Breaking the Benzine Barrier

Long, long, ago in a land far, far away, I regularly took my car to the gas station. I didn't really think much about it, just drove up, stuck the card in the machine and followed the on-screen instructions. Voila, gas flowed, car filled, receipt spewed out and I was on my way.

Then I moved. Far. To a foreign land. A land where they call it 'Benzine'. A land where the pumps don't look the same as the pumps I was accustomed to. These weren't tall sleek pumps with a credit card machine on each pump. No, no. They were short, and squat and, at many of the stations, there was just one machine in the center. A machine I feared.

I generally avoid doing things that would make me appear to be a complete fool; unless I admit up front that I will be a complete fool trying it, and then it's okay. But this was different. This was one of those things that everyone already knows - unless you're 13 - and even then, you've probably figured it out.

But the machine... with all it's funny foreignness, was daunting. What if I pushed the wrong button? Why was there only one machine with multiple pumps? Why was the lowest octane rating the 92 - that was always the highest, not the lowest! What if I somehow pushed the button for the wrong pump, would I then be paying for someone's benzine - someone that wasn't me?

But, I had a solution. I had a husband in this foreign land, one that understood the daunting machine with all it's funny little characters and words. And, he used the car much more than I ever did. And miraculously, the gar always had plenty of 'benzine' for me to consume wherever I needed to go.

So what began as just a fear grew into a bit of a challenge. How long can one live in a foreign land before one pumps their own gas?

Answer: 2 years and 11 months.

I have broken the benzine barrier and lived to tell about it. I pushed all the right buttons; I pumped the liquid gold...

Today's price after conversion = $6.68/gallon, but we prefer not to think in conversions. Instead we celebrate the fact that Benzine in Herning is only 8.95 Kr/Liter whereas the Benzine in Karup is 9.65 Kr/Liter - SCORE!

I did make a tiny fool of myself while returning the nozzle to it's holder but it would be impossible to explain. I figured it out and then scurried back to the car.

I no longer fear the machine. (okay, maybe just a little)

Hello darkness my old friend...

We had just finished dinner, Ole had left to take the dogs over to the field (the 9pm doggy play date is now the 7pm doggy play date thanks to the sun's rotation), and I was just sitting down at my work PC to call in for our weekly meeting when poof... DARKNESS.

Our power went out - causing several battery backup systems to cry out, as if we didn't know the power was out.

So I did what I tend to do best - I called Ole. Not that he could do anything about it, but hey, it is his country and who knows, maybe there's some magical switch somewhere I can flip. But no, the entire neighborhood was out.

Now one of the great things about this country is that there is no shortage of candles. As a matter of fact, I believe that one of the lines on that immigration form that I signed said something like.. Thou shalt always have tea lights burning... in Danish, of course.

I dutifully wandered throughout the living room and kitchen lighting every candle I could find. As it turns out, we have quite a few! Then I was lost. Candle lighting project complete, but what now? After wandering aimlessly in and out of our computer room, knowing full well that my trusty computer would not suddenly start working on it's own but hoping nonetheless, I finally sat down on the floor, grabbed the cat brush, and started grooming Mr. Pete. Happy cat.

As I sat on the floor I began to notice a procession of cars - one by one my neighbors were piling in and leaving. Then Ole got home and stated that Rema (the local grocery store) was still open for 15 more minutes, so we blew out all the candles and followed the crowd. I do believe all of Karup may have been at Rema as there were at least 30 people in line when we arrived, and on a normal busy day, there's about 10.

We came home to discover that power had been restored. Party!! I fired up the PC while Ole turned on the TV to catch his soccer match. All was right with the world.

But - before I could even get to Facebook, woosh, gone again. So I ran around again lighting all the candles, again, and then I sat down and read my newly purchased Alt magazine, by candlelight. By the time our power was restored again, the soccer match was over (his team won) and I had learned that attempting to access Facebook via the internet connection on my phone took much too long for it to be any fun.

Hopefully our lights are staying on this time!

Latest News

Yep, that's me - done with chemotherapy!
(And still able to make things rhyme.)

