Activities

Quite a bit has happened since my last post, but also nothing at all.  The full radiology report of my previous brain MRI scan was released the day after I blogged, and I have since visited with both Dr. Radiation Oncologist and Dr. Medical Oncologist.  The full radiology report said that my scan result was consistent with "disease progression".  This is because in addition to the swelling, Lloyd has a corner with increased blood flow.  But there is still uncertainty about what's going on in there because the increased blood flow is not associated with increased thickness or other signs of growth.  SO, we're consulting with experts as if Lloyd is still growing, but we're not rushing into any treatments or decisions.  I'm having another scan on May 24th, to see if it is more definitive or if Lloyd has changed in the 6 weeks between scans.  That would be informative.   

Next step:  get a referral to another medical facility, the Mayo Clinic up in Rochester, MN.  This is because Dr. Radiation Oncologist says he can't give me any further electron-mediated radiation to the site of Lloyd.  The risks to my healthy brain are too great.  But he said that his colleagues at Mayo Clinic have a photon radiation that might work for me.  Apparently we have more ways to control photons than electrons, so the photon radiation can be more finely tuned and will not cause as much collateral damage.  So, I'm somewhere in the process of pursuing that appointment in the next two weeks (hopefully I can get in before the next brain scan).  

Next step:  meet with Dr. Brain Surgeon again, see if he's got any news or ideas.  My sister found a news article about a doctor at the Mayo clinic in Florida who developed a new surgical tool/method to remove deep-seated brain tumors such as mine.  https://discoverysedge.mayo.edu/2018/07/11/improving-access-to-deep-seated-brain-tumors/  I'm not booking tickets to Florida or anything, but I do think it's worth discussing as Lloyd continues to be undead!  

Next step:  book an additional family vacation.  I've already made arrangements for us to go to the Black Hills (i.e. Mt. Rushmore, etc.) in August, but if Lloyd is undead this seems like too long to wait.  So my genius spouse said, how about we take two vacations?  YES.  YES.  That is a WAY better idea than the hassle of rebooking!!  My brother and his wife just bought a new house (they haven't even moved in yet, lol), so we might go to Seattle and bother them for a week.  We can help unpack!  Or cook your meals while you unpack!  Additional motivation for vacation #2 is my dear friend, G, who passed away last week from metastatic breast cancer.  I've gotta make the most of the days that I have!  We all do, really. 

ALSO, I've increased my steroid dose to 3 mgs per day and am much more comfortable on most days.  I guess I didn't even realize how uncomfortable I'd gotten!  But my head is feeling a touch better, so thank you, steroids.  

ALSO, we have some fun projects going on!  The spouse demolished the old wooden and somewhat rotten shed, and has ordered a new 10 x 20 shed!  It's basically a small house!  We don't have a garage, so we're super excited about this extra storage and work space.  It has two lofts in it, so the kids are hopeful for a play area.  My best friend growing up had a play area in the loft in her garage.  I always wanted to play up there!  But it was prohibitively hot most of the time.  

My project is that I'm painting the upstairs bathroom.  It's merely halfway done, but the girls enjoy helping me.  One more afternoon of good energy and it'll be done!  I picked a shade of blue that was recommended as inspiring "serenity".  I was a little worried it'd look like that country blue from the 90's, but that is not at all the case!  On the wall, it has a pleasant greenishness to it.  Huzzah!  

A few more pics from our joyous spring break trip to Santa Fe!  I failed to get them to post in order, but I think it won't trouble us too much. 

My stepdad is a professional oil painter (artist), and his art studio is attached to his home.  http://rogerwilliamsart.com/  He graciously shared his materials and expertise for a few hours of painting.  E was calling herself "Mona Lisa #2" as she posed for a portrait painted by A.  E was very patient and only got up for 2 breaks.   

Portrait is coming along nicely!

This is right outside their backyard, rural Santa Fe, NM.  Hiking to the arroyo (dry creek bed).

On our hike to the arroyo.

Also on our hike to the arroyo

Before we went to Santa Fe, we stopped at the Great Sand Dunes National Park.  The dunes are shown here as the gray material between the greenery on the bottom and the mountains in the background. 

My spouse turned into a little kid at the sand dunes!  He took off with his sand sled, heading for the tallest dune within reach, and we didn't see him for 20 minutes.  He came back to us looking like this.  Ha! 

The family, holding our rented sand sleds.  The park does not rent the sleds in the off season; you have to plan ahead and rent sleds from a nearby outfitter. It was such a beautiful day to visit this park, sunny and not too hot or cold.  

The beautiful snow made for wet sand, and wet sand is not good sledding sand.  Here is E struggling back up a dune.  She had a blast!  Said she felt like a fairy in a sandbox. <3

Pretty awesome!!

Who has a blog?  Me?  I have a blog?  Huh.  But there's all of these other ways I like to spend my time, too.  Well, that doesn't mean that you no longer have a blog, hbomb!!

I apologize for the delay, Carnation Nation!  Suffice it to say that I am rocking it in all sorts of dimensions.

And I do have several (small) recovery updates for you.

