Moving On

So, some things are changing around the ol' My Cancer Deployment blog...as you can see, I've reverted back to the original brown color scheme. I didn't get a bad test or scan, so don't worry your pretty little head about that, I'm just trying to put this here blog to bed in the best possible form for posterity (posterior-iority?).

Because yeah, this blog is doomed. I am officially done with all planned cancer treatments, surgeries, etc., and now we are shifting to maintenance mode.

For those of you who don't know from personal or secondhand experience or couldn't really get a good feel from me, cancer is FUCKING EXHAUSTING. Emotionally, psychically, financially*, physically. You can't run from cancer, take a vacation from cancer, or get a divorce from cancer. It's always there, in your face (or rectum, as it were).

For that reason, I am making a conscious effort to distance myself as much as possible from cancer, and that includes abandoning this blog. My deployment is officially over. I've returned to my home port (which is actually port free) and ready to try to reclaim the normalcy of my life, whatever that means.

But don't cry for me Argentina! I'm not abandoning you, my ever faithful readers. I'll continue to blog (and cuss, certainly) about the mundane minutiae of my life as a SCAHM** over at my old blog, which has been rechristened Sugarmouth. I'm still fiddling with stuff, so consider this a soft launch.

The contents of the old blog have all been ported over to a new URL, although there's no telling how many of the links actually still work...the archives go back to October 2000.

Anyhow, when a blogger stops blogging, they usually do some big send off in their post, but there's no need for that here, just follow the detour signs...

* fortunately for us our coverage is 100% comprehensive. Thank JEBUS.
** stir crazy at home mom.

PORT-FREE!!

I'm a little achy at the port site but am otherwise doing super. Just bummed I can't have a beer while watching tonight's VP shitshow debates.

I've scrapped my dress-acquiring plans for today since I'm not supposed to be operating a vehicle for 24h, so I'm hoping to be able to escape sometime Saturday for some serious economy building (read: shopping therapy).

ETA: I'm totally having that beer because that kooky kreationist is giving me a migraine.

In the Pink

So, I don't want to get into it over who's cancer is better or worse or is deserving of more coverage (consider my stance somewhere between apathy and rage), I just feel that it's necessary to recognize the fact that today is the first day of National Breast Cancer Awareness Month, in case you missed the memo and all the pink paraphernalia that's out there.

I just feel like the following has to be said: don't think for one second that buying a pink silicone spatula honors your grandmother or makes a significant financial contribution to cancer research otherwise gets you off of the hook.

If you want to honor your grandmother, do monthly self-exams and/or stop putting off that mammogram. If you want to make a financial difference, donate a respectable chunk of change to ACS.

If you want a cute kitchen accessory, buy the spatula. Just don't think it's anything more than that.

What's the What

So, the latest and greatest from Sugarmouth Inc. is that I will be getting my port out on Thursday. Since I will be legally worthless for the majority of that day (sedation = have to have a ride home and all that), Miss Vi will be in drop in daycare all day.

I'm hoping to be able to go dress and shoe shopping at some point before having to pick her up. Two birds and all that.

Other things are afoot but will only be announced when they're all ready.

I know, the excitement must be positively killing you. </snark>

Prayer Detour

Hey everyone--For those of you who comprise the God Squad branch of my support network, I respectfully ask that you add my good friend, CK, to your prayer list as she was in a very bad car accident over the weekend.

She is in incredible shape considering the severity of the accident (fortunately no one else was involved) and has a good prognosis, but some damage of uncertain permanence was done and she does have a good piece of recovery ahead of her.

Love you, girl!!!

I'm Pooped.

Mom left yesterday.

I'm now starting to fully grasp just how much she did for me/us.

Holy crap I'm exhausted.

In other news, a day where both ND and Navy win is a good day. :)

Where the Hell Have I Been, Indeed?

Notes of note:

• I finally got that cut and color I've been desperate for. While I love the color, I don't totally love the cut (it's short and bordering on Mom hair) but I recognize that there wasn't a whole lot my beloved stylist could do: it had to come off.
• Jody and I watched Persepolis last night (ie the one night during the week that there isn't any football on). It was beautiful and affecting and best of all--didn't make me cry despite it being about a girl growing up in (and out of) Iran after the 1979 revolution.
• On the flat screen in the waiting room of my hospital's surgery clinic, they were playing this awesome video of puppies playing. I think the DMV should take a page from that puppy playbook.

PS: My post-op checkup went swell and my poops are grand, thanksforasking.

An Open Letter to the Woman Driving the Escalade Pick-Up Truck While Talking on Her Cell Phone with Her Bichon Frise in Her Lap

:::eyeroll:::

Sincerely,
Incredulousmouth

How Do I Love Thee [Target]...

...let me count the ways. Today's highlights include:

• Domo.
• Real Simple office supplies.
• Bum Genius. Cloth diapers. In a mass-merchandise store! (!!!)
  

Things you need to work on:

• Stocking simple toy balls for young kids that aren't branded to death.
• Keeping your cheapo pacifiers on the shelves.

Supporter Shoutouts

This weeks thanks goes out to...

• Nurse-turned-real estate guru and bestest HS GF evs JOG for her ginormous delish delivery of kettle corn! While my surgeon has put the kabosh on all things seedy and nutty, Jody and Mom have enjoyed every salty sweet bite!
• New parents that are soon to be relocating back east Angie & John P. for their care package from Really Good Cookies. No false advertising there!
  
• And last but not least, Trager (and her mens, 1F and Connor) for their basket of yummy bath and body goodness. Great timing--I've got 10 months of hot baths to catch up on!

And a thanks as always to all of you who continue to send notes, whether via paper, email, or blog comments. I know I'm risking sounding like a broken record when I say this, but I cannot thank you all enough for sticking with me through every test, treatment, procedure, and surgery.

Despite all of our medical and technological know how, fighting cancer is more like brutal, slogging trench warfare than a clean surgical strike (pun intended). Words cannot express how much I appreciate, value, and rely on all of your support. Without you guys propping me up, I would have fallen down a long ways back.

New Research on Novel Screening Techniques

Latest CRC headline: Colon X-ray seen as effective at spotting cancer.

While I'm 98% sure that this is the same type of study that I had foolishly volunteered for, I don't know if my results were grouped in with the general data.

So, apparently the upside of the CTVP is that it's cheaper (costing hundreds rather than thousands of dollars), faster, easier (no conscious sedation necessary), and 90% accurate as compared to the traditional colonoscopy.

The downside is that it has a higher incidence of false positives, you still have to do the gruesome bowel prep, and--worst of all--the CTVP is "not as good at colonoscopy at detecting flat growths on the colon wall that are more likely to be cancerous than the more familiar knobby polyps."

All that said, it sounds like we might as well stick with the colonoscopy, just so long as you've got insurance. And I really think that insurance companies and the medical profession in general should look at shifting their screening paradigm, providing coverage for screenings as early as 40 without a family history (at any age with one).

And that whole "the worst thing about a colonoscopy is the prep" adage? Is true in any case where the doc and nurse don't pull you into a private room once you come out of sedation. And don't we want to head that conversation off at the pass as much as possible?

It's Surprisingly Less Embarassing Than I Would Have Thought

Side note: A hardware store isn't the worst place in the world to have this happen...

Colon Alert Level: Guarded

After yesterday's couch-a-thon, I'm happy to report that I'm feeling much better, definitely due in part to the schmancy mac 'n cheese Mom made for us.

LORDY, what we would do without my mom, I haven't the slightest.

It's so frustrating being both sick and tied to the house, and this is only compounded by the fact that it's (1) GORGeous out and (b) prime yard sailing time (ie Thursday & Friday--less competition).

The good news is that we have plans to strike out and try to get some new "window treatments" (read: drapes) for the front room since the ones we have now, while functional, have pull cords which have been off their tracks since about a week after we installed them.

*Then*, the big plans of the day (and possibly weekend) are to go out to dinner with our friends down the street. Gotta capitalize on the in-house sitter while we can!

Am I Still on Chemo or Something?

4:00am--Started the nth round of the 2008 Squirts Relay. Ran laps to the bathroom and back for about three hours.
7:30am--Took a quick hair-rectifying shower and a sitz bath.
7:47am--Experienced reverse peristalsis for the second time since surgery. Went right to sleep.
12:15pm--Woke up feeling better but still fairly crappy. The hair rectifying shower did more harm than good.

Now: Doing better, but not great. Nothing's serious, but I'm starting to feel like more of a worthless, pointless lump than usual.

I want to start feeling better.

All Pooptalk, All the Time

Wisconsin rules, 2-ply droolz.

My New Calling

I have a vision of myself as an angel of mercy to those unfortunate souls that should have to follow in my footsteps, passing out rolls of super-plush, mutiply, cottony-thick toilet paper to the patients on the GI surgical floor...

