Pretty Blah as Anniversaries Go

I started chemo a year ago today.

So, you know, there's that.

Hot in Them Jeans Genes

I recently found out that my mom's cousin (aka my mom's mom's sister's daughter--clear as mud, no?) was recently diagnosed with colorectal cancer (colon, to be specific).

At 57 she wasn't quite as young as me at diagnosis, but it's one more family member than the previous zero family members I'd had with colon cancer, so I am going to go ahead with genetic counseling.

My understanding is that there are laws in place to protect Vi from discrimination by insurance companies in the future, so that's a good thing. I guess the question is, what does it mean if they do find a genetic link? Then what?

I guess that's what the whole counseling part of genetic counseling is for...

This or That

The only thing worse than feeling pain and sadness so deeply that it seems like it's going to split you in two is feeling nothing at all.

Death

Whether it's claimed a person from my GI support group at the hospital or someone I only knew from an online distance, it's always at the periphery, milling around, clearing its throat, ensuring that I don't forget.

Making a Second Job Out of Second-Guessing

A clean CT scan.
A clean colonoscopy.

So why can't I stop copping a feel at the lymph node in my neck?

BEWARE: Salty Language Ahead

Stupid. FUCKING. BOWEL PREP!

Didn't want to be a quitter. Didn't want to let down my doctor. Conjured all manner of motivation--particularly my daughter's face--to choke all of the damn liquid down.

With only 6 oz. (of 64 total) to go, I had to go and FUCKING VOMIT.

Vomit. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

Currently: Waiting to hear back from the GI doc on call to see if I should even bother showing up tomorrow. I personally think that my prep is good--hopefully the professionals will agree.

Dammit.

The Worst 15 Minutes of the Last Year*

Yesterday I had my six-month follow-up CT scan. I hadn't been thinking much about it before the actual day, mostly because I knew that the only thing worrying would accomplish is steal precious sleep.

I was a little on edge yesterday since I had to fast prior to the scan and I am not one to skip meals. Ever. The first appointment was 9am labs, which went relatively ok, except for the fact that the IV needle that the tech left in wasn't exactly comfy, but then hell, it's pointy metal and it's not supposed to feel good, right?

After pounding three large cups of contrast for the scan (which I tolerated a little more than usual since I was so dehydrated and am not one to deviate from the NO FOOD OR DRINK FOUR HOURS PRIOR TO SCAN directions, even if it is water), they brought me into the room for the scan.

As soon as I laid on the table, I started to panic mildly. This was it. This test would determine the path of my life for the next six months. Clear, and I would get to keep chugging along until the next scan. Not clear, well...I could only assume that meant chemo and surgery.

They hooked the IV up to the needle sticking out of my arm. Once the contrast started to flow, my arm started to BURN with an incredibly SHARP PAIN. "OW, it HURTS!" I cried, kicking one leg in pain. I knew that getting contrast through my port was relatively painless, but I'd had contrast via IV before and it never hurt anything like this.

One of the nurses checked my arm (or something--I was to busy motionlessly writhing in pain to notice) and she said very apologetically that the vein wasn't infiltrated and that the contrast was going to where it was supposed to, so they kept going. The initial pain eventually subsided, but the damage was already done, or rather the dam had broken.

As fat tears rolled out the corners of my eyes, the nurses apologized repeatedly for something which wasn't remotely their fault. I tried to brush it off as no big deal, but they kept on: "I'm so sorry, it's not supposed to hurt like that, I'm so sorry..."

I tried to get myself together in a bathroom, but immediately lost it, heaving sobs at the import of what had just happened. The scan was no longer a question mark on the horizon--it was happening.

I beelined down the the caf for some much needed grub, which made me feel a bit better, then turned right around for my 11:30 acupuncture appt. There, the tiniest needle stick set off the waterworks again. I soon realized yesterday that while I can tolerate stress and tolerate pain, I can't do both at once, with one intensifying the other in a vicious cycle of tears.

I met up with Jody in the onc waiting room and proceeded to do just that for a half hour since either I or the clinic got my appointment time wrong. We were eventually whisked into an exam room, I answered the usual litany of questions, and we waited for the onc.

My onc's right hand man (who is also fantastic, by the way) had me feeling good with his positive demeanor but then delivered the news: the scan results were inconclusively troubling. Apparently, there was a dark spot on the scan that had gotten bigger since my last scan.

Just then, the darkness got a whole lot bigger.

The doc said that it was very unusual for it a recurrence to happen in that area and since it was adjacent to a surgical staple or clip, it could very well be nothing more than irritation from that staple/clip.

None of that helped. I was a total fucking wreck and was on my second kleenex before he even finished his sentence.

The doc then said that he was going to confer with my onc and then try to get either an answer or plan of attack when they both came back.

