A Worthy Adversary

There is a scene in "King Arthur" with Clive Owen where Stellan Skarsgard (the bad guy) says..."Finally. A man worth killing." Well this is how I'm beginning to feel about my little mousey friend.

Why do I have yet another picture of a tripped trap minus a dead mouse in it? Because this is Trap #2 that was tripped last night. However, he must be getting sneakier or quicker because, as you'll remember, I got a piece of him the first night. Last night nothing. All I heard was the trap snap. I'm beginning to wonder if perhaps it's a ghost mouse.

Hot Surgeon...hot date

Three weeks ago I had my follow-up CT scan. Two weeks ago I got confirmation that my CT had come back clear.
I am officially CANER FREE! YIPPEE!!! Had I not been at work when I got the news I’m pretty sure I would have been weeping like a baby. In fact I’m pretty sure my dad got a little weepy when I called him.

I don’t know what was harder…waiting the first time to find out I did have cancer…or waiting this time to find out I didn’t.

You would think that sort of news would induce corks popping off of champagne bottles, or at least many rounds of drinks being bought by friends. Not for me. No I was so exhausted the Tuesday night that I got the news that all I wanted to do was go home, pop a bottle of celebratory champagne, put on my pajamas and settle in for a night of “Glee”. And that’s exactly how I celebrated being cancer free.

This past weekend, Labor Day weekend, I truly celebrated with my girlfriends in Tulsa. We had stiff mojitos and then went to see John Mayer in concert. What a fun weekend that was! We celebrated me being cancer free and my impending date with Hot Surgeon to get my port out.

The rest of the weekend was spent in Stillwater tailgating and watching football, enjoying a few drinks Sunday night with my neighbors, and overhauling the boat at Texoma on Monday. Come Tuesday I was all sorts of ready for my big date with Hot Surgeon.

Tuesday morning was spent driving home from Ada and then quickly scurrying around to find a cute outfit that would best hide my newly acquired fat rolls. Then of course there was the challenge of styling my remaining hairs in such a way as to look decent for my hot date.

God love the nurse at Hot Surgeon’s office…because she didn’t make me weigh in. She said…”oh you’re just coming in for a procedure. We don’t need to weigh you.” Hallelujah!

She has me slip off my cardigan and slip on, what can only be described as a paper towel bolero jacket. Had I had a marker I would have decorated it to look like a Spanish Bolero jacket a la John Galliano. I certainly had enough time to do so.

She took my blood pressure and said…”Oh! This is a little high today. You must be a little nervous about the procedure.”

What I said was…”Uhhh yeah. We’ll go with that.”

What my brain was thinking was…”I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that Hot Surgeon is going to come walking through that door any moment and I have a crush on him like every 12 year old in America has on that stupid Bieber kid.”

Then a little knock at the door and the angels began to sing as celestial trumpets heralded the approach of Hot Surgeon. And just when I thought chemo had completely killed every single womanly urge I could have…in walked Hot Surgeon with a new hair cut, those smoldering grey eyes, and that firm reassuring handshake that says “I’m going to take really good care of you today.”

Ahhhhhh….

It’s a good thing I was already sitting down because I’m pretty sure when he took off his lab coat and hung it on the door I was thisclose to fainting (or just simply turning into a puddle right there on the floor).

He leans the table back and turns on the spot light and all of a sudden I feel like I’m at the dentist…which, oddly enough, is where I was supposed to be Tuesday morning but I had to cancel him because I had a far HOTTER doctor to see (not that the dentist is by any means an ogre or anything). He proceeds to pull down my bra strap and tuck in my bolero jacket as my pulse shoots up another 20 beats per minute and I try to refrain from kicking the nurse out of the room and jumping him.

He gets me all numbed up and we’re off to the races. Within 20 minutes he has my original scar removed, the port out, and me all sown back up nice and tidy.

He pops a band aid on it, props me up and says…”Well, that’s it. You won’t need to come back in or anything. Just stay out of hot tubs and pools for the next 3 weeks.”

And I, trying my damnedest to muster all the smoldering sex appeal one can whilst wearing a paper towel bolero jacket, said…”Well Dr. Ellis although I’ve certainly enjoyed these little interludes of ours…I hope I never have to see you in this office again.”

Now at this point Elizabeth Taylor, Catherine Zeta Jones, Sophia Loren, or any number of screen sirens would have had a cute little line that would segue them into inviting him out for a drink (or back to their boudoir)…but not me. No…I just shook his hand, earnestly looked him in the eye and thanked him for a job well done. GAAAHHH!!!

Hot Surgeon: “Well…any time you’re up here come by and see us. Let us know how you’re doing and if there’s ever anything else you need let me know.”

Me: “Oh I WILL!”

My brain: “You stupid idiot! Why can’t you come up with some sort of cute thing to say??? Or even just an outburst of ‘I want your bod’! You could at least at this point still discount such an outburst to chemo-brain! You’re hopeless.”

So…much like everything else…life gets back to normal. I’m cancer free, port free, and will just have my follow up visits with Dr. Keefer for the next 5 years. I had mimosas with mom afterwards while dad went to my house to wait for the air conditioner repair guy. Life does go on and even in the midst of something as dramatic as having cancer…you see it in the little things.

Exhibit A. Why do I have a picture of an empty mouse trap in my last blog about cancer? To show that life is big moments…and mundane moments. I have a little mousey friend who got VERY bold last night and decided to make several audacious trips through my living room while I lay on the sofa watching TV. I set two traps before I went to bed. About 30 minutes later, while I lay peacefully watching Oprah…I heard a “WHAP!!!” and a blood curdling scream. As much noise as that mouse made I felt sure I’d caught him. But I woke up this morning…giddy at the thought of catching him…only to find the trap empty.

So there you have it. The end of my cancer detour is wrapped up in a date with Hot Surgeon and an audacious mouse.

What the what?!!? Some old lady just hit on my dad!!!

Okay. Seriously. Did we really think I’d make it out of my last treatment day without some sort of hilarious story? Of course not!

Friday morning started off the same as any treatment day. I got up, took my shower, put my numbing cream on my port so that I wouldn’t feel Nurse Ratchet stabbing me and grabbed my pump, magazines, and iPod. Of course this Friday was the BIG DAY! The last treatment day and the meeting with Dr. Keefer where he’d let us know the process for the follow up. So mom AND dad were with me. Dad had said he wanted to sit with me on my last day. And he did.

We met with Dr. Keefer who was very positive and even got a little weepy at it being my last day. Then he gave me a big hug and ushered me back to the back.