First, the never-ending drama with the steroids.  I have stepped down to a mere 1 milligram (mg) of dexamethasone per day.  I am very proud of this, and I am very physically comfortable at this dose.  I tried 0.5 mgs per day for a week, and felt moderately awful.  Headaches and nausea, which could mean either brain swelling OR discomfort due to underperforming adrenal glands.  I don't know how I'm to tell the difference!  So I bounced my dose back up to 1 mg.  Talked to Dr. Oncologist about this, and she said it's still too high of a dose for my adrenal glands to start making my own steroids, so I do need to come down/off eventually.  But I have an MRI next week (Friday the 12th)!  So she agreed that I could hold at this dose until after the MRI.  Huzzah for comfort and ease in the meantime!

Second, I have been soooo fortunate to be one of (what seems to be relatively few) chronically ill patients that had never had a problem with her health insurance.  Well, my health insurance, which has been awesome for a decade and has not denied a thing that I've needed to survive, denied my oral chemotherapy for 2019.  Turns out that this type of thing happens so frequently to so many patients that my cancer center employs a person who's entire job it is to find a way to get the needed care (this person even crafted the refutation and submitted it to my insurance company on my behalf.  Insurance denied it a second time.  SO this dedicated person contacted the drug company directly and somehow they agreed to give me the drug for free for a year.  My chemo shipment arrived at my house the day after I ran out of the pills from my previously insurance-approved prescription.  High drama! 

More drama:  The literature that came with the chemo shipment from the drug company was slightly different from the literature I had received from the previous pharmacy.  SO, I read it.  And in my reading of this new literature I discovered something:  my chemo, Nerlynx, interacts with another drug that I have been taking allllll year, Zantac.  (I've been taking the Zantac to prevent ulcers that would be caused by the steroid.  You might be asking, but Heather, why did no one mention the interaction between Zantac and Nerlynx previously?  Well, according to this literature, Nerlynx interacts with too many drugs for them to list them all on the paper.  They just happened to choose Zantac as one of the top 6 to highlight, so I got lucky in my reading.  But yea, it definitely seems as though my original Nerlynx pharmacist should have caught this months ago).  GUYS, I think that this is why I have not had the terrible diarrhea that is supposed to be caused by the Nerlynx (thanks, Zantac!).  My guts are not in fact a medical marvel.  So, this new-to-me literature said that if you must take Zantac, take it 10 hours before Nerlynx or 2 hours after Nerlynx or both.  Following these instructions does in fact allow my body to produce the famous watery side-effect of Nerlynx.  But it's not daily or constant, so perhaps my guts are indeed special.  I do think it's better (less watery diarrhea) if I eat oatmeal for breakfast (I know who's not surprised by this result--Dr. JT, PhD).  But this is just a guess right now, not rigorously tested.  But you'd be hard pressed to get me to eat anything other than oatmeal for breakfast now that I've got this notion in my head, so this hypothesis may never get tested.

I've been working!  Not quite full time hours, but I'm creeping closer and closer.  Still get quite fatigued and need lots of sleep at night, but it's getting better!  And everyone needs good sleep at night.  Occassional naps are not denied. 

Other news:  my hair has started to grow back in places.  I still have baldish-spots.  I say ish because there are light (not gray, I don't think!) thin hairs in the bald spots that never fell out, and I think that those hairs are growing.  But my dark brown hairs are the ones that did the falling out, and those are growing back in some places better than others.  It looks sort of ridiculous right now, but I'm not terribly concerned.  I greatly enjoy rubbing my head, and not having to do my hair in the morning (not that I ever did anything in particular with it).  As promised by Dr. Radiation Oncologist, I do have a reverse mohawk.  The biggest baldish spot is a short stripe down the middle of my head.   

More drama:  We took a road trip to Santa Fe for spring break in March, to visit my mom.  It was such a fantastic trip!  But it started out with lots of weather drama that caused some spontaneous re-routing.  I had deep gratitude for my reliable vehicle and my fully charged smartphone on this trip!

Here's the weather drama that tried to thwart our trip:

The eye of that storm is pretty much where we were trying to get to:  Colorado Springs, for a reservation at the kid hotel paradise at the Great Wolf Lodge.  BUT...

Seriously.  I-80 out of Nebraska was closed, I-70 out of Kansas was closed, and all of the highways leading into Colorado springs were closed.

screenshot of Nebraska 511 that evening.  Poor Nebraskans!  And parts of Nebraska and Iowa are still under water from the flooding that this storm caused.  

So, we managed to cancel our Great Wolf Lodge reservation (shoutout to the amazing customer service at Expedia!!  You wouldn't think so, but it's true!), spent an unplanned night in Lincoln, NE, and an unplanned night in Burlington, CO, then proceeded to vacation in southern Colorado (because by then the snow had almost completely melted).  Drama!

Our first vacation item of business was the Royal Gorge.

The family on the complimentary gondola ride across the gorge, approximately 955 feet above the Arkansas River.  Well, included in the somewhat steep cost of admission, so it's not truly complimentary, but you know.

Looking down into the gorge from the gondola.

Ian and Azalea zip lining across the gorge (they're not over the gorge yet in this photo)!  Poor Eleanor wanted to do it, but you have to weigh 100 pounds and be ten years old.  She's not quite either of those things.  

