Hello Friends.
Since I am quarantined to my house for the next little bit, I will be able to post a lot more.
Just make sure you check the titles because I may post more than once per day.
Sharing with you is helping me more than I could ever explain.
Writing is cathartic and such a release...
I love your comments and I love that you care enough to read what I write.
I don't know all of my Followers, but I appreciate each of you tremendously.
You are helping me win...I hope I am helping you in some way, whatever it may be.
If you know of anyone who is battling cancer or battling life in general, feel free to pass along this blog. I want to spread hope, even if it is woven between "blech".
Thanks for being on this journey with me...
~Pandora
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
I Used To...
I used to like Breyer's Rocky Road ice cream, but now it tastes metallic because of the chemo...however, I am still eating it just in case THIS is the day the metallic taste goes away.
I used to like Whoopi Goldberg, like around the time of Ghost and Sister Act, and now I do not. She, and several other celebrities like to believe they need to slam anyone who is not in their political party. Word of advice, keep your political views to yourself and allow us to research and decide for ourselves based on fact not your personal preferences. Here's the thing...the day Whoopi Goldberg can intellectually explain to me how her party votes on the following issues, then I will believe her to be a true political analyst with justifiable opinions and party stance:
1. U.S. and Foreign Aid
2. Sustainable Development in Third World Countries
3. The Global Financial Crisis
4. World Military Spending
5. Arms Control and Trade
6. Tax Havens and Sanctions
7. Immigration, Same-Sex Marriage, and Euthanasia
8. The Relation Between Israel, Middle East, and America
9. Global Warming
and one of my biggest concerns...
10.US Military Veteran's Benefits and Reform So That Our Heroes Do Not Fight for Us and Then Be Forgotten By Us
Whatever, Whoopie. At this point, I will probably just let it go because the only reason I watched The View today is because I am home with a fever, on chemo, and was unable to win one, single game of "Rock, Paper, Scissors" with myself. Gawwwwwwd, I hate daytime tv.
What did my tv just say???? Joy Behar is getting her own show???? Oh my word...
It isn't just Whoopi, y'all...no, no, no. I used to like Oprah. Now, I cannot stand Oprah and when her face shows up on my tv, I actually get angry inside.
Let's review. 20 years ago Oprah had her daytime talk show and she had some interesting people and tried to help solve some significant problems on there. I was 20 and I watched. Fast forward about a decade and someone waved a magic wand over top of Oprah's head and she suddenly knew everything about everything!! She has "experts" on her show, but she interrupts them as they are relaying their "expert" advice. Wow. You go, Oprah! *Pfft* Anyway, also in there somewhere a large number of people watching Oprah trusted and believed everything she said...even if it went against their own thinking. We call that a "cult-like following". Oprah seemed to leave the religious teachings she grew up with headed into the New Age stuff. Um...ok. People still tuned in. She spent a bazillion dollars building a school for girls in Africa, and I know lots of people have commented on the needs of American girls and boys, but... Oh, wait a minute. I was one of those people.
Moving on. I do not think celebrities should endorse political figures just because they like them or hate the current administration. That's just as stupid as the one and only local newspaper endorsing candidates...oh, wait again. We have that here.
I used to like John Travolta...(Phenomenon, Face Off and possibly Saturday Night Fever, but I was like 6). Then I didn't like him because of the whole Scientology thing. (See "cult-like following" above and no I do not want to offend anyone or any Scientologists...I trust people to decide for themselves what they believe in, and now you know I do not subscribe to Scientology, but if you do, then you do) Then I did like him as an actor, but not personally because of the Scientology thing after Hair Spray and Pelham 123. Then I liked him personally because his son died and I just felt terrible for this dad as I looked at the personal pictures of him and his boy. The one that stood out to me the most was where Jett is kissing the top of John's head, as if to say, "It's going to be okay, Dad".
So, today on The View, again forced view-i-n-g, Whoopi says that one of the larger autism-awareness societies (not sure which one) has said that John Travolta let them down by not having his son's medical issues be known...as if to say that John and/or Jett could have-should have-would have been the best thing for publicity. All I have to say to that is, are you kidding me? Just because he is a celebrity, he is still entitled to keep his medical history private...and especially so for his children. Which leads me to my next one...
