Stress Reducer

This following tale is not one I'm proud of but one I need to get off my chest.

It reflects poorly on me but it was a really important step in continuing my life.

Every since my child could talk he wanted a dog. Pleaded for a Scottie dog. His Dad doesn't like pets and said no......Until one day we were coming out of the shopping mall to leave a little cute girl with a cardboard box of dogs begged us to take one of her cute puppies home because her Dad told her she couldn't come home until they were gone. The dog grew in three months to a giant Rottweiler/German Sheppard mix as best as the vet could tell. It knocked us down and tore up trees roots and all and my husband gave it away to the lawn service guys who loved that dog. They have a ranch outside of town and wanted a big ol guard dog. Happy ending for all.

Years went by and my son continued to beg. He wanted a real dog. He said real dogs are like Scottie dogs, small and you can hug them. He begs and pleads and his Dad practically turns purple each time he asks he just wont hear of it. Then friends of ours say that they found a dog, an adorable sweet dog wandering in front of their home and its trained and sweet but they already have dogs and their big dogs don't like the little dog and they have to keep them all separated and the husband says to take the found dog to the pound. On the final day of the dogs life she begs me to go get it. I beg my husband and he says finally with huge sighs that I may go to the pound and get that dog and ONLY that one dog. I go to save the dog and it turns out that our friends husband relents and she already has picked it back up.
But OF COURSE they show me the other dogs all locked up and I swear to you by all that is true that they look at you with these huge "save me" eyes and you HAVE to take one home if not two or twenty. I bent down to pet them and this little black dog leaps right into my arms and rubs her nose on my cheek like kisses. We bring her home, and she proceeds to turn into a Tasmanian devil and rips our drapes to shreds, tears up the couch, ruins the carpet with determined defecating with vengeance. We brought her to the vet and the vet says the dog must have been abandoned and it has issues. You think??. The vet advises that we get one or two more little dogs to help this one live in a "pack" and she would be calm and relax and not want to "get back" at humans for the past. My husband about freaked out and demanded we find a new home. I did. I gave it to a family who had two little dogs and were looking for a third. They loved her and it was a good match. Happy ending for all.

Years go by and soon my son is begging again. This time I really want another dog too, I just really missed the last one and I had loved that little black dog even if she was a devil in cute doggies clothing. So I chime in. This time surprisingly my husband is not as adamant but he is weary worn in his listening. He says the only dog he would even consider is a white dog. A Maltese. We went to every rescue we could to search. We scoured the newspaper and penny saver ads. We became hunters. My husband went out of town for a couple of weeks (this is 5 years ago) and we see an ad in the paper for the PERFECT dog! A new puppy this lady had to get rid of as her dog had puppies and she couldn't keep them and had one left.

We fell in love with this little ball of white fur. It was really young and cute and we carried it in our arms. I spent hours training the dog, and took it to puppy class even. He was a really quick learner. But he had hip and knee problems and then allergies. Pretty soon I was taking the dog to the vet every three months for shots and medicine and pain pills. Then we spent two years trying different dog foods to try to modify its diet because it was allergic to everything, even rubbing on our clothes would make him break out and we discovered he was allergic to fabric softener. Because of this he was a miserable dog. He was grouchy and didn't like kids. Didn't like other dogs, didn't like to be petted anywhere except on the top of his head and his belly scratched. Anywhere else and he'd likely bite you. He bit me hard once when I was putting medicine on him and after that I was leery of him. Its never a good thing to hate your own dog but that is exactly what I did. I hated that dog and all the fussing it took to care for him. My son never liked the dog to begin with and my husband felt that we betrayed him by getting a dog while he was out of town. He said that just because he said he would consider that kind of dog didn't mean we could have one without him being there to approve.

So for 5 years I insisted that we care for this mess of a dog with its poo balls, and diarrhea and runny eyes and biting teeth and red oozing skin because it was a responsibility and I just couldn't bear to again give another dog away like we were failures. So we kept it. Kept paying the vet to give him allergy shots (2$ a day) and special food and special salve and we got it to where with much care we managed to keep him going without all the sores and misery, then I got cancer and they told me the one unifying thing in breast cancer studies is the amount of stress the women are under.

With a heavy heart I determined that one of my greater stresses of life was this dog. I finally conceded that its not necessary to torture myself or this family any longer with the misery it is to keep this dog.Its been a year in trying to find the perfect home for him but finally a family looking for a little dog called and we met them and we told them all about the food and how they would have to care for him and they really didn't mind. We gave them a 25lb bag of his special food, his special bed, his salve, and all his toys and things and bid him well. I told them that if it didn't turn out to be what they wanted that they would have to be responsible to pass him on or bring him to a shelter. Breaks my heart to admit that. I am the rescuer not the relinquish er.

Our family life has improved 1000% without the dog. The amount of relief is palpable. Every day is like a joy to wake up and not have to deal with that grouch. As a huge pet lover it was really sad to have to realize how much I resented him.How much my husband hated having that dog and how much happier we would be once he was gone.

I feel like I've let the pet lovers down. We havent really told anyone, just whomever comes over and asks what happened to our dog. So there, now you know another reason I'm enjoying life now. But its with a bit of guilt.

And the lesson learned? Third time is NOT always the charm.

One Year Today

No one in my family or even any of my friends realized it but today was one year since my surgery to remove the cancer.

Its been quite the journey. Not a bad journey, not really a good journey but a life changing journey to be sure. There were devastating moments and there were some sick moments and a few pain filled moments but the things that I thought were going to be the worst weren't and the things I thought would be no big deal turned out to be bigger than I thought. Most moments were ok. I guess that is the surprise in this cancer journey. I had little physical pain....mostly overwhelming exhaustion.