Summer 2002: Fried Pie

M:  Thank you so much for the beautiful cairn necklace and words!  I am delighted by you and your gift.  Much love!  

This post is dedicated one of the most remarkable humans on the planet, my dad.  And it's inspired by the following quotation that's been on my mind of late:  "Would that I had the chance in my sons' lifetime and my own to one day explain to them all the forces that moved me," The Tennis Partner, by Abraham Verghese. 

I spent the summer of 2002 at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, conducting research in the developmental biology laboratory of Dr. Robert Duronio.  I had been moderately terrified to move so far away, even for just a summer, but in the end I was SO glad that I did.  UNC-CH is one of the most beautiful university campuses I've ever been to in this country, and I adored my time there.  It boasts of being the oldest University in the U.S., and I relished in the history.  Most of my time was spent in the newer, science-y part of campus, but I made a dear friend, Zib, and she and I would take long meandering walks through the old parts of campus in the steamy southern evenings.  The Spanish moss dripped off of the stout old trees as our Birkenstock-clad feet crunched on the gravel footpaths.  We found a place where raspberries grew wild and frequently paused to munch on them.  We'd often, too, find our way to the main part of campustown and pop into a shop for some Froyo (frozen yogurt).  Everything we could want or need was within walking distance--history, food, music, shopping.  Everything was East Coast and noticeably MORE than everything in my Midwest.  Clothes were trendier, food was tastier, entertainment was plentiful, and I loved it.  I learned how to not eat cereal for breakfast, that I look good when I wear pink, and that the secret to buying new clothes that you'll actually like is frequent shopping where you browse rather than infrequent shopping where you must buy pants and get stuck with awful pants (yea--I may have learned this lesson that summer, but I clearly still break this last one.  I hate shopping).     

At the conclusion of the summer, the research program hosted a symposium at which all of us scholars gave a 15-minute presentation of our research projects.  It was a lovely little event, and my dad bought a one-way plane ticket out to Chapel Hill to attend.  After the symposium he and I walked back to the dormitory where I had spent the summer, hauled all of my belongings down the elevator, stuffed them into my Saturn L-series sedan, and hit the road for what ended up being the road trip of a lifetime.

I'm not sure who's idea it was to take the backroads, but to lend some adventure to our road trip we decided against Interstate travel for the first part of the drive.  We wanted to explore the country!  And explore we did.  That first day, I was driving along somewhere in western North Carolina, and dad and I were chatting up a a storm.  Suddenly, I was confronted with the busiest, most highly numbered orange detour sign I've ever seen.  It had numbers for DOZENS of highways on it, each one with an arrow pointed in a different direction.  This is not typically something that would happen in the Midwest because our highways largely run north-south and east-west in grid-like fashion.  But down in the southeast, roads go every which way, and you can have intersections with more than four turning options!  It's madness!  So I had sped past this epic detour sign, and I thought I saw that to stay on our highway we needed to go left, but dad thought that to stay on our highway we needed to go right.  Well, of course I listened to my daddy!  I dutifully turned right when he pointed to "our detour".

Suffice it to say that turning right was NOT the right detour for our highway.  We ended up completely off course, but everything worked out.  Taking the wrong turn landed us on the Scenic Blue Ridge Parkway, which was absolutely breathtaking.  The only stressful thing about finding yourself on one of the most beautiful drives in America is that there weren't many options to turn OFF of it once you found yourself ON it.  We were rather stuck on the Blue Ridge Parkway for the majority of the day, headed toward nothing in particular.

Our plan was to camp that evening (we somehow had modest tenting supplies--I must have brought them with me that summer? I don't remember at all), so at some point we needed to find a place for camping despite not really knowing where we were.  We found a GORGEOUS campground in the mountains of western Virginia, with a creek running through it and a man playing a clarinet.  He was our camping neighbor, and his lovely melody filled the air among the fragrant pines.  After we set up camp we needed to find some food, because we did not have a cooler or cooking resources on this particular road trip.  So, we hit the unknown road again and got lucky when we found a tiny town nearby.  It was the kind of mountain town that seems to exist along just one road, because the mountains are on either side of the road and there are no other places for roads.  I always wonder where they put the schools in these skinny, linear towns. 

I do not remember what the restaurant was called, but I do recall the band:  Fried Pie.  The lead singer looked to smell of Patchouli, and her sandal-clad toes stuck out from her broomstick skirt.  Her beads clicked as she rocked to the bluegrass beat.  The banjo filled the tiny fluorescent-lit church-basement-like room with its vibrations and twang.  The fiddle sang its heart out while dad and I gorged on fried okra, fried chicken (well, dad ate the chicken), cornbread, and mashed potatoes from the 5-foot buffet line.  I was stunned by our good fortune!!!!  What were the chances of stumbling upon this little town, this tasty meal, and this remarkable music????  All because of a missed detour sign and a wrong turn.  I adored this evening with my dad and Fried Pie.  But our good fortune was not to continue...

The next day we struck camp, figured out where we were, and made a beeline for the nearest interstate to make up some time.  We were still too far away from home to consider finishing the drive on this day, so we found a place to camp in the middle of Indiana.  It was either Brown County State Park or Yellowwood State Forest in the middle of the state, and it was an awfully hot and muggy summer day.  We set up our meager camp in the shade at the base of a forested hill.  It should have been cooler there, but it wasn't. 