And if anyone had any questions about it being my last day they only had to spot the tiara and balloons to be assured otherwise. Not to mention the bucket of homemade cookies I took for everyone and all the presents my mom was passing out to all the nurses. 

So I get in and get settled. Dad and I proceed to converse whilst mom dashes off to do some shopping and run a couple of errands. We’re into our conversation when I notice this older lady having a hard time getting a chair off the stack. I say “older lady” but she’s probably about 67 or 68 so only about 8 years older than my dad. Now I’ll admit those things are pretty challenging to get off the stack…so I asked dad if he could maybe help her. So he did. Then he made the mistake (apparently) of carrying the chair to where she needed it…nice gentleman that he is.

He comes back and sits down. After a while the lady comes back to the back bathroom by me (which there is another one WAY closer to where she was) and taps my dad on the shoulder as she’s passing by. Then she proceeds to hang out at the wigs. Then she comes back by and engages dad again by saying…”I just had to see if there was anything back there better than my own hair. Tee, hee, hee…”

I kid you not. There was a “tee, hee, hee”. I nearly fell out of my navy blue pleather barkalounger I was laughing so hard!

Hilarious! Oh man…you just can’t plan for those moments.

After that my sweet friend, Joyce, arrived with hamburgers and fries! Perfectly timed after my 2nd dose of anti-nausea meds. Ugh. She stayed for lunch and then wound up taking me home since mom had to be in Edmond for her physical therapy for her finger.

So I got home and spent the rest of the afternoon sleeping, dry-heaving, and crying. Yes. Crying. I think the culmination of the last 8 months, the stress, the pain, the worry, the nausea…all of it finally came crashing in and I just let it go. I was crying tears of pure, unadulterated relief. And my poor dad had to be there for the whole messy display. Poor dad. He did what most dad’s do in that situation…he got me a drink (some iced tea if I hadn’t been dry heaving it probably would have been a scotch) and a wet rag.

The rest of the weekend was spent warding off the nausea and sleeping. Yesterday I convinced my home health care nurse to come early. Mom asked if my pump had gone off and I said…”No. And at this point I’m like ‘F’ it!” So I turned it off with 5mL left and let the nurse unplug me. It was my final attempt at rebellion.

Today I’m feeling slightly better. Mondays, post treatment, are always so difficult for me. I’m just generally tired and pukey. Always a fun combination at work. Nevertheless, I called the doctor’s office today to schedule my CT scan for Friday and after that comes back all clear (which we are all expecting) they will set up my procedure with Hot Surgeon to get my port taken out. Woohoo!!! The only thing standing between me and final freedom is a couple of nasty barium “fruit smoothies” for the CT scan and my date with Hot Surgeon.

Can. Not. Wait.

Counting Down

So all this week my mom has been sending me little gifts and cards in the mail to mark the 10 day countdown to my last treatment. Today I got some gorgeous flowers delivered to the office. Who knew having cancer could be so fun?!?

No. But really. What does one think about the final week of treatment? A friend asked me the other day if I was worried. I hadn’t really thought of being worried at all until she asked. This whole last 7 months I haven’t been worried about what would happen after my last treatment. I mean…I got it straight from the horse’s (God’s) mouth that I had nothing to worry about so who’s to argue with God??? I figure if He says “I got this.” Then He’s got it.

So this whole time I’ve just been focused on staying healthy (physically and mentally) and paying my bills. But isn’t it interesting how the power of suggestion works? Through that one little question I have been a little worried this week. I suppose everyone has that nagging feeling towards the end of treatment…”what if it didn’t work?” and “what if I have to do this again?” and “how much more of this am I really willing to take?”

I won’t deny the fact that I’ve entertained the “how much more of this am I really willing to take” question. I have. I’ve entertained it a lot. Hell…I’ve made frickin’ balloon animals for it. But I have yet to come up with a distinct answer to that question. Compared to so many people I’ve talked to or heard about, I’ve had a relatively easy go of it. I think because of my age and my general good health…chemo has taken very little outward showing toll on me. I’ve managed to work through it and with the exception of a couple of days post treatment where I had to leave work a little early…I haven’t missed ANY work since my surgeries. Treatments may have slowed me down but they certainly haven’t brought me to a screeching halt.

That being said I guess I would endure whatever it takes to keep me healthy and “hopefully” cancer free. I say that…but sometimes in the dark moments when you’re fumbling around trying to find a clean trash can so you can spit the bile in it that keeps washing into your mouth like frickin’ Malibu at high tide and you’re just praying that the tea and Cinnamon Teddy grams stave off the nausea just a wee bit longer…the alternative doesn’t sound so bad.

Man! This blog entry took a turn for the depressing didn’t it! Geez. Well heretofore no more depression. I will gaze at my gorgeous flowers and ponder what kind of head gear to wear on Friday. It’s between a tiara and some sort of fun party hat. I kind of wish I still had my giant green felt hat from St. Patrick’s Day last year. That would be fun to wear. Oh well ceste la vie!

Anywho…here’s to the FINAL treatment this weekend! Everyone keep your fingers crossed and think happy thoughts this Friday and over the weekend. 

Treatment #11

So this weekend was my 11th treatment and counting. Only ONE MORE LEFT! I cannot believe how close I am to being cancer free! I’d hazard a bet that I’m currently cancer free and really don’t need that final treatment…but then again I might as well do it. It’s like those people on “The Biggest Loser”…you’ve already lost 120 pounds…what’s 10 more??? That’s how I feel about this last treatment.

The 11th treatment went well. My friend Heather came with lots of gossip magazines and snacks to keep me company. There were really no interesting stories. I went in, got my labs, met with the doctor, and got hooked up to my IV. I did notice, however, that there was a very prominent member of the Chamber there. I’m always amazed at who I see getting chemo. Just goes to show that there are more people than you think who have cancer and who battle it on a daily basis in a very quiet manner.

My parents will be going with me to my last treatment. My dad hasn’t really been, shall we say…”interested”…in sitting with me at any of my treatments. I’m not sure if it’s just because he doesn’t really do sick…or if he didn’t want to impose on my girlfriends sitting with me. But he has said that he would come for the last one. I think he also wants to be there to meet with the doctor and get the final word direct from the horse’s mouth that I am indeed “cancer free”.

After the final treatment I will go in and get another CAT scan done. Woohoo!!! More “Berry Smoothies”. Can you sense my sarcasm? Ugh! I don’t care what you call it and what you do to make it taste better…that barium stuff that lights your innards up on the CAT scan does NOT resemble a fruit smoothie. It more closely resembles room temperature milk of magnesia or something equally nasty and thick.

