This Blog is Actually Good for Something

Looking back over my old posts, I confirmed my suspicion that my worst day post chemo is the Tuesday after my Thursday infusion.

So, new poll--What should we call this crappy, crappy day?

Similar ≠ Same

Some people like to keep their pinkie nail long for the purpose of stuffing coke up their nose, I like to keep my pinkie nail long for the purpose of digging boogs out of my daughter's nose.

No Longer in the Intersection

Home Management Whack-a-Mole

Good News! The handyperson (ok, man) that Jody tracked down was the TCBomb and our new microwave is all good and installed!

Bad News! Our Internets crapped out shortly thereafter!

Good News! Despite the Bangalore Boneheads saying that we need a service call, I managed to fix the connection by unsplitting the coax (since we aren't using the landline) and running the line out of the wall into the modem!

Tomorrow's goal: Buy groceries and put in tomato plants!

PS: Don't mistake my affection for pain meds for an addiction! Exclamation point!

Anniversary

Today marks the six month anniversary since the colonoscopy that all but diagnosed my cancer and sixty days since my surgery.

By my count, I have five more chemo treatments, with the pack getting taken off for the last time 65 days from today, then my reversal surgery about three weeks after that.

I know I'm grasping at silver linings, but I do feel fortunate that this whole process is broken into very discrete chunks, each of which has its own milestones and halfway points, making the whole thing at least seem more manageable. I mean, if my treatment was surgery and then eight months of chemo, I think it would have been a little harder to face.

Six months. I think chocolate is in order.

TV Timeout

OMGPENNY!!!!1

PS: Pixies!

When the Going Gets Tough, the Tough Go to the Movies

I finally got around to scheduling a thrift store pick up for all of our tag sale leave behinds, so I have been going nuts, picking up my piles of crap and tossing anything that I have even briefly thought about getting rid of into the boxes on the curb.

And in half an hour, we are going to catch an matinée of Iron Man. And I am so having a biggie Dr. Pepper and movie popcorn, Oscar be damned.

Stupid BS Doesn't Stop When You Have Cancer

That microwave delivery that I thought would include installation? Didn't. And both batteries on my cordless drill? Dead.

Chemo is a Hell of a Drug

...and not just because it gets all medieval on cancer (let's hope, anyhow), but because I went from feeling like I'd been hit by a mack truck last night to feeling just about normal today. I mean sure, I still have the cold sensitivity (I'm never going to burn through my Jamba Juice gift card at this rate!) and the heartburn is getting old, but the energy level is good, the appetite is decent, and I'm in the right headspace to drink beverages.

Think about that a second--cancer and my treatment for it is so deeply ingrained in my so called life that it actually affects my attitude towards imbibing, and I'm not even talking alcohol! I actually have to psych myself up to drink something as mundane as a glass of water, and only partly because I have to microwave it. Which is funny because we're getting ours replaced today, so no nuking of bevvies for me or the wee babe until the shiny new one is installed.

So what's been going on...well, the weekend was pretty low-key (see: chemo) but we did roll out for the traditional neighborhood gathering that occurs on the Monday evening of every summer holiday. We brought roasted asparagus (drizzle liberally with olive oil, season with S&P, then cook @ 350° for 15 mins) which seemed to be well received because the cupcakes I also made were a total disaster.

Fortunately, my appetite was cooperating and there was a fantastic assortment of veggie offerings (personal fave: asian slaw. Mmm...rice wine vinegar...), so I ate my face off. I paid for it a bit later, but Oscar can kiss my nonfunctioning ass.

I guess I'm still trying to get the hang of the cycles of my chemo treatments--what days I'll feel good, not so much, etc. I mean, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me that I should get infused on a Thursday, the 5FU pack taken off Saturday afternoon, feel decent Monday, then steamrolled on Tuesday, especially when that's a day care day for little miss, thereby giving me a much-needed break.

Maybe self-care (which doesn't happen on a daily basis anymore, sorry to ruin anyone's pristine image of yours truly) takes more out of me than I give myself credit for? Maybe the weekend had caught up with me?

Or maybe it was all the probing and personal questions I answered during the telephone interview portion of a research study I'm participating in that ground me down. Questions like "Do you feel less feminine? Are you dissatisfied with your body? Do you feel like you aren't as worthwhile as other people?" tend to have a "Now that you mention it..." effect on those of us who are susceptible to depressive episodes.