We got back in the car and headed into Bloomington, which is likely a fun college town during the fall and spring semesters but was very quiet and dull on this hot August day.  Several establishments weren't even open, but hiding beneath a parking garage we found an air condititioned pub, and that was good enough for us.  We shared a pitcher of ice cold beer and ordered some dinner, nursing our pints so that we could prolong our time in the air conditioning.  We eventually bid a fond farewell to the modern comforts of Bloomington and set off for what would be the worst night of camping in my entire life. 

It was one of those awful summer days when the sun going down doesn't actually help cool things off.  No cool nighttime breezes stirred in the trees.  The hot, heavy air persisted in the campground, moistened my clothing, and shrank my lungs.  Needless to say we did not bother to build a campfire that night, we just crawled into the tent and tried to sleep.  I remember this being uncomfortable due to the heat, but also due to the fact that I was sharing a tent with my DAD, and so there was a limit to the amount of clothing that I could remove.  I don't think I've ever been so sweaty, and I don't sweat very easily.  I still gasp for air when I think about the oppressive heat and humidity that night.  I'm not sure that either of us got any sleep.  We probably struck camp and hit the road before sunup, I don't even remember.  It was so, so awful. 

I always knew that my dad was cheap, but in hindsight I think that that night of camping in Indiana was a defining moment in cheapness.  If ever there was a time to spring for an $80 hotel room, that would have been a great time.  Good thing we had the memory of Fried Pie to carry us home. 
     

A higher-functioning recovery point and Seattle

Oh my, it's been awhile!  So much to catch up on, but in summary I'm doing quite well.  I finally reached the higher-functioning recovery point that I was longing for.  About two weeks ago I started truly feeling on the good side of crummy instead of shades of less crummy.  I assure you that there's a difference.  "Shades of less crummy" is  perhaps, maybe, hopefully feeling a bit less crummy than yesterday, at least for the purposes of telling your mom that yep you're feeling better, but overall you're truly still feeling quite crummy. This was me for pretty much two months.  Then in early March, approximately coincident with decreasing my steroid dose down to 2 mgs per day (half a pill), I started to feel on the good side of crummy, with extended moments of feeling good between the crumminess.  And that goodness continues!  And the crumminess--well, it doesn't need to be discussed further, as we all know what it entails by this point.  But it's LESS. 

On Saturday I stepped down to 1 mg dexamethasone, so now I'm cutting my half-pills in half.  It's quite ridiculous, and the dose I'm getting is very imprecise because I lose a fair bit of the tiny little pill to dust when I try to cut it into quarters.  (The pill is smaller than a shelled sunflower seed before I attempt to cut it!)  As usual I had slightly worse head pain in the first few days immediately following the step-down, but now I'm fairly comfortable for most of the day.  I continue to have increased nausea as my steroid dose goes down, but I can eat through it.  It's just a nuisance.  I wonder if the nausea is just because of the steroid step-down, or does the neratinib make me nauseous and the steroid has just been masking it for me?  Who knows.  Also, my face is still puffy as can be.  I wonder how long it will take for that to go away? 

I have been working half days this week!  Huzzah!  This was my idea, because it doesn't feel right to feel moderately good and not devote some of that energy to my job, which is paying me.  Also, it would be brutal to have to work an 8 hour day straight out of the gate when I run out of time off, so I thought that starting off with half days would be nice.  Last night at dinner I told the family that I planned to actually GO to work today (yesterday I just worked on my laptop from home), and they all cheered for me!  E fist pumped the air.  It was precious.  Some treasured colleagues gave me rides to and from work, and I had a great morning with my co-workers; it was SO good to see and hug everyone.  Oh my, and I had 2000 unread emails when I started yesterday!  Goodness!  I got through 500 in 4 hours yesterday, so hopefully I can knock them out pretty readily in the next week or two.  Most of them are junk and don't need a response.  It's pretty boring to click through three months of emails, so fortunately I have some other more interesting tasks to do (at least two manuscripts to review for postdocs in the group, among other things). 

Last week my little family went to Seattle for spring break!  We had booked the trip in the fall, before the diagnosis, so I worked it out with my job to still go on the trip without abusing my medical leave.  We had a direct flight from Omaha to Seattle, so traveling wasn't too taxing for me, and we were hosted most of the time by my brother and his wife.  It was GLORIOUS.  We toured a chocolate factory, had the best weather of the year, spent three nights on the beach, went to the zoo in Ballard, visited the Ballard locks, and grilled out.  For my part, I did all of these things, but I also got lots of sleep in cosy beds, and only had one day on which I felt too crummy to participate in stuff (I mysteriously puked up my breakfast, thus freeing up the neratinib to cause diarrhea [bananas and yogurt seem to work for me to prevent this major side effect], and I was then a digestive mess for 24 hrs!).  That was one of our beach days, so the family just enjoyed the ocean without me, no big deal.  But it did mean that I didn't get to take them on a hike in the Olympic National Forest as planned, which greatly disappoints me.  We'll just have to go back!!   