My prognosis is good, my tumor markers are good, I'm almost done with going to the chemo room and getting my infusions....I have two sessions left. I'm so happy to hear the great news and yet.......There are still moments where my heart freezes and my eyes get wide, a flush of searing heat goes through me and I'm filled with terror. Terror of the 'what if'. Then the moment passes and life goes on just like a swift river and I have to run to catch up and I forget about the terror. I have been really redirecting my mind when it wants to dwell on the what ifs. I cant live a life filled with terror.

But mostly......mostly this journey has filled me with the power to voice my desires, my wants, my needs and to speak up when I feel slighted, or wronged and that is the surprise to me. I used to be filled with gumption as they used to say in the old days.......then I got passive and became almost a martyr with my overwhelming desire to avoid confrontation. Over the years I changed from brazen to whispy voiced and then I carried life's responsibilities like burdens; well more like stones upon my back.

Weary with the crushing responsibility to do everything for everyone every day and all the time. Rushing here and there, going and doing and then running and rushing and just running myself ragged all in the unrealistic wish to be the perfect wife, mom, manager, bookkeeper, cleaner, washer, volunteer, working woman, partner, lover, listener, and woman. I juggled so many things like cooking old fashioned meals every night and yet rushing home to excersize to look well and being a cool mom and have
good balanced homelife and a house with with discipline and yet wholesome attention doing all the work stuff and school stuff and still be that old fashioned wife who was above reproach. And I did it all very well.
I was proud of how I managed it all.
Proud of my crazy blurry life.

This journey into the world of cancer has halted all that in its tracks and made me voice to others that that life I led is just ridiculous and got me NOWHERE and if the risk is to loose my life than I want to live life in a relaxed normal manner that lets me BREATH. Do you know that sometimes I wouldn't even get a chance to go to the bathroom all day or two days until I'd crawl into bed at night and be sick to my lower stomach and realize I really needed to use the restroom? That kind of living is nuts. And I lived like that and STILL felt like I wasn't doing enough.

Its taken one year for my family to realize that I'm not like before. They still want me to be. But I'm not going to do that again.

Do you know what it was like? It was like I was in one of those whirlpooly things in the drain when you let the wash water out in the sink and its twirling down the drain. But cancer was the stopper and it stopped me from draining away and now I have a chance to live life nicely. In pace. With grace and peace.

I've been painting and relaxing and taking naps and watching TV and cooking and meeting friends for coffee and lunch and taking time with my son. I even signed up for a class at the local craft store and paid for it and went and thoroughly enjoyed myself. I've gone to a jazz music night with a friend. I went and had a makeover in a department store cosmetic counter. I have been easing back into real living and I don't intend to stop. I will even insist on growing some vegetables this summer!

Next on the agenda is to get my son properly graduated, enjoy the summer properly and then see him off to school and then figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life.

Pudge. Bloop. Pooch.

Ah yes, its the middle of January. Its that time again when all the guilt of the past two and a half months of jolly eating starts chiming in my head. I always say I'm not going to care, just enjoy each morsel. Then January 15th rolls around and I have that bloated pooch and the bloop hanging over the waist band and pudge everywhere else and then I feel bad. But this year I noticed that I was feeling a little bit of something else too. Defiance of that guilty feeling.

I also realized that I bought Pop Tarts. Now when you are a 46 year old secreting away a box of pop tarts then you KNOW you have to stop and rethink things. heh.
I realized when I was rethunking... I've been rewarding myself. I 've been eating even more sweets and breads and goodies with a feeling that "oh well, I deserve this since I've had such a rough time".

Thats never good.

I wish I loved the taste of carrots. Rewarding ones self with carrot sticks would be so much nicer to talk about and I wouldnt feel so guilty and POOCHED. I wonder if I dipped carrots in chocolate if that would help?

Boots to my soul

Yesterday I got a new pair of boots. The process made me feel like a Princess. It was all in how it went 'down' as they say.

Here is the back story.
I have a husband who is amazing. He works hard, is a good provider, has solid loyalty for his family and takes care of many and has a huge heart and can be extraordinarily generous. I have many faults so I am not nit picking but the one fault that hurts me the most is that he has a hard time picking or buying me gifts. He gets almost angry and bitter about the process. When I first got diagnosed with cancer my son suggested that I should get a gift to make me feel better after surgery.....its a very inside family traditional 'joke' of sorts that when he was a child I'd get his mind off of shots or blood work or surgeries by making him think of a gift he wanted after it was done.....the size of gift corresponded to how big the procedure would be........so he told his Dad that I needed a BIG gift. My husband was irritated and grouchy when they went to go get this gift, (my son told me he was pevish and couldnt think of anything so told my son to think of something)They bought me a Wii.

Now here I am with surgery done on one side immobilizing my left side and then on the right they inserted a pic line with is an IV with a tube threaded in my artery on my right side. NOT ABLE TO USE ARMS. Wii is athletic and the use of arms very much needed. I of course was thrilled with the gift and watched my son play it.

At times during this past year I would well up inside with anger and be really bitter because I received no flowers, no cards and no little encouraging presents to cheer up my days as I thought I should get. I would do that for them and have done that for them when they've been ill or had surgeries. It really made me hateful sometimes. Not for long but if I would get mad this subject comes to mind and then I get madder. Not reasonable I know, but there ya go......its the truth. I like little reminders that a person has thought of me. But my husband is incapable of understanding this and really cant fathom why this matters. His love is huge he says and he has given me a nice house and we eat out and I drive the truck of my dreams and we go on vacations. He views these as gifts. Huge gifts. He feels that I should float on the feeling of the huge gift and not worry about stupid things like cards and flowers. He usually has employees or my son pick gifts or cards. Its not that he is trying to be callous, he just has no imagination or patience for it.

I have been on the quest for black suede flat heeled boots to wear with jeans or leggings since 2005. Every time he asks what I want I tell him: flat black suede boots. I have received blue suede shoes, 5 inch high heeled sparkling brown boots to wear to a night club if I ever could stand up longer than 5 minutes in them and went to night clubs, I received high heeled black slipper shoes with rhinestones but no flat black suede boots. I bought myself some brown winter boots but couldn't find black ones the day I needed to buy these boots. I have shown the brown ones to my husband saying "If you ever want to buy me something, I need these in black." I received beige shoes. I think he goes with it in his mind but somehow he sees sparkle and goes for the sparkle.