Seriously, that econorific Scott nonsense makes a post-takedown backside scream bloody murder.

Supporter Shoutouts, the Belated but You All Know My Excuse Edition

The latest round of shoutouts go out to...

• Jen Doc (who recently had a baby--congrats, woman!) for sending a great care package featuring, among other things, a DVD of the series Spaced, which I have not seen but have heard great things.
• Miss Erin (who has moved back to the States after a long stint in the not-so-fabulous part of Italy--congrats, woman!) for sending a totally cute stretchy bracelet with itty bitty pictures of saints decoupaged onto the wooden beads. Catholic kitsch that could just pack a healing punch!
  
• ck1, aka Christy K, for putting together a package complete with comfy woolen socks (I guess fall really is here, huh?), yummy chocolate, and a smattering of indulgent bits from Kiehl's. Funny side note--my skin had never been better when I was on chemo. Now that I'm done with treatment, I'm all bumps and scales, so this will really come in handy!
• Karen B., for her package of shower bubbly goodness and a t-shirt that reads "I > U." Because isn't it better to be honest than modest?

And last but decidedly not least, all of you--my dear, devoted readers--for all the concerned, caring, and encouraging comments you've left over the last week (and then some). It's no secret that I am a comments/attention whore and appreciate you all indulging my weakness in that regard.

I really do appreciate all of you regulars, whether you've known me since Freshman O or only recently met me through this blog, and encourage all of you lurkers to leave a comment every once in a while!

The Trick is to Keep Breathing

I am still awake (but barely), up late keeping a vigil over my totally uncertain, unpredictable, undependable guts. There's no sense in going to sleep if I'm going to be rudely yanked out of it by The Call.

So, I stay up and watch decent TV for the first time in nearly a week and catch the last half of Run Lola Run.

I watch the following scene and am completely overwhelmed with emotion...

...because it dawns on me that that is how I have felt since my diagnosis. I have put all of my chips on my doctors and treatment plan and then proceeded to SCREAM for a solid 10 months straight.

That look on her face at the end? That is what I am feeling now. Relief. But instead of cashing out my chips to save my semi-criminal boyfriend from a bunch of murderous thugs, I have to try to reboot my life and keep the topic of cancer crammed to the dusty corners of my brain.

...Until it's time for the next test or scan or scope, that is, and when I get enough negative results--which are a good thing, I always have to remind myself of that--under my belt, that ever-present, constantly hammering thought might actually retreat on its own, fade, and disappear.

This is where I trade denial for hope, and a punishing routine for an utterly, deliciously mundane one. This is where I play pretend at a normal life until it goes back to being one.

I'm Going Home!!!

...just as soon as the docs get the discharge paperwork together and I get off the toilet.

:::Oooph:::

Post-Op Porn

I am reading the hospital room service menu with lust in my heart.

Turned the Corner?

So, I've had multiple movements today, and the last couple came with sound effects, so I think I am officially over the hump. Cream of Wheat, here I come!

Gas Crisis

No "wind" means no food, no going home.

Groundhog Day is getting pretty damn old.

My To Do List:

Lady Ziplock No Longer!

Can't write much as I'm hopped up on pain meds--which seem to be working everywhere but my incision site--but wanted to let you all know that Oscar scrammed on schedule and I'm doing pretty aok.

Thanks so much for all of your emails and good vibes...keep sending those mendy (and gassy--I can't eat until I toot) thoughts my way!

Currently: Trying Not to Pass Out From Hunger

Oh. Mah. GAH I am so hungry. And tired. And totally psyched.

I still have to pack and not eat and shower with the ol' Hibiclens (tonight and at the crack of ass tomorrow) and get to bed by a decent hour, but I'm so looking forward to hitting another marker along this long, long cancer marathon.

This will in all likelihood be my last post before surgery, so wish me well, keep sending those good vibes, and if anyone knows how to teleport an In 'N Out (or NYC pizza joint) to Madison, would you be so kind as to get on that. I'm gonna have some eating to do.

Love you all.

ETA: Mom wil be posting updates at my Care Page until I get back on my blog feet.

And Now a Quick Break for Some Non-Cancer Business

• Blogger has rolled out its Follower gadget, which basically gives you more transparency as to who's reading your blog. That said, click on the "Follow This Blog" link in the side bar if you want to be an official follower!
• Speaking of, my one and only follower thusfar--HH--has launched a new blog: Suddenly Southern? Woo Hoo!
• Finally, I have done a quick color flip to signify the fact that my CT scan came back clear.

Brighter days ahead.

Currently: Killing Time

I've got about an hour or so before my post-op work-up and meeting with my surgeon, so let me get you up to speed:

I just got out of my second procedure in the radiology department, going for a barium enema this time. It's pretty much as horrible as it sounds, but was made all the worse by the doctor running the show, continually barking orders at me with regards to my getting into different positions so as to best visualize my sleepy guts.

Hey guy, if you're going to get all drill sergeant on me while I have a tube up my ass, the least you can do is address me by name. Oh, and lightly touching me on the arm on your way out the door doesn't make up for your being a dick.

Upshot of that procedure: my new "architecture" is leak-free. Well, that's a relief.

Before that fun, I met with chemo doc and his right hand man. They had all KINDS of good news for me. For reals!

First of all, my CT scan was CLEAR. I guess there was some stuff that showed up, but they're chalking it up to post-operative changes and after effects from my radiation treatments. I didn't ask and he didn't say so I don't have the offical decree, but I think this makes me CANCER FREE. FUCK YES.

I THINK I WILL WRITE IN ALL CAPS FROM THIS DAY FORWARD.

Just kidding--I would be forced to smack myself in the head if I were to do that.

Not only did they hand down that great news but my blood counts are good enough to go forward with tomorrow's surgery! Which is apparently at 7:30a! Which means I have to get there at 5:30a! Which kinda sucks but whatever--let's do this thing!

Currently: Oncology Waiting Room

The scan seemed to go fine (but oy how I hate how the IV contrast makes you feel all warm and oogy in your chest and pants)--we should be getting the results from my onc here shortly--and I just got back from labs, where the tech was training someone to deaccess a port (um, I didn't get any real training to do it--why can't you guys figure it out, too?) and she was all "I'll count to three and you take a deep breath" and then immediately pulled the needle out.

I had the shocked/perplexed look on my face, and it took me a sec to realize what had happened, and even though it didn't hurt all that much or anything, I was still all "But you didn't count to three!"

Bitch barely blinked much less apologized, so now I have one more reason to be happy that I won't be coming back here any time soon.

In other news, I'm effing hungry. DAMMIT.

Currently: CT Lounge

I'm just getting started on my long, long day of medical appointments. Right now, I'm sitting in front of two huge cups of CT contrast (one less than the last time), actively avoiding making eye contact with the person sitting across from me (who reeks of cigarette smoke, natch).

It's kinda like the awkwardness of being trapped next to a Chatty Cathy (or Charlie) on a long flight, except in this case you know exactly what the topic of conversation will be.

Next: Blood draws in the onc lab and a meeting with my chemo team.

An Open Letter to My Email Provider

Dear Gmail,

Stop being broken.

xo,
me

ETA: Fixed. No idea what was wrong, but whatevar.

The Beginning of the End

Today was a very important milestone in my relationship with Oscar: it was the last time I'll ever have to look him in his ugly, pink, swollen face.

I think if my relationship with Oscar was going to be more long term (as in, permanent), I could have made my peace with him. I'm just so glad I (in all likelihood) didn't have to.

So the rest of the week looks something like this:

• Tuesday: First day of co-op day care with Miss V (Grandma will be taking her after this week).
• Wednesday: Farmer's market, baby story time at the library (see above), Mom arrives this evening.
• Thursday: Commence clear liquid diet; hit my six appointment wickets at the hospital.
• Friday: All the king's horses and all the king's men will put my Humpty Dumpty guts together again.
• Saturday: Cheer on The Irish from my hospital bed (or even better, some lounge to which I managed to walk without pain or issue).
• Sunday and beyond: ???

In other aches and pains news, I'm still dealing with some nasty peripheral neuropathy in my feet, the upshot of which is that they've got that pins 'n needles feeling, coupled with mild burning, that gets worse and worse throughout the day (somehow reaching its apex when I'm trying to sleep, oh joy).

You know when this condition is a real drawback? When you're trying to check out at the grocery with the baby in tow and one of the coupons you have manages to shut down the register's operating system. TWICE.

Fortunately one of the items in my cart was a six-pack of beer, so I was able to medicate. ;)

Coincidence?

Note the date:



A very apropos bookend to my cancer deployment.

With a hopeful emphasis on END.

Like a Mothertrucking Drum

I am BEAT.