Me on the beach at Moclips, Washington, with the wind conveniently causing my hair to hide my steroid moon face.

Us flying a kite on the beach at low tide.   

My heart in the Pacific.

My sis A gets the photo credit for this one.  The spouse and E jumping for joy at sunset.

We found DOZENS of sand dollars!  

My family, my bro, and his wife after we filled up on chocolate samples at Theo chocolate factory, the first organic and fair trade chocolate maker in the U.S. (as we learned on the tour).  The chocolate was DELICIOUS, and the samples generous.  

For some reason Google is failing to access photos from the latter days of our trip, so I can't post them right now, but I don't think I took very many anyway.  The ocean got most of my camera's attention.  

Oh, the final photo I have to share is of my brother's wedding blanket.  I finished it in time to deliver it in person!  Here it is folded up, but hopefully you can see the pattern in the stitches.  It turned out pretty cool, if I do say so myself.  Huzzah for no loss of small motor skills so that I could get this finished during my recovery.   Me and wedding blankets.  

R and A's wedding blanket.  Pattern and yarn from Knitpicks. I used the color Platinum.

     

The Enchanted Valley

This is the third post describing my hiking adventure with my brother, Ryan, in the Olympic National Park last summer (June 2015).  The first post described my first day in Seattle, and the second post described my first day of hiking toward the Enchanted Valley.  The current post describes my second day in the backcountry, when we made it to the Enchanted Valley.  

After a deep, unbroken sleep in the backcountry, we awoke a little after 7 am to the sun beginning to warm our tent.  We each crawled out of Big Agnes from our own personal door, our feet sinking in to the cool gray sand.  It didn't take us long to get busy doing some camp chores.

Ryan used the single camp stove to brew us some coffee. He has an adorable little percolator coffee contraption that is made out of some sort of metal that is entirely too heavy, but my brother isn't bothered by the extra weight in his pack.  After the coffee was brewed, he put on a pot of steel-cut oatmeal, loaded up with plump organic raisins and a scoop of brown sugar.  

This is our little cooking area in the morning light.  You can see the two-piece coffee pot with a black handle, sitting on the rock, to the left of the red fuel canister.

Our boots, warming and drying in the sunshine.  In the background you can see me down in the creek.

While he tended to breakfast, I sat on a stone in the creek and pumped water through the filter.  The sun warmed my back while the water rushed by my feet.  As Ryan had shown me, I faced downstream so that I could pump the water from a small clear pool rather than the stirred-up rapids.  We had vessels for carrying almost 10 liters of water, and we decided to fill them all up for our big day of exploring so that we wouldn't have to pump water again for awhile.  It takes awhile to pump 10 liters of water.  I still wasn't done when Ryan brought my coffee and oatmeal to the creek, so I asked him to take some photos of me pumping water, so that I could show my kids how it was done.

Here I am in Pyrites Creek, pumping creek water through a filter to make it potable.

This is the end of the tube, resting in a clear pool of water with very few visible particulates.

The thing with the red top is the pump + filter.  You work the handle up and down, sucking water out of the creek through the tube and into a water storage vessel (shown here in green + duct tape).

And that concludes the water filtering lesson because that is when Ryan fell into Pyrites Creek and broke my camera.  Since I did not bring my cell phone into the backcountry, I did not have further means for taking photographs.  Ryan had his phone, but it was less than 20% charged so we had to use it sparingly.  Thus, I have no further photos of this day (unless my brother supplies them to me...).  

We left our tent and the majority of our supplies at Pyrites Creek, just carrying water and snacks for a day hike into the Enchanted Valley.  It was about 3 miles from camp to the valley, and the forest looked much like it had yesterday but with more meadows.  The meadows were remarkably dry and a bit brown from what had been one of the hottest and driest Junes on record.  The trees, however, did not disappoint:  tall, wide, old, and fragrant.

After a quick little hike we came upon the entrance to the Valley.  It was marked by a tall wooden gate across the trail, unconnected to a fence or any further barrier.  We opened the gate to pass, and dutifully closed it behind ourselves despite its unclear purpose.  We crossed the creek on a huge log that had been carved into a bridge, with a handrail on only the left side.  The other side of the log was completely open to the water tumbling over rocks at least a story below us.  This was the most exciting creek crossing and my favorite one of the trip.  The day was warming up considerably, and I was a bit hot from the hike, so it felt good to cool off in the moist air above the creek.

Around another bend or three we had views of the chalet in the valley that is on all of the photos and postcards.

From google images of the Enchanted Valley

Unfortunately, the Valley looked nothing like this on my Valley day.  It was hotter than a dickens and dry as a bone.  Most of the greens were browns, and all of the breathtaking waterfalls were dried up save for a tiny trickle of white over there, maybe, or it could have been a long white rock.  The good news is that the hot and dry version of the Enchanted Valley was still beautiful in its own special way, with its majestic trees and broad meadows.  We hiked maybe a half-mile past the chalet, and considered hiking up to the pass, but I was threatening to get overheated.  After exploring the valley for a little while and munching on some lunch, we decided to head back to camp.