Yesterday we went to someones house to visit and I wore high heels thinking that I would only be sitting in the car and sitting there so the prettiness factor could outweigh the comfortability factor in my choice of shoes. Do you do that too? Figure out what you will be doing to figure out what shoes, then figure out the outfit to go with the shoes? Well yesterday I calculated that I wouldn't be walking.

We left their house and on the way home my husband on a whim decides to go to the nearest 3 level shopping mall "to walk around and see what has changed". Well as you can imagine my heart plummeted right down to those nasty heels and no support and I said, "I don't know how much walking I can do, but lets start" and then halfway through I said I couldn't go any more and my husband became truly sorrowful and he felt bad and said, "you know what, lets go to the department store and get you some black flat boots, you've always wanted some. " Now this people was amazing that he actually said that, and that he remembered the boots and then that he'd ACT on it.
Then we went to the nearest large dept store and I got the boots!!! And they are so cute, cuter than anything I've ever seen, they even have laces on the back. And he took my shoes and put them in the box and told the lady to let me wear the boots out!!

Boots to sooth the soul!

And my ouchy feet.

New Year

So the New Year rolled in and its already speeding by......I cannot believe how fast time is flying. All things considered, that is a good thing when going through cancer treatments but not good when your son is biting at the bit to grow up, be gone, fly the coop and be independant. I want time to slow down like in the Matrix movies...slow motion shots of all the good times. He wants it to speed up and be at college already.

Oh dont be mistaken that he is after higher learning already..oh no! He cant wait to live in a dorm, live the college life and experience life without mom hovering over him. I can understand that and want him to have that but it still hurts and I will miss him and worry over him and it will be my undoing when we drop him off at his new home.

Yes I know there will be fun times and that this is what I've been preparing him for since birth but it is still hard. Just sayin'.

Things feel so great now that I'm done with Radiation. I only have chemo once every three weeks and its only Herceptin which reportedly has few if any side effects except rarely. I'm one of those rare people but the side effect on my is like a cold/flu for 3 days so that is NOTHING compared to the ten months before so IM GOOD TO GO!

Now I sit and wait for spring which is "my" season and I cannot wait for it to roll around this year!!

Hope all had a safe and happy and wonderful Holiday with thier families. I say 'safe' since the world has experienced the weirdest weather patterns and I hope all are safe and warm and snug and dry!!

Enjoy the beginning of this great year to come!!!

Addicted

Yesterday my husband brought me to Radiation.

I look forward to when he brings me because it means a nice lunch out, just the two of us. I really like that.

Yesterday I had several appointments so couldnt ride the "Party Bus".On these extra appointment days he takes off from work and takes me.

The whole dang day all I did was talk about the bus, talk about the driver, talk about the Party goers and talk about how it is to be in the waiting room waiting for treatment. Like they were family. And I desperately missed them.

How odd is that that I'm addicted to my Party bus? I hate that stupid van and I hate the whole thing but now I see that since its become my world that when I was away from it yesterday I fretted over missing something while I was away. I realized I identify with them more than my family or friends and I feel more comfortable there. This little bit of personal trivia makes me feel very uncomfortable.

I cant wait to see the people and the driver and that is just odd. Heartbreaking but understandable.

And now I realize the truth of all those tv reports and investigations saying that prisoners feel lost and abandoned when they are released back out into the world and want to go back in.

Oh lord please erase this latest bit from my mind. Please please please dont let my mind absorb this and take it as fact.

The Party Bus

The Party Bus is really a utility van with seats. I've talked about it before so you know its pretty basic and it makes for a long bumpy ride. It is about 1 and a half hour trip there and the same back.

I am in my fifth week. I cant believe how fast the time has flown, it doesnt seem like I've already done 4 weeks.

The waiting room is filled with the same people every day, and I of course have turned it into a place where we greet each other as other patients and vans from far away places unload. When we started the waiting patients just stared straight ahead. Not me, I chat everyone up. Now its meet and greet and I like it that way.

We got a two new passengers, I used to be the only one.

Now it really is a Party bus.

There is one man, about 60. He has a deep smokers voice from Detroit. Lived in the fast lane his whole life, you can tell by his stories and the way he talks. He is always on the phone making plans for "libations" after he gets off the bus. The next morning when he gets on he slinks on with dark rings around his eyes and his coat reeks of bar smoke. I imagine all the reasons since we never talk about the particulars. He sleeps all the way there, while there and all the way back. He has manners though. Slick manners like a 'play-ah" so it kind of creeps me out. But he is pleasant and he smiles.

The newest passenger came on the bus with 'tude. The 'dont talk to me because you have cancer and I'm not going to be associated with you other cancer people' kind of attitude. I squashed that right away. I could tell she was the type to keep her angst inside and she was hurting. Kept talking and chatting to her and kept smiling and finally she broke yesterday and told me how weary she was of cancer and the funk she's in and how she is just frustrated and tired, and I was able to tell her "ME TOOOOO!" and thats why we are friendly and must talk. I told her no one is going to understand her like "we " do. I told her we are her "right now for a reason" friends and that if we never talk or see each other its ok because right now we are supporting each other. Yesterday she thanked me for talking to her and making her see things differently.

I like that about myself. I really do. I dont like a LOT of things about myself but that is one thing I like. I really love people. I dont care what creed, color, station or anything, I just love you because you are human. And I care. I smile at the nasty dirty poor ugy patients that every one scoots as far away as possible from. Yes they smell and are nasty. But. But they are human and want just as much recognition that they are human and alive and HERE as you do. I smile and acknowledge that. And I am glad I'm like this. It drives my husband insane but it makes me happy. I get everyone smiling and talking and chatting and that makes me satisfied in the very pit of my core being.