After the CAT scan I will then be pronounced “cancer free” and can get my port taken out. We’ll hope that my hot surgeon will not puncture my lung getting the port out like he did putting it in. I can’t say I’m really up for yet another hospital stay this year. I’m pretty much OVER the hospital. And what little vacation time I’ve got left…I’d rather use it to visit my family at the holidays or visit my friend Barney this fall in New England.

The good news is…my treatments on Fridays are quicker because I don’t have to do the calcium stuff for my aversion to cold things. But I have noticed that the numbness in my fingers and toes is much worse now than it has been the whole time. Odd that it just started in the last couple of treatments. But it’s a bugger because I can’t hardly type anything only once. I usually have to type the same thing at least twice to get it right…which is highly irritating since writing/typing is generally what I do each day. I’ve also noticed that I’m much more nauseated and tired on the drug that sounds like “I-ran-to-the-can”. It hasn’t made me run to the can like everyone said it would…but it has made me MUCH more nauseated. So much so that sometimes the compazine and the zophran just aren’t cutting it. So I eat things like Teddy Grahams and Cheezits to help stave off the vomiting that I’m sure is lurking just around the corner.

I’m sad that I don’t have any funny stories to share. Though I think by this point in the process…very little is entertaining or funny at my treatments. I just want to get in…and get OUT. The sooner I’m done with each one…the sooner I’m DONE. And of course having to carry my fanny-pac-o-fun home with me each weekend just draws it out and makes it seem longer. So when I say I’m done on the 13th. I’m not really done until the 15th at about 10am when the home health nurse comes to unplug me. But oh, holy, smokes…the 15th is my last day. HOORAY!!! I. CAN. NOT. WAIT! After the 15th…it’s gonna be shove over and pass me the raw fish and where’s the keg! Because we’re gonna PAR-TAY!

Row, row, row your boat....

Yes, that’s right. Fall rowing season is back in full swing. This week I rowed my first full practice in months! It was hot (98 degrees) and long (an hour and a half) and I gave it my all, which is saying a lot considering I’ve pretty much let exercise and exertion take a back seat since January.

Don’t get me wrong…I’ve taken walks…but not regularly. And I take the stairs when I can…but haven’t pushed myself past four flights. But I’ve decided that I’m just sick and tired of being sick and tired (and fat). So last night kicked off my new work out regime. I’ve joined a new gym (with two goals in mind #1 to get back into fighting shape and #2 to land myself a doctor BF) gotten and new athletic swimsuit and am ready to dive into swimming and all the other pilates and yoga classes the gym has to offer.

But I digress. Last night was exhilarating and tiring all at the same time. There is just something magical to me about skimming along the river. I’m a water baby so any water sport is just grand to me…but this is different. It’s much like sailing in that you have to focus on the moment, think strategically, and breathe. Breathing is very important.

I also learned last night that, when applied correctly, SPF 90 does indeed keep every bit of sun from burning your skin. I’m pretty sure that stuff would protect a vampire. So I made it through a full practice in sweltering heat, gave it 100%, and didn’t get a sun burn. Take THAT cancer!

10th Treatment...DONE!

So last week I was sunning myself in Los Angeles without a care in the world. Sitting by a sparkling pool, drinking some beers with my friends from other chambers around the country and not really thinking about cancer…until someone asked me…”So do you think about cancer ALL the time???”

My answer? “Well…no. I wasn’t just now until you asked!”

So funny how everyone reacts differently to that word. I am part of a program for chamber executives that meets every year for four years in Los Angeles. After the 4th year we get to put a little handy-dandy distinction behind our names. So it’s like going to school each summer with the same kids. Last summer we were all new and were making friends. This year it was like seeing friends that you haven’t seen in a long time. Some people already knew about my cancer and others didn’t. Those who didn’t were quite shocked by the news but quickly recovered with a pat on the back, a “go get ‘em tiger!”, and a “can I buy you a beer?”

I’m beginning to think that’s pretty much the summation of my cancer experience…”Go get ‘em tiger!” and “Can I buy you a beer?” I think because I don’t look sick (nor does anyone other than my mom see me act sick) most people assume I’m tackling it with gusto and hope to reward my gusto with a beer. Thank God I can finally drink them now that I’m not on the drug that made me averse to cold drinks.

Speaking of drugs…my new drug that replaced the one I was allergic too has a name that sounds like…I-ran-to-the-can…which is quite hilarious and ironic since it does just that. Two words I never thought I’d actually hear my doctor say together…”Explosive” and “Diarrhea”. Such fun to think about that. And so much more fun to experience it…especially at work. This new drug, though glorious because I can drink cold drinks, is bugging me with the side effects. It’s making my fingers and toes numb. It’s making me more nauseated. Oh yeah…and there’s the gastrointestinal fireworks.

So I got back last Thursday from my glorious week long trip to California where I got to visit my friends Mike, and Cathy and Kevin, just in time to jet to chemo Friday morning. MAN what a downer! But the vacation proved to me, once again, that a disease like this might limit your energy but it can’t limit your spirit and joie de vie! I felt so good there! I didn’t care how backed up the traffic was on the 405 on my way to Ventura I was heading to see Cat and Kevin! Nor did I care that taking the PCH from Ventura to LA would add additional time to my drive down. How can you not be LOVING life (even if you’re in a rental car that is the love child of a station wagon and a mini-van) when you’re driving with the windows down and the tunes turned up through Malibu??? I suggest that anyone who can be down on life during that drive needs their humanity card revoked. Look around people! Life, in its smallest moments, is glorious!

So I’ve finished my 10th treatment…which means I have TWO LEFT!!! Dr. Keefer said last week that as far as he’s concerned we’ll do one more PET scan to make sure…but I’m cured. He said he was looking at these treatments as a means to an end…not a band aid. So with annual colonoscopies…I should be able to live the rest of my life colon cancer-free. Yippee!!!

So anyone reading this blog who is going through similar treatments…hang tough! There is an end in sight. And when you get right up on it…it’s so glorious to see!

Treatment #8

So we’re officially on the downhill slide folks. DOWNHILL. SLIDE!!! I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. I officially have only 3 more treatments left. WOOHOO!!!

And it’s a good thing too as I’m apparently becoming more and more allergic to my treatments. You’ll remember I had a pretty severe allergic reaction at my last treatment. Well…the same thing happened this week too. I took all my pre-emptive drugs just like I was instructed to do. Got to the doctor’s office. Got all my blood tests. Everything looked good (except my white cells were really low) and got hooked up to the IV. About 10 minutes into the actual chemo drugs I began to have shortness of breath and the nurses immediately took me off the chemo. They pushed another massive amount of Benadryl and steroids through and managed to head the major reaction off at the pass. My poor friend Macy got to witness the whole thing. She said she was really impressed with how quick the nurses moved and got me to feeling better.