We made it to camp by 2pm, and I was HOT.  I was trembling as I raced to remove my boots, put on shorts and a t-shirt, and throw myself into Pyrites Creek to cool off.  The water took my breath away and quickly brought down my core temperature.  The water was too cold to stay submerged for long, so we alternated swimming and sunning for about an hour.

Now it was only 3pm, and this presented a problem.  It was far too early to start the evening and dinner routines, but we had already achieved our Enchanted Valley goals.  What should we do with our afternoon?  After weighing our options, we decided to break camp and hike out to O'Neil's camp.  O'Neil's was three miles from our current location, and 1/3 of the way back to the car.  This was therefore a reasonable plan to give us an activity for the rest of our day, and also to put us closer to the car for our hike out of the woods on the next day.  It didn't take us long to pack up and hit the trail.

We were less than a mile from O'Neil's camp when it happened.  We saw a bear!  We may have even seen two bears. The bear was working on a project in the middle of the trail about 30 yards in front of us.  It was perched on a little dirt mound alongside the trail, tearing strips of wood from a stump.  Our view was poor due to trees blocking our view, and the bear kept re-positioning, so it was unclear if the bear was working alone or if it had a cub working with it, too.  We backed up, way up, so that we could still hear and see the bear but felt more comfortable with the distance.  We kept talking to each other so that the bear knew where we were.  We considered returning to Pyrites Creek, but I was tired.  I had walked 6 miles to and from the Enchanted Valley, plus another 3 miles to this here bear.  I was not in the mood to add mileage to both today and tomorrow's hikes out of fear of a bear.  We alternated moments of waiting and retreating, waiting and retreating, until we unanimously decided to walk around the bear.

The trail containing the bear happened to be at a location favorable for circumnavigation.  The mountain gently sloped on either side of the trail, and we knew that the trail was heading down and to the left.  So, we went off-trail and cut across the mountain down and to the left, with Ryan leading the way.  The ground was so littered with evergreen needles, sticks, and logs in various stages of decay that it didn't even seem like I was walking on earth anymore.  Instead I was sprint-hiking across the springy ground, trying to keep up with Ryan as he navigated us to the trail as far away from the bear as reasonable.   All the while we tried to talk to each other so that the bear knew where we were, but in a situation like that it's hard to think of things to say.  I ended up singing Dory's song from Finding Nemo, "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming."

Eventually we reunited with the trail.  I wanted to run down the trail, to improve the distance between me and the bear or bears, but I had to settle for speed-hiking due to my pack and the fatigue.  As I settled down from the bear scare I realized that walking around the bear was a metaphor for a lot of challenges that I've had in this life.  I couldn't move the bear, and retreating wasn't a good option, so I had to find a way to proceed with the bear.  I kept walking, and I walked around the bear.  I didn't let the bear interfere with my plans.  Luckily my brother was a good partner for this decision, as he has been for so many of my difficult decisions.

Shortly after the bear we arrived at O’Neil’s and set up camp.  This campsite was nestled in the woods a bit more, but nonetheless had excellent creek access.  We placed Big Agnes under a tree and next to a fallen log, then began our evening routines of cooking and water-pumping.  This night's feast was bowtie pesto pasta with goat cheese and sundried tomatoes.  I'm telling you, you've never tasted food so good as that prepared by my brother in the backcountry.

Unlike Pyrites Creek, this campsite had an established privy.  I felt obligated to use the privy despite my proficiency at peeing in the woods, in part because there was another tenter nearby.  Unfortunately, the privy was super creepy to get to.  It was easily 200 steps from camp (judging by the step data below) at the end of a narrow trail through thick green underbrush that was as tall as I am.  Thus, going to the bathroom was an exercise in bravery, particularly after seeing a bear so near to the camp.  I ended up singing loudly to myself for each step of the harrowing journey to the privy, until I could lock myself inside.  I'd start singing again right before I unlocked the door.  This time my song of choice was the Beatles', "Hey Jude", but I always replace "Jude" with "June" because that is my niece's name.  If my rendition of "Hey June" didn't scare the bears away, nothing would--Nah, nah nah, nah-nah nah nah.

After dinner and chores we headed down to the creek to relax.  I thought it'd be nice to stay up a little later than the night before to see some stars.  We found some ideally shaped stones and fashioned them into recliners in the creek.  We kept our bodies dry on the stones while the water trekked downstream.  We had great conversations, my brother and I.  We discovered that we live by some of the same rules.  My number one rule is: optimize.  Ryan’s rule #1 of the backcountry is:  don’t make a decision until you have to.  Rule #2, for both of us:  feels better when you earn it.

Sometime after 10pm it still wasn't very dark and we could only see four stars.  We realized that it was high summer in the Pacific Northwest, so it wouldn't get truly dark until much later.  We said goodnight to the creek, goodnight to our recliners, and turned in to Big Agnes.

Day 2. 28,802 steps. I think the bear scare is represented by the shortest orange bar between 4 and 6 pm.

   

Award!