So yes I made the few people who get on the party bus a chatting and a talkin' and now every day its like greeting friends when we get on the van to take us to get our skin burned to kill those nasty cancerous cells lurking in our flesh.

I'd rather pass the time on a Party Bus rather than a utility van wouldnt you?

Daily Dose of Sunshine

Last week was the first week of radiation.

The first day is called "mapping" and it involves lead wire. THey tape wire with lead in it around the area to be getting radiation and then do a CT scan. Then they mark all the areas with red permanent marker and take the tape off. They give this scan to the Radiologist and he maps out the degrees and voltage (ok I'm making up voltage but I dont know what its called) and then they send you to an X-ray machine to x-ray the area to make sure the CT scan mapping matches the Xrayed area of concern to radiate.

Radiate? sounds funny as I type it.

Like I lost some sunshine and they have to give me radiation so I radiate again.

Anyway.....then they come at you with black permanent markers and they wiggle and jiggle the x-ray table so that you line up with the marks, remark with black permanent marker and see if the x-rays line up with the CT scan mapping. When its all good they come and give you permanent tattoo dots where the marks are. I have 4 freckle sized permanent marks now.

I was pretty upset about having ink injected in four spots on my chest. It hurts like an angry ant bite. I dont know if its the same as getting a real tattoo since this was a needle with ink in it like a syringe but I sure wouldnt get a tattoo anywhere as a design if that is how much it hurts. Not bad for one single injection but to imagine a whole pattern done is beyond me.

Then after they X-rayed and lined me all up, I got my first dose of radiation. I felt nothing. Its just like getting an x-ray only it lasts a little bit longer, 3 minutes total.

The first day was 5 hours long due to the mapping and everything and after that it was a 10 minute appointment. I go every day except weekends for 7 weeks.

The people handling me and the radiation machine are called Radiation Therapists. Thats what my son has decided he wants to be. He will apply to colleges to be a Radiation Therapist. They have an active job getting the machines set right and helping patients to get lined up and then scurrying out of the room to give the radiation..I think he will do well at this job with his caring and kind personality.

Due to where I live and the insurance I have, the location for this is far away so they offer a shuttle that will take me from the doctors office to the large hospital where they have the radiation machines. This Shuttle is just a large utility van and I have dubbed it the "Party Van".

Its no party as I'm the only patient on the Party Van but I plug my earphones in and listen to the music my son has put on my ipod and text people. I cant read or do any crafts since its a bumpy utility van and I am hanging on for dear life but I enjoy the absolute void of any responsibilities and enjoy the music and conversations on my phone. I bring snacks for the ride home and just make the best of it. I'm usually smiling during the ride.

After all, its the only time in my life the past 25 years where I'm obligated to do NOTHING. So I'm going to enjoy it.

The two schlepp to Radioactiveness.

My Radiation process started Friday. My planning appointment and first actual radiation treatment starts Monday.

I am pretty calm about this process, just want to take it one step at a time.

I think I was more apprehensive about getting the flu shot this year.

The actual drag with my Radiation (and people who get my kind of external radiation are not radioactive and dangerous) is that its far far away. My insurance pays for a shuttle that will shlep me from the clinic to the Radiation place and then back to the clinic. Free Shlepping.

So I wonder how THAT part will be. Will be I be overwhelmed by the ickiness of being with other very sick people who need radiation? Will the ride down and back "get" to me? Will I end up makeing it the "Party Bus" and talk and laugh all the way there and back? I'm afraid of getting grossed out by the whole bussing thing. Is that even wrong? Being all obnoxious about having to ride with other cancer patients? In my head its like a prison bus and we all single file line up and get patted down to go strip and get radiated and then schlepp back on the bus like zombies. I guess I really am apprehensive.

Its the unknown. Not knowing how it will be.

My family is tired of me being sick. I can tell. My husband mostly. I dont mean that he has said a WORD or implied that he is. I just know. He is going through work issues that weigh him down and I imagine he would love to scream at me to get my butt in gear and HELP with everything financial and work related. Having half a wife must suck big time. And then not to complain about it, or if you do complain about it you feel like such a creepster. I imagine in his head he feels like screaming. I would.

All my energy is spent going to appointments, keeping up with the laundry and piddly things I do and getting my son's college apps prepared. Picking colleges and filling out endless surveys and paperwork requirements. Gathering papers, college transcripts from his summer courses, letters of recommendation and then endless homework help and scheduling for him. It consumes every drop of energy and I still cook dinners and get the house organized. As much as I can every day.

But its all half of what I wish I could do. He asked me to come up with a great and wonderful brainstorm of ideas for a new campaign for customers, maybe a direct mailer idea. I'm against direct mailers this time and we started discussing it and I just plain got pooped out and just said "whatever you decide, do". I just dont have it in me for hours of ideas just to argue. Not argue, I really mean discuss. We get all animated and excited and pitch ideas and it used to be fun but now I'm just not up for it.

pffft. Just too tired so cant.

I actually felt it yesterday. The beginnings of my mid life crisis.

I just knew that I would when my son was going off to college and I felt with clarity yesterday that I was indeed choked by life.

I felt that feeling of overwhelming angst. The boredom and disgust with the present and the desire to go back and go forward all at the same time. It was just but a moment but I felt it reverberate all through my soul and it made me stand stock still and digest it and know it.

I realized that I must not go back to the old life before cancer struck. I cannot go through the stresses of the former way I led myself. I have to do more for me; more to feed my mind and my soul.

As I go through radiation for the next seven weeks, every single day except weekends, I will need to take this time to come up with a game plan. A mid life crisis Plan. One that will work to the benefit of all that I love, but one that will allow me to be who I should be too.

And one that wont include me on a Harley in black leather with a wedgie from a thong.

Hark the herald angels singing

The tests all came out negative......breast number two cleared. The ultrasound showed nothing.