11 days ago I had my last chemo treatment and I can confidently say that the worst is over. Woo-friggin-hoo!! Yes I still have some aches and pains, but they are minor and each day I feel a bit more like my old self again.

On Friday I went for my radiation mapping, and though I swore I'd never do it, I now have 5 tattoos. Well okay, technically, they're just little teeny dots so that each time I go for radiation they can make sure I'm lying in the exact same position. Wouldn't want that zapper thingie to miss! I will go every day for 5 weeks starting on September 30th. Which means, if you do the math, I will be DONE in the first week of November.

What else have we been up to? Well, we bought a pretty new clock to provide a taste of New York and to go with our newly painted living room...


I don't think the color is 'true' in these pictures, but it's close enough that you can get the idea of what the NCS version of BM's Saybrook Sage looks like...





We had new gutters installed on the house and the current project is painting things outside. Before we started, everything was a very dark brown and we're brightening things up a bit so stay tuned for the final results!

Lastly, my Google calendar is starting to fill up with actual dates and times of social events. Before you know it, I may have something that resembles an actual social-life!

Bragging Rights...

Yep, I'm taking this moment to brag a bit about my incredibly talented oldest brother, Jeff. Not only did he write this particular piece but the second solo is him - he's the one sitting in the dark!

And yes I do realize that the video is 12 years old, but hey, youtube didn't exist back then!

The group is called "New York Trombone Conspiracy" and if you enjoyed this performance, you can find a bunch more on youtube. :)

Silver Anniversary

Today is the 25th wedding anniversary of one of our neighbors and the perfect time to explain another Danish tradition!

Last night the neighborhood was a frenzy of activity - kids running everywhere while the parents 'pretended' to drill holes in the neighbor's house. They didn't actually drill any holes but the idea is that you attempt to freak out the happy couple by pretending to destroy their house - or something.

By the time everyone went to bed, there was a beautiful 'gate of honor' at the couple's front door:


Between 6:30 and 7:00 am this morning, everyone gathered in the street in front of their house:


There was a trumpet and a flute to accompany what some would call singing...

The singing was sad. I'll give everyone credit for attempting a few tunes at this obscene hour of the morning, but let me tell you, they really needed a Ken Nelson (aka my dad), a man who can be heard miles away, to lead them in their songs. Instead, this singing sounded more like someone had woken a few mice and led them in a sad chorus. I kept thinking.. I thought this was supposed to be a happy occasion? When you have 40-50 people singing and you can still hear the flute... something is amiss! Perhaps by the time another couple on the street celebrates their 25th, I'll know the Danish better, and the tunes better, and I can attempt to lead them.

As the group started song #4, the happy couple appeared on the front stoop...


And when the singing ended, everyone was invited inside for breakfast.

While I love embracing new traditions, I must admit that to me, this ranks up there with the faulty concept of the danish birthday party. Hasn't anyone in Denmark figured out that when it's YOUR day, someone else is supposed to do all the work? The happy couple had transformed the inside of their house into a banquet hall with seating for all these people around 3 HUGE tables. I can only imagine where the tables and chairs came from - I hope they were borrowed and that it wasn't necessary to rent them or something!

Keep in mind, this was 7 am!! Which means, in order to serve breakfast to all these people, my poor neighbors were probably up at 5 am putting rolls in the oven, slicing cheese, setting out jars of marmalade, etc. I do hope that once everyone left they finally had some time alone to celebrate their anniversary!!

Note to the Danes... When Ole and I celebrate our 25th, please do come and sing to us, but, if it's not too much trouble, can you bring the breakfast with you? Oh, and some tables and chairs too? Thanks!!

Fire and Ice

Last Wednesday was my second dose of Taxotere. In my best effort to ward off side effects, I gulped down nearly 2 liters of water prior to the treatment. We were home, all ready to go, and then the phone rang. There was a problem at the pharmacy inside the hospital -something with ventilation - and they were unable to prepare the drugs for me. Thankfully, we weren't yet on our way and could just sit at home and wait.