I'm going to interrupt my Olympic hiking posts to interject a Washington D.C. post.  Last week I traveled to D.C. to receive an early career scientist award, and several members of my supportive and loving family joined me.  It was an overwhelming experience because I kept feeling the gravity of good fortune:  to be successful, to be supported, to be alive.  Also, I had to give a 5-minute acceptance speech, and I was a bit nervous about that.  Despite the weighty emotions, it was such a wonderful experience!  My grandparents rode a subway for the first time.  My daughters visited the national monuments on the Mall.  We visited the National Zoo and caught a glimpse of the newborn panda on the PandaCam.  It was spectacular.    

Below is a copy of my speech, which can also be viewed at minute 33 by following this link.  Don't be alarmed by the login.  Just type in your info and login.    

Heather's acceptance speech:

Thank you very much, Joon.  I am so very honored to be here today accepting this award from ARS.  I am especially honored to be here among the many outstanding ARS employees who are also being honored today.  Perhaps the other honorees will resonate with the strange feeling I have of receiving an honor for what has most certainly been a team effort.  Dozens, if not hundreds, of people have contributed to this achievement, starting with my husband Ian and my loving and supportive family, some of whom have traveled from Iowa to be here today, including my grandparents.  Thank you for being here to share this moment with me, as you have time and again throughout my career.  My team also includes the fantastic doctors, nurses, friends, co-workers, and even acquaintances who navigated me through two diagnoses of breast cancer in the past 5 years, and whose support was critical to my survival. 

I want also to thank the wonderful support staff and scientific colleagues at my location in the beautiful Ames, Iowa who facilitate my research and outreach endeavors.  It is impossible to name all of the mentors and collaborators who are in my heart to thank, but I would like to name those whose guidance and intellect have been critical throughout my career:  Jo Handelsman, Thad Stanton, Al Klingelhutz, Shawn Bearson, Torey Looft, Karen-Cloud-Hansen, and John Bunge.  Thank you for paving the way, or for helping me to pave the way when the way could not be found. 

My scientific impacts have been in the field of microbial ecology, in particular regarding antibiotic resistance gene diversity.  You are perhaps familiar with antibiotic resistance in terms of “Superbugs”, which is a word for pathogenic bacteria that have become so resistant to antibiotics that we can no longer treat them with antibiotics.  I don’t study Superbugs, but I’m interested in the reservoir of antibiotic resistance genes in the environment, how resistance genes move among bacteria, and in alternatives to antibiotics that might prevent the emergence of new Superbugs.  My research has helped to define resistance gene diversity in both pristine and antibiotic-impacted ecosystems, from Alaska to the pig gut.  I hope that the data my collaborators and I generate will inform scientifically sound policies to reduce the risk of making more Superbugs, thus improving health and food safety.         

I’d like to conclude by making two comments to my daughters.  In high school I took an AP chemistry class taught by a first-rate teacher, Mr. Ferrell.  One day following an exam, Mr. Ferrell tried to comfort the lesser-achieving students by assuring us that we’d all hit our wall someday.  “Everyone hits their wall,” he said.  Ever since that day, I have been fearful of my wall, wondering how high it would be, how wide it would be, would it hurt when I hit it?   Daughters, I am happy to report that there are no walls, only doors, and it is up to you to walk through them.

 Second, in 2005 I was representing the Graduate Women in Science organization at the University of Wisconsin’s Committee on Women.  I was attending this committee meeting because graduate students in Madison were not entitled to maternity leave of any kind, even if it was unpaid.  I had researched several other universities who had mechanisms for maternity leave for graduate students and was presenting my case to the committee.  Afterwards the one male member of the Committee said, “Women think they can have it all!”  Daughters, I am happy to report that with the right support and some hard work, yes, you can have it all.

I am humbled by this award, and I am grateful to ARS for being a door and for being a part of my having it all.

Pyrites Creek

Ryan parked the car at Grave's Creek right next to his vehicle's twin: a green Subaru Outback with Washington plates.  I put on my SmartWool socks, carefully laced up my hiking boots, and settled into my pack.  At this moment when embarking on a journey, I often feel a moment's hesitation:  Did I pack enough socks?  Will the kids be okay while I'm gone?  Did I stow my keys where I'll find them again but not lose them along the way?  This time, however, was different.  This time there was no hesitation.  I knew that I had everything I needed:  my boots, my brother, and the woods.  Nothing else mattered.

Our boots crunched on the gravel behind the row of cars, then stomped over a wooden footbridge into the woods.  Into the woods.

This was the first of many creek crossings.

The path was fairly wide for the first two miles.  Too narrow for two people to walk together, but wide enough to pass oncoming hikers without difficulty.  The first two miles see many day-hikers of folks who hike in to Pony Ridge.  Pony Ridge is a beautiful place where the river has cut through the rock and a large wooden bridge carries the trail over it.  We didn't linger with the day-hikers, though.  We plunged ahead, eager to keep pounding the trail.

Soon after Pony Ridge, the trail became more narrow and less traveled.  Ryan and I spread out a little bit, each lost in our own thoughts.  We were always in each others' sight, but sometimes you don't need to talk in order to enjoy the company of another human.  Especially on the trail.  The rhythm of my own footsteps on the remote soil sent me into a meditative state.  My mind quit chewing on the various problems that had inhabited it for weeks.  I released the problems into Mother Nature's capable hands.  I just walked.

My two feet, carrying me over.

