Why hast thou forsaken me?

Just kidding. Sounded like a nice dramatic header.

So, my last CT scan wasn't too hot. Some activity with my lymph nodes around my stomach area now. Why is it all about the lymphs? I forgot to ask Dr. Dummypants that.

She ordered a PET scan which is a CT scan plus some other scans to give a more accurate picture of what's going on. You get a glucose sort of solution into your veins and then the sugar is attracted tot he cancer cells so they can see where activity is taking place.

I was set for the PET scan on the 16th of November. 24 hours prior you have to eat a very low carb diet so that your sugars are not mucking up the results.

Dr. Dummypants said, however, that I would not need to take my normal steroid preparation (some steroid pills and Benadryl because of my allergy to the IV contrast for CT scans) because I wouldn't be getting the usual CT scan. Lovely, I hate taking the steroid prep.

HOWEVER...

when the scheduling nurse was talking to me she said "I'll call in your steroid prep" and I said "I don't need one" and she said "yeah, I think you do.. " and I said "could you please check?". So she checks and comes back saying "yeah, you need it so I'll call in the prescription yadda yadda".

As it happens, steroids can really raise your glucose levels. For the PET scan your glucose needs to be under 200. No problem.. except if you're taking steroids.

IDIOTS.

So along with not eating carbs for 24 hours, I had to wake up twice in the middle of the night to feed myself steroids all for nothing.

My sugar level was 240 and they were unable to administer the test. I'd been hooked up to an IV already (seriously how big is that needle anyway?) and sat there for 40 minutes getting pumped with saline when the nurse came in to tell me I had to go home.

I was angry but I always shrug that stuff off. I know they don't mean it but I've run into a lot of these types of things. But this time I KNEW I wasn't supposed to take the steroid prep and the woman did NOT, in fact, check. The nurse who assisted me before the scan was supposed to happen said they never give IV contrast... it's oral. So either that scheduling woman lied or misunderstood the contrast IV/oral.

ANYWAY

I have another appointment for November 28th.

I'm feeling pretty awful too. It feels like my lower back hurts and my kidneys. My back is very tender like it's bruised. I also have a lump on the side of my neck. JOY!!

It's really quite torturous at times. The fear, the anxiety, the waiting. It's an endless cycle. The only time I do feel OK is while I'm getting treatment. Physically it makes me feel poorly but mentally I think "well at least I'm doing something about it".

It's exhausting.

I guess I should try some yoga or SOMETHING to decompress.

Just an update. I don't feel like unlocking any interesting thoughts.

Shhh... quiet...

ZZzzzZzZzzzz

Raawwwrrr!!! *dinosaur stomp*

That's how I feel. My anger/annoyance/aggravation conjures images of a hulking Jurassic giant stomping around and shaking the ground.

I'm really really #$%*@ sick of medicine. People /in/ medicine, to be exact. The health field. Whatever you want to call it.

I had several appointments yesterday.

Radiation was @ 3:45 and I had a port flush @ 4 pm. I get to radiation and they tell me I have to see the doctor after my radiation. "NO" I say, I can't. I have a 4pm appointment. They inform me I have to see the doctor once a week (for Medicaid reasons). He breezes in, we exchange "hello's" and Medicaid forks over the $$. I get it. However, they cancelled my appointment yesterday (which I knew included the doctor visit) but didn't mention it would be made up on Friday.

Whatever... it has to be done. I despise being late but these things can't be helped. Also, Jill has to be to class by 6 pm (and she drove me to these appointments).

I get called into radiation. This is how the radiation goes;

1. I lay on a flat metal table. I raise my arms over my head and they have a mold for my head/arms so I lay the same way every time. I remove my gown/top and they place a sort of napkin with a hole in the middle on my chest. It's not the most comfortable position and it gives me back problems. Currently I take Flexoril and that helps relax my muscles.

2. The machine extends around me on all sides and it takes 2 x-rays. I think, from those, they make the zapping map. A doctor approves it from his screen (he checks the images from somewhere in the building) and then the table moves remotely into a very precise position.