Violet continues to throw my words ("my baby sleeps like a CHAMP") in my face. I apparently had forgotten the don't-talk-about-the-boy-you-like and don't-say-you-did-well-on-the-test jinxes of yore.

I am an idiot. An exhausted, frazzled idiot in desperate need of a professional cut and color (not to mention a vacation and big night out with good friends that isn't followed up with the two day brick-to-the-brainpan sort of hangover that seems unavoidable after 30).

More as it happens.

Shoulda Kept My Yap Good 'n Shut

Remember all that blabbing I did about what a good sleeper Violet is?

Yeah, the wheels are kinda falling off in that department. I don't know if it's her fever or the fact that she's transitioning from two naps to one or both or what, but--as a result--hers is not the only sleep that's jammed up.

:::frowny face:::

Apology, Excuse

Sorry for the lack of postings of late...the brother was out last weekend (and we had an EXCELLENT time despite the weather not totally cooperating and my not being the world's greatest hostess), Jody is taking this week off (a "staycation" if you will, and he will), and Violet popped a fever on Sunday that topped out/freaked me out at 104.3° yesterday.

Unless the fever breaks something quick, Violet will be out of the running for day care today, meaning all those errands and periods of relaxation I had counted on will have to wait. But time is running short as this is her last week of day care and I go under the knife a week from Friday...

Me-wise, I've been feeling kinda ok--neuropathy really ramped up over the weekend until I realized that I should maybe stay away from tighter-fitting sneakers and stick to The Fug that are Crocs (yes, I've been assimilated--resistance is futile).

I'm also getting a tough lesson in aging and that no matter your best of intentions (and/or Rx on hand), sleep does not comes as easily as it once did and holding on to it once you have it can be even harder.

Ok, gotta run and try to get the hot 'n wee one to actually eat something...

ETA: Over the course of the weekend, I flipped the odometer on the ol' ('99) Passat to 100K. This is what qualifies for excitement these days... ;)

Don't Mess with Texas Wisconsin Librarians

Don't let the mousy stereotype fool you: [Wisconsin] woman cuffed, booked for not paying library fines.

It's not known if the woman was arrested by Bookman, the library detective.

I'll Be Back Up to Fighting Weight in No Time

My first re-shoutout to my girls in the Bend who sent me a GC for a bunch of ice cream from Graeter's.

I thought it would be a good idea to have the it delivered while my brother was in town (to share the caloric wealth somewhat) and the cold sensitivity is nearly a non-issue these days, so now we have six pints of small batch French pot goodness sitting in our freezer.

I have all but called dibs on the whole pint of Toffee Chip. Mmm...

Thanks again, girls!

Excuses

The long period of anemia wasn't due to my being a vegetarian.
The weight loss wasn't due to my riding my bike to and from campus every day.
The bleeding wasn't due to my epic pregnancy hemorrhoids.
The achy pelvic pain wasn't due to my powering through natural childbirth.

It was all too easy to explain away.

Because seriously, who would have thought?

Reader Links!

Here's a couple of links that have been sent to me by YOU, my beloved readers:

• In case you were under any illusions, I am not a unique snowflake: Cancer Blogs Become Part of Treatment.
• I was sent the article under a different title but managed to find one which walks the line between funny and tasteless: Speeding Up That Elusive Fart (upshot: chewing gum can help wake up the post-surgery colon).

[(1) via HH, who needs to start a new blog for the new town, (b) via Karen, or more accurately, Karen's thoughtful mom.]

Unpost

Not much to say other than I'm starting to slowly recover from this last--THE last--treatment.

Oh--my brother comes to town Thursday! I haven't seen him in AGES and he will meet Violet for the first time evs! So that is awesome. :)

Something About Speaking too Soon...

While I'm feeling tons better than I was at this point in the last cycle, I'm still not 100% as Shit Monday/Tuesday appears to still be in effect. Arrgh.

Big Day in the Sugarmouth Household!!

Within minutes of my takin off my pack for the LAST TIME, Violet started walking around the TV/playroom--SANS walker toy--like she owned the place, doing turns, squatting to pick up her popbead necklace and put it on, the whole works!

No big celebration planned other than popping open the bottle of NA bubbly that I got along with my angel pin and completion of chemo certificate the other day. We also have plans to hit up TJ's--which I haven't been to in forEVER--where I plan to get lots of chocolatey goodness.

Chemo RULZ!

"WTF?" you may be asking yourself? "Has Sugarmouth/brigita finally, officially lost the last of her marbles?"

Au contraire, my darling readers! I am just super fired up to report that I am feeling Tony the Tiger grrrrrrrrrrrrrreat! No GI issues to report, peripheral neuropathy is managable, appetite is good, and attitude even better.

Miss Vi is in drop-in day care today--I figured I should have some child care coverage considering the horrorshow that was treatment #7--so I've been spending the morning yard saling to my heart's delight and am planning on attending yet another matinée here shortly--lower brow theater to match the lower brow fare.

What can I say--I heart the Bateman!

Sayonara, Chemo Sabes!

Looks like my white cells pulled it out for the last round of FOLFOX--nice job, bone marrow! No word on how my neutrophils fared since those results didn't print on my lab report...must be good enough to get poisoned, I suppose.

On the drugs front, I'm happy to report that--due to continued issues with peripheral neuropathy--my onc reduced my Oxaliplatin volume by 23.6% and my 5-FU dose by 1/6^th (eliminating the 5-minute bolus I get prior to putting on the 46h 5-FU infusion pack). Which is gonna be totally schweet.

In other random chemo news:

• I have a nurse I've neither had nor seen before. I don't much care for her, yet I think this is for the best. I don't know that I'd want to leave this place smiling goodbyes to the good nurses. I'd rather be glad to get the fudge out.
• Since my first infusion way back in April, I've been meaning but keep forgetting to tell you guys about the weirdness that is seeing a guard-chaperoned prisoner in shackles go through the chemo motions.
  
• It is a beautiful fucking day and I am ready to get the fuck out into it.

...where I will undoubtedly burst into huge, heaving tears of joy and terror of finally, finally, reaching the finish line.

Um...Yes, Please?!

Ok, so now my surgeon-who had originally given me a takedown date of 10/1 or so, then moved it all the way up to 9/12, which was great--wants to move the date further up to 9/5?!

My right brain is all "WAHOOOOOOOOO!" but my left brain is all "Um, is the chemo going to be sufficiently out of my system in order to have the best odds for a successful and speedy recovery?"

Note: My right brain can shout louder.

"Why So...Serious?"

Yesterday, I'd decided to indulge myself with a matinée of The Dark Knight at our local fancy pants art house cinema (does it still qualify as "art house" even if it's in a strip mall? Very nice, dressed up and glorified, but a strip mall nonetheless).

To make it the perfect movie-going experience, I even searched high and low--literally stopping at four different retailers--before finding Hot Tamales to go with my buttered popcorn. It's as close to caramel corn as you'll find without actually making it yourself.

After breezing through the ticket-taking area (no usher on duty?! My younger self would have staked this place out for the purpose of catching the occasional freebie), I settled into an uber-comfy seat and settled in for what would reveal itself to be two and a half hours of unsettling film.

• I've always loved the dark, brooding Batman, and Christian Bale takes another fantastic turn in the rubber suit.
  
• Aaron Echkart's chin of justice juts dramatically as Harvey Dent takes the path of righteousness...and then gets thrown off the cliff.
  
• Maggie Gyllenhaaaaaaalllaalalal is a more satisfying love interest/female place holder than Mrs. Tom Cruise was, but not by much.

But as everyone has said before me and better, this movie belonged to Heath Ledger's Joker. Costume and makeup aside, his voice and mannerisms took you out of the "this guy did Brokeback Mountain/Knight's Tale/10 Things I Hate About You" (all three movies which I enjoyed for various reasons) mindset, making you completely forget about the actor as you were so engrossed with the character (much like Charlize Theron's role in Monster), sucking you into the story entirely.

The Joker in this film is crazy like a fox--a psychopathic, homicidal, nihilistic fox. He's not driven by greed or lust or fame, just a pure, focused desire to watch the world eat itself. While he appears completely unhinged, he more than manages to be at least two steps ahead of the good guys, manipulating them again and again into increasingly deranged situations and "social experiments."

And that was what I took away from the movie, a feeling of total exhaustion, for the one word I came up with to describe the film is relentless. It just. Doesn't. Stop. And while action scene after action scene might leave a completely engaged viewer somewhat breathless, it was the aggressively sinister underpinning of each episode that just ground me down somewhat.

We are used to seeing the bad guys getting blown up by the good guys and innocents threatened but ultimately saved in most mainstream movies, but in this one, the bad guys are forced to turn on each other while the innocents are literally dangled over the precipice or shorn sheep dressed in wolves's clothing, as the wolves themselves walk invisibly among the flock.

