Ooogies

About 48 hours after my treatment I had some crazy leg pain. From my hips down and up and all over. Muscle, joint, bone.. felt like all of it combined.

Some numbness in my feet and fingertips. My sugar spiked dramatically because of the steroids they have me on (for 4 days following treatment). Hot and cold flashes and basically just feeling tired and feverish/achy.

Lots of sleeping. Some ringing in my ears which wasn't at all ringing.. more like crickets.

I don't feel like myself but no pain, no gain. This is my motto.

Mild depression.. just feeling like I'm going nowhere and doing nothing. Existing in a fugue/ill state.

Blah.

C-H-E-M-O and Chemo was its name-O!

Hi, I'm a Power Port and I suck ass.

The day started off sunny. SUPER sunny and I went into the back 4-seasons room and let the sun make my face feel hot. It felt wonderful.

Jill said when she was little her mom used to curl up on the floor with a pillow in shafts of sunlight?? That can't be true.

The sun makes me happy and represents good fortune. THE END.

I decided this morning that I wasn't going to hate chemotherapy or the drug and think of the toxicity. I was going to embrace it and love it for giving me a second chance.

I get sort of surly when I'm nervous and I want to be quiet. Jill is chatty and talks nonsensically. This is her way. She takes such good care of me. Often I don't see how she can love me, or anyone, so purely. I'm not deserving of that love. She loves better than anyone I know.

They give you an antihistamine to try and stave off allergic reactions to the chemo drugs (carboplatin and taxol). They also give you an anti-nausea medicine prior to the chemo.

They started that and went to flush my port. They couldn't get into it.

A port is a placed device usually on the left or right side of your chest (beneath the skin). It mainlines into your major arteries saving the toxic shock on your veins. Makes chemo MUCH easier.

The nurse had trouble and got the help of another nurse. She tried accessing it as well. By access I mean shoving a really thick needle into the tender skin of my decolletage (so glad I could finally use that word somewhere). I'm no baby with needles and this made me bite my lip. Nurse 2.0 couldn't get it either so they sent me down to Radiology where they place ports and such things to check it out.

Down there another nurse (this one male) tried and couldn't do it either. He was very sweet, beautiful eyes.. tall with a distinct accent. This accent told me he was a brother from another mother.. ie: HO-MO. But then he mentioned taking "our kids" out of the room during Superbowl's half-time. Jill shot a glance at me like "this bitch isn't married to a girl".

They took me into the room where they place ports, etc. The doctor came in and checked it out.. he said it was definitely flipped and TRIED FLIPPING IT BACK MANUALLY! It felt like someone was taking a hand shovel you use to dig soil for planting and exploring my chest. I kept very quiet and still and started meditating and breathing...

At the point I thought I might pass out, the 'mo nurse came over to me and so.. sweetly turned so he was face to face with me and brushed my bangs to the side in the most tender way. He said "are you okay? I know this is hurting you but you're doing fantastic... " I had to hold back tears again. Not because I was in pain or anything but the sweetness that came from that simple gesture of stroking my hair was just so powerful I felt overwhelmed.

Some health care providers act like you're a piece of meat. I understand that because I treat them the same when they're like that. When they're personable and fun, I respond in kind. When they are nicer to me than my mom.. I feel like sucking my thumb. It dismantles all of my defenses. Amazing. Those people are truly caregivers. Gifts to us.

So, chemo traveled through my veins in stead. No big deal. I napped, the room was bright and super sunny. Jill read to me and we looked at People magazines and trash talked Kristen Stewart (Jill says she's a dyke). It took about 5 hours (not including my little trip to Radiology) so it was most of the day.

After, Jill and I went to City Antiques because my hair dresser said they have amazing scarves. They do have some amazing stuff including an owner with a penchant for bad story telling. She actually put a scarf on my head and tied it. It smelled like a funeral home. Cloyingly sweet. Grotesque. After we left, the smell stayed in my hair and I was mad because I don't want to associate chemo with the waiting room at Dent-U-Center.

Mental Snapshots

Lately, I've been taking mental pictures of random things.

On the way home from work, I was stopped at a red light. I looked to my left and saw a beautiful lamp post, a naked tree partially obscuring it, a bleak wrought iron fence with lovely finials. The sky was steely grey and snow was swirling around like it was considering landing on the ground.

*click*

Passed a woman walking her sand colored dog with a red harness. He was far ahead of her and his neck was craned back looking at her like "LETS GO, GAWD!". She had a light blue coat with dark blue stripes on the side and fluffy boots. Her arm was being pulled forward by the dog and she was sort of trip-walking.

It was lovely.

*click*

Life goes on. It really does. It's obscene and horrifying to contemplate your own mortality at such a young age. But just beneath my outer onion-skins is a core me who knows full well that, in the scheme of things, I'm only a blip. A grain of silica if time was all the sand on Earth.

When I cry about it, I think of only the things I'll leave behind. My love, my friends, my family, my cats. Even my stuff. I know that's odd but my stuff is my own. My pen/tablet. My make-up mirror. My clutter, my familiars. I mourn the end of sunsets and snow and IMAX and chocolate.

I've always been in love with life. Always knew the inherent beauty of newly fallen snow. The core-shaking perfectness of a veiny leaf. The exquisiteness of my cat's face.