3. 4 zaps come from 4 different positions. They have to change a sort of filter on the zapper for each position so you hear the little techs running into the room and sliding in the plates.

So anyway, after the x-rays yesterday, I just laid there. I closed my eyes for a while and relaxed a bit because sometimes it takes a few minutes. Then I feel the table move and we're off! BUT NO. Nothing happened for 20 minutes. I waited and waited and started to think "maybe something happened?". My thoughts raced and it was so quiet in there (you're in a room with lead walls, mind you) and I thought of the San Diego black out that just happened and how my friend thought it could be the apocalypse. What if that happened? Everyone was instantly incinerated by a nuclear blast but I was safe inside the lead room. What if they just forgot about me? I might be having a muscle spasm... do I feel funny? My blood feels cold. Or is it hot? I feel I may faint.. good thing I'm laying down. I'll wait 5 more minutes... (I count in my head)... OK, another 5. Finally I say out loud "Hello????". I wait some more and I can't move because they will need to re-adjust me and take another few pics to re-align... and then I pretty much scream "IS ANYONE THERE???". My breathing became a little shallow and I started to sweat. My heart was beating fast and I was just trying to reign in any sort of untoward reaction I may be having...

Then the nurse came in and said they were waiting on the doctor.. (effing doctors). I said I was about ready to freak out and she patted my arm. DON'T PAT ME!!! So condescending. Then a voice came over the intercom "it's a go" so we were off.
The appointment on the day I needed it to go smoothly, was the longest radiation experience I'd ever had.

Then the doctor's visit. They usher you into a room on the same floor. They shut the door and a nutritionist and a nurse visit you before the doctor. They are in and out quickly and would the doctor be as quick? OOOH no. They're always late. LATE LATE LATE.

I imagine my doctor sauntering around the atrium with his hands in his pockets leaning over and smelling the flowers. Lackadaisically meandering around the building.. bending down to rub a spot off his shoe for a while. Smiling at his shoe and then standing upright again. Fiddling in his pockets until he realizes there's a lot of change in there so he removes it and flicks them one-by-one into the fountain from the second floor making wishes about his next trip to Italy and for the quarters he hopes his wife isn't having an affair with her personal trainer. Then he sees the reflection of a clock in the water and thinks "time... time.. I have an appointment!!". Only then does he make his way to my holding cell, takes two steps into my room, asks if I feel "ok" and then we say our goodbyes. Voila!

This pushes my third appointment 45 minutes late. I sent Jill up to that floor earlier to see if it was OK that I was soooo freaking late.

Mind you, I hate being late. It goes against every fiber of my being and I get stressed out when I think I may be late. I, myself, am never late. I only get stressed when Jill is making me late.

Next is my port flush. I have a port nestled in my delicate decolletage. It looks like a wolverine had a bit of a time getting to its prey and gnawed a sloppy hole in my chest. I guess the skin on your upper chest doesn't heal so nicely. Scars easily, I mean. Anyway, they have to flush this port with saline so that it doesn't get clogged with your blood. -_-

The nurse was filling in for my favorite and most beloved Nurse Amy. She had moth ball breath, for one. Secondly, with the first poke she missed my port. These pokes are unlike any others that I've been given. It's particularly sensitive there... so she has to poke again with a longer needle. UGHHHH. She was very apologetic about it, though.

So, when I got home, I was a bit of a bear.

My mood has been sour for the past few days. I get up and then really get irritated for no reason. I do need a good cry. Hmmm... or maybe I can pinch a baby when it's mother isn't looking. Now that would make me feel good.

This morning I was supposed to babysit early... like 7:45 am. I got up and got ready and they were a no-show. No one's fault, I didn't get the text, etc. but y'know...

So that's my bitchfest for the day. I do feel a bit better. :D

Ahhhh.. the sweet savory scent of Radiation..

OK, it has no scent, but the radiation-oncology center does! The chemo infusion center has it's own peculiar smell too.

So, it's been 15 days of radiation. I have 13 more treatments (I think). I should be done around September 21st.