Ole decided to take advantage of the little break and put on his painting clothes. Just as he was halfway through painting a window the phone rang again and now, of course, they were ready for us! He predicted that simply by changing his clothes and getting out the paint brush, they'd be ready, and he was right!!

When I go in for each treatment there is a whole question and answer session about the side-effects from the last time. This is where they decide what other glorious pharmaceuticals they will send me home with - more little bags of pills! The best thing is that I never have to go to the pharmacy for any of this stuff, they just give me little baggies with whatever pills I'm supposed to take.

In reviewing the last treatment, and my complaints about the numb fingers, it was decided that my hands would be put on ice. The nurse came with two frozen gloves and stuck my hands into them... holy ice, that hurt! But, I kept telling myself, if it helps, it's worth it!!


During the course of treatment, these frozen gloves came in quite handy. You see, one of the other wonderful side effects of all of this is that my body goes through menopause... or as it's called in some places, chemopause. And with chemopause, comes hot flashes. They were interesting and fascinating when they started, now they're just annoying! However, if you happen to be wearing an ice glove when you get a hot flash, just put your hand on your head and you'll instantly feel better!

After treatment, I was feeling the usual tiredness and spent the last few days just trying to take it easy knowing the worst was yet to come. Yesterday I spent most of the day in and out of sleep and wasn't feeling great last night so I decided at 10:30 pm that I would just go to bed. I mentioned to Ole that I was cold and as he gave me a hug, he said... "You're not cold, you're burning up." Bah. We then took my temperature, and yep, I had a fever.

The 'book' says that if I have a fever, I'm supposed to call them immediately and we did. And then, an hour later, I found myself in a small room, in a bed, in the hospital. They spent the next hour poking me, drawing blood, checking me, questioning me, etc., trying to determine whether it was just a fever or if I could have contracted something else. With my blood counts so low from the chemo, I'm not really able to fight off any possible infections, so they have to be extra cautious. Finally, they hooked up an IV with some antibiotics and saline and let me sleep, and Ole went back home.

After a frustrating morning of waiting around to see whether or not they'd let me come back home, and some pretty decent breakfast and lunch at the hospital, the doctor finally came to talk to me around noon. My fever had gone down and they cleared me for release. And here I am, home again!

So how did you spend your Saturday night?!

Whammies

Tap tap tap... is this thing on?

Hello world - I'm alive!

Last Tuesday was my first treatment with Taxotere (aka docetaxel). It seemed innocent enough. Oh sure, they warned about allergic reactions that can happen within the first 10 minutes of treatment, but I didn't experience that. I figured I was home free. I ... was wrong.



The day of treatment and the next day I had my usual tiredness but overall the Taxotere seemed to have much less impact than the previous treatments. I was thinking to myself.. weee.. this isn't bad at all! And then slowly, gradually, it snuck up on me. All my chanting of No Whammies, No Whammies, No Whammies... and then the little whammie with a lawnmower plowed through.


I don't remember the order of which horrible reaction came first, but I can tell you that if you go through the booklet of possible side effects and put a nice little check mark next to each one I felt, or am feeling, you end up with more marks than a high school trigonometry test.

I'll spare you all the gory details because 1. they'd probably gross you out, and 2. typing is still painful. Suffice it to say I'd rather have 2 more treatments of the first chemo drug than 2 more taxotere, but I don't get a choice in the matter. The worst effects that I'm still feeling are the numbness in my fingers (hence the typing issues) and the fact that nothing I eat tastes the way it's supposed to taste. Even water tastes funky! And, if you wish to share in my current misery, go to the kitchen and grab a bit of unsweetened chocolate as that will simulate what ALL chocolate is currently tasting like. They really should've warned me about that part. However, in fairness, had they done so, I would have been running out of there kicking and screaming.

There was one upside to the last treatment. While I was getting my treatment, a nurse came in and asked if I would like some lunch!! When she said that I could have tarteletter, I was so excited that nothing else mattered. The only other time that I ever get these is for julefrokest or easter time, made by my mother-in-law. This wasn't the hospital food they served back in the US!! One giant point for the Danish medical system...