BUT. Today is a new day, the sun is shining (and there's actually some heat to go with it), I'm sitting in my yard with my sweet babe yapping and frolicking away in her pack 'n play, and I've got one good week until Sisyphus has to roll the chemo boulder up the hill again.

Radio Silence

Hey all--you won't be hearing much outta me today as I'm feeling absolute garbage and need to pick up the house like it's my job.

Hope everyone had a great weekend.

Rectal CA Q&A

Alright everybody, I know I've been super TMI, full-disclosey, "Oh Jebus, Sugarmouth/brigita, you can keep some of that to yourself for the love of all things proper" on this blog, but I wanted to open up this post to any and all queries that you, my loyal readers, may have about cancer, living with cancer, my particular humdingy variety of cancer, etc., ad nauseum.

That said, if you should happen to have any unanswered questions, please leave them in the comments and I will answer them in future posts.

Thanks and happy Memorial Day weekend! May it be filled with cheap gas, tasty grilled food, and cold beer*.

*Unless of course it's Busch Light, in which case, you know what to do**.

**Short of putting it in an unheated oven as a joke during a party Friday night and forgetting about it between then and when your surly pain-in-the-ass roommate (as in actual room, yeah, that was fun) preheats the oven for a pizza on Sunday evening and the aforementioned can of beer explodes, only increasing her chagrin.

Immediate Effects

• My eyeballs ache
• My fingertips are tingling
• My lips are starting to purse involuntarily

20 minutes later:

• All 10 fingers feel like they have fallen asleep
• My voice is cracking
• It's a little uncomfortable to swallow

Hour later:

• Tip of my nose is numbish
• Thighs are tingling (stop snickering, pervs)
• Yup, still hurts to cry
  

3 hours later:

• Continued facial spasms
• Some in the hands as well
• I'm pooped

Where the Poison is the Remedy*

Today is chemo #3 (I've got about an hour left on my infusion) and I realized that I've yet to paint a picture for you guys as I did my 5-days-a-week-for-6-weeks radiation treatments.

So...chemo. Today I arrived a good 15 minutes late for my lab appointment, which is really no big deal since the lab operates on a first come/served basis. After about 15 minutes of waiting, I was called in to have blood drawn to make sure my blood counts aren't complete crap.

One of the "benefits" of having a port is that they can draw blood from it, eliminating the need to get stuck with a needle. Well, there's still a needle, but I slather the port with numbing cream the night before to make the stick less painful.

This was the first time I'd had my labs drawn from the port, and I have to say, I really don't think it makes things any easier as the tech had to pull out all manner of accoutrements and sterile whatnots, although I suppose he saved me the step of getting stuck for the treatment since they just leave the tube in. He also flushed the line something like seventeen times. Whatever--am I done yet?

So labs done, I wait about 30 minutes to see my onc, which of course means meeting with a nurse-type person, having vitals taken and answering those delightful "what meds/supplements are you taking" question, then waiting another 30 minutes to see the doctor.

The good news is that I pack for chemo like I'm going on a friggin sleepover, so I have all manner of stuff in my bag of tricks to keep me busy. That, and I really, really like my chemo onc (itty bitty doctor crush) so the delay doesn't bend me too out of shape.

We go over what I mentioned to the nurse-type person, he palpates my belly and nodes, we make small talk about the holiday weekend, and that's pretty much that.

One change--I get to skip the whole meeting-with-the-doctor thing next go 'round (assuming I don't get flattened by whatever bug Violet brings home from daycare) and will proceed directly from lab to chemo, for a savings of about 90 mins or so. SWEET!

Ok, so from Dr. Onc, we proceed to chemotherapy, where I check in and wait some more.

(I know, so far this is the most scintillating blog post you've ever read. EV-AR. Try to contain yourselves--there's more to come!!)

Eventually, my name gets called (which they ask me to spell--this will happen several times as they verify that the right person is getting the right drugs), and a nurse walks me back to the chemo suites. The first time I got a room with a bed, the second time I got a room with a chair, but today I got a room with a chair but no door. I like having a door. I also like turning the lights off. Hopefully next time I will get both.