This time around they are zapping my lymph nodes in the mediastinum area. Up and down the center of my chest so my esophagus is sort of in the way. It's getting irritated and painful to swallow at times.

My back is killing me too. Just this nagging ache in my lower back. You must lay on a metal slab, basically... and they have a mold made for my head/shoulders and I have to hold my arms over my head on the table for about 15-20 mins. This puts odd strain on my lower back.

I'm very nauseous as I'm typing this. Nothing much has given me nausea throughout all of my treatments so why now? it's weird.

I'M SO over this. I don't even want to talk about it or pontificate or be introspective or interesting. I just want to be done. I'm a sour puss patient. I'm getting grouchy. It just seems relentless. I've been getting treatment since the beginning of February and it's like ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW???? 8 months of treatment when I'm done. Tears are welling up in my eyes as I type this because I am feeling just a teensy bit sorry for myself. It's been hard on my body, hard on my spirit. Jill's been great but I know it's hard on her too. We try to stay positive and maintain a level of normalcy but under that surface is a lake of tears.

We're thinking about moving. We've got our eye on a few houses and I really want to change but some part of me is clinging to my old place. Also I think of all the things that need to be done and I'm just freaking EXHAUSTED. Seriously. We have to hire people to move us because there is no way.
So many expenses to think of and my tummy hurts so I'm done writing this.

SUNSHINE AND LOLLIPOPS AND.... stuff.

Shitballs Willie!

Pardon my French.

I don't know where that phrase came from but sometimes Jill says it when something bad happens.

I had another scan on July 8th and my lymph nodes are enlarged again. Dr. Dummypants says it might be from my horrific chest cold but it's probably a bit of that and a bit of the cancer bulking it up in size.

Unable to take the carboplatin as well, she thinks it just wasn't enough with the Taxol.

Enter radiation. I had my consult with the radiation oncologist the day before Dummypants and he repeated everything I already knew but didn't mention anything about my lymph nodes. He said, as always, it's up to me to do radiation or not. With the size increase, there is no option. I have to do this... it helped with my pelvic region.

The upshot is, no spreading. Still just these obnoxious nodes so.. gotta zap those babies. I guess I can do a shorter treatment for radiation because I just can't stand the thought of doing this for another 5 weeks. He can up the dosage and make it a 2-3 week stint. The side effects might be worse but I don't care at this point. I'm over it... I've been doing this crap for 2 years now and I just want a break. It's not only really taking a toll on my body it's make me a bit crazy as well. I'm just tired of it all, really. Done. DONE AAAAND DONE.

I had to come back and add to this post. I'm pretty pissed off. In fact, I'd use the phrase "furious". I guess it's just fear masking itself as anger. I'm scared as hell. Mostly I'm convinced that this is nothing and I'll "get past it" but I fear it's going to push and pull me around for a long time until it decides to take my life. I HATE IT.

It makes me think stupid things like "why me?". I dislike when people ask that question. I think "why not you?". But lately I've been thinking more along the lines of "what did I do to deserve this?".

I do sort of believe in karma. You get what you give. That's where it feels bad. What did I give to get this? It really is unfair but life is unfair, I know this. I'm rational. So I'm mad. Really mad.

I cry angry tears and then pitiful tears and then a few more angry tears and then I'm done.

Sweet Sweet Relief

I am SO EXCITED that my last chemo is coming up this Friday.

The fatigue this time around is really out of control. I can barely manage folding clothes. Even showering is exhausting. It just leeches every bit of life force from you.

To top that off, I got a supremely gnarly cold last Saturday that is STILL working itself out. The coughing is a rattling freak-fest. My lung capacity is very low.

Sorry, the rest of this is going to be the rantings of a chemo-fied lunatic.

My last visit with Dr. Dummypants really REALLY angered me. She casually said that the cancer would come back..

We were like "really?.. uh... " and she kind of closes her eyes and nods "90% chance it'll return". She gives me a gentle pat like "there there". OMG I wanted to cut her arm off.