I used to think organizations that promoted awareness and education of medical issues were all good...especially if their web address ended in dot org.
I used to daydream about buying a bigger, better, newer house...now I just stay in this one because I have a battle to win.
I always wished I could keep up with everyone's birthday so that I could send them a card like my adoptive Grandmother does...now I am merely preoccupied with seeing my next few.
I used to be vigilant about keeping my house clean...and now, I just am not. Of course, I was only vigilant when we lived in Europe and and Colorado...when we came here and I re-entered the workforce after staying home with the kids until the "baby" started school, and then I stopped caring...however, as for now, I care even less. THAT's what I meant.
I used to like Rosie O'Donnell. I don't think anyone does anymore.
I used to want to start my own business and be a recognized writer...I still want both. Time is now an issue, however. Actually, I guess it was always an issue, I just didn't believe it to be an issue for me. Are we all like that?? Is it just me??? Did anyone else ever think they were invincible??
I used to think that if I could just lose 30 pounds, I would be happy...then I lost 40...then I was diagnosed with cancer and had to have a bilateral mastectomy and chemotherapy...my children live in fear and my husband is beside himself. I used to think I was not shallow...then I typed that losing weight would make me happy...
I used to feel like an awful lot of bad people had really good things happen to them. I was right.
I used to not drink diet sodas because the Nutrasweet makes my face break out...then I thought it may not be the Nutrasweet and may just be the cola that I was allergic to...then I had a frozen Coke almost every day because the chemo makes my face break out anyway and frozen Cokes make me happy and settle my stomach.
I used to think I could not or should not ever ask for help...and now I have to and it is such a struggle.
I used to think there was no way to literally "know" that someone loves you...but there is.
I used to think Roseanne was a funny show until I had kids and then I thought it was terrible.
I used to go to work and do productive, meaningful things for society, now I have to sit home and force myself to ask for help when I don't want to, ask for people to run errands for me because I can't leave the house, and do absolutely nothing to help myself or my family. I believe I have been stripped of not only my independence, but also my identity. I hate asking for help. I want to do everything myself and help others. However, both Lucy and Babs told me yesterday that I can no longer think the way I have been thinking...as a wife, a mom, and doer. One choice made by that way of thinking could cost me my life. Wow. No one said to me like that before and now two people were telling me within 4 hours of each other.
Here is what prompted it:
I used to like Whoopi Goldberg, like around the time of Ghost and Sister Act, and now I do not. She, and several other celebrities like to believe they need to slam anyone who is not in their political party. Word of advice, keep your political views to yourself and allow us to research and decide for ourselves based on fact not your personal preferences. Here's the thing...the day Whoopi Goldberg can intellectually explain to me how her party votes on the following issues, then I will believe her to be a true political analyst with justifiable opinions and party stance:
1. U.S. and Foreign Aid
2. Sustainable Development in Third World Countries
3. The Global Financial Crisis
4. World Military Spending
5. Arms Control and Trade
6. Tax Havens and Sanctions
7. Immigration, Same-Sex Marriage, and Euthanasia
8. The Relation Between Israel, Middle East, and America
9. Global Warming
and one of my biggest concerns...
10.US Military Veteran's Benefits and Reform So That Our Heroes Do Not Fight for Us and Then Be Forgotten By Us
Whatever, Whoopie. At this point, I will probably just let it go because the only reason I watched The View today is because I am home with a fever, on chemo, and was unable to win one, single game of "Rock, Paper, Scissors" with myself. Gawwwwwwd, I hate daytime tv.
What did my tv just say???? Joy Behar is getting her own show???? Oh my word...
It isn't just Whoopi, y'all...no, no, no. I used to like Oprah. Now, I cannot stand Oprah and when her face shows up on my tv, I actually get angry inside.
Let's review. 20 years ago Oprah had her daytime talk show and she had some interesting people and tried to help solve some significant problems on there. I was 20 and I watched. Fast forward about a decade and someone waved a magic wand over top of Oprah's head and she suddenly knew everything about everything!! She has "experts" on her show, but she interrupts them as they are relaying their "expert" advice. Wow. You go, Oprah! *Pfft* Anyway, also in there somewhere a large number of people watching Oprah trusted and believed everything she said...even if it went against their own thinking. We call that a "cult-like following". Oprah seemed to leave the religious teachings she grew up with headed into the New Age stuff. Um...ok. People still tuned in. She spent a bazillion dollars building a school for girls in Africa, and I know lots of people have commented on the needs of American girls and boys, but... Oh, wait a minute. I was one of those people.