Here’s the fun news. The drug that I’m apparently allergic too is also apparently the drug that makes me averse to cold things. Now that I’m no longer taking that drug I can FINALLY have cold drinks! I had a Coke Float for dinner the other night and it was glorious! Cold things no longer feel like electric currents in my mouth nor do they all taste like butter! Hoorah!

Think that was the only excitement at chemo this past week?? You’re WRONG! I happened to be sitting next to this older man who looked incredibly familiar to me. I kept thinking…”Maybe he is a member of the Chamber. I must know him through business somehow.” Just about the time I was about to give up and dive into my Travel magazine…his wife came in and said…”True? True Wallace?” And I tentatively said…”yessss…” Then she said…”Did you go to Byng Junior High?” And again I said…”yes”. Then she said…”You know our daughter Karen!”

Turns out my chair neighbor this week was the father of one of my best friends in junior high! Talk about a small world! I haven’t seen her parents for probably 15 or 20 years which would explain the reason why I didn’t recognize them…well that and the chemo brain.

After he finished his treatment a younger woman came in and took his chair. Kaylee, I think was her name, yet another breast cancer patient under the age of 30. I never cease to be amazed by all the women who are diagnosed with breast cancer. I’m also amazed at how supportive they all are with one another. She had at least 4 women come in to see her and bring her goodies and blankets for her first treatment. I gotta say I was a little jealous. I started thinking…”Hey! Where are all the people coming in to support me through my COLON cancer???” Then I thought…”Ohhh right! Yeah…it’s called your family and friends True! They come every treatment and bring you goodies to help see you through!” Who needs an official support group when you have such an amazing un-official one!

Kaylee was really sweet. I felt sorry for her because she had not gone through the “Chemo Class” to learn about her cancer and how the chemo would affect her. I wish everyone would just find the time to take that. It is so informative and helpful! But between her nurses and myself I think we got her up to speed. It’s pretty bad when I’m the “old pro” at all this chemo business. HA! But I do take a certain joy in helping alleviate some of the scariness for the younger women who I meet there. She was there with her husband and he, as most men do, seemed scared and uneasy being in a hospital/doctor’s office situation. So I did my part in putting him at ease and helping her realize that it’s certainly not the end of the world and you’ll be amazed at how much you can still do…even when you’re on chemo.

It’s also funny. Now my friends have started asking me…”True…what are you going to do in three treatments when you can no longer use ‘I have cancer’ as a way to deal with icky situations, horrid people, or just generally things you don’t really want to do???”

I just laugh and say…”Well…I guess I’ll just say, ‘don’t mess with me! I kicked cancer’s ass and I’m sure yours won’t be any tougher!”

Symptoms

I feel I would be remiss at this point if I didn’t share with you what got me to the doctor and onto the table for a colonoscopy. I’ve had many friends and acquaintances ask…”How did you know something was wrong?”

Well…here are a few “symptoms” listed on the MD Anderson website. Now I’m not a doctor, so just because you might have a little blood in your poo don’t immediately jump to the conclusion that it’s cancer. However…if you KEEP having blood in your poo…then go see your doctor.

MD Anderson says…

There often are no symptoms of colon cancer in its early stages. Most colon cancers begin as a polyp, a small non-cancerous growth on the colon wall that can grow larger and become cancerous. As polyps grow, they can bleed or obstruct the intestine.

Symptoms include:
• Rectal bleeding
• Blood in the stool or toilet after a bowel movement
• Prolonged diarrhea
• A change in size or shape of your stool
• Abdominal pain or a cramping pain in your lower stomach
• A feeling of discomfort or urge to have a bowel movement when there is no need

Many colon symptoms are not cancer, but if you notice one or more of these symptoms for more than two weeks, see your doctor.

I had been experiencing four of the six symptoms listed above for several months before I asked my doctor about it. You see I’ve always had a slightly irritable bowel and my mother has had Ulcerative Colitis since she was 30, so I really didn’t think anything of it.

It wasn’t until the size and frequency of my bowel movements changed that I really got worried. I eat a TON of bran. Seriously…I feel like a cow sometimes from all the bran and fiber I consume. So when I stopped going to the bathroom regularly (like every morning at 9am after my first cup of coffee at work) and the size of it changed AND I noticed blood actually IN it…I decided it was time to see the doctor.

I had originally asked my gynecologist about it at my annual meeting with him and he discounted it to hemorrhoids. A month later I went to see my family physician because I had a cough I just couldn’t get rid of and I wanted rid of it before the holidays. When we discussed my symptoms and my family history he scheduled me for a colonoscopy immediately after the holidays and the rest…as they say…is history.

Again…let me stress to you…I AM NOT A DOCTOR. However, if you feel like you are experiencing similar things please go see your doctor. It’s never too early to have a colonoscopy or to have your blood checked for cancer markers.

And feel free to run any poo-related questions by me. After all this…I feel very free to speak to anyone about my poo, their poo, my colon, their colon, etc.

Mid-week chemo...blah...

So mid-week chemo BLOWS. It blows BAD. In case you missed it…they had to change my schedule up last week because the clinic that I usually go to on Sundays to get “un-plugged” is no long open. So as of last week I had to switch to mid-week. I took the weekend off last weekend due to the schedule change and to let me platelets come back up. So this week I had chemo on Wednesday. I took the day off and went in like usual. Then went home and crashed. Typical chemo day.

Then Thursday I got up and drove 2 hours to Ponca City for a conference. I got home about 4pm and wanted to DIE.

Today I got up just fine. Went in to get unplugged and now here I am at work…again…wanting to die. I am SO tired. I just keep forgetting that chemo, on a cellular level, is like running a marathon. My muscles don’t feel it…but the rest of my body does through wanting to just curl up and sleep for 3 weeks.

Wednesday was interesting though. Everything started out fine…my platelets had made a remarkable change going from 97 on Friday to 160 by mid week which was GREAT! I got hooked up to my IV and everything was progressing as usual until I started to sneeze uncontrollably. Then I noticed that my palms and feet were itching like they had poison ivy all over them. Then I started breaking out into hives. About the hives time was when the nurses stopped the chemo and gave me a massive dose of Benadryl and steroids. Funny thing about drugs like that going directly into your blood stream…I kind of felt like I was back in the hospital getting morphine again. I could totally feel it go all through my body. I felt like I was on a roller coaster. I could feel my eyes dilating. It was crazy.