I know my cancer is aggressive. I know all of it.. how relentless it is, and that it grows slowly but just keeps coming.

Why tell me that, though? Why put a percentage into my head? Healing is 99.9999999% in your mind (I believe). Who is she to say that? She doesn't know me. Plus, I'm her only patient ever with Large Cell Neuroendocrine cancer. EVER. Did she get this number from a journal? Perhaps she saw it on Wikipedia. MY GOD I dislike that woman. I really need a new doctor. I'm so aggravated about it. Stress isn't helping, I'm sure.

ANYWAY, last day Friday which will be so good.

Radiation /might/ be happening but I won't know for a few weeks. PLEASE please please don't let it happen. I hate it so much. I just want some time to live a normal life and not always be dealing with this.

Lalalala... sunshine and lollipops.

Pfffft.

Sometimes when I need to nap and it's too light out, I put my woobie over my eyes. It's a giant 100% cotton cloth I got from a friend as a gift for a head wrap. It's far too large for that but OHHHH my... so soft, so sweet, so loving. I drape it around my head and neck at night and when I get a surge of heat, I take it off. Moments later when it's freezing, I casually put it back on. I love it. Living bald is quite an experience.

I digress.

Swimming up from sleep with the woobie over my eyes, I heard a distant droning. Immediately summers shuffled inside my mind and I was transported to Oxbow where we'd spend weekends in the summer before dad built the cottage.

It was hot and I was lying on a lounge chair under the green fiberglass awning attached to our trailer. The droning is a boat on the lake. It's a beautiful sound in my heart... an enormous cursor to my childhood summers at that lake. The breeze is cool and sweet and it might have to do with how we're nestled on top of a cliff. It was a cliff to me then, now it probably would be a gentle sloping hill before a drop off to the lake front.

Along with the droning, the air is warm in my nostrils and fragrant with Earthy smells. One foot on the ground with my toes wiggling in the silty sand to get to the cooler, damp soil beneath. Birds calling to each other in the canopy high above. I open my eyes and see the glowing green of the sun filtering through the corrugated awning. Shadowed leaves and branches paint a moving mural on the surface and the sun moves through it all in a chorus of light. It's so potent, this memory, so real that hot tears work their way into my eyes.

I think the words and then I say them out loud since no one is here to hear... "I love you, Earth".

Good News... for now.

Today, before chemo we had an appointment with my oncologist (Dr. Dummypants) and the scan I had 2 Mondays ago looked good! My lymph nodes were back down to normal size (the swelling wasn't very significant to begin with) and no other problems were found! VERY happy. Of course, I take it for what it is. Good news for now. Doesn't mean I'm free & clear, just means the chemo is doing its job. Good times!

For the first time, Dr. Dummypants was like "you're really doing great, Melissa.. I think this will be good.. you'll be fine". This, she never said to me EVER. My first appointment with her was very grim. She was straightforward and did not nice words. She basically said at that first appointment that I had a very aggressive cancer and she really didn't have high hopes but we were going to attack it aggressively and do what we could. We cried afterwards. I thought she was horrible, but really, she was just being honest from her experience. Granted... by her admission and other oncologists we saw, not much is known about my specific cancer. It's not, as she called it "your garden variety cancer". Large Cell Neuroendocrine Carcinoma/Tumor was what they called it at first (being that tumors were inside my uterus). Now they just say "Large Cell Neuroendocrine Cancer".

Also, not sure if I had written about my weekly chemo. It's really fantastic. NO LEG PAINS!! I don't know if that's from the lack of Carboplatin or just less dosages per week of the Taxol. A Taxol side effect is leg pain so who knows. I'm still fatigued and feel like I have the flu for a few days but without that pain it's like I could do this forever! Although you kind of get used to feeing tired and like shit so when I'm off it, I don't realize how good I feel.

I gain weight because it is far too taxing to exercise. I should just not do as much as I used to when I did exercise. Little bits. Baby steps.