Now, I love me a dark movie. Twisted and warped and morbid are all good qualities in my book. But there has to be some respite, some moment where the viewer can take a breath and regroup. There wasn't a whole lot of that in The Dark Knight. I guess I should have known--it's pretty much all right there in the title.

So, the obvious question is, would I see it again? Most definitely.

I mean, have you seen Christian Bale? The man is not ugly.

On Getting Woken Up By the Cops at 2am

I wasn't sleeping very well last night for no known reason, but I still nearly pissed my pants when someone started pounding fast and loud on the door in the wee hours last night. The first thought that went through my head was that the house was on fire. Terrified.

Our room is at the back of the house, so I ran to one of the front rooms, where a bright spotlight was blazing through the open window. Both freaked and dazed, I yelled down to the two figures below, "Hello?"

The good news is that the house was not on fire and that the two individuals were members of Madison's Finest. I stumbled downstairs, getting tangled up in the dog in the way down, to find a number of people milling around on the sidewalk.

Turns out the next door neighbors had heard breaking glass, and when they looked outside, they saw the interior light of my car on and some people poking around inside.

The policemen had me look in my car and see if anything was missing...unfortunately, my car is a *bit* cluttered so it would have been hard to tell, but I could see that Violet's car seat and my Sigg bottle were still there, which--as replacement costs go--were the only things I was really concerned about.

One of the cops took my info, basically said that I probably wouldn't be hearing from them (well, yeah...), and apologized for waking us up.

Lying in bed, I kept thinking about the door that I'd left unlocked after sweeping the deck and that there was no phone upstairs and what Jody and I would do in the event of a home invasion and throughout it all I was thinking about Violet.

I don't know if I ever fell back to sleep.

The police seemed to think that it was just a bunch of young punks looking for trouble than actual thieves, which I guess is comforting, but it makes me crazy that a bunch of thoughtless teens can set off such a chain reaction of insecurity and fear.

I guess we'll be leaving our exterior light on from now on.

Supporter Shoutouts, Happy Birthday to Me Edition

Yes, it's my birthday, although I wish I could postpone it a bit since I'm not feeling up to much of anything (even though I've already gone to the farmer's market, put in a load of laundry, posted two book sales, and installed an under cabinet paper towel holder with my brand new birthday drill from Jody...a girl wants what she wants!)...

All of that said, many thanks go out to the following:

• Jenny, Tom & daughter Molly for sending me a delicate and lovely necklace that compliments my motherhood necklace beautifully. Thanks you guys!
• J9, for being quick on the draw with an e-card first thing this morning and a sweet little bouquet of fleurs shortly following. They are prominently displayed on our dining room table (where I spend more time feeding the wee one than actually eating ourselves!).
• Everyone else who has called, emailed, sent cards and well-wishes. Love you guys!

Now I'm off to burn up more fossil fuels than necessary in search of something called Chocolate Eruption. Eat it, ozone layer!

In Xanadu Did Kubla Khan/A Stately Pleasure-Dome Decree...

After talking with the onc on-call last night about my continued inability to keep fluids in me, I was advised to report to the hospital today for two more liters of saline and a scrip for tincture of opium, aka laudanum.

Yes, you read that right, the shit that old-timey literary types used to get their inspiration from. I guess when the OTCs and run-of-the-mill Rxs don't work, the next level of treatment are the drugs that the bad kids did in school (opium to induce constipation, marinol for nausea).

If this stuff doesn't do the trick, I'm worried that eye of newt might be next on the menu...

Oh and yeah, my plans for an early birthday dinner are pretty much kaput. Blast.

Back from the Brink*

One panicked call to a babysitter, two liters of saline, and three visits from my onc's Number 2 guy, I am home and feeling quite a bit better. While I'm far from 100% (ah, that elusive 100%...), I am no longer feeling nauseous, desperate and pathetic...well, at least not as much of an ineffectual failure as I was earlier.

Seriously--What is the most basic, biological need we as animals have? Water**. People can go weeks without eating but deprive them of access to clean water and they're dead in a matter of days. The thirst drive has to be incredibly strong, because without it, we're a goner.

And then there was me. My body's homeostatic mechanisms were so out of whack, they couldn't even get me to do the simplest yet most important thing in the world: drink a damn glass of water.

So, after exchanging several emails with my onc of me running my litany of side effects, I got a call from a nurse at the clinic today, asking how I was doing, which I responded to by bursting into tears.

I am not a person to ask for help. To a San Andreas fault. In my long-held, personal opinion, not being able to keep all your shit in one sock is a weakness and I am nothing if not a smart, independent, take care of business, take no prisoners/bullshit kinda lady***.

But even if you've got intestinal fortitude coming out the wazoo, when your wazoo gets all wazon't and your fortitude gets eroded with every sickening intestinal roll, there comes a time when you have to stop defining yourself by some over-blown bullshit pride of having iron-clad ovaries and accept help.

This is going to be a long, long process of undoing decades of stubborn self reliance and practicing taking people up on their offers of assistance. I am just so grateful that I have offers to accept and that so many of my neighbors are genuinely invested in my health and my family's well-being.

I will say that it is a lot easier to accept help than ask for it, and so this is where I run the risk of both repeating myself and doling out the universally disliked dish of unsolicited advice:

If you have a friend, family member or neighbor who is having a rough go of things, the more specific you can be in your offers of help, the easier it is for the person to plan for and accept the help.

It is not enough to say "O hai, let me kno if u need NEthing, kthxbi!" That puts the ball in the other persons court, where it will more than likely stay.

A better approach is to say something along the lines of "I would like to make you dinner sometime this week, would that be ok?" or "I don't leave for work until 10am and would like to come over and do a little cleaning, what is too early for you?"

Then, when you get there, make sure that your friend/family/ neighbor is settled. Come in with a totally relaxed but take-charge attitude, and get a quick run-down of what needs to be done (if you can't immediately see it), only asking questions of where to find things or how s/he likes things done if you're absolutely flummoxed.

If the helpee frequently pops up to check in on you, gently shoo them away with a calm and capable "I got it taken care of--you go back to what you were doing" (which takes the pressure of the command of "Go get some REST!" off of them).

This is what my microwave guy did, and I don't know what it was about what he said or how he said it, but I felt like the situation was handled and I totally relaxed.

So, I am making a commitment to Jody, my parents, my neighbors and all of you dear, concerned readers, to be better about accepting help and working on asking for it before I need it. At least before my planet spins right out of orbit.

The corner is...well, right around the corner.

* And I'm not talking about the bar on the other side of town.
** Ok, so I'm pretty sure that shelter outranks water.
*** Yes, even ladies can say "bullshit."

Grocery Shopping is Hard...

...when it hurts to reach into the freezer case and even walk through the refrigerated section.
...when nothing--NO-THING--looks appetizing.

Aren't I supposed to be over the side-effects by now?

I'm actually starting to get pretty freaked out by how long this is lasting, particularly the fact that I can't seem to keep any fluids in me.

Oh yeah, and my hair is a fright and I look like a ghoul because I can't muster the interest to eat anything. It's like the appetite part of my brain has completely switched off. That, and I have major heartburn and minor abdominal pain to go with.

I'm ready to feel normal again.

ETA: My oncologist is having me come in for IV fluids. Probably a good idea.

Little by Little

Gradually starting to feel better these days...gah, I still can't get over how hard this last treatment was. I think if I had the choice, I would seriously consider going through labor & delivery again instead of another round like that...at least L&D only lasted 16 hours!

While waiting for my shot in the oncology waiting room yesterday, I ran into one of my onc's nurses, who asked about my last round.

When I told her about how bad it was, she said she'd relay the info to my onc (whom I'd already emailed with the not so veiled hope of getting out of the last treatment) and that they could probably lower the dose for the last infusion. Which would be GREAT.

Like I said, I'm feeling a bit better--not 100%, but I'll take what I can get. And I think right now that means me getting a Dr. Pepper.

Cedar Point's Got Nothin' on Cancer

Holy fucking roller coaster, people--I just got an email from my surgeon saying that he's conferred with my other docs and he feels comfortable going ahead with my reversal as early as 9/12!

I definitely needed that high after the chemo lows of this past weekend...holy SHIT that's been a rough ride.

Scenes from Alpha Squad Chemo #7

Today: Beyond awful. And it started at 2am last night/this morning. I spent the whole day on the couch.

Husband: Incredibly awesome. He took the day off from work and has officially earned his Daddy Officer of the Deck ribbon.

Slight Slump but We're Almost There

So here's today's white cell counts...no where near the high of two treatments ago (which was the first time after getting the Neulasta shot) but close enough to the cut off to let me pass.

My neutrophils were also no where near the last count of 6040 (coming in this time at 2410), but still plenty good to get treatment.

