It's just hard to do this when one person's perpetually gone and the other doesn't have alot of energy. Anyway nothing even approaches the disappointment of losing the house with the pool and outdoor kitchen. I bucked the idea of a pool for awhile, but I've reconsidered. These days I don't like to swim in open water because I can't rely on my lungs. Perhaps I don't trust others to save me, either, because most people are too busy enjoying themselves in the water with you to realize you've cramped or whatever and are going down. I suppose I could wear a lifejacket and fins, just to aid the confidence level, but building endurance is a priority regardless. So I'm all for a pool, now.
What else? The gardener pruned my sister's lemon tree and rather than waste so much fruit, I've been making (Morroccan) preserved lemons, lemon marmalade, lemon curd, lemon chutney, lemon ice cubes...I'll get to the Limoncello eventually...
It's a huge time-sucker, canning stuff. It's also therapeutic in a strange way. However, I now need a bomb shelter to store all this stuff.
The hubster's constant travels have a strange effect on my daily living. When he's home, I can't seem to relax---I'm in constant motion, and I'm tired. Is it the cooking, cleaning, laundry, running errands? True, I don't cook or do much laundry when he's gone, but somehow I find time to sit out on the deck, blog, read, watch a movie, and still accomplish the hundred other things I'm supposed to do. The tv is OFF, which is relaxing.
Inspite of this, I miss him terribly when he's gone. After a couple of days on my own, I'm usually rested or more exhausted by some random activity, and I'd rather have him around. While he sits around playing Guitar Hero or Wii, he asks why I won't join him. The response is usually, You want dinner (lunch, clean clothes, etc.), or you want me to play games?
Finally, it's been a tough month all around. My heart goes out to those who have lost loved ones.
I don't need reminders of my own mortality, but it makes me reflect on the changes I've made since getting cancer. I hope I'm a better person, more compassionate and sensitive. I recall vividly my inability to empathize (or maybe comprehend) when I'd hear of someone's diagnosis, death, or even the death or suffering of a relative when I was well. I took the death of a stray cat harder than most events. Lately I mourn friends' losses and suffering, and I have an overwhelming need to try to alleviate the suffering of those who can't seem to on their own (my brother, parents). Sometimes that's the hardest, as it's usually bourne of a problem with no solution. Death is that paradox, conferring relief and suffering simultaneously--to the departed and the survived. I suppose my death will be a relief, but I've got a bit of fight left. I probably need to reconsider how best to spend this time, though...
The days are waning, the rain has come, there's christmas stuff out on the costco floor...sigh.
Oh yeah, I did enjoy the Sausalito Art Festival, which really is about art (no doodads here). I usually go south on Labor Day weekend--it's my Dad's birthday, but I thought I'd be in full rash by then. See what happens when you try to plan for side effects? (Did I mention I cut my hair in anticipation of hair loss?)
And the situation gets worse! We saw another pretty cool house (though more expensive and not as expansive) alas, it's a "flipper" so no one will loan on it. Can you imagine?
I feel like waiting until school starts to see if the madness dies down.
"Aren't you scared for me?", I asked Hubster. "No. I know you'll smack it down like you did before." If I didn't know him better, I'd think he was just being brave, but I think that's what he believes. I don't think he can imagine me being completely unable to do anything, especially take care of him!
As we walked to the snow bubble shop in Alameda after signing our lives away on offer #8---a house in Martinez, CA...way, way out in the 'burbs, closer to Walnut Creek...where I'll be spending alot of time again--- the weather was beautiful, I didn't get shortness of breath, I didn't feel horrible, I thought, well, maybe I'll die another day. I have eight more lives to go, and I'm not completely actualized, so I've got to go on. I have two more Harry Potter movies to see, and they better be worth waiting for (unlike the past two).
My latest CT scan is unnerving, if not downright scary. I almost cried, except I was on my way to the realtor's office and couldn't fall apart just then. Now I'm just in a daze. Maybe it'll hit me again later.