I'm riding a 'roid wave right now. The steroids always make me a bit hyper and wide awake. I probably won't go to sleep until 5 am again. I have projects to do anyway so maybe I'll work on those. :P

The Awkward Transition

My friend did a drawing, which I liked, sort of tribal-ish of one person holding another. The person being held was passing over and the title was something like "will you hold me through the awkward transition". (the image shown is not that image... just apropos)

That word was so apt, to me. "Awkward" to describe letting go of this life. There are no apologies about it, not much dignity either. It's ugly and difficult... probably the most difficult thing about life.. the letting go.

How will my hair look? Will I make any embarrassing bodily noises? You get my drift.

Sunday, my mother made the awkward transition. I know that seems a heartless way to say it, but it was awkward and she was struggling so desperately. She was thin, her muscles shrunken, her face contorted, her mind (as we knew her) was almost completely gone. She had muscle spasms and could not swallow anymore. It was nightmarish and the very epitome of awkward.

So much fear surrounds death because we don't know what road we're taking and pain because of what and who we leave behind. I don't have much fear about dying but I can't stand the thought of leaving behind.

My mother had been ill for several years now. She was continually suffering from trans ischemic attacks or "TIA's". They're mini strokes in your brain. Not the kind of stroke where your face is left slack or there are outward physical signs.. just a slow gnawing at her mental and physical condition. It's very cruel. I guess, like Alzheimer, it's a black hole that slowly sucks everything from you. She was left with advanced dementia. In the end, she stared into the distance and I wanted so much for her to let go and rest. She seemed lost, afraid and alone. But she couldn't tell us any of those things. Perhaps it was my own projection but the look in her eyes was telltale.

My mom was a sillyheart. She was goofy and whimsical and sang while she cooked (with spatula in hand, no less). She actually used the spatula to accentuate verses, etc. She would call and leave songs on my voice mail that she had recently remembered from her childhood. Actually, she was much like a child in her joyous, giving and free spirit. She didn't spend much time concerning herself with worldly events. Her focus was her family. I have missed her these past few years and have grieved the loss of her the whole time. Now, it's almost a relief that she can be free and hopefully, somewhere, she is with my father and she is happy again.

Yesterday morning I woke to the sun absolutely flooding my room. It was glowing, powerful and moving. It was almost dreamlike and I felt her joy. The whole day I was relieved. A weight had been lifted and I just knew that she was OK.

She always sang to me "With rings on her fingers and bells on her toes, she should have music wherever she goes". But it was really about her. I imagine her flitting through another world with her many rings (which she really did love) and her singing and music following her wherever she goes.

I love you Mom and thank you for my life.

Fun fun fun!!

2nd round of chemo (8th chemo treatment) and I had an allergic reaction today.

I guess Carboplatin can build up in your system (cumulative sort of) and when re-introduced (from a year ago) can cause allergic reactions. Nurse Amy told me to watch out for this but it's rather rare. Of course, about 15 minutes into my infusion my hands started itching. Then the inside of my arms from my armpits to my palms (palms itched like crazy). So, we had to stop that and I was given a steroid and Benadryl. It subsided after about 1/2 hour. My face felt like it was in a vice and my skull itched too. SUCKED big time.

I got to leave a tad bit early because they didn't want to give me any more. I'll have to talk to my doctor about my options. There are a few but I'm not sure. My body is saying "NOOOOoooo"... I don't blame it. Anyway, that's the story for the day. I'm bummed because I just want things to go as planned.

We came home and I was irritable about my hair so we shaved it. First GI Jane length but we left a mohawk on top. I went into the bathroom, applied some product and pointed it up which was AWESOME. It did look pretty great. But then as I was pushing and pulling it GOBS came out in my hand. It's kind of sickening. So we shaved it all to the skin pretty much. Just tiny stubble.

Feels good, actually. Last time, my head felt like it was raw or like my brain was exposed. This time, it feels more natural because it's been this way before. Freeing, sort of. I wept like a banshee the last time. This time we giggled and had fun. Like my brother always say (who lost his wife to Ovarian cancer) "don't sweat the small stuff".

DONE!

OUCH, MY HEAD!