I'm in stasis. I'm waiting to find out if I will live or not. I hate that feeling. I have to climb out of that barrel with light at both ends and just keep loving the life I live.

Funny thing is, I know there is light in death as well.

Christian Guilt.. it lives!!

My aunt is not Catholic, however.. her guilt-gun is substantial. This is no dainty, ivory-handled pistol. This is a big ass bazooka!

She comes into my work place with my uncle (who always meekly stands 3 feet behind her) and eyes me curiously. I figure she's going to say "We'rs so sorry...".

Nah.

More with the eyeballing. I wasn't in the mood because work had already gotten me uberly irritated. I was very busy and she was just standing there. Why do I have to say anything about it? I know that's why she was there.. so out with it? WHAT????

"How are you feeling?" she says. "I feel great!" I said... and added "My chemo starts on Friday though". I rolled my eyes uncomfortably.

"Chemo for what??" she says. HAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHahaaaaa.. seriously?

CHEMO FOR CANCER... WTF ELSE DO YOU HAVE CHEMO FOR??

Of course I didn't say that but I could tell she was already trying to imply that no one was telling her what was going on when CLEARLY she knew? Head games from this little old lady.

I said "chemo for my cancer....." and she said "OH... well.. I didn't know what was going on.. no one tells me anything".

"Oh Melissa, I'm so sorry." Nope.

"We are here for you, Melissa." Nope.

"Can we do anything for you, Melissa?" Nope.

"WELL NO ONE TELLS ME ANYTHING!" Yep.

I'm in hate. Seriously. I managed a forced apology and said it was hard to contact everyone, etc.

The rest of my work day I furrowed my brow until it ached. She squeezed out a flaccid conversation about her own skin cancer and showed me where they removed cartilage from her ear.

Mmmhmm..

kthnxbai.

Quipped Out

Not really in the mood to be whimsical or clever.

We saw Dr. VanderWoude to get test results and chemo info. The nodules in my chest are the same and the lymph nodes are smaller.

However, the lymph nodes in my pelvic area have enlarged a bit. So, she knows there is active cancer there and it seems rather aggressive. So, this is what chemo is for. 1 day of treatment (about 4-5 hours) and then a shot the next day. Three weeks until the next session.

I will lose my hair about 14 days after my first session.. and the Dr. said it will just all fall out.. just like that.. ONE DAY.

SO weird. I'm having issues with this. I don't care if I get sick or whatever.. but the hair. It's been the one thing about myself that I've always liked. I know it'll grow back. It just pisses me the fuck off.

I need to gnaw on some wood or something. SPITTIN' MAD!

My Lovely Bones

More good news! My bone scan was negative for cancer!

I'm so so happy. More happy than my brain scan for some reason. Maybe because I thought, perhaps, cancer was lurking in my bones more than my brain. Who knows what evil lurks in the marrow of bones...

I was radioactive for a while. Perhaps I still am. With bone scans, they inject you with a radiation (tracer) and a camera at the end of the machine picks up the radioactive isotopes that are emitting from your bones. There are no rays or waves or anything shooting through you, you emit radiation and you glow in the dark for a while as well. Also, your pee glows.

I'm a-radioactive...

Sang that all day along with the Tom Waits songs.

Anyway, the image then shows dark spots where there is unusual activity. Perhaps the bone is healing or sending lots of protein/blood to that spot because of a tumor or weakness or cancer.

Either way.. MAH BONEZ IS GOOD BITCHES!!

P.S.

I lied about the glowing parts.

Testing.. 1, 2.. Testing..

Tests. TEST tests and more tests. Stupid, boring.. dumb tests.

Being poked, escorted, pushed and pulled. Injected, radiated and filled with barium sulfate. -_- Drinking that stuff is like chalk that melted in some orange ice cream. DEESGUSTING!

The brain MRI came back clear! WAHOO!! They called tonight after 6 pm and my heart started pounding in my chest. I figured if they called after hours, it's bad. But no, Dr. Vanderwoude just wanted them to call me to set my mind at ease. Isn't that nice?

I closed my eyes and kissed her little forehead in my mind. I was sure there was nothing wrong with my brain (physiologically at least :P ) but I also was sure I didn't have cancer.

That horrific experience was worth it just to know the tiny squirrel in my brain is still chasing after that ever elusive walnut. Wait, there's a hamster wheel in that picture somewhere.

So, CT and bone scan today. Fingers crossed that my nodules haven't grown and nothing funny is happening in my bones.

When I was having the bone scan, I kept thinking "Bone Machine" and singing different songs for that Tom Waits album.

Chemo horrifies me. The toxicity is alarming. I refuse to read about it because I know it's inevitable. Losing my hair horrifies me, but whatever.. it'll grow back. I want to start to get going with the fight but another part of me is happy to put it off.

My new doctor is nice. She seems very thorough. The biggest brownie points she scored with me were her cute shoes. Jill kept asking "What do you think of her?" and I just don't care either way. To me, they are doctors with a blurry thing over their faces. I only have ever loved one doctor and that's my GP, Doctor BOB!!!! Adorable, sweet, personable and so gentle. I love the way his hand lingers just a moment on my back after listening to my breathing or heart. The gentle touch on the arm..

Oh Dr. Bob, how I wish you had lady parts... (JUST KIDDING JILL) xoxo