The enemy is back, the Death Eaters and Dementors, and they've set up shop in my right lung now too (or maybe they were there before, but not that I recall). Another PET scan (hopefully not more scary news), and after that, I go back on my old friend Tarceva. So all the hair growth and and smooth skin---well, it was fun for awhile, but I'd rather live and breathe. I'll have to get a haircut, a bunch of massages, a wax (TMI, I know), and eat piles of grapefruit in the next week. I've eaten enough BBQ meat in the last 4 months...I'm okay without it for a bit.
Now I admit I've "back slid" the last year or so. I haven't been the cancer avenger/activist I could be (not that I was ever, too much). I even missed the ACS Alameda Relay for Life this year. It's like praying only when one is desperate. Yup, Mea Culpa. I haven't been eating the asparagus wonder drink. Heh, YOU try eating two tablespoons of pureed asparagus every morning and every night. But I'm cooking asparagus now, eating cherries (helps with the pain), bitter melon, pineapple...call me fruity, I've read it helps. Anyone who knows where I can get guyabanos (cousin of the cherimoya)---speak up!
I don't know how to feel about embarking on the homebuying thing while winding up for another throwdown with lung cancer. A wise woman (Brenda Davis) once told me, do what you're going to do anyway---buy a house, travel the world, whatever. I guess NOT doing concedes defeat. On the other hand, what if I need the money for treatment? What if I'm too tired to negotiate a crappy interest rate?
At this point in time, owning a home seems to be what would make Hubs happy. Illness aside, I want Hubs to be happy. If I can't have my wish (be cured), then at least he should have his. It could be healing. If I can't travel, maybe finally attaching the idea of "Home" to a concrete reality would be some consolation. My nomadic lifestyle will truly come to an end, which saddens me, but all good things must come to an end. (Of course, he's not the one worrying about all the paperwork---homeowner's insurance and all that. Let's hope I'll be firing all cylinders by then.)
I read my friend Naomi's account of her brain metastasis. I wept and knew I hadn't even begun to feel fear. She is so brave and so stoic, it's amazing to behold. (Hubs took me to see Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince to distract me.) I've just met another Voxer from the Netherlands---another sister in Tarceva---barely 30 and standing at the front lines. Tomorrow is the 3 year anniversary of my first visit with Dr. Simmons. I'd like to see next year's anniversaries---wedding, diagnosis, whatever. We may never be cured, but we won't go down without a fight. So hang in there with us, will y'all?
Maybe we're not meant to buy a house in this friggin' area. 7 offers, people---Seven (the number we've attempted)! Ok, we lost the bid on the last one (see "Nerves" post) to an all-cash offer. Some investor threw down around $350k in cash and it was accepted. There were at least two other offers, and ours was considerably more, but cash is king, every time. I'm irritated, especially as Hubster's gone into desperation mode again, looking at things we wouldn't normally consider. And that effing short sale in Alameda...well, the bank's in no hurry, are they? The government's given them an influx of cash for the moment...they can stand to make us wait. It's been over 3 months since we made the offer on that ridiculous beater. Anyway...
I'm seeing the oncologist tomorrow. I've been feeling quite alot of pain lately. It's been over six months since my last scan, and my bone biopsy was in February, so perhaps it's time for a check. I would be disappointed but not altogether surprised if I'm experiencing progression. Like I've said, the doc never used the "R" word when he took me off treatment.
I've not been on a huge trip so I'm disappointed with that, but I'm thankful for the 4-1/2 month reprieve from chemo. Time goes by so fast. People's reactions are very interesting. I think most people believe I've been cured and things just go back to normal---I should be able to run around like I used to. I should work and recreate and carry on normally, but that's pretty far from the truth. No matter what, every day is a battle.
I went on Cancergrace.org to browse around, see what's new. It was difficult. But I've got to make myself face the fact that at some point, if not right now, I'll probably need treatment again, and I need to be ready. If that time is now, well...here we go again.
Mike's in Canada and I'm meeting with our realtor this afternoon for pizza and to submit offer #7 for a house in that far-off, suburban land called Pinole. Needless to say, the other homes in the area have all experienced multiple offers (the house across the street had 7 offers last week), and although this house is wallpapered up one side and down the other, and half its lot is upslope, and my realtor hates it personally...it has solar panels installed, double-paned windows, central air (it gets HOT in Pinole), boat parking, and 1681 sq. ft. of wonky 1968 rancher floor plan, along with ugly pergo floors and an overly large laundry room (like, half the size of the master bedroom) with lots of storage.