Can we all say together: "WHEW!"

We were running late from the chemo room aka Party room but we drove fast and furious after my nurse called ahead and the receptionist at the hospital imaging dept said that we had better hurry before the technician leaves !

I ran in the halls and we got there JUST before she left so I did the mammogram.....she took some pictures, told me to stay put and went and talked to the doctor. She said that if it was all clear that I could get dressed and go but no.....to my dismay he said he still wanted a sonogram done of BOTH breasts since there was a question from the surgeon on the surgery side and then the new spot on the other side.

I didnt know about the question the surgeon had about the original side that already had the surgery so my heart was in my throat THE WHOLE TIME.

She took me to the ultra sound room and as I lie down on the table the ultra sound technician explained what they saw and what she was doing as she examined me. She said she saw just dense breast tissue but that she needed to consult with the doctor.

He said that he sees only just regular dense tissue but wants a recheck of the breast in three months to see if any thing has changed or grown. But at this time they feel its nothing.

On the surgery side they still have a question about the tissue inside and want another songram done but at this time they feel its just unusual dense scar tissue.

I will take that news as all good!! :-) I was very relieved!! I kept asking, "So there is nothing? its all good?" and she kept saying "Yes, yes yes!" She was happy for me too!!

Having such a great weight lifted off my shoulders is a blessing!! I felt weightless and happy and just so rejuvenated with life's joy the rest of the day!

Mystery spot

Sometimes in life when you are handed lemons you really cant do all those things they say in silly quotations like 'make lemonade' or 'ask for vodka to go with it' or 'throw them back'. You just have to hold your breath and go with it, work through it, and see how it goes.

Two weeks ago they told me that I needed to have a mammogram as a check up. It kinda hurt a little more on the surgery side but not really that bad. I dont think mammograms hurt too bad anyway. They have pressure but not really hurt and its only for a minute or two anyway. It hurts more on the pinchy underarm muscles more.

They always say when you are done that if they see something the doctor will call. When they called the first time I kinda expected it because I felt an odd reaction from the X-ray tech after she took my X-rays and she told me the doctor would call me, she didnt say "if" so I really right from the beginning felt something was up with that mammogram. But this time I felt so relaxed, after all; it was just a check up and they just wanted to see how the breast is doing...They took pictures of both breast, the clinician told me to get dressed and if the doctor saw anything suspicious he would call.

They called a few days ago while I was delirious with spider venom.

They found something mysterious on the OTHER breast. Yes.... O T H E R breast. As in totally different breast and possible new cancer? tumor? Mysterious...suspicious.. and terrifying to comprehend.

When they called I sucked in my breath and listened and figured out on the calendar when to do the appointments and then hung up and cried. Then called my husband. Then took more pills and slept off the rest of the spider venom.

Good thing I was on happy pills and pain pills and just vomiting, moaning, and writhing in pain from venom and not really focused. I guess there really is a disguised blessing in every tragedy.

Today is the day I go from my chemo session to three special appointments to see what is behind mystery lump number two.

I am not really nervous.

I am just holding my breath.

Never enough drama

So I've been feeling great lately. The 21 day break between chemos is a godsend. I have enjoyed every minute of it. Not taking one second for granted. I lay my head down each night with a smile and wake up happy to be up.

So happy and well in fact; that Sunday morning I tackled the patio and its dusty and cobwebby chairs and tables and the odds and ends that gather themselves out on a patio during the summer months. I slipped on my flip flops. The kind that are really thongs but we cant say thongs for footwear any more because people think of slingshot underwear now when we say the word thongs. In the olden days though thongs were rubbery thin plasticy sandals that you wore to the beach. And where ever else you could get away with slipping them on and running to.

Any way.

So I slip on my flip flops and begin brooming down the cobwebs. My what a prolific year for spiders! There was so much dust and little bits of leaves stuck to the webs so I got out the hose and decided to just power hose everything. I felt a sting in my toes and looked down.

I got bit.

Spider bite.

Black widows frolicking all over patio.

Im ticking them off with broom and hose.

I go in the house and show my husband and he comes out side to see where I got bit. Which thinking of it now seems kind of funny, like who cares where outside I got bit? Is it location location location like when you buy a new business? Hmmm I will have to ask him about that.
Anyway
I was slipping on my flip flops to show him where I was standing when I shrieked and kicked off the shoes and said. "Oh my god it might still be in there" I flicked the left one off first and this huge black widow spider fell off the shoe. I just stared at it for 20 seconds. My husband said" Get your things and lets get to Urgent Care.

Urgent Care.
Good things can be said about Urgant Care Facilities.

I cant think of any so lets skip to the part where they tell me that Nothing is wrong with me and the spider mustve bit me but left no venom and sent me on my way.

We had tickets to the circus so proceeded on our way there. I was texting and bragging that I fought a black widow and won.

i did not.

During the circus I started feeling back spasms and my chest tightening. then I felt immense pain in my foot.

Off we go to the Emergancy Room.

Did you know all you have to do to clear an Emergancy Room is hold up a ziploc baggy with a black widow spider in it and grab your chest?

Its amazing the service they give you there when you do that. ESPECIALLY when you are a bald cancer patient wheezing that they need a face mask for the germs.

There is anti venom for black widow bites.

They just cant give it to you.

The antivenom is worse for you than the black widow spider bite so you just have to live through it.

They gave me happy happy pills and then they doped me with pain meds and sent me home. I do not at all remember what went on in this house Monday or Tuesday even though I was here and on the couch. My husband slept on the floor by my side.

I dont even remember how I got home from the hospital I was that doped.

The good news is that I know a lot more about black widows than I ever did before.

The bad news is that the patio still needs to be cleaned.