I can't say I'm terribly surprised by the dip as I have been feeling a touch under the weather these last few days...ah, babies are such germ magnets.

Now for the downer news--I just shot an email to my surgeon and he said that he usually likes to do reversals 6-8 weeks from the end of chemo.

This? Is not good. I'd pretty much planned my whole fall around the fact that my goal post (a woman who is several months ahead of me in treatment for the same exact malady) had her take down three weeks after she finished chemo. At least I'm pretty sure that was her timetable. I'll have to touch base with her to make sure. Because I'll be DANGED if I'm going to let Oscar foul up my social life any more than he already has.

ETA: To leave this post on an up note, the good news is that I'll get to have my port taken out some time after my final surgery, which is great as I'd heard of some people keeping theirs in for years and years and I'd really like to be able to hold Violet on my lap without constantly worrying about her elbowing me or thwacking her head against the port.

On Giving a Shit

I bought this card (picture on the front, words on the inside) years and YEARS ago in Seattle. I had to have it because (1) I thought the girl kinda looked like me as a kid and (b) cuss words in a kid's context = instant hilarity. And poop! What's not to love?

The thing of it is, I've never much had the occasion to send it to anyone. I mean, doesn't the act of sending a greeting card to someone show that you do, indeed, give a semblance of a shit?

Somehow, I've managed to not only hold on to this card but keep in it relatively good condition after the multitudes of moves Jody and I have done over the years, so a few weeks ago I dug it out and it is now sitting on my dresser.

The little girl on the potty (yay potty!) makes me smile, and not just because of the scatological sentiment that's within.

What You Don't Want to Hear on the Way to Chemo

Today's poetry selection from the Writer's Almanac (NPR): Eating Together. The line that turned on the faucet:

She eats
as though starving—chicken, dolmata,
the buttery flakes of filo—
and what's killing her
eats, too.
Hey cancer--GO AWAY!!!

Holy Crap, It's a New Poll!

For reals this time!

Nearly two months after deciding that the Tuesday following my chemo infusion should be called "Shit Tuesday" (big ups to all of you Zork geeks that picked "Gruesday"), I'vew finally come up with something to poll about.

Taking a lead from Bride-to-Be Miss A., the question of the week for all of you is this: when choosing something to read, are you a fiction or non-fiction kinda person? And this is a year-round question, not specific to summer beach reads (which I would wager lean towards the fluffier fiction side of the spectrum).

Another One for the "Fucking Shit" File

Fortunately, I was distracted by all things ND and beer (and wrangling a wee one amid all the chaos) this past weekend as I missed the news that Randy Pausch, of Last Lecture fame--passed away this weekend.

It's incredible that he was able to live nearly two years beyond his initial diagnosis.

It still sucks unbelievably that cancer continues to rip lives to shreds.

This kind of story would have barely registered with me a year ago. Now it's everywhere.

Updates

Sorry for the picture cop-out WRT RBF...not a whole lot to report other than babies are cute, beer is wonderful, and I have the bestest friends EVAR .

We were lame and bailed on Sunday brunch, but as those of you who have traveled with kids know, keeping a munchkin on a schedule is near impossible and meltdowns are best avoided by throwing the kid in the car seat and hitting the road.

I think the other reason for my lack of chatter these past few days is that I am dreading chemo for the first time. I mean sure, I wasn't ever psyched for it or anything, but the last cycle was so rough, and I know that it's only going to get worse.

In other news, Violet got seriously sick last night without making a peep, so rather than go to the farmer's market and story time at the library (our usual Wednesday routine), this morning was spent changing sheets, spot cleaning the crib bumper, and bathing the wee one since her hair positively reeked of vom. Ick.

Good Times

Supporter Shoutouts

Some thanks for the last few weeks, in reverse order of receipt, go out to the following:

• A. for her generous selection of reading material. I am definitely overdue for reading something unrelated to you-know-what.
• Ms. & Mr. LeFrei for the great bath toys they sent for the Little Miss' b-day. I love a windup bath toy and those squirting animals sure can shoot far!
  
• And last--but decidedly not least--J9 for her mind-bogglingly delicious gift of crab cakes. They make every other crab cake you've consumed in your life look like a compressed ball of cheapo breadcrumbs and newspaper. Jody has said that they might be in his Top 5 Best Eats Ever and I am inclined to agree.
  

Thank you all for your continued generosity and thoughtfulness, everyone! You guys are the bestest.

In other news, the Sugarmouth family is skipping town this weekend to attend Regional Beerfest, an annual beer-centric gathering among my friends from ND.

So for those of you interested in pilfering our meager belongings, remember that our address is 123 Fake St., Anytown, USA. The key is under the mat.

An Open Letter to Tim McGraw

Tim,

It will come as no surprise to anyone that's spent more than five minutes with me in real life (5% country mouse, 95% city mouse), that I am not a big fan of country music. Or rather, the syrupy crap that passes for country music these days (Johnny Cash and Patsy Cline are the shit).

Still, there's a big difference between "not being a fan" and wanting to put my fist through a stereo speaker.

I was getting an adjustment at the chiropractor when your song, "Live Like You Were Dying" came over the radio when I became instantly agitated.

Because I would wager that when people get diagnosed with something, they they formulate a treatment plan with their new team of doctors immediately start following said plan rather than drop their whole life to go sweetmercifulcrapping skydiving or mothereffing BULLRIDING.

It seems to me that until you actually get diagnosed with a potentially lethal disease yourself, people have a tendency to romanticize these sorts of things. "If I get diagnosed with cancer, I'm gonna see the pyramids of Egypt, write that novel, go bungee jumping."

Getting cancer doesn't suddenly relieve you of your responsibilities, open up your calendar, and drop a briefcase stuffed with money and plane tickets in your lap. Quite the opposite, in fact. And I'm sorry, as I've said before, it's a sad state of affairs if it takes something like cancer to get your priorities straight (family is more important than work, etc).

So Tim, pardon my lack of gentility (I am a Yankee, afterall), but stick to singing about subjects about which you actually know something and STFU about the other stuff.

Hoping you never have to "live like you were dyin',"
Crankymouth

A Gentle [Green] Reminder

Wanna reduce your dependence on foreign oil (and get our troops the fudge out of the Middle East)? Stop using plastic bags.

The only New Years resolution I've made in the last several years (since it was both a realistic one and one I would want to stick to) was this year's resolution to "hold the plastic" by primarily reusing sturdy paper bags with handles and using the occasional cloth (or polyester) bag.

I made it a *lot* easier to remember to use reusables by keeping a box of the paper bags in the trunk of my car.

It's the little things that can really add up to a big difference.

I promise not to turn this into My Crunchy-Granola Pulpit, but it's sooooooooooo nice to have this extended chemo vay-cay and not be all-cancer all-the-time.

[Via The Brother]

Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack

Those flights for our East Coast trip this fall that I dutifully booked two months ago? Yeah, the airline is no longer flying back east. So our flights are canceled. And now I have to book new ones. For about $100 additional. Per ticket.

And I can never spell canceled correctly on the first try.

BITCHCAKES!

That Family Guy/Rectal Cancer Clip

Oh yeah, and a friend of mine recently mentioned that, in order to increase my blog's standing in Google searches for rectal cancer, I should be mentioning rectal cancer more frequently.

And since part of the reason I'm keeping this blog is to be a reference for other people recently diagnosed with rectal cancer, I'm going to go ahead and say the following:

Rectal cancer, rectal cancer, rectal cancer.

So we got that covered.

An Open Letter to My Daughter

My Dearest Violet,

Happy birthday, sweet pea! We had a wonderful day with you today--swinging on the swings at the playground, opening your prezzies from the grands, eating a cupcake for lunch (and getting it errrrvry where), and holding court in your pool in the front yard as the neighbors came by to wish you well.

At the risk of sounding treacly--or worse, like the first to ever push a person out of their body--you are pretty much the most delightful, engaging, and enchanting person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Some days have their challenges and the past year hasn't been much of a picnic, but we're off to a great start and I'm so grateful that you've completed our family.

I love you munchkin. Thank you for being our darling girl.

An Open Letter to My Daughter

My Dearest Violet,

Happy birthday, sweet pea! We had a wonderful day with you today--swinging on the swings at the playground, opening your prezzies from the grands, eating a cupcake for lunch (and getting it errrrvry where), and holding court in your pool in the front yard as the neighbors came by to wish you well.

At the risk of sounding treacly--or worse, like the first to ever push a person out of their body--you are pretty much the most delightful, engaging, and enchanting person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Not every day is a picnic, but

Dept. of the Interior Report

Just got back from the ob/gyn to have a little something checked out. Turned out to be nothing, but the following was uttered by the doc:

Is there any chance you could be ovulating?