About the time the steroid was supposed to kick in making me feel like Super Woman…I crashed. The Benadryl worked its magic and I was itch-free and ready to snooze. I’ve never dozed at chemo, although I see a lot of the older people doing it. Having done it now I’m thinking that’s the way to go. It might have been the nap plus the steroids but when I got home Wednesday I felt like a new woman!

If I went alone to chemo and didn’t have friends coming to visit me each time…I would most certainly ask the nurses to put me out. A fellow blogger once said that at this point in his treatment he was tired of approaching it like John Wayne and decided he wanted all the pain/sleeping meds they could give him just to knock him out at chemo. Now I see what he meant!

Luckily my allergic reaction to one of the drugs is something that is pretty common for lots of people at this stage in the game. The nurses were really quick to act and made sure that I wasn’t in any discomfort. So now I’ve got amped up Benadryl, steroids, and Zantac that I will take the night before/day of my next four treatments. Or rather…my LAST four treatments. YAY!

The other good news is that the doctor’s office was able to work it where my insurance will pay for me to get home health care to come “un-plug” me on Sundays now so I’m back to my Friday-Sunday schedule for chemo. YAY! No more having to feel exhausted and nauseated at work! Woohoo!

I seriously don’t know how people go get chemo and then go to work. I guess we all do what we have to do…but call me a wussy…I just don’t have it in me to be polite and serving when I’m hooked up to something that is pumping poison directly into my heart.

Random Thoughts

So I heard back from Hot Surgeon today. HA! HA! Swimming is allowed! In fact his direct quote was…”Knock yourself out and do the things that you enjoy!” Hmmm…doing the things I enjoy would probably include him. But I digress to a place that you, gentle reader, probably don’t want to digress to.

My mother called last night and asked if I’d joined my new gym yet because she wanted to “help” with it. On one condition. That I not join a gym until after chemo and the port is out. You see…she’s afraid that I will “over exercise”. My response to that was…”Hello??? Have we met??? I’m not exactly the ‘over exercise’ type. Not to worry.” But she does so I asked if I got the all clear from Hot Surgeon if that would make her feel better. So this morning when she called I got to gloat.

See I think part of beating cancer is keeping up the appearance of normalcy. Doing the things that you normally enjoy doing. I enjoy swimming. So since I haven’t been able to do it all spring…well…it’s just been killing me. Not to mention that the longer I avoid extracurricular activity the pudgier I get. Yeah, yeah, yeah…everyone says “Don’t worry about that right now. It’s the chemo and the steroids that they are pumping directly into your heart that is causing you to gain weight.”

Well…that might be right. But really I think it’s probably from sitting on my arse a lot more than I normally do because I can because “I have cancer”. Or eating that extra pork chop because “my red blood cells need it.” WhatEVER True. Your red blood cells do NOT need that extra pork chop and neither does your bra fat.

In other unrelated thoughts…I am a Bachelor/Bachelorette fan. I admit it. I’ve watched this stupid “reality” show since its inception. My favorite bachelor still remains Bob Guinney…that is, until he became “The Bachelor” and subsequently became a total man-whore. But I digress.

So this season we have Ali… a twenty-something girl who left her job at Facebook in San Francisco to become the newest in a long line of love-losers. As I’m watching it this season and hearing all the guys (and Ali) on it talk about how they came to the show to “find true love and a wife” I’m struck by the fact that America has totally bought into the unrealistic thought that finding true love should be easy and clean. When in all actuality it isn’t. Life (and thus love) is messy. It’s not all helicopter rides over the Hollywood sign or jet trips to Vegas.

What I want to see is people put in real situations. I want to see on the first home town date this year the guy tell Ali…”Well I had planned on taking you on a tour of my town, grabbing a romantic dinner at this great little bistro around the corner and then later meeting my family. But instead my sister who has cancer really needs me to come over and mow her lawn and trim some of her trees. So if you don’t mind…I thought we’d do that and then grab some dinner before meeting the rest of my family.”

I want to see them miss their connection flight at La Guardia on their way to Barcelona and see how they deal with the stress of a missed connection and an iPod that’s now on the blink.

I want to see Ali get a horrid case of food poisoning and see the guy she’s with deal with it. Because, let’s face it, guys don’t do “sick” unless they are in it for the long haul. And even then it’s a tossup.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m sure out of 25 hand selected guys there is probably one or two truly nice men who aren’t as shallow as they are perceived on the show. But when you’re jetting between tropical paradises and make-out sessions in Hollywood hot tubs…when do you get to see if the person you’re with is truly empathetic or just sympathetic?

Okay. That is all. I’m off my soap box today.

And can I just say...

I have yet to see anyone who looks like this. The media and movies have wrongly portrayed cancer patients for years! 50 Cent says he lost like 50 pounds to portray a "cancer patient" in a new movie. Well 50 Cent if you had actually visited a chemo treatment center or actually talked to a cancer patient you would know that you are more likely to GAIN weight than to become emaciated.

I had this discussion today with the nurse who was taking my vitals. I asked him..."So, seriously, when does the emaciation kick in? 50 Cent is all emaciated and I'm just wondering when that nice little silver lining kicks in? You know...amongst all the diarrhea, constipation, cold sensitivity, etc....I'm just wondering when I can expect to loose some of this pesky weight."

He only laughed at me and said that wasn't likely to happen.

Thanks alot Nurse Dude. Geez way to burst a girls bubble.

Hey 50 Cent...when you really want to know what a cancer patient looks like give me a call. I'll take you to Ischen's for some fried chicken and beer. Then you can gain 30 pounds and really look like one of us. I realize it's not as dramatic as looking anorexic...but believe me, it's certainly more realistic.

Ugh. Just "ugh".

So today was supposed to be my 7th treatment. Thus leaving me (after this weekend) with only 4 more to go. But alas, thanks to the Federal government not reimbursing providers at a decent level for Medicaid patients…my lovely clinic will no longer be open on Sundays to “un-plug” me from my chemo pump. So that means that a little bit more than ½ way through my treatments I have to switch days.

My initial schedule worked out SO well. I would go in on Friday mornings, have my labs run, and get hooked up to the IV for 5 hours. I would work while I was there and then I would go home in a nauseated haze and crash for the rest of the day. Saturday was usually spent in bed and Sunday was usually a little better.