Wigs and Girdles

I went to an outside wedding last summer in 110* humid weather. I was wearing the most wonderful dress that made me look amazing. Well that is after I put on this thing called "spanxits" and a bra called "Wonderangel" Or "Angel wonder' or "waterboob" and some pantyhose that had adhesive or lycra or something in them or something like that, I forget now. But those 3 undergarments made me look like I was 20 lbs lighter and my butt was toned and my breast look like theyve never looked before....just amazing.

Then I left my air conditioned room to get in the car and suddenly the allusion wear became a suffacating prison of mass proportions.

It was the longest wedding and reception ever held. I got many complimnets that I had never looked better. ANd let me tell you here and now.....I never HAD looked better. The undergarments were SHRINKING while on my body. This caused every fat molecule to rise up to become cleavage. I had swollen feet too, but no one said anything about them.

When I got home it took me two hours to PEEL those elastic body cuffs off me and they went shooting off into different corners of my bedroom. I remember I had to lay on the floor to get the bottoms off. It is hilarious now thinking back but that night I really couldnt get them off. The heat and humidity made them stick to me like there really was adhesive in them.....and dancing around on one foot and rolling on the floor fighting them off didnt exactly make for a great mood so I tried to forget about it.

Till someone asked me yesterday how it felt to wear a wig.

And I thought;
Just like wearing a girdle on a hot humid day.

Only on your head.

Back to School Nite

This is my son's school's back to school nite. The night you shuffle from room to room with a few hundred other parents and listen to the teacher's class rules for 12 minutes and then shuffle to another teacher's room. I go every year and tonight will be the final "Back to School Nite" for me.

It is funny that it is also the night you scope out other parents and see how they have fared for the year. Have they gained weight, changed their hair, gotten skinnier, lost more hair, gotten a paunchy stomache. Its human nature to measure ourselves against the current society we are in.

I of course will be sporting store bought hair and less eyelashes and eyebrows. I will have to find a great lipstick color to contrast.

I will be reflective tonight. Thinking about all the past "Back to School nites" and thinking about my son going off to college and how the whole dynamic of the family will shift. I hope I wont feel useless and put aside. I take all these "mommy jobs" pretty serious.

Thank goodness for technology and Skype and texting and cell phones. I dont know how our parents did it when we flew the nest. No contact. Just pay phones.

I wont miss "Back to School Nite" and all its scoping out of parents and teachers and snickering and "looks" but I will miss the feeling of purpose and connectivity I feel when I go scope out the "other home" of my son for so many hours a day.

*sigh*

Off Topic

This is completely off topic and random but I was thinking this morning that its completely odd that this Rev. Terry Jones really got his hands on that many Korans to have a burning.

Did he go to the nearest mosque disguised as a radical needing a bunch of Korans to give away? Did he go to the Imam and say, "I have a burnin yearnin to read?" hahahaha pun intended.

Really, he could be burning bogus Korans, just used old books. Endangering the troops in Muslim countries over a "Huck Finn" and "Moby Dick" burning.


His energy and passion and desire for hooplah and revenge couldve been used for greater good. Not blowing a bunch of money for a book burning that wont bring about anything but more hatred and war seeking radicals a great example for more recruitments.

What happened to turn the cheek? Love thine enemies? What is Koran burning going to get us as a nation in the end? Freedom of speech? I dont think this is what our forefathers meant. I just really dont.

Shiney head

A spider bit me on the head.

On
the
head.

My nekkid head has a bug bite on it. Its like the red circling light atop a light house.

I had the wig on but when I itch my head it wiggles the wig.

Switching to hat/scarf combo for today.

What a funny way to start the day!

Support Systems

Last night someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and smiled at a woman I didnt know with several kids. Her daughter is in band with my son but I dont know her. She pointed to my hat/scarf combo and asked me if I was going through therapy.

I replied, "yes, chemo-therapy." This lady tells me that she is a two time cancer survivor and she had a very amazing tale of survival to tell! She was encouraging and inspiring, and very sweet. Then other people apparently listening in chimed in with experience with their aunt and mother in law going through radiation and chemo.

Thats what happens when you have cancer. Everywhere you go you find out that nearly everyone has had cancer of some type or been touched by it some how. And people want to reach out to you and tell you of their story. Whether it have a happy result or an on-going heart wrenching tale, people touched by cancer have a compelling need to reach out.

This Two Time Survivor (yes I'm bad with names)lady from last night was saying to me that its all about the Support System and if we have a good support system we will do great. I wanted to argue with her that it comes from with in. All the support in the world is not going to help if you arent determined to play this drama out a certain way. Support is the bonus that drives you on. But then I kept my mouth shut the whole rest of the time she was talking mulling over the thought in my head.

What really is more important? The Support System or the Inner Drive to "Get'er done"?


My husbands keeps telling me "You gotta fight this". That is his mantra through this whole thing. "You gotta fight this". I'm not sure what I'm fighting and what "this" is but I take his quote to mean that I should not give in to the overwhelming sense of hopelessness and just give up and not want to go to the doctor or chemo therapy and just let cancer take over my body.

I also understand that he is frightened beyond words and he doesnt know what else to say to comfort me. His other oft repeated words in my ear is "This is so hard what you have to go through". He is not able to say any other comforting words but these two phrases and I am fine with this now.

At first I was angry and wanted him to cacoon me and comfort me and act like a mother hen and make me chicken soup and write encouraging notes like I do for them when they are sick. But one day after I saw the look in his eyes I realized that he must repeat in his own head minute after frightening minute," She had better fight this" and "Oh my god this is too hard what we have to go through right now, I dont know what to do to fix this. She has to fight this." After all my mind would be frozen if this were him or my son so I can understand this now.

How he supports me is by shaving my head, he took care of the jackson pratt drainage tube after surgery and he has given me all the shots to the stomach and arm that they asked him to. And he tells me to be comfortable and go out with a naked bald head and not cover it up with a sweaty wig or hat and scarf combo. I wont but wow how nice of him to say. THAT takes courage and is truly supportive. That is admirable and makes me grateful. I dont know if I could return the favor.