Moving on. I do not think celebrities should endorse political figures just because they like them or hate the current administration. That's just as stupid as the one and only local newspaper endorsing candidates...oh, wait again. We have that here.
I used to like John Travolta...(Phenomenon, Face Off and possibly Saturday Night Fever, but I was like 6). Then I didn't like him because of the whole Scientology thing. (See "cult-like following" above and no I do not want to offend anyone or any Scientologists...I trust people to decide for themselves what they believe in, and now you know I do not subscribe to Scientology, but if you do, then you do) Then I did like him as an actor, but not personally because of the Scientology thing after Hair Spray and Pelham 123. Then I liked him personally because his son died and I just felt terrible for this dad as I looked at the personal pictures of him and his boy. The one that stood out to me the most was where Jett is kissing the top of John's head, as if to say, "It's going to be okay, Dad".
So, today on The View, again forced view-i-n-g, Whoopi says that one of the larger autism-awareness societies (not sure which one) has said that John Travolta let them down by not having his son's medical issues be known...as if to say that John and/or Jett could have-should have-would have been the best thing for publicity. All I have to say to that is, are you kidding me? Just because he is a celebrity, he is still entitled to keep his medical history private...and especially so for his children. Which leads me to my next one...
I used to think organizations that promoted awareness and education of medical issues were all good...especially if their web address ended in dot org.
Scientology denounces medications for chronic conditions such as autism or seizures...this may be how or why Travolta said Jett had Kawasaki Disease. The Church of Scientology does not "recognize" autism, epilepsy, etc. I don't know...it doesn't even really matter because Jett is gone and his family will grieve forever. My point was that while celebrities can use their fame for good, they should never be guilted into using it, especially if it exposes the private lives of their family or medical conditions.
I used to daydream about buying a bigger, better, newer house...now I just stay in this one because I have a battle to win.
I always wished I could keep up with everyone's birthday so that I could send them a card like my adoptive Grandmother does...now I am merely preoccupied with seeing my next few.
I used to be vigilant about keeping my house clean...and now, I just am not. Of course, I was only vigilant when we lived in Europe and and Colorado...when we came here and I re-entered the workforce after staying home with the kids until the "baby" started school, and then I stopped caring...however, as for now, I care even less. THAT's what I meant.
I used to like Rosie O'Donnell. I don't think anyone does anymore.
I used to want to start my own business and be a recognized writer...I still want both. Time is now an issue, however. Actually, I guess it was always an issue, I just didn't believe it to be an issue for me. Are we all like that?? Is it just me??? Did anyone else ever think they were invincible??
I used to think that if I could just lose 30 pounds, I would be happy...then I lost 40...then I was diagnosed with cancer and had to have a bilateral mastectomy and chemotherapy...my children live in fear and my husband is beside himself. I used to think I was not shallow...then I typed that losing weight would make me happy...
I used to feel like an awful lot of bad people had really good things happen to them. I was right.
I used to not drink diet sodas because the Nutrasweet makes my face break out...then I thought it may not be the Nutrasweet and may just be the cola that I was allergic to...then I had a frozen Coke almost every day because the chemo makes my face break out anyway and frozen Cokes make me happy and settle my stomach.
I used to think I could not or should not ever ask for help...and now I have to and it is such a struggle.
I used to think there was no way to literally "know" that someone loves you...but there is.
I used to think Roseanne was a funny show until I had kids and then I thought it was terrible.
I used to go to work and do productive, meaningful things for society, now I have to sit home and force myself to ask for help when I don't want to, ask for people to run errands for me because I can't leave the house, and do absolutely nothing to help myself or my family. I believe I have been stripped of not only my independence, but also my identity. I hate asking for help. I want to do everything myself and help others. However, both Lucy and Babs told me yesterday that I can no longer think the way I have been thinking...as a wife, a mom, and doer. One choice made by that way of thinking could cost me my life. Wow. No one said to me like that before and now two people were telling me within 4 hours of each other.