Well now I have switch to Wednesdays. That means that I will go in on Wednesday morning, get my labs and chemo and work remotely. Then I will probably go home and CRASH and then get up on Thursday morning and haul it into work in a nauseated haze. Then Friday I will get up and go to the doctor’s office, get un-plugged and then haul it into work where I will suffer through the rest of the day feeling exhausted and nauseated. Great. Just flipping GREAT. That should make the last 2 months of treatment seem really special.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining that I get another weekend pump-free. That is nice. It’s probably not a bad deal that I have to wait until Wednesday for my treatment since my platelets were so low this week. My platelets have been progressively getting lower which is not uncommon at this point in treatment. However…if they get much lower I may be forced to undergo a transfusion OR a very unpleasant treatment that would cause my bone marrow to over produce the platelets…but at a VERY painful price to me. Some people who have experienced that say it feels like every bone in your body is exploding one at a time. That doesn’t sound very pleasant to me…so I think I’ll work at avoiding that experience.

Last weekend, over Memorial Day, I went to visit my nephews in Midland, TX. That is just a hot, desolate place. But we had SO MUCH FUN there! I haven’t seen my nephews since Thanksgiving. This was not our year to see them at Christmas and immediately after the holidays was when I was diagnosed. So we’ve been hesitant at seeing them since they are little walking Petri dishes and always seem to be sick. But lucky the only thing I came back with was a stuffy nose due to allergies, which had not bothered me (thank you chemo!) until just now.

The side effects of the chemo are still what you would expect. I still have the tingling in my hands if I touch something cold. My mouth still feels like it’s electrified if I drink something cold. However the cold sensation dissipated fairly quickly this time. Today I’m actually drinking an icy Sonic drink for the first time since I started the chemo and it is glorious! I find that the straw helps. It somehow, maybe, warms up as it travels up the straw and makes it far easier to consume. I haven’t had any mouth or nose sores since the 2nd treatment. I’m still able to eat just about anything I want. That is good as I have to keep eating lots of leafy green veggies to keep the hemoglobin up.

I was kind of naughty last weekend and sat in the sun, un-sun screened, for about 15 minutes. I got pretty baked. It was NOT a pretty sight and I totally got busted for it today by the PA. She came in and immediately said ”You got some sun this weekend didn’t you,” in a very accusatory tone. I thought it had faded to a nice color but I guess they are trained to hawk-eye that. She gave me the same lecture on being really careful in the sun when I’m on the F-U5. I guess I’ll have to be REALLY careful this weekend when I go to the lake. HA!

The other thing that I’ve been curious about this week was swimming. Can I swim with my port where it is? I forgot to ask the PA today so I decided to email the man who put it in…Hot Surgeon. I figured if anyone would know the answer to that it would be Hot Surgeon. So we shall see what he says. Ohh Hot Surgeon how I miss you!

So we’ll see how next week goes with chemo in the middle of the week. At least I won’t have to haul the pump around all weekend. Yippee.

Miralax...not exactly the "miracle" it claims to be

So one of the not-so-lovely side effects of chemo is that it can do one of two things…it can give you horrendous diarrhea OR constipation that makes you think you need to Rota-rooter your insides. This week it is the latter for me. I’ve been taking the Miralax for the last three days to no avail. It really isn’t the “miracle” they claim it to be on the bottle or in their commercials.

Friday was chemo day. I’m finding that the effects are getting longer and harder now. I used to bounce back so quickly…but now it’s drawing out and really becoming an impediment to my social life. My blood counts were down really low this week too. That was really kind of shocking to me since I felt SO GOOD going into chemo this week. I was really energetic and feeling really good on Thursday. So to be told on Friday that my blood counts were getting really close to the point where they don’t let you have the treatment…well…let’s just say I was shocked. Apparently my little bone marrow is about to call in a vacation/sick day. It’s just working really hard and is apparently getting “tired”. So now I’m on a quest to eat as much red meat and green-leafy veggies as possible. No more Taco Bueno…only good, solid, home cooked meals for the next two weeks. I’ve gotta get those counts back up so I can stay on schedule.

Speaking of schedules…my last treatment is scheduled for July 30th. Which means that I will be officially D-O-N-E by August 1st. Why is this important? I’m a goal maker, a list crosser-offer, a finish line oriented person. So being that 1 is my lucky number…I’m really bull headed about making that August 1st goal. I realize that sometimes people just need a week long break to let their bone marrow get back up to speed…but damn it…August 8th just doesn’t have the same ring to it as August 1st does. So let’s all say a little prayer for the next two weeks that my bone marrow will start to produce what it needs to keep my counts up and keep me on schedule.

"Dr. Phil" Hour

I’m beginning to realize that many people are VERY open and honest with me these days. More so than you’d think. I’m not sure if it’s because they think I can keep a secret OR if it’s because having cancer makes you easier to talk to…or maybe I just ask questions and don’t really care if they seem too personal these days or not. (I blame all verbal indiscretions on the Chemo.)

Random people sitting next to me in chemo will divulge all sorts of personal information and stories. I’m also learning that sitting with my friends for 4-5 hours allows them the opportunity to share all sorts of personal stories and sentiments. Not that ANY of those personal stories will be divulged here. Your secrets are safe with me girls!

So for anyone who needs a good couple of hours to regale me with horror stories of your mother-in-law, or vent about how your husband doesn’t know how to start the clothes washer…just let me know. I’d be happy to adjust my chemo-schedule to accommodate you. HA! And in turn I will ask that you bring me some Starbucks and quite possibly a cupcake or some strawberries.

“Thank you” to my old roomie, Brooke, this week for keeping me company, bringing my FAVORITE cupcakes from Merritt’s bakery in Tulsa, and entertaining me with “Avatar”. And thanks to my other old roomie, Melanie, for sitting with me for the remainder of my extra long day on Friday and dealing with me when I got a little weepy. It’s hard to know when the “weepy” is going to rear its ugly head.

You girls make those sessions WAY more fun than they probably should be. I’m pretty sure our conversations keep the nurses in stitches!

Saline...ick!

So since today is a rather grey and otherwise yucky day I thought I’d talk about a yucky topic…saline. Ahh yes…saline my nemesis. “What’s wrong with saline” you ask, “isn’t it just salt water?”

Yes. It is just salt water…which I normally am a fan of. I use salt water to gargle with when I have a cold. I’m quite fond of the salt water that you find at the beach. I like salt water fish. I even like salt water taffy. However, the kind of “salt water” saline that they pump directly into your veins via an IV, port, or other mode of entry, tastes like garlic. It actually tastes like nasty, been sitting in a tin can for four months, starting to go bad garlic.

It’s usually not so bad if they are just flushing your port with a few CC’s of the stuff. But when your port won’t allow them to draw blood from it they apparently have to use 6-8 syringes full of the nasty stuff to flush it. So you go from tasting garlic at 7:45 in the morning for just a few moments…to tasting it for several minutes. N-A-S-T-Y. Seriously nasty.