Obama doesn't have a monopoly on hope.

What I'm Watching Now

Whedon is my copilot.

ETA: NPR love!

An Open Letter to the Other brigita on YouTube

Your screen name is not brigita.

Please stop requesting that your YouTube password be emailed to you, because it's being emailed to me. brigita. I got there first. Deal.

See ya never,
[I'm] brigita [and you're not.]

New Poll!

Ok, so I lied. I haven't been able to come up with anything compelling lately, poll-wise, so let me throw it out to you guys:

What should be the topic of the next poll?

Rectal CA Q&A: Part III

It's been a while since I did one of these so here goes...

Kris asked:

How do you react to cancer patients portrayed in the movies and on TV? Was your annoyance at the Real World just because it's, you know, a shitty stupid reality show, or do cancer storylines in other places hit home for you now too? Have you had an experience like Ebert, where the events of the past year have changed the way you viewed something from before?

The short answer to this question is HELL YEAH. You know how when you'd go through major boy drama back in the day and it seemed like every song on the radio was about your situation? Yeah, it's kinda like that. But cancer.

It seems like you just aren't aware of certain things until you're exposed to them on a personal level. For instance, I never noticed pregnant women until I got pregnant myself (and, you know, now with the uncertainty of my lady parts). And I certainly didn't pay much attention to cancer subplots of TV shows, famous people dying, etc.

The most bizarre moment I've had thus far was while watching an episode of Family Guy (Peter's Daughter) of all things. I can't seem to find the clip online, but the transcript goes something like this (from wikiquote.org):

Tom Tucker: Good evening. I'm Tom Tucker with a channel 5 news special report.

Diane Simmons: And I'm Dianne Simmons. A flash flood warning is in effect as rain continues to pound Rhode Island.

Tom Tucker: Let's go to Asian reporter Tricia Takanawa who's [singing in a Japanese-music-type manner] gonna-tell-us-all-about-the-rain.

Tricia Takanawa: Tom, residents all over Quahog have been affected by the heavy rains. Although some are doing their best to ride it out. For example, I'm standing here with 'rides a ten speed everywhere' guy. Sir, why are you riding your ten speed in the rain?

Rides A Ten Speed Everywhere Guy: I don't mind, a little drizzle never hurt anybody. I like riding the ten speed because it's fun, it gives me energy, and it's a great way to stay in shape.

Tricia Takanawa: What do you do for a living?

Rides A Ten Speed Everywhere Guy: I work at accounts receivable at Quahog Insurance, it's not too demanding, the pay is good and it's a great way to stay in shape.

Tricia Takanawa: Well we should wrap this up, you're getting wet.

Rides A Ten Speed Everywhere Guy: Well I'm living life before the cancer I have kills me so I don't mind the rain. The water feels good on my skin, it's cool, refreshing and it's a great way to stay in shape.

Tricia Takanawa: What kind of cancer?

Rides A Ten Speed Everywhere Guy: It's rectal cancer, it's slowly eating away at my lower insides. It's a quick process, both painful and untreatable and it's a great way to stay in shape.

Yeah. Jody and I did the world's biggest doubletake, looked at each other, and were all "Did they just say what I think they said?" It was pretty shocking, but at the same time I don't remember feeling anything other than blank (for lack of a better term).

We've subsequently watched this episode (and scene) a couple of times and it alternately mildly amuses me and makes me mad (um, NOT UNTREATABLE!)...I get the fact that ass cancer is hi-larious, but it's not like it doesn't affect people...just not people that watch Family Guy?

Another example of this cancer filter is what just happened with Tony Snow. Thankfully, I didn't hear about it until after our Saturday houseguests had come and gone...I know Jody had heard of it earlier in the day and was trying to protect me from the news for as long as he could.

It's crazy--He was basically a mouthpiece for the worst administration this country has ever seen and here I was, sobbing uncontrollably from the shock of his passing. I still kinda feel like I've been punched in the chest every time I catch a news story about him.

So yeah, to say that cancer colors your world is an understatement. And I'm really hoping that as time passes, those hues become increasingly dull and unremarkable.

I Feel Godawful

Not much from me today.

ETA: Better! Fuck off, chemo!

...except I guess I still need ya, so don't go far...

Busted Chemo Pack, Part Deux

Not only did my chemo pack mysteriously shut itself off, but I discovered yesterday morning that it had been leaking as well (!!!), meaning I've been spreading potentially toxic chemo dust all over the greater Madison area, not to mention my car, house, etc. MotherFUCK.

Fortunately the chemo company was able to get me a new rig a few hours after my initial call, so I was finally able to take the pack off at 9:45 this morning, a good 21h later than I was supposed to (with all the other issues).

Either way you slice it, the pack is off and I only have two more treatments to go. Sigh.

How to Get brigita to Shed a Tear Over Someone From the Bush Administration

1. Give person colon cancer.
2. Have said cancer kill said person.

Fucking shit.

Pardon My French, But...

...fuck me running.

While out yard saling in the pouring down rain (yes, I am a "I brake for yard sales" suburban mom cliché), I heard my pump beep once. I looked down and saw some lights blinking and so I scrolled through all the screens and it appeared as though the pump had been stopped at some point...

WTF? This is the first I'm hearing about it?

So, after wrangling the wee one into bed and all my purchases into the house, I finally sat down to calculate just how far behind I am...

Fucking far. Because of this mysterious mishap, instead of taking my pack off tomorrow at 1p, I'll be deaccessing bright and early at 5:30a on Sunday.

This means that I've lost 14.5h, and considering I noticed around 9a, that means that I somehow hit the off button--which is nigh impossible, since you have to hit a series of buttons for that to happen--around 6:30p last night.

Yeaaaaaah, now I know why I was feeling so good this morning. Dammit dammit dammit.

Chemo Side Effects Check List

• Cold sensitivity? Check.
• Heartburn? Check.
• Eyeballs hurting when I cry? Check.

[From]

Dear Yahoo Searcher,

Yes, you can push mow after having an ileostomy.

Just don't tell my husband.

The $4K Shot That's Worth Every Penny*

Check out my totally rockin' bone marrow! My white cells are better than they've ever been and my neutrophil count? Up to 6040 from an all time and all-too-recent low of 940! That Neulasta really does its job!

So, that's the good news...the bad news is that the pharmacy is totally backed up, meaning I'm going to wind up spending the better part of the day either waiting for or receiving chemo...here's to hoping Cleo's bladder holds out!

*Fortunately, someone else is paying for it.

An Open Letter to the Person Within Earshot

Dear fellow cancer sickie (or possibly care giver),

Sorry, but I don't care what how much you've been irradiated, what surgery you've had, or how much chemo you're scheduled for, it is never--NEVAR--appropriate to clip your nails in public. I'm not a squeamish person by nature, but that sound makes my skin want to crawl right off.

Gross + rude = grude,
Mannersmouth

This Picture is Worth Thirteen Words

Weekend Recap

Things I learned this weekend:

• Backroad Brewery makes a damn fine IPA!
• Check the parade program before ducking into the ladies' room, lest you totally miss the Parade Grand Marshall and your chance to chant "ROO-dee! ROO-dee!" at him.
• If you have to muck about with the garbage disposal, always use your non-dominant hand (fortunately, this was not a lesson learned by experience).
• The two-lane drive-thru of the LP Micky D's is a parking lot around 8am.
• Violet loves her some time in the pool.
• "Glory, Glory, Hallejulia" is a perfectly acceptable song to play over a grocery PA in some parts of the country. Unfortunately, it makes me break out into imaginary hives.
• Apparently, everyone except us is playing cornhole.
• Even I can become the bumbling drive-thru idiot when confronted with a completely unfamiliar menu (read: maybe a pescatarian isn't the best person to place a large order @ KFC).
• New favorite phrase: "douchey wife."
  

Things I was reminded of this weekend:

• There are parts of the country where people are not afraid to wear their religio-political views on their sleeve.
  
• Smoking indoors = STINKY.
• Flag cakes will never go out of style.
• How fun, hilarious, and awesome my family is.

Status

Feeling better, slowly getting all of my shit in one sock for tomorrow's trip, and thinking that we can't get those new gutters & guards installed soon enough (read: crazy thunderstorms rolling through)...at least now I'm off the hook for watering the tomato plants before we leave!

Notes of Note:

• I had my first Neulasta shot yesterday in order to boost my white cells to avoid any future denial of chemo treatments (although I'm really wanting to postpone #7 on account of beerfest...is that so wrong?). The street value of these shots is $4K, so I'm hoping that my onc was right in saying it would be covered by insurance.
• Violet was a big hit in the chemo waiting room. :)
• In less adorable news, my success streak with Oscar ended last night. As these things go, it wasn't all that bad, but I definitely don't have the confidence I did before WRT to Oscar's integrity. Little fucker.