Here is what prompted it:
Beautiful Daughter sent me a text from the bus stop saying she forgot to pack sweatpants and a hoodie for practice this afternoon. Our temperatures have plummeted to the 40's at night, barely hitting 60 during the day. I received the text, jumped up, gathered sweatpants and a hoodie and ran to the bus stop in sock feet having just left the ER a few hours before. Beautiful Daughter yelled "NO!!! Go back home!!! You'll get more sick!!" Big Daddy was lighting up my phone because he heard me leave through the front door...
Cancer. Never. Occurred. To. Me.
My daughter was cold and would be cold later. Get her the stuff to keep her warm. Period.
When Lucy, Babs, and Big Daddy explained to me how dangerous that choice was, I cried every time. I DO want to beat this! I do NOT want to get sick and die from a silly cold...and yes, that could happen. My white cell count at the ER was less than 400. Normal is between 4500-10,000. I have no immune system and my body cannot fight anything...anything. But my "mommy instinct" overrode my "cancer patient instinct", and there I was running down the road, in the cold, with no shoes on.
Yes, Big Daddy could have gone to the school later and dropped off Beautiful Daughter's things, but that never entered my mind. Taking care of my baby did.
So, here we are. Another day where I get to stay home and have people do for me. I never wanted to be "that" person...I don't like not being able to cook for my family and friends, clean my house, well, have my house be clean, do laundry so my family is in "you-can-smell-the-sunshine-freshness" clothes, or go to the grocery store or run our kids places with their friends. I have to stay home and do nothing but "rest". This is not who I am...and I am struggling.
Well, I have to go now. Ellen is on and no, Ellen is NOT "daytime tv"...Ellen is "late afternoon tv", and that's different. Anyway, I need to be in front of the tv in case she says my name. "I have been reading this blog and I really want to meet the woman writing it and have her on the show...I heard she won't do Oprah..."
An E.R. Visit...Really Just a Matter of Time
"Why is that soup in my fridge?", was the first thought I had when I got home from the E.R. I had made extra soup on Sunday night so that we could send some home to Ms. B's family along with Babs' family. Well, Ms. B had hers and here I was looking at Babs' container still sitting in my fridge. I can tell you one thing, if I had been here, Babs would have taken that soup. While I may be many things, I make sure minute and inconsequential-to-you-but-incredibly-important-to-me things get done.
Monday was a good day as far as normalcy goes. I came on home from work around 2pm. Well, something happened between here and there. I kind of "hit the wall". I thought to myself that I could possibly sneak in a brief nap if I went straight to bed as I walked in the door. So, I did. I hit the door a little before 3 and was asleep before Dr. Phil came on. I had set my alarm for 3:30, because I had to take Beautiful Daughter to practice, along with her friend who had spent the night. (No school Monday.)
The alarm went off and I hopped up. Told the girls to meet me in the car and we were off. We dropped off the girls and then Precious Son took over the wheel and we headed to the barber shop for his 4:30 appointment. I stayed in the vehicle, laid the seat back and dozed. I have basically kept a headache since chemo on the 17th and today was no different. So, I stayed in the Suburban, put the windows down, and just vegged out.
The mother of Precious Son's barber has been battling breast cancer for 24 years. He came out to see me and offer his hope that I do well and beat it. His mother is not doing well at all. It's heartbreaking to see a gray haired, grown man get teary-eyed about his mom. This is a good guy. He told me that he was confident in my ability to win and then he went back inside. You know, the goodness in people is amazing when you aren't too busy to see it.
Precious Son drove us home, we picked up some things AND SOUP for Ms. B, dropped it off, and came back home. Precious Son ate his soup and watched one of his ESPN shows in my bedroom...and I dozed on and off. Fighting chills but refusing to close the windows because it was one of those gorgeous, autumn days that you simply cannot get enough of. I love listening to the wind rustle through the leaves and smell that autumnal smell that only God could make. Not to mention after seven days of rain and high humidity, the very sight of blue skies and sunshine was invigorating...even from my bed. So I laid there, Precious Son ate soup, and people who adore sports gave play-by-plays as my headache became worse, the chills more intense, and the fever rising.
Big Daddy picked up Beautiful Daughter from practice at 7... Some time between soup and 7, things became worse. Big daddy took my temperature and we called the triage nurse as instructed. You see, if I were to develop fever, chills, or anything uncomfortable, we were to call