So what do you do for that? I have found that chewing cinnamon gum works best. Don’t bother with minty gum. It doesn’t work. What you really need is the tongue-numbing over powering cinnamon gum. I’m a fan of Trident. It numbs your tongue up real nice.

I’ve also found that coffee works good. You need something with a good, strong, flavor. Don’t worry about the smell…you don’t smell garlic you just taste it since it’s going directly into your veins. A good stout cup of Starbucks coffee works wonders.

Do not make the mistake though, of thinking that a Chai Latte from Starbucks will work by combining the cinnamon flavor with a beverage. That doesn’t work and really just propels you directly into the nausea realm.

Actually…just blogging about this is making me nauseated. Ewww….

WARNING: Guys proceed at your own risk!

So this week I’m realizing what really sucks about chemo. About a month ago I touted the “joys” of chemo and among the “joys” was the fact that I had managed to lose and keep of about 15 pounds. Well that was so…until I realized that food actually staves off nausea. Yes…it’s an oxymoron. But truly the more you eat the less nauseated you are. The unfortunate side effect of that is…unless you are majorly active you’re going to gain weight. And since I have the energy of a sloth these days…well…let’s just say all those extra animal crackers, pears, cheese-its, etc that have been my heroes in my fight against nausea have now taken up residence around my bra. For the first time in my life…I have bra fat. Yes ladies…it’s true. It’s true and disgusting!

One day your clothes are all fitting loose and you’re almost back into your skinny jeans and the next thing you know…you’ve gained all that weight back and you now have fat in places that only “fat people” have fat. It’s totally grossing me out. I cannot believe this. The MINUTE I’m finished with the chemo…HELLO SlimFast! No joke.

Another thing that happened this week is apparently my ovaries and uterus decided to take a vacation. The nurses said that chemo could quite possibly cause me to not have periods while I’m on it. And in the beginning the thought of that sounded LOVELY! But then as I progressed through the chemo…I kind of considered my period as my body’s little personal “F-YOU!” to cancer and chemo. I thought that if I was still having a period then at least that part of my body was still normal and working. Well…not this month. Bon Voyage ovaries and uterus! I hope you guys have a nice little hibernation/vacation! Enjoy your time off. Hope to see you again at the end of summer!

But all of this is really nothing compared to my chair neighbor this week at chemo.

You know it’s going to be an interesting day when the old lady next to you requires a valium just to get chemo. I have no idea what sort of cancer she had but apparently it was her first day of chemo and she hadn’t been through the “Chemo Class” yet. She was probably 78 years old and her son looked to be in his late 50s. That being said, about half way through her treatment I guess the valium kicked in, because all of a sudden she sat up, became very alert and started chatting my friend Leslie up. Oh they talked about the biscuits and gravy that it took her son 2 hours to NOT find (he came in with a cheese burger instead). They talked about the joys of Florida and how beautiful that state is. And then it got really interesting when we began to get a full oration on the pros of alligator and alligator stuffing. I mean…apparently you’ve never had stuffing until you’ve had alligator stuffing. FAR better it is, than say your regular run of the mill turkey stuffing or chicken stuffing. The only thing that comes close to alligator stuffing is buffalo stuffing.

Now when buffalo stuffing became the topic of conversation I could tell that chair neighbor might not really be all together. She was drifting in and out and not really able to finish any kind of full on thought. Then chair neighbor’s poor son made the mistake of bringing her a Sprite Zero. Now the minute that juicy freshness was cracked open you would have thought that there is nothing in the world better than that. It was as if chair neighbor had just crawled through the Mojave Desert and had found an oasis of wine.

Two minutes later all hell broke loose as chair neighbor began to think that Sprite Zero has caffeine in it. We tried to explain to her that the front of the can said “caffeine free”, but she was having none of that. There was indeed caffeine in her Sprite Zero and poor son was going to pay the price!

I told Leslie that she certainly picked the most entertaining day to join me. In the 6 times I’ve been there now…I’ve NEVER seen so many elderly people there nor have I had quite as entertaining a chair neighbor as I had this week. It was madness. I find that the nurses seem to have to do a lot more work and hopping around for the geriatric patients. Us young bucks can get up and go to the bathroom on our own…thank you very much!

So the upside to chemo this week (because you know I always have to find an “up side”) is that it was my official half way mark. WOO-fricking-HOO!!!! I am down six and have six to go. I can’t say that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel yet…but I will say that just knowing it’s there is making a HUGE difference. Well that and apparently being the Chaka Khan of chemo. Everyone said my hair would fall out and I’d probably need a wig. Well…take THAT “everyone”! My hair has been thinning but in the world of cancer…I look like Chaka Khan. And if you don’t know who that is for the visual…check out her web site for a full attack of her glorious hair/weave! http://www.chakakhan.com/

Top 10 Things Not to Say to a Cancer Patient

10. Everyone in my family has had cancer and I’m sure I’ll probably die of it.
Really Negative Nancy? That’s horrible and depressing. Until you actually have it, though, you’re not in “the club”. So how ‘bout we not talk about stats and death. Hey! By the way did you see Jake totally tank last night on Dancing with the Stars?

9. Are you sure you can work?
Well…I’m a single girl and someone has to pay the mortgage on my nice house that I enjoy living in. So yeah…I can, will, and do work. I work 40 hours a week and then get chemo over the weekend. Then I come back on Monday and start all over again. I’m not dead or dying…I just have cancer.

8. I’ll bring you some crackers and ginger ale.
Uhhh…okay. But I don’t have the sniffles. I’d really rather have a couple of bean burritos and some nachos from Taco Bueno and a warm Coke since I can’t drink anything cold without feeling like I just stuck an electric fence in my mouth.

7. You probably won’t have a "cycle" while you’re on chemo. (My nurse said this)
Really??? SA-WEET! Wait. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.

6. So when do you want to shop for a wig?
Okay. This is like asking an Orca when it wants to shop for a bathing suit. Until I actually start visibly losing my hair let’s just assume the best and not get all giddy over wig shopping. I’d rather beach myself. Thanks.

5. Are you done having kids? Because this has a small percentage of a chance that you’ll be sterile afterwards. (Another nurse comment)
Seriously??? No ring on my finger and I’m coming to all my appointments with my parents. Do I look like someone who has kids? No. But now that it may not be an option…thanks for mentioning it. Geesh!