My son is my cheerleader. Personal cheerleader and the reason that I fight every day to get past this and move on in life. He is amazing. He sat with me each week to go get blood work and then each Wednesday in the chemo room he sat for 6-7 hours with me. Cheering me up, keeping me distracted, playing cards, hangman, dots or puzzles together. Driving me everywhere and bringing me copious amounts of gatoraide, gingerale and crackers. He can microwave a hot pocket like no one else. He constantly texts me to see how I'm doing and he says the perfect words at the perfect time of comfort and understanding. The child is such a help to me. I sit here typing this with tears welled up in my eyes of gratefulness. He is joy to my heart.

Friends and Family: The funny thing about friends and family is that they have all taken on different roles in my life since I got diagnosed with cancer. The ones that were constant in my life became distant, the ones distant became close and the aquaintances I've barely known have sent cards weekly and messages and really amazed me with how its all been mixed up and everyone together has been encouraging me through this. The ones touched by cancer before have been really prolific in their support. And the funniest thing is that my Mom and Dad text me constantly and they have a Facebook account and can see how I'm doing.

All together my Support System is getting me through this but most of the hunkering down and getting through each day is done by myself to myself. I talk to myself, and cheer myself. Mostly lecture myself. I allow myself a few minutes every day to have tears and feel bad about all the ickiness of cancer and then the rest of the time I do as much as I can to lead a normal day to day life. I smile a lot, joke a lot and try to jolly each day along. When I have to lie on the couch and moan I do. But every other time I strive to find the joy.

The other day I had an outright temper tantrum. I had such a mental block about going again to chemo and I just really cried. My son and husband rushed from various parts of the house and said at the same time, "Whats wrong?" and I said "I dont want to go tomorrow" and I burst out bawling. I was so sick still from a new medicine they gave me for one of the side effects and I was just feeling too weak to go get more chemo... My husband sat on one side of me and my son sat on the other, My husband said, "Honey you have to fight this." My son kept patting my arm and put his arm around me. My husband kissed my bald head and they both just sat there watching me bawl my eyeballs out. They looked at each other over my head with huge owl eyes and then back down at me.

I stood up and shouted," I KNOW I have to go, I Know I WILL go, Its just that I have to cry right now to get this out of my system so I have the STRENGTH to go ."

Clowns

Yesterday was a chemo day. In the chemo room. I have nightmares and flashbacks during the day now about the smell of the chemo room. I imagine that will stay with me a long while.

The first time I saw the chemo room I had a melt-down. I ended up there by accident when I first was diagnosed with cancer because the clinic sent me to the wrong room for a pre-chemo procedure and they finally gave up figuring out the mistake and said to go see Nurse Janice and she'd figure it all out.

Nurse Janice was in the chemo room.

I breezed into the room un-knowing what room it was and what I saw hit me between the eyes and made me loose all thoughts in my head and made me stutter and then weep. The nurse grabbed my hand and said, "Are you ok?" and I gulpinly replied, "I have so much anxiety right now, I dont know why, I'm sorry." and she said while patting my hand," Everyone does the first time they see this room, it makes it all a reality for you."

This is the reality of what I saw:

Imagine a small room. Living room size. It has the typical blue green clinic industrial tiles. Non shiney like it has been neglected for a while. Around the room are 10 green plastic reclining chairs. Shiney so they are easily wiped down. The recliners all have a little shelf on the right arm. It extends out about 10 inches from the right arm. This has a flat small pillow with a disposable towel on it. This is where you put your arm to receive the I.V.

To the right of the recliners are imposing I.V poles, computers, monitors and waste bins. One waste bin per chair. These get filled up fast with various flotsam and jetsom that gathers with the care of the chemo patient.

On the I.V. poles are many bags. Various colors of medicines getting ready to be interveniously pumped into bodies to make cells retreat and die. Poison really. But poison invented purposely to kill the cells that make our bodies die faster. I am shocked by the various colors. Neon orange, cherry punch red, Molasses brown, milky white, corn syrup clear, and they all hang atop the poles with tubes connected to the patients.

Besides the overwhelming view of seeing 10 chairs, poles, violently colored medicine is hearing the beeps and chirps from the monitors and blood pressure machines and the IV machines..It first sounds so loud it rushes through your head like a locomotive. THen you see the patients and you loose all train of thought completely.

Chemo patients come to the chemo room because they have to. They are in various stages of cancer. They ...wait. why am I typing "they" like I have no part of this?
We. We come to the cancer room because we have to.
We are in various stages of cancer and we all have a different type of cancer. And its men and women mixed.

The first time I went to the chemo room I saw the 10 recliners full of various patients and my head exploded. My heart broke. I saw very sick people. People reclining with several blankets covering them sleeping with their mouths open and I thought they looked dead. Some were bald, some had a little hair fuzz, some had hats. Most were pale or had facial peeling of the skin. But they all looked helpless.

The helplessness made me loose it.

To the right of all this reclining is a nurses station. Small desks, Computer monitors and straight ahead is a small window. Through this window you see a darkened room with pharmacists hunched over desks and some are busy in the back but you cant see that far to really tell what they are doing. This is the hub of chemo mixing. All medicines and orders come from this window. The people in that window are the masters of the poison that is going in our bodies in the chemo room. Its a scarey room. They have to wear protective gear and goggles. Thick special gloves.

We have a special bathroom behind the nurses desk. When having chemo therapy they give you an IV bag of just saline fluid first and they also "flush" you in between each medicine too. Thats a lot of liquid. There is a regular chain of us pottyers. Its comical if someone goes to the potty before we can disconnect and get there..we get like 5 year olds and say" Whose IN there" " Oh my I hope they HURRY".

To go potty you have to get yourself hoisted out of the green shiney recliner and reach behind the chair making sure not to dislodge the IV from your arm or hand and unplug the IV monitor that is attatched to a pole. You have to then shuffle to the bathroom pushing your IV Monitor pole with your IV bags on top to the bathroom and manage to go to the bathroom one handed.Not easy but doable.