I neither love nor hate this house, but it's much less than what we'd pay for that beater in Alameda, it's much larger, and I might still be able to travel once a year to some more enticing faraway land. Of course, I write this because I have that awful gut feeling that we're offering way too much, in anticipation of yet another multi-offer situation. The hubster is tired of losing bids---he doesn't want to lose out on this one, inspite of its lack of pool (swim center nearby though) and the possibility of endless renovation ahead (both cosmetic and substantial). The listing agent already has one offer in hand, and supposedly (again there's that distrust) was told 5 others were going to write, although she hasn't seen them yet. Offers will be viewed tomorrow at noon.
Hubs already has fantasies of growing grapevines on the upslope and converting the back studio/shed into some sort of inlaw-type apartment for guests. Of course he's never home so this could take years. I can only console myself with the fact that Pinole has a Trader Joe's market, Peet's coffee, Target (like a higher end Wal-Mart-type place), and Kaiser clinic, and it's not too far from the (highway) 24 corridor and Walnut Creek (where my oncologist is).
Well, I should probably get on with writing that >gulp< deposit check. Wish us luck!
Suddenly it's Spring, and the air is filled with fragrant allergens. Gorgeous blooming trees everywhere, and it's hot enough to wear tanks, shorts, sandals. Just like that.
And just like that, we almost had an offer accepted on a bank-owned property. But, offer withdrawn. It was our third one---it could've been the charm, but it was not to be. I think this was another case of house hunter fatigue. Happens when you're desperate to buy a house, to get out of where you currently rent. Which isn't horrible, except for the folks rolling shopping carts full of stuff they've taken out of your recycle bins to the recycling center in the grocery store parking lot a block away. I haven't heard any gun shots in the night lately. And we love our neighbors---they're almost a reason to stay. The woman two houses down wrote the song, It's my party and I'll cry if I want to. Really.
Said house has 3 bedrooms, 2 semi-updated baths, 1380 square feet of living space, a kitchen sporting a Golden Harvest formica countertop circa 1971, new beige carpet, and a swimming pool currently full of algae.
Fresh from a line of disappointments, this house seemed like it would do. We didn't love it, it seemed small, it lacked charm (unless you consider '70s rancher fake brick "charm") but it could be dolled up. Its potential for cosmetic renovation was obvious and straightforward. It had a pool (which Hubs always wanted), and it was reasonably priced (though not an awesome deal compared to other homes we loved and lost out or disagreed on). The Hubster was on a mission, we'd been intensely pursuing homes for about six weeks, he wanted to make an offer the bank would accept, he just wanted the whole process to be over. The larger house next door went on the market at 85K more, the day we decided to make an offer, and there was a possibility that would heighten activity for this house.
Long story short, this house was probably priced high for the market, and our offer was reasonable in relation to the asking price, but high in terms of the comps for the area. Looking back six months is worthless in this market. Data for this year is in, but difficult to interpret. Which homes were distressed and which were regular sales? Are the low sales prices due to appraisals of homes, is Pinole just a low-priced area, or is it in freefall? The bank accepted our offer much too quickly, but the lag time between verbal acceptance and actually getting the signed contract back from the bank caused Mike to decide that the lack of boat parking, the possibility my sister might live with us (insufficient living space), and not being smitten by the property to begin with was enough to withdraw the high bid.
Should we have gone through the process and waited for the appraisal? What if it appraised for what we offered? We'll never know, because all the discussion and upheaval killed whatever inspiration we'd mustered for the project. I feel one either has to be inspired by the home or it's gotta be one hell of a deal to overcome the obstacles of being first time homeowners (if you don't have kids/school districts and all that to worry about).
The stress of house hunting has called forth various and sundry relationship issues. Differing core values that were never in conflict suddenly emerged, creating strife, doubt, and unforeseen emotional upheaval. I haven't felt this upset since before I was diagnosed, and I fear the consequences of ongoing stress. The lifestyle changes that accompany catastrophic illness are very abstract to someone who's never experienced major illness. The idea of being restricted by considerations like avoiding anything with stairs seems ridiculous. Having lost ground on my priorities (neighborhood with amenities, proximity to emergency contacts/family/friends), I can't give in on this point. His priorities are pool or view, boat parking, abundant space---inside and out. I want a real closet for my clothes and a one story house (which I've heard referred to as "extravagant"), in a decent neighborhood. Can't we just get along?