4. Chemo is a conspiracy. You should try this vitamin regime that totally cured my cousins, uncles, niece’s 4th grade teachers’ melanoma.
Uh thanks. But my doctors say chemo is the way to go so I’m gonna trust them. And by the way…vitamins make me puke and I’m trying to avoid doing that too much these days.

3. Have you tried the vitamin D, Aspirin, Agave Juice, Jell-o therapy?
Similar to #4 with a similar mental response from me.

2. Are they sure it’s cancer?
Well, they just took out about 9 inches of my colon and other surrounding tissue, put a port in my chest, and started pumping poison directly into my heart…I’m pretty sure they’re confident that it’s cancer at this point.

1. Did they give you a timeline?
Seriously people???? REALLY??? I’m not dying (at least not today). I just have cancer. It’s not like that Tim McGraw song where you immediately bust out the hospital doors and go bull riding or sky diving. Although if someone wants to take me bull riding or sky diving I’m totally up for that!


Now you may be thinking…”Geez True, well what CAN we say?”

You can ask how the person is doing/feeling/etc and then stop and sincerely listen. I’m pretty happy to talk to anyone about my colon…oddly enough. Especially if it will get you in the door to get a colonoscopy before the age of 50 (which is just a ludicrous age to start screening for cancer considering all the 30-somethings who are getting colon cancer).

There’s really no gentle way to tell people you have cancer…but you don’t want to lie when someone asks you how you’ve been or what you’ve been up to, because, let’s face it, once you have cancer it kind of takes over a big portion of your daily life. Not ALL of it, mind you, but certainly a large portion of it. So when someone tells you…don’t just gloss over it and immediately change the subject. That’s dismissive and rude. Just listen. Then if you’re inclined…give the person a hug, squeeze or nice hand shake. Don’t ever underestimate the consoling abilities of a basic human touch. And…don’t forget to tell them they look great. I never get tired of people telling me I look good…even on the days that I don’t.

NAPOM For Your Innards

Yes...NAPOM for your innards. That's what I've decided that chemo is. Every other Friday I go in and get hooked up to an IV that basically NAPOMs my whole digestive system.

Imagine with me for a moment that every inch of my digestive track from my mouth all the way down through the throat to the tummy and through the guts is covered in sneaky little rice hat wearing Viet Kong assassins. Sneaky little buggers who are just waiting to pounce on my otherwise healthy red, white and (for the sake of this imagery) blue cells. Do you see them laying in wait? Do you see them twisting their little moustaches with evil glee?

But wait! Up above! The little Viet Kong Assassin Cancer cells hear something. Could it be thunder? No. It’s the sound of jets storming the skies ready to drop their NAPOM and light this Mo-Fo UP! And as the chemo enters my body I envision the scene out of “Apocalypse Now” and all those little cancer assassins as crusty little burnt embers. And that’s pretty much where the imagery ends. Of course there’s usually “Ball of Confusion” by the Temptations or some sort of Rolling Stones song playing in the background.

But I digress…I guess I should start out this blog by saying what it is and why I’m doing it. In January I was diagnosed with Stage III colorectal cancer. I have never been “sick” and really wasn’t expecting the result of my first colonoscopy to be…”Well True, you have a very angry looking tumor that is most likely malignant.”

Nice eh? I thought so. But…as a doctor how do you deliver that news? And better yet…as the surgeon who removes the tumor and all the accompanying lymph nodes and tissues…how do you deliver the “True, you have cancer” news? Well I guess you do it just like that. At least that’s how it happened for me.

I don’t think you’re ever truly prepared to hear those three rather gi-normous words.

You.

Have.

Cancer.

How strange that three words can impact your life in such unexpected ways. But it does and then you realize that life goes on.

So January 11th I had my colonoscopy and that’s where they found the tumor. By the 20th I was having surgery to remove Mr. Dishman.

Yes…I named my tumor. I’m a very visual person and it was easier for me to visualize the whole surgery and tumor removal if I gave the tumor a personality. So I went through my mental rolodex of all the people in my life who I would consider “arch nemeses”. The one that kept floating to the top, per se, was my elementary school principal…Mr. Dishman. The man who would come in to my 3rd grade classroom, take the pencil out of my hand, and force me to hold it “the right way” because…”True, you’ll never be a good secretary if you can’t hold your pencil right”.

Seriously??? Even at 9 years old I knew two things: A) I did NOT want to be a secretary and B) I had gorgeous penmanship so who cared how I held my pencil??? But there I go digressing again.

So January 20th Mr. Dishman lost his hold on my colon and was promptly removed and sent off to a lab for testing. Now…like most people we had held out hope that the tumor would be self contained and by removing that we would be removing any hint of cancer. But by the 24th I’d heard the words you’re never prepared to hear and my blood pressure sky-rocketed from a lovely morphine induced 107/76 to 148/95. Truly! I kid you not. I think people should carry around little blood pressure machines and take their blood pressures periodically throughout the day, especially when they get stressed, just to see how crazy that shit can get!

By Valentine’s Day I’d gotten my port put in and had an unexpected hospital stay for two days as my lung re-inflated. You see, my surgeon, God bless him, had accidently nicked my lung while inserting the port and my little left lung collapsed. It SUCKED! The physical trauma of having a tumor removed has NOTHING on getting a chest tube. No joke. It’s horrible! I’ve never been in that much pain in my entire life. And don’t let the term “tube” confuse you…it’s really more like a garden hose forced between two ribs. Three months later and that area where they put in the chest tube is still sore some days.

By February 26th I’d had my first round of chemo. I put them on my calendar counting down backwards from 12-1. I have to have 12 treatments over the course of 6 months. So…do the math and that’s one treatment every 2 weeks until July 30th. Do not kid yourself…I AM counting down.

Luckily I’ve been really blessed from the beginning with outstanding doctors. Some I hand- picked and some I didn’t. But all have been very good, empathetic, and forthright. Which, let’s face it, when you’re staring down death…you want all the people in your army to be action oriented and forthright. And these guys are.

I’m now down 5 treatments. The newness has worn off. And now every other Friday is just becoming a bugger. The worst part of the whole thing is that one of the chemicals…really the NAPOM of the whole cocktail…is so strong that it has to be pumped in over a 48 hour period. So each chemo weekend I get to go home with a lovely fanny pack of chemo.

Needless to say, my dating life has taken a total backseat this spring. Camouflaging a fanny pack of chemo is just too exhausting. So I pretty much just stay home on the weekends that I have that. This is good because I’m normally too tired to do much else.

That’s pretty much it. I’ll try to keep this updated as I move along. And knowing me…it’s sure to be humorous…and if it’s not I’ll add a disclaimer at the beginning. HA!