My head hurts.

Last time I shaved my head when my hair started falling out. Dr. Dummypants said it'd all fall out exactly 14 days after my first treatment. Another HUGE weird lie from her. This time, my hair is already very short and I just want to see how long it'll take before I show bald spots. I'll shave it then, for sure but HOLY COW! The aching is so gross. It feels exactly like after having your hair in a pony tail for a loong time. You remove it and your scalp just aches.

I'm losing a lot of hair today. Combed it several times and just gobs came out. It makes me very sad. I don't know why.. I can take all the fatigue, painful legs and everything but there are just a few things that make me very weepy and this is one of them. I can feel the hot tears now and these words are blurring.

Sometimes I just let that strong shield drop and feel so sorry for myself.

We went to see 127 Hours tonight and it was really intense. I love losing myself in films. A mini vacation. Afterward, I was melancholy. At home, I didn't want to talk to Jill so I holed up in my office and puttered around on Neopets. I just couldn't shake the want to stare into the air. I felt like I was sliding down the slippery slope and near the vacuous hole. I have to be careful about that.

It's easy to pretend everything is OK when I have my hair. When it's falling out and I'm finally bald, there is no hiding.

Sometimes I think I'd rather be trapped in a canyon in the middle of nowhere with my arm pinned by a boulder. 127 hours of mental hell.. but this... this is long and drawn out and sooo incredibly annoying.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

It ripples outward in concentric circles that cross and finally dissipate. Then another drip... ripples of worry and trepidation and fear and then... fade.

1 year, 3 months and 12 days of fear. 127 hours? Pffffffffffffffffft.

Fun fun fun!

I wish my chemo stations looked like this.

I re-started chemotherapy today. I was SO PSYCHED! Nothing beats chemo.. except maybe a slow starvation. Or perhaps if you fall from a tall cliff in the middle of nowhere and you are stuck in a canyon and can't move because all of your bones are broken.

Sarcasm helps me stay sane.

Anyway, we went directly to the Gold Pod where I'd been treated before. Amy (my chemo nurse) met us and said everything was set up in the other pod because now we were paying patients.... My lip quivered... I nearly cried. Amy assured me that she'd take care of it and if I wanted to, I could have the rest of my appointments with her. "ONLY if you want to". I was like "OF COURSE I WANT TO, AMY... I NEED YOUUUU" and she got a little misty eyed.

I was very upset.

We got there @ 9 for our appointment and, of course, with anything at Lemmen-Holton we waited an hour for our 9 am appt. and got in @ 10 am. I was getting furious.

Seeing Amy was something I actually was looking forward to. Amy jokes about her "golden boy" brother in-law who if favored by her husband's parents. She's said awful things about him that I cannot share in public but they made me love her forever and ever. When I had to get poked for a second time on a blood test because the blood draw lab failed to follow up, she was furious and made sure that never happened again. Made more work for herself because of it.

She called in a prescription very late and waited for Jill to come pick it up. She gives her heart to her patients and that is rare. I mean, that I've experienced. I know there are a ton of health workers in it because they care, but they don't care for me. :P I always feel like a #, save Amy and another moment with a very kind male nurse.

ANYWAY.. Amy came over to the other "pod" and said she took care of it all, fixed this and that blah blah blah and YAY!!! I'm so glad. At the very end she said "I have something to tell you that might cheer you up.... One of us three is pregnant" she pointed to Jill, me and herself. We squealed for her. We cried for her. She'll be a great mom because she already knows she'll be a terrible mom. Y'know? She's amazing and I love her.

It was a hellish 7 hours. The first time you go, they "ramp up" which means they start slow and then increase the flow of the meds. Usually it takes around 5 hours. The Benadryl really effects me, so I was woozy and slept on and off. It makes me feel so out of it.

They give you saline which makes you pee like crazy.. but then the Benadryl makes you feel like you are going to bump into walls when you walking. Then they gave me Pepcid (for nausea) and a steroid. Carboplatin and Taxol are the chemo drugs. My doctor had a syringe of Adivan ordered for me (which I never had before but Dr. Dummypants likes to get shit wrong with me). Adivan is for stress relief and nausea. It also makes you very sleepy so I said no.