So, it's back to square one. I'm by no means in the clear, healthwise. I don't even recall my oncologist saying, "You appear to be in remission." All he said was, we're taking you off treatment and we'll see where that lead in eight weeks. If I get sick again, all I can think of is how the past three months have been spent on househunting---agonizing, arguing, constantly going over the process. Three months of life wasted on being miserable. I made it to my tenth anniversary and got healthy so I could be embroiled in an activity that's tearing us apart.
"Home" is a frame of mind and the feeling you create where you are. It's not tied to ownership. But maybe I think that because I'm not materialistic. I've spent my life looking for that elusive feeling called Home. I found it being with my husband. Anywhere we live would be tolerable to me because he's there. But he is object-oriented, and ownership is an affirmation of achievement and proof of what he works for. It's not enough to have the feeling, it's necessary to have control over the space. My idea of control is being able to leave when I want/need to. Commitment of the magnitude called for by a large mortgage is a burden not worth the liberation offered by owning the space. Ah, core values.
I'm sad, tired, confused, unsure of things. I also don't feel good. I need a cocktail, or something.
Happy times at the rental in Alameda. (Very corny, but happy)
The hubby and I are taking a small road trip to Idaho soon. I haven't been on a road trip in quite awhile, and not up that way, near my old stomping grounds. I had chemo yesterday, so it may be a nauseous little ride, but hopefully my various pills will keep it at bay.
So he came with me to my oncology appointment and my 10-minute chemo infusion. Both the oncologist and clinical trial nurse (at separate times) joshed him with greetings of, "Oh, so you actually DO exist! We thought she was just making you up! Pleasure to meet you!", etc. He's only been to 3 appointments with me since this entire thing started two years ago, and my oncologist expressed great concern over this, especially at this juncture, where another treatment looms and Plan B has to be fleshed out in a hurry. The onc was extremely delicate and diplomatic in conveying Mike's need to be a little more involved, but Mike's a provider, not a caregiver, so not sure the admonishment made much of an impact.
What IS making an impact is the idea that we can't afford to live in the Bay Area in the manner to which he would like to get accustomed. That ideal is fairly suburban---involving the big house, swimming pool, boat, etc. He doesn't care too much about things like climate, culture, or charm in a neighborhood---all the things I care about, which is what I cling to here. The climate is lovely, the culture I prefer exists here (and I realize there are as many folks in the world who disdain as prefer it), I like charming houses in charming neighborhoods where amenities are convenient, and preferably of the type that encourages walking. The reality, though, is that sort of environment is far more expensive than the big house in the suburbs with lots of land and a pool.
Along with this are the always present limitations---for now, staying within areas served by my health plan, Kaiser Permanente, and the looming prospect of needing the supportive care of friends and family, both of which I have in greater numbers in So. Cal. To that end, the possibility of moving there has been bandied about. But what of the heat (106 is not that unusual in the summer, and it's not really even a dry heat, but often a muggy, smoggy one, although to my skin, it's unbearably dry)? And the difference in culture and cultural amenities (ok, I want to say "cultural void", which means it's not all around so I have to drive to it, or basically work pretty hard at it)? The charm part is expensive there too, so I'll just comfort myself by saying at least I've enjoyed it for a time and if I live long enough perhaps I'll be able to enjoy it again. Finally, I'll have to change over from the standard of care I've been receiving at Walnut Creek, which is pretty scary. I've had nothing but problems dealing with So. Calif. Kaiser---my experience is that customer service there is nonexistent. Those people are rude and have other things on their mind---they really don't care if you fall over in their line, their job is to clock in and out and collect a paycheck---they won't go one iota over their routine to help you. THAT scares me, because I'm tired. I'm not used to having people with me to advocate on a regular, routine appointment. I'm afraid it'll reduce me to being less self-sufficient, which does weird things to your mind after awhile.
Am I being dramatic? Is it worth moving to a dreadful place for a lower cost of living and to be closer to friends and family?