Oh, and I got a new phone:

Further Proof That I am a Twelve-Year-Old Boy Trapped in a None-of-Your-Business' Body

...really hoping this isn't another case of the best stuff is in the trailer...

Supporter Shoutouts

This week's (and it's only Tuesday!) thanks goes out to the following:

• Tricia & psorr for sending several pounds of incredibly delicious salmon straight from the source (ie PacNW). The first night was prepared according to directions (seasoned with the included kosher salt and black pepper and a pat of butter); last night we went with a lemon-butter-caper sauce. Fa-BOO!
• The second thanks is to my girls in The Bend that sent an inflatable canopied pool for the Little Miss, a milkshake machine (!!!), as well as certificates good for 6 pints of ice cream and a weekend at the family condo at a swanky golf resort. Totally schweet.

Thanks so much you guys! I can't tell you how much it means to be thought of. :)

Shit Sunday Thru Tuesday

I'm pooped. I've got a horrible taste in my mouth.

And I still have Shit Tuesday to look forward to.

Pack's Off

Five chemo treatments officially down, three to go...

Back in the Saddle

Great news--My white cells have rebounded enough to get back on the needle! They're still a hair low (as you can see below) but more importantly my neutrophil count bounced back from 940 to 2740 (normal range is 1700-7500/uL).


In other news, RD (which stands for Rude Dietitian) just popped in and started poking through my charts, etc. without properly introducing herself prior to entry again, so I answered all of her questions monosyllabically just to get her the hell out of here.

Cassette From My Ex

Here's a wonderfully off-topic post from my gifted, talented, and utterly delightful cousin, KK:

Hey all!

As some of you know, I am co-producing Cassette From My Ex, a new storytelling project from FOUND Magazine's Jason Bitner, one that taps into those long but hopefully not lost mixed tapes and what they meant to you. We're currently accepting submissions.

It's simple: you send us a cassette tape from your ex with your personal story behind the songs, either as a whole or note by note. We digitize it and post it on web site (then safely return your analog treasure). This project blends stories from know and unknown storytellers, and gets more interesting with each contribution. Check out the mixed tape memories from The Magnetic Fields' Claudia Gonson.

If you've got a mix ripe for a reprise in a crafty storytelling world, contact me.

Even if you don't have anything to submit, have a listen to a side of a mixtape during your morning at work. These mp3's are free! Please forward to your friends.

Hope all of you are well.

Viva la mix tape!
Katie Krentz

---------------------
Here are a few fun write ups on Cassette From My Ex from the last week:

Rolling Stone
Your Ex’s Mix, Exposed: At Cassette From My Ex, music fansshare stories about the most embarrassing, aesthetically questionableand awkwardly romantic mixtapes they’ve gotten from former boyfriendsand girlfriends. (Our favorite: the girl who dedicated a mix to herboyfriend’s lost toenail). Scanned images of the handwritten sleevesand streaming audio from the tapes only add to the cringe factor.

Gawker
Writers and other creative types share mixtapes from past relationships. Each entry has a story about the tape and the ex, as well as streaming audio of the tape.

MSNBC blog
Wow, what a great idea for a site! Cassette From My Ex - People share mix tapes made for them by former lovers. I have tons of old mix tapes, mostly from friends and some just made for myself from the radio. What a great resource to tap.

[Un]Fortunately, the closest thing I have to a mix tape from an ex is a compilation of Legion of Doom songs made for me by The Capozzola for One, who is not an ex of any sort, despite all manner of collegiate [yet Catholic, mind you] debauchery to the contrary.

Something about a formal/SYR and me and HH and somebody's tights/panty hose (ugh! perish the thought!) at Headquarters...?

An Open Letter to My Embarassing Habit

Dear MTV,

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! You introduce a "character" on The Real World (Hollywood) and kill him off from CANCER in the SAME FUCKING EPISODE?!

One minute he's all "Yeah, I had this volleyball-sized tumor excised from my chest" but he's up and around and functioning and seemingly fine and the next minute his assistant is calling one of the "seven strangers, living in a house on a Hollywood lot" saying "Yeah, I don't know if you knew that Brandon had The Cancer, but he's all dead and stuff."

Umm...WHATTHEFUCKISTHATSHIT?!?!?!?!?

So, fuck you, MTV, and the broke-ass, pole-dancing, syphilitic, coke-addicted horse you rode in on,
Sugarmouth

Didja Hear the One...

...about the cancer slayer that went to see an acupuncturist to mediate her symptoms/side effects who was oddly much more interested in talking about her earlier pregnancy, labor & delivery than her current "situation" and after hearing about the slayer's birthing choices and experience, went on to tell said slayer about his home birth experience where the baby was breech and for whatever reason there was no midwife in the picture and he tried to deliver the baby himself and IT DIED?!

I forgot to tell you about that? Yeeeeeeeeeah...I was all "Sorry about your dead baby, guy, can we get back to the topic of MY CANCER?" Needleless* to say, I haven't been back.

*Couldn't resist the terrible pun.

Supporter Shoutouts

This week's thanks goes to:

• Our neighbor, Elizabeth, who contributed a sweet little cupcake pin to the collection for my chemo pack
• Dear D, who sent a generous GC to Whole Foods
• and JB, who crushed my dream of there ever being a Jamba drive thru in town.

(Kidding, Brownzini!)

"Five Foot Nothin', Hundred an' Nothin'"

Actor Sean Astin to be La Porte Jaycees Grand Parade Marshal! (scroll down)

It will take everything in my power to not scream "ROO-dee! ROO-dee!" at him.

Oh, who am I kidding? Might as well get Violet used to her mother being embarrassing early.

On Notice: Summer Edition

Some Kind of Present

I just realized that--assuming everything goes according to plan from here on out--I'll be unhooking from my chemo pack for the last time on my friggin birthday.

Two words: CHOCOLATE CAKE.

Well...Hell.

I just got denied from getting chemo due to wickedly low white blood cell counts (1.9K/uL for all you MDs in the hizzy). Bitchcakes!

Here's a peek at how I've been trending:

Yes, I know I'm a geek.

While this pushes everything back a week (I'll have to adjust my SCRAM, Oscar! counter), the good news is that I get to feel as good as I do now for another seven days and we won't have to get all finagle-y with my treatments to work around the fourth of July (The Maple City has the longest continuing 4th of July parade tradition in the state of Indiana).

An Open Letter to "Air Quotes" Around "Customer Service"

Dear [insert name of local gutter cover co. here] lady,

Yes, for the third time--despite my worthless uterus and slightly suspect vagina--I am indeed capable of making home improvement decisions related to our household.

My husband even lets me hold his wallet from time to time! What freedom!

PS: We have the right to vote now, you know. Might want to look into that.

See you next Thursday,
Feministmouth

I Just Tied One Two On...

...and oh does it feel good.

I ♥ the lime.

FREE CANCER SHIT!

Get a free colorectal cancer awareness pin!

Suck it, pink ribbon!

(73.1% kidding, my fellow cancer sisters!)

Out With the Bad, In With the Good

In other news, I have put back on about five pounds!

What's my undieting secret, you ask? Spicy Thai chips, frozen custard (cold sensitivity permitting), and the occasional post-dinner bowl of cereal, not to mention cheese/mayo/full-fat coffee drinks. Super healthy, I know.

I feel a lot better and the ever-loving husband says I look better. And he doesn't pay compliments lightly, so I know it's the truth, which makes me feel even better in turn. Yay!

An Open Letter to My Other Drug Dealer

Dear Jamba Juice,

Get a friggin' drive thru already!

Love you forever,
Smoothiemouth

I Guess Sometimes an Answer is Better Than A Big Question Mark

So, after some heavy spotting last week, my onc suggested I see my OB/GYN for a check-up.

Today, I called in to get my lab results...

Good news: The endometrium biopsy was negative for anything bad.

Bad news: My FSH levels were elevated (30.8, normal is 3-20, levels above 10-12 indicate ovarian failure), meaning I'm officially perimenopausal, meaning I'll be permanently retiring my babymaker.

I've had 6+ months to get used to the idea that I was done bearing children, but I really hadn't given much thought to the whole menopause potential part of the cancer treatment equation, so I'm taking this news as best I can, which is to say not all that well. It feels like there is someone standing on my chest.

Fucking shit.

To add insult to injury, there are ants in my baking cupboard.

Addendum: I may be reacting too hastily as I will want to get retested at 3 and possibly 6 months post chemo, so nothing is written in stone as yet, but better to be prepared for bad news and be surprised with good news, right?

And in other news, I totally nuked the ants. Nothing toxic, just brute force and some vinegar.