Hopefully the leg pain isn't too bad this time around. Who knows. I felt fairly nauseous all night and didn't want to eat really. I usually don't feel that either. Mostly I feel fine though.

I cut Jill's hair tonight and that was a lot of fun. Poor girl lets me do anything and actually believes in me. How'd I get so lucky?

Sometimes I wish I had my chemo by myself though. I feel like I have to worry about Jill being entertained. I know she doesn't FEEL that way but it always makes me feel bad. Like, if I want to sleep I have to make sure she's OK and busy or has something to do. No way for her to sleep really because the chair she sits in is not comfy like mine. No reclining fancy stuff.

Lisa stopped by for lunch and we all ate together which was nice. I need one of those sleeping masks though because lights are bright. (*_*)

Mmrphmrmnhfphrrumm

I can't say anything.

Not really. Jill gets too upset if I talk to her about certain things.

So do all my friends. Well, they would. I don't want to upset them with these thoughts.

But I do think them. I often wonder if I'm thinking about my funeral or where to put information about paying bills or how I set up my will... is that inviting the worst into reality?

On one hand, I'm practical. On the other, I'm superstitious.

I was thinking I really love "Blackbird" and I'd like that song to be played.. A capella at my funeral. Then I thought it'd be really funny to like make everyone sit through a song that was horrible like "Who let the dogs out". Everyone would feel uncomfortable trying to understand what I was saying. Then something pretty like "Blackbird".

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Black bird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
all your life
you were only waiting for this moment to be free

Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise,
You were only waiting for this moment to arise,
You were only waiting for this moment to arise.

So gorgeous. So painfully promising. It's always been or seemed like a metaphor for death to me. Take these broken wings and learn to fly.. into the light of the dark black night. The dark is the unknown.

I remember once on Lyon street in my first apartment I was falling asleep. Suddenly I felt like I was awake, but in a between state of waking. I was vibrating and I felt like I was spinning at the same time. No pain. I remember the feeling of receding too and I was very confused. Then it came to me; I was dying. I thought about things in my apartment and what I wouldn't want my parents to find/see. Then I just melted into a sort of stillness or peace. A washing over. No fear, no regret, no trepidation, no hesitation.

Then I was awake in my room and I thought "well, that was a messed-up dream".

After that I never feared death. Meaning the actual dying or letting go. I knew that would be extraordinary.

What I don't like is thinking about what I'm leaving behind. My loved ones, my life.

I don't like thinking about death at all, who does? But it's out there... lingering. Big fat mortality waggling its sausage finger at me.

My biopsy was going to go one of two ways. Positive or negative. It isn't rocket science. Will I live or will I die? One of two ways.

It will happen or it won't. I don't feel helpless but I don't feel in control. I believe in the randomness of the universe. Chaos.

I don't believe in prayer but I believe in positive energy. I've felt its power and its beauty. I don't like negativity and sadness and pouting and "OMG NO!". I don't know that I believe in fate either... or even the stability of this reality.

I just know that I don't know.

I cry when I feel sad about it but I don't feel sorry for myself. I don't blame anything or anyone but I do wonder what might have caused it or was it coded into my genes before birth.

I compartmentalize like a mo-fo and this helps me tremendously.

I like to look at my cats and revel in their lack of intelligence. They're blissfully unaware. I like thinking about the universe and the solar system and how long it took to form our sun and how long it will last.

I fall somewhere in between the life of a bolt of lightning and the life of a star.

A blip.

I don't feel like I have to run around the world and fit in all the "things I always wanted to do". Sure, it'd be nice but sometimes living inside my thoughts is more beautiful than any trip to Cape Cod could be.

Although, I'd love that. Don't get me wrong. I would LOVE to travel, but I refuse to make a mad dash to squeeze a lifetime into a few years. If I tried, wouldn't I be giving up?

These thoughts swirl, vortex, pause and dissipate.