Seeing all this going on really did make my cancer and what I was facing a reality. It made me go to my car and have a melt down and cry and really face what I was to become. A helpless chemo patient going to the chemo room.

But not helpless. It made it so much easier the first time I did have to go to the chemo room to get chemo. I was prepared. My head was wrapped around the reality. I also decided to call it the Party room and I go every time armed with my sense of humor and my gift of gab. I decided not to be helpless but be helpFUL. I make it a visit and got to know all the seat mates and I make the nurses laugh.

The nurses. The chemo nurses deserve all the praise and hugs and love and any raises or benefits they get. TO coin a oft used phrase; they are angels on earth. What a tough tough heart wrenching job they have. I cannot say enough about them in praise of what they do for us.

So I make them laugh. Compliment them. Make sure I say thank you for each chore they perform. Make sure they know that I'm glad they are there. Make sure I'm appreciative.

Having chemo with grace and dignity.

Laughter

Last week was a "good" week. That means that I'm having a relatively normal week free of most of the side effects of the chemo meds.
(I am refusing to type chemo"therapy". There is no "therapy" to chemo; its basically poison.)

On a good week I try to catch up to household chores, bookkeeping, sorting, organizing, thinking and do some fun things like painting, crafts, and go out to do something that is outside this house.

Last week on my "good" week I encouraged my family to take me to the Fair. Ok, well lets be honest here and say that I did cry a little and used the "take the sick girl where she wants to go" card. My husband is not so keen on the Fair and my son was only eager to go once I said he could invite a friend. Whatever works. I was desperate to go see some animals, especially piggies and eat Fair food.

It was the best time ever. I spent so much of it laughing. It was the perfect way to spend a day that I felt good in!

Laughing makes me forget.

We went to a magic show. I laughed at the kids watching with huge eyeballs and smiles. Nothing cuter than watching kids amazed by slight of hand. And the poor magician was battling the heat and a stiff breeze and even he was pleased by being rewarded by the audiences pleasure. More smiles.

Then the Turkey Races. Oh lordy this was the funniest thing I've seen in a long time. Young turkeys let loose from a pen to chase a remote controlled truck full of turkey feed. Of course the music and announcing and the audiance interraction made it the most hilarious show ever. I laughed and laughed and laughed. I must've taken 50 pictures. Then they had a big huge ol Tom Turkey just ready for the butcher block come strutting out and make a loop round the pen and it just made everyone bust up laughing.

Then we got some big polish sausage and Italian sausage sandwiches and laughed at ourselves with the grease dripping chinny chin chins Then the napkins started blowing all over and we tried to rescue them but our fingers were sticky from funnel cake and we ended up chortling and laughing over that too.

My son got picked to be in one of the shows on the free stage and we laughed at his antics up on stage for another hour and then laughed more at the dvd we bought of the experience.

We laughed all day.

Then at the end of the day, just before going home we finally made it to the Pig Barn. Here at last were my piggies!! I just love pigs! I had a pet pig when I was a teen. Rescued from the auction house. It was a runt and I had to feed it with an eye dropper til she got strong. I named her Gertrude. I used to take her for walks. Honest to God I did!. I loved that pig. Well.....til she got big and grumpy and tried to bite me once. But thats what happens sometimes when ol girls get big and fat and lazy. They get grouchy about it. heh.

But what was special about this time in the Pig Barn is we got to see NEWBORN piggies just freshly born. It was so sweet and what a special end to the day to see those wee piggies just fresh from the mamma stumbling around making their way through the fresh shavings. Just too sweet!

I felt extra good the whole next day. I was just full of joy and felt better than I had in a long time.

I'd say laughter IS the BEST medicine!!

Cancerous Humor

When I found out that I had cancer, I was devestated. Thats normal. But then I started finding the hilariousness of some of the aspects of it all.

That bothers some people.

They want it to be serious and somber and I suppose kind of grief stricken. After all it certainly IS a serious and somber and grief filled scarey prospect. Cancer.

But then I just started finding a lot of it funny. Like the Chemo room and how I turned it into a party room.

Or when I had only 12 hairs left on my head and I kept wearing hats and I would tease out those 12 hairs and point them out to folks so that my hair didnt feel abandoned.

Or the night at midnight that my husband and child shaved my 12 hairs off and made me into a velcro head. And then I realized my head is shaped like a turtles. I thought I'd have a swan neck and an oval head with stately forhead. Nope. low forhead and squarish head with bump in the middle top. Of course I'd have a thick neck and a squarish round head. Goes with the short waist and square hands I have.

When I see my self now in the mirror I have to laugh. Its the most rediculous thing to see your own head naked.

I of course have week moments. I cry at least once a day. My resistance is lowered and I feel so not in control of my body, my life, my symptoms and it all is a snowball of disgustingness. But I only allow myself that 5 minutes and the rest of the day is normal, or as normal as my normal right now can be.

The funniest part of all this is the neighbor kids trying to catch me off guard so they can see the naked head. I dont wear my wig at home. I have hats on every door knob in the house and I have a scarf by my apron in the kitchen. I can jump to that door knob and slap on that cap faster than the old gunslingers could draw their guns in the ol west. Makes my son laugh every time. He likes to tease me by saying one of his friends is at the door and can he come in. I jump to knob and slap a cap on and then get mad and flustered and ask him why he let them in and then the little imp will say, "oh no, I meant IF they were going to come over could they come in?" little brat o mine. I'd so do it to him to and he knows it.

I'm trying to show people that we can still find humor in our life. I'm teaching my friends and family not to tip toe around the subject; its ok to ask how I am and then talk about regular stuff. Crack jokes and tell stories.

Or ask to see whats under that sopping wet, dripping with sweat, furball of a thing I wear on my head most of the time to make everyone forget I have the head of a turtle.