Jody, universe bless him, was ever his logical, I-will-base-my-response-on-the-information-I-have-been-given self while I, on the other hand, was Missus Disaster Brain.

I was sick. Again. I had ten miles of bad chemo road ahead of me, and possibly surgeries, just to keep things interesting. They wouldn't be able to put me back on FOLFOX on account of my neuropathy, so they would try something new. Something worse. Something that would knock me down, wipe me out. I would lose my hair. Jody would lose sleep. Violet might lose her mother. Oh God fucking NO.

After a fifteen minute eternity, my oncologist walked in, with his right hand man right behind. It was ok. They had an explaination. The dark spot they had been watching, the one adjacent to the clip? Was my ovary. And this was not a bad thing, because ovaries in all pre-menopausal women change with a women's cycle.

Holy shit, they had been looking in my beloved, transposed, thusfar functioning ovary.

And this is why my emotional fuse had been thisshort. Well, partly, anyhow. Because despite all lab results to the contrary, I was still cycling.

My hair is still a wreck. Jody's sleep is spotty at best. But Violet? Not losing her mom any time soon.

*Not counting my bowel issues, natch.

Poster Child for Early Screening

I've got something of import coming up in a few days but I wanted to post a quick note pertaining to a subject very close to my heart.

Well, not so much my heart as it is my butt. Yes, we're going there.

We are now in the month of ides, Guinness, lions and lambs but also awareness. March is coloRECTAL (sing it!) cancer awareness month. You all know my story by now, so I will spare a rerun, but it is my duty (or is that doody?) to deliver the following PSA as a CRC veteran.

Colorectal cancer--and all cancers, really--does not discriminate, nor is it logical. I am proof of the fact that you can be so low risk as to be practically risk-free and still get The Cancer. It is critical that you remain ever vigilant and tuned into the ebbs and flows of your body.

It is up to you to inform your doctor of any irregularities, whether it be unexplained weight loss, weakness, bleeding, changes in bowel habits (translation: they look different, happen more/less frequently, etc).

If things have been amok for a while and are not improving, be the squeaky wheel. You must be your own advocate. And if your doc tries to pass them off as hemmorrhoids, have him/her give me a call. You know I love a good excuse to read someone the riot act.

I've said it before, but I'll say it again:

If your doody is red, get your pooper inspected!
Oh and PS, contrary to what you've heard, the prep is the second worst part of a colonoscopy. The worst worst part is being told you have cancer.

An Update

Ok, so apparently it's not over until the side effects say it's over.

Since you last saw me, I've been continuing to deal with the issues of my wonky GI (read: you all should be buying stock in Imodium) and the sudden onset of major peripheral neuropathy shortly after my last post.

It came on like a friggin freight train in early October--rapidly turning from some numbness in the soles of my feet to having numbness in my fingertips in addition to pins and needles from just below the knee down to the occasional shooting pain in my feet.

Fortunately, the major pains can be controlled with gabapentin (aka neurontin) but the numbness...it kinda makes it hard to do just about anything requiring fine motor control (hands) and my feet in this weather (-32F with wind chill today) are a total mess.

My feet have been a complete mess even before the snow, having to wear Crocs every single day, much to my eternal chagrin. While wearing Crocs outside the house is no longer an option (I've tried the wooly ones and they don't quite cut it), I haven't been able to find the perfect footwear solution for the cold.

For now, I'm wearing some Solomon snow clogs that have great traction and decent cushioning, but I still kick them off first thing upon returning home.

I've also started to get acupuncture for the neuropathy (different person than the last time) and it seems to be making a bit of difference, but since it's a hunt-peck sort of a treatment, it could be some time until we find all of my hot spots.

Also, I had a bone scan last week to see what damage the radiation did to my pelvis--don't really want to have to worry about breaking a hip at 40, especially living in this oft-icy climate! The good news is that the results were normal, which I assume means normal for my age, not a senior citizen.

Other than that stuff, things are going pretty well, as I finally started to feel like my old self (never really appreciated the meaning of that phrase until now) about a week or so ago. Guess that whole chemo half-life stuff is no joke.

The weight has come back on and stayed on (yay?), so now my health goals are to start working out a bit (we have a stationary bike and comprehensive weight set in the basement) and eat more produce--tough to do this time of year, I know.

Violet continues to be a real joy (her latest trick is saying "I did it" when she helps me buckle her into her car seat) and Jody is sleeping a lot better since my finishing treatment, which is pretty great. He's got new stresses with the whole economy-being-in-the-toilet thing (who doesn't), but they seem to pale in comparison to The Cancer.

Thanks for continuing to check-in on me. I hope you're all staying healthy and warm yourselves.

Here's to a better Oh Nine for all of us.

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?