This odd little ptarmigan was hiking alongside us at one point.  I could have picked it up!  

That's a big tree!

 We reached the first backcountry campsite 6 miles from the start.  Ryan and I were both feeling great, so we decided to go another 3 miles to the next campsite at Pyrite's Creek.  I didn't know for sure if I could make it, but I thought I could.  So I did.  When we got there, Ryan gave me a big hug and said that I killed it.  I know I did.  I knew I could.  We arrived at 6:07, and his projected arrival time was 6:30.  We beat his projection by 23 minutes!  I felt rather accomplished.

I also felt rather spent.  After all, I had just hiked 9 miles, mostly uphill, with a pack.  I sat on the sandy bank while he set up the tent and filtered some water.  Soon I was feeling refreshed and able to participate in camp life.  

Ryan filtering some water for us at Pyrites Creek

Our tent, Big Agnes, at Pyrites Creek

This is most of our food in the bear can, with a view of our campsite on the banks of Pyrites Creek.

Ryan made haystacks (deconstructed tacos) for dinner.  Best meal I've ever had! 

We took shots of Herdez salsa from a can to avoid spilling any on the ground and attracting vermin.  Pass the Herdez!

After dinner we were both ready for bed, so we turned into Big Agnes.  It was still light out.  I was asleep by 8:30.

Ryan's girlfriend, A, loaned me her FitBit for our hiking trip.  Afterwards she hooked me up with the data, which shows how intense this first day of hiking was.  I walked 24,935 steps that day.  And I loved every one of them.

Pre-Olympics in Seattle

I arrived in Seattle to one of the hottest and driest Junes the area had ever seen.  My brother and his girlfriend, A, took me out for brunch at a cute neighborhood crepe place.  The coffee was remarkable, and the atmosphere was sweltering.  Few establishments in Seattle have air conditioning, and this restaurant was no exception.  We were sweaty by the time we finished our breakfast.  

Then I set up a temporary camp at their new house while we prepared our supplies for the hike.  I don't know what I enjoyed most:  organizing my clothes and personal items in my pack, or spending time with my little brother in his home.  It's very special to be with someone you love in the place that makes them the most happy.

We went for a walk in the neighborhood for a beer and some supplies.  He had been putting off buying a new tent for awhile, so I was glad to be a catalyst to improve his backpacking supplies.  We went into a local store and he found a Big Agnes-brand 3-person tent.  I referred to the tent as Big Agnes for the duration of our trip.  How could I not?  It's called Big Agnes.  

We walked past a farmer's market that was packing up, and a farmer at one of the stands asked us if we'd like some raspberries.  I said thank you, I'd love some, and he handed me an entire flat of raspberries!  We carried the berries with us to King's pub  where the bartender used them to make us a custom raspberry margarita.  These things only happen on vacation!

Ryan, A., and me at King's pub

Back at Ryan's house he packed our food in bear-proof containers before stuffing it into his pack.  Always a gentleman, he didn't allow me to pack any of our mutual food or equipment in my backpack.  I only packed my own water and supplies.  While he tended to the food, I made us a pre-hike raspberry pie, because that's what you do when you're given a flat of raspberries the night before heading into the backcountry.  You bake them into a pie.

Fortunately I was pretty worn out from my long day of flying, planning, walking, and packing, so I was ready to turn into my cozy bed despite my high level of excitement.  A. had made the guest room very welcoming for me, with chocolate bars, water bottles, and Tim's chips displayed on the nightstand.  I rearranged the decorative pillows to make room for my head, read a few chapters of The Invention of Wings, then snuggled in for the night.

I awoke to the soft morning light of Seattle slanting through the wooden blinds.  This is the day, I thought.  It has finally arrived.  I am going hiking in the Olympic Mountains.

Ryan scrambled some eggs with peppers, mushrooms, onions, tomatoes, olives, and cheese.  I ate at their kitchen table, admiring the fine details of their newly updated kitchen:  butcher block table top, self-installed beer tap, tiled backsplash, a potted orchid blooming over the table.  The chickens made their morning clucking noises behind me in the yard.  I could have stayed there all day but I lingered only for a moment; it was time to finalize our packs and hop in the car.

Ryan and his friends have a tradition that on their way out of town to go backpacking they top at their favorite bakery for some treats.  Who was I to stand in the way of tradition?  The bakery was well-stocked with all sorts of goodies and smells.  It was very hard to choose.  I fell back on an old favorite, a croissant, because I love croissants and it is fun to be in search of the world's finest croissant.  I also got a chocolate macaroon that was incredible.  But Ryan hit the pastry jackpot by trying something new:  a chocolate bismark.  Neither of us were familiar with bismarks, but now we can't go back.  It had a flaky and savory exterior, a custard-filled interior, and a light coating of chocolate icing.  It was the best pastry I've ever had.  

Then we were off!  Driving south out of Seattle, west through Olympia, and north up the peninsula.  The excitement was building with every mile.  At 11:30 we pulled into the Ranger's station at Lake Quinault to get our backcountry pass.  The ranger gave us a bit of info about bear sightings, camping in the backcountry, and the weather.  In minutes we were driving down a winding gravel road to park the car at Graves Creek.  

Here we go!