I know I've said this before in this blog but I don't love the snow any more than I did before because I have always been deeply in love with life.

So blessed. So lucky. So pained. So unlucky.

The good, the bad and the ugly.

Second Verse Same As The First

Ladies and Gentlemen... welcome to round 2 of chemo!

My doctor called today and my biopsy did show cancer.

Back to the drawing board.

Same as before.

Carboplatin and Taxol on a Friday, Neulasta shot on Monday.

OH I CAN'T WAIT TO LOSE MY HAIR AGAIN.

Just thinking about the smell of the "Gold Pod" where all the people w/o insurance go to get their chemo is so intoxicating. Nectar of the gods, really. If only they could bottle it.

There is a sectioned off area for the REAL chemo patients whose bills get paid. But now my bills are paid by the state. I wonder if they'll put me in a fancier pod. Maybe they have Wii's on their little TV's and butlers. A girl can dream.

I'm so tired right now. Underneath it all, I'm just really pissed off.

Buy Opsy

NODE JUICE!

On Tuesday (Feb. 15th) in the year of our lord, 2011... a needle was stuck into my chest cavity and extracted was a few sips of Node Juice.

You heard me...

Since my nodes seem to be so active and playful, we thought it best to get to the lymph node and biopsy and see if any of those cells are nasty and mutated. I'm tired of the waiting game and the scans. I've had enough scans to last me 4 lifetimes.

This was a CT guided scan. They hooked me up to oxygen and Versed (yummy) and a pain killer. Then they scan my chest. Hey! There's a big node, let's go for that one. They stick the needle in some. Then they scan again and now they know to go left or right or spin in circles... what have you. They do this several times until at last, the doctor arrives at the node. Then he took a few samples from it and voila! Node Juice anyone? Mmmm... the notes are just singing! I need a proper snifter so the bouquet can build.

Ok, enough of the Node Juice humor.

It was about 4 hours in the hospital including the procedure. Jamie and Jill came to entertain me. It was chaos @ Blodgett apparently.

Yesterday I came home and had a bit of a melt down. I have some huge bruises from injections and for some reason, the camel's back broke and so did I. I couldn't stop crying. Afterwards I did feel a lot better. A good cry is worth its weight in tears. Wait, that's not much weight. Weight, that's not much wait.

I digress.

Blah blah blah

blah blah BLAH blah blah...

My Dr.'s mouth moves and I watch it move and I notice how dark her eyeliner is and that she says her "nanny had to work the last school carnival" and she wished she didn't have to tonight and also wished that private Christian schools served beer at such functions.

SO WEIRD.

My lymph nodes are big and little and little and big. Increasing in size here, staying the same there, etc.

Deep in my chest is a larger lymph node that has increased in size since my last scan. She still wonders if I'm having residual chemo stuff or lung irritations (so true). She is going to find out if "they" can biopsy this lymph node but it's in a complicated place among branches and mushrooms and cobwebs and I guess not-so-easy to access.

It'd be an outpatient thing and they'd sedate me somewhat. I can only imagine the scene in Pulp Fiction where they stab Uma Thurman with an adrenaline filled needle about 1 foot long. WUT??? NOOOO!!

Still, I will have yet ANOTHER scan in 6 weeks. HOLYOMGNOWAYPLEASESOMEONEHELP not another scan. Whatever, though. It's not good news, it's not bad news.. it's no news.

I'm still in stasis. Should I feel relaxed? Should I worry? I guess it'll never be fully gone and I'll never fully relax over this. I will imagine it dormant and ready to wake in my cells and start mutating and spreading. I have to get that image out of my mind and think of it simply as gone. Just healthy normal cells, chillin'.

Hi, I'm a heart cell.. wooo.. doin' my heart thing. Waazzuppppp???

Hey, I'm a liver cell.. stinky up in here.... did someone pee?

It is what it is. One day at a time. No news is good news. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Oh, that last one didn't really belong but hey, I love me some overused idioms.

PLAH. STOP LOOKIN' AT ME!