A friendship born of flowers

Scan update, fairy godparents, and a dramatic weekend

Travel buddies

This week I won’t be an asshole and keep the medical update from you until the end of the post. But I will keep it brief.

My scan last week showed an accumulation of ascites (the abnormal fluid buildup caused by cancer) and thickening of the peritoneum, which suggests there is still a dusting of cancer there. However, there was no major visible progression of the disease, which is good. I am disappointed that the taxol hasn’t eliminated it entirely, although my oncologists warned me about this from the start. They said there would be no remission. I am trying to think of this as not a death sentence but a condition I have to live with until a cure is discovered. (Please, researchers, hurry up!).

My oncologist wasn’t sure I should continue with my last three doses of taxol, given that it has already caused painful nerve damage in my fingers and toes. She gave me the option of stopping. But after spending so much time complaining about taxol, I suddenly fought to keep having it. Once they stop the taxol, I can never have it again, so I want to get as much use out of it as possible. We compromised, my oncologist lowering my dose to protect my nerves but allowing me three more treatments, one of which was the day before Theo and I headed to London for the Richmond Theatre Festival, where she would be performing.

My oncologist was annoyed that I was traveling again, immediately after chemo. “Can’t your daughter go alone?” she said crossly.

“She’s fifteen,” I answered. “EasyJet won’t allow her to fly alone.” More importantly, I wanted to spend time with Theo and see her perform. Tim would have loved to come with us, but we could not afford for all of us to go.

Still, I was daunted by the logistics of traveling to London, of finding the energy to support Theo, of getting up before dawn three days in a row.

Our weekend in London could not have gone better. We were lucky in every way. While it poured rain back in France, London was sunny and warm. Our flights were on time. We had the great fortune of staying with our former neighbors, Patrick and Louise, two of our favorite humans. I need to pause for a moment to say a few words about them. I have written about them before, in my updates on my medical condition on Caring Bridge, but I want to introduce them to the rest of you!

We used to live a few doors down from Patrick and Louise. Most days, Tim would walk Theo home from school or Spanish or theatre and they would stop to admire Louise’s stunning garden. One afternoon, Louise was actually in her garden, trimming things, and Tim stopped to say, “I’m so glad to see you! We have been wanting to tell you how much we enjoy looking at your marvelous garden.”

And a friendship began. Louise told Theadora that she could walk through the garden any time she wanted – there is a little stone path through the front garden. After that, every day on her way home from school Theo detoured to walk through Louise’s garden. Eventually, they invited us for a drink. But then we moved away and we fell out of touch in all the chaos around the pandemic and life in Tashkent and our moving from country to country.

Then magically, just after my initial diagnosis, Patrick and Louise wrote to me. When they heard that I was stuck in London alone with nowhere to stay, they offered me a room on the third floor of their beautiful home. I lived with them for several months. It was in their home that I broke the news to Theadora that I had cancer. It was in their home that I blacked out on the floor after my first chemotherapy. It was in their home that I began to write about my illness. There are many happy memories as well, but these were some significant milestones.

Patrick and Louise are among the kindest and most generous people I have known, as well as the busiest and most talented. Louise plays the violin and Patrick plays the flute, and there were duets downstairs almost daily. They also play with chamber music groups, maintain a vast community of friends, adore the theatre and art galleries and books and have many fascinating tales about their lives. Louise is an artist and teaches a painting class. They are so vibrant and sharp and creative that I hope that I can be like them when I grow up, should I be allowed to continue to grow up.

Since that initial long stay, we have visited Patrick and Louise many more times. We stayed with them last year on my way to my PhD graduation. We’ve met their children and some of their grandchildren. We’ve had many happy meals with them. I think of them as our London fairy godparents.

We arrived in London Saturday afternoon, and spent most of that day and evening rehearsing. I enjoyed seeing Theo’s three pieces and giving her feedback on her poem, which she felt was her weakest performance.

In Richmond, we met Theo’s acting coach Enya, also a beloved friend. The day I had blacked out after my first chemo, I had been supposed to have lunch with Enya. After I rang the ambulance, I rang her and said, “First, I am sorry but I can’t make lunch today. Second, could you come wait with me until the ambulance arrives?” And she did. She sat with me in Patrick and Louise’s house (they were away) and watched over me until it came. So she’s a lot more than an acting coach!

Theo competed in four areas in the adjudicate festival: solo dramatic performance, classical performance, poem, and sightreading. She won a first-place gold medal for her solo dramatic performance of Tiggy’s moving and hilarious monologue from Bombshells by Joanna Murray-Smith, a silver second-place medal for performance of her poem, “Letter to a City Under Siege” by Carolyn Forché, and another gold medal for her sightreading of George Orwell’s Animal Farm. The judge said that he nearly awarded her the gold for her classical performance of Malvolio, which he called brilliantly performed, but in the end decided in favor of a girl who performed Juliet. Theo accepted this, as she said she had given her best performance and the rest was out of her hands.

All in all, it could hardly have gone better. I was so proud of how hard she worked and how well she performed under pressure. It was a long, exhausting day. Between her performances, Theo volunteered for the festival, announcing other performers. One thing I appreciate about Theo is that she is always so keen to tell other kids how much she loved their performances. She offered so much encouragement to them. Maybe this was what made me the proudest.

The littlest kids were the most outstanding, we agreed. Especially a tiny girl named Pandora, who had the most exceptionally powerful stage presence, at five years old. “The little kids are killing it,” said Theo. “They put the rest of us to shame.” They were all so impeccably dressed as well, in sparkling dresses and little skirt suits, with bows in their hair. We concluded that the reason the little ones were so brilliant was that they hadn’t yet reached the awkward self-consciousness of adolescence. They were still performing for the joy of it.

We made it home in time for dinner with Patrick and Louise, which was the best way to cap off our visit.

The only—and significant—downside of the trip was how Theo transformed on her return to France. The moment she was on the plane she was in tears at the thought of returning to school and to a country she can’t seem to love. It makes me feel helpless and frustrated. I don’t know how to help her, how to make life better for her here. But we continue to try.

Theo in Richmond, with her first two medals