A different nurse comes in a little while later and gets a line of saline going into the line coming out of my port (left by the lab). I wait and wait and wait some more as we wait for the chemo orders get filled. Eventually, the Oxaliplatin and Leucovorin arrives, the nurse puts on her hazmat suit and calls in another nurse for a double-check, comparing the drug labels to my patient wristband.

Once everything's hung, it's basically a twoish hour wait until it's all processed. Once that's done, they'll hook me up to the 46h 5FU infusion pack and at some point before I leave I'll have to get trained on how to deaccess my port so I'm not a hostage to the infusion center.

Other than that and today's impromptu visit by a nutritionist (who came into my area and read my chart for several minutes before introducing herself, nice manners, lady), that's pretty much the extent of the chemo routine.

*Anyone get the reference?

Where the Hell Do You Think You're Going, Young Lady?

No, you aren't grounded, this is all about the new poll! But first, a review...

While the results for the old poll indicate that a majority of you think I should receive both a written apology and compensation for the bank's overeager ATM's consumption of my totally valid, unexpired card, a part of me thinks that the real majority abstained from voting (the last poll got 40+ votes) because the topic was both lame, entitled, and self-absorbed. Noted, silent quasi-majority, noted.

So the new poll is a simple query--Are you leaving town for the holiday and if so, how? Feel free to leave any holiday specifics (neighborhood BBQ, golf tournament, tedious home improvement projects, etc) in the comments.

Me, this is an on weekend for chemo (getting infused as we speak, in fact), so we're gonna lay kinda low, but Jody is taking the majority of next week off, so I'm hoping that we can catch a matinée of Iron Man one of the days Violet is in daycare.

DREAMLOG: The Lighter Version

Last night I had a mildly inappropriate dream about an actor who starred in a brilliant but wildly unpopular show that had once aired on Fox.

Aside to the husband: Nothing happened. I'm even faithful in my dreamlife. :)

Periodic Rainclouds of the Spotty Mind

Last night I dreamed I was pregnant.

From Freakout to Geekout

OMGOMGOMG.

Now all they have to do is bring back 3-2-1 Contact and my cherished childhood PBS trifeca will be complete.

A Good Old-Fashioned Mama Freakout

After watching Violet suffer through and recover from a myriad of symptoms (104.1° fever, wet cough, spots on her diaper area and legs, serious mouth pain, as well as uncharacteristic irritability, inability to go to sleep easily, and lack of appetite), I folded my "aw, it's nothing" cards and took her into the clinic yesterday, more to make me feel better than her.

Turns out that it wasn't nothing, it was hand, foot & mouth disease. Cue the irrational maternal waterworks and the initial confusion with hoof and mouth disease. "That thing they had in Britain?!" No, crazymom.

The good news is that--even though I've never heard HFMD--all kids get it, it's totally harmless, and it's viral, so even if I'd jumped on things sooner the treatment would have been the same: keep her comfortable, hydrated, and let it run its course.

Better news from the weekend is the fact that the neighborhood garage sales have come and gone...I worked my atrophied ass off and netted nearly $350 for my efforts, getting rid of lots of baby gear and maternity clothes, thereby increasing my chances of conceiving down the road.

Kidding...kinda.

Like Eating Glass

Playlist:

• The Notwist -- "Chemicals"
  
• The Clash -- "Lost in the Supermarket"
  
• Mission of Burma -- "Academy Fight Song"
  
• Cloud Cult -- "Take Your Medicine"
  
• The Postal Service -- "This Place is a Prison"
  
• REM -- "Leave"
  
• Modest Mouse -- "Edit the Sad Parts"
  
• Fugazi -- "Waiting Room"
  
• McLusky -- "To Hell With Good Intentions"
  
• Hole -- "Violet"
  
• Death Cab for Cutie -- "Why You'd Want to Live Here"
  
• Fiona Apple -- "Never is a Promise"
  
• Bloc Party -- "Like Eating Glass"
  
• Built to Spill -- "You Were Right"
  
• The Mountain Goats -- "This Year"

[via]

Failing to Plan is Panning to Flail

I saw my therapist today, which basically amounted to me running my mouth for 50 minutes. Worth every insurance-covered penny, I tell you.