Supporter Shoutouts

First off, a totally belated SO to roomiefriend Hiphop, who sent me the biggest box (we're talking pounds and POUNDS) of delicious California produce--plums, apricots, and nectarines--shipped directly from the tree from whence it was picked.

I am terribly sorry I didn't give your blognowledgment sooner--I am just the worst. Gah.

Next, a big thanks to my sister, Meg, who bought me a pair of butt pads. Joke, and yet no joke--I didn't have any cushion to spare back there and now it's like sitting on a couple of rocks when I sit on a firm surface. I will totally have to remember these when I attend future events that require sitting on bleachers.

And finally, not so much an SO as a "woo hoo!"--I found out today that I won a Strollaway! Schweet!

The Rules Got Changed on Me, So I'm Gonna Change Them Rules

While I've been a dedicated pescatarian for nearly nine years now, I've decided that if I ever have the opportunity to eat an amphibian or reptile that I've never had before, I'm going to try it.

Which is why, last night, I tried frog legs for the first time. And yes, they do taste like chicken. Scrawny, bony, chicken. And I kept on eating 'em, even after Jody dropped a Kermit reference.

Inbox Inertia

Sweet Jebus--It only took me something like 15 minutes to reply to emails that had been rotting at the bottom of my inbox. Why didn't I deal with this sooner?

How Butch Am I?

I just successfully snaked our bathroom sink drain.

Ooh-OOO!

Yet Another Milestone

As of today, I am [un]officially over the hump to my projected date of my breakup with Oscar.

Dance of motherfucking joy.

Put That Old Cell to Good Use

Do you have a drawer of crappy old cell phones that you don't want to throw away but aren't sure what to do with?

Don't say I never gave you nothin'.

The Very Definition of Brilliance

Where is the Unisom stocked at my local Target?

Directly beneath the children's ibuprofen.

So You Want to be a Cancer Patient?

(WARNING: Long, snarky, satirical, and only occasionally serious post lies ahead. No offense is intended to anyone, living or not, that has ever had or known anyone who has had cancer. But then, if you've been reading this blog for more than five minutes, you already know that.)

So You Want to be a Cancer Patient? A little advice before you get started:

1. BE YOUNG: The younger you are, the more types of treatments you’ll have available to you and the better you’ll be able to survive tolerate them.
2. (But Not Too Young:) Children going through cancer treatment only throws fuel on the There Is No God fire, and that makes certain people all kinds of uncomfortable.
3. BE MARRIED: Who wants to go through this alone? Specifically, be married to…
   
• Someone who either already does all the house chores/maintenance, is open to instruction/criticism re: above, or is willing/able to pay to have these duties outsourced.
• Has fantastic health insurance that offers 100%, hassle-free coverage of cancer treatments. This is an order so you can be…
• Unemployed, able to quit your job, or flex your hours. Being a cancer patient can be super time-consuming.
4. BE A PARENT: There’s a good chance that your treatment will render you infertile, so be sure to have all those kids before you get cancer.
5. BE LOCAL: By this I mean both…
• In the same town as a major cancer center. Gas prices these days…
• Also, within an hour or so’s drive of your large, generous family that has tons of free time to help you out, either because they are independently wealthy and/or retired (preferably both).
6. BE RELIGIOUS: A church can be a great support network, all those prayers can’t hurt, and genuinely believing that your disease is “all part of God’s plan” and/or that “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle” might help you sleep at night.
7. BE CULPABLE: By this I mean outwardly deserving of your particular type of cancer. It will put people at ease since they can reconcile your disease with the lifestyle choices that you have made. For instance:
• Lung cancer? Be a smoker.
• Cervical cancer? Be a woman of ill-repute.
• Skin cancer? Be tan in the dead of winter.
• Oral cancer? Be a retired pro baseball player.
• Prostate cancer? Be old.
8. BE DIAGNOSED WITH:
   • Early stage cancer. Those late stage ones can be real tricky.
   • Cancer not of the pelvic cavity. Or abdomen. Or chest. Really, the whole trunk is out. And the head. Skin cancer can be pretty bad, too. So really, I recommend any of the following:
   1. Pinkie toenail cancer
   2. Non-follicular leg hair cancer
   3. Wisdom teeth sarcoma
   4. Non-metastatic appendix carcinoma

Still think cancer sounds like a good idea? Might wanna go ahead and get that brain checked...

Rectal CA Q&A: Part II

Back to your questions!

HH asked:

what has been toughest for you - the physical toll or the emotional toll of this experience? and can you even separate them?

It's pretty tough to separate the two, but I think the hardest thing for me is the mental component: grappling with the discovery that my body had gone and had a mutiny without my being the slightest bit aware of it, gearing up and buckling down for the long haul of my multiple phases of treatment, weathering the unpredictable ebb and flow of being in contact with people (alternately not wanting to communicate and jonesing for the next card or package), not to mention the mundane minutiae of daily life, parenting, and the care and feeding of my marriage.

Which isn't to say that the physical and emotional have been a picnic, its just that there's usually some kind of remedy at hand for them, whether it's a pill, call to a doc, check-up, or alternately a call home to mom or a good cry.

The mental piece is what's left behind when Jody has left for work, when Violet's down for her nap, and I'm left with the horrible and horrifying thoughts that go ricocheting around my head. But usually I can drown that out with another load of laundry or trip to the store. I have no time for that kind of thinking.

Woot.

I am officially halfway done with chemo.

A VideOde to My Chemo Pack

Ok, now I have to post all my other favorite The Office (BBC) clips...

Tim & Keith

Tim & Gareth

(couldn't track down my other favorite Tim & Gareth clip featuring a tiger & a biro.)

AND, The end of the Christmas Special. DO NOT WATCH unless you've already seen the whole thing. BEST!

Links purposely left vague so as not to spoil the funny bits.

Hot, Glazed Goodness

I guess it's a good thing there isn't a Krispy Kreme within fifty miles....

I guess. :(

Perfect Post-Olbermann Bedtime Reading

"...And goodnight to the Old Cheney whispering 'hush.'"

[via: 3-way tied for best post-college roommies evs, Mindi]

Speaking of Feeling a Little Greyed Out...

I have no idea what's going on with the top part of the blog (although it only seems to be a problem in Firefox, not IE). I've tried uninstalling some of the sidebar widgets I've added over the last few days, but nothing seems to help. I also took a quick look at the code but am not really sure what to be looking for....any help from the peanut gallery would be welcome, assuming you can break through the haze to leave a comment.

A Tip from the Infusion Suites

When the nurse asks if there's anything she can bring you, the correct response is "Whatcha got?" Because her answer might be ice cream.

Rectal CA Q&A: Part I

It's probably time for me to get back to an earlier post where I invited you folks to pose questions to me about my whole cancer experience, so here goes:

Ellen asked:

How has your beautiful daughter reacted to mommy being sick? Does she know you're sick? Does she sense your bad days vs. your good?

First off, you didn't have to butter me up, but I should make it known that flattery (either of me or my family) will get you everywhere. ;)

Violet is 10.5 months old (was about 4.5mos when I was diagnosed), so she's both way too young to really know what's going on and sadly hasn't really known anything different.

I think she's on the cusp of being able to figure out that when my face is screwed up with tears, I'm not smiling, so I really need to watch it with the emotional breakdowns around her.

As for her knowing good vs. bad days, I think babies are pretty self-focused (and will remain so until they're about 28 years old, if I'm any indication), so I don't think she has a clue in that regard, other than the fact that she gets a lot more Elmo on my bad days. TGFT (thank god for TiVo)!

Years from now, when you are well, fully recovered, and cancer is nowhere to be found, thankyouverymuch, what will you say/how will you explain to her what you went though/what it means?

I've given a lot of thought about when/how to tell Violet about This Whole Thing. There's really no point in burdening her with it until she's older...I'm thinking that she'll get The Talk when she's about 15 or so in order to give her a heads up on what to look for and things to mention to her doctor once she starts going into the exam on her own.

My one fear about that is that there will come a day (or more likely, night) where teen Violet is being all snarky and back-talky and ungrateful and bitchy and in a fit of exhaustion and desire for the upper hand, I'll swipe the "I was pregnant with YOU when I got CANCER" card and the regret it for the next dozen or so years.

Hopefully recognizing that I have the capacity for such meanness will help me avoid that confrontation.

Ultimately, I will try to empower Violet with as much knowledge and insight about her body and its potential failings to help her be as diligent about her health as possible.

The standard protocol for my situation is for first degree relatives to start getting screened 10 years before the original cancer was diagnosed, meaning that Violet will have to get a colonoscopy at an age where I was more concerned with chasing boys and getting hammered than drinking a gallon of foul-tasting laxative in order to have a camera shoved up my ass, so getting the message through of the importance of early detection will have to start early.

So...did I answer your question? I know I do have a tendency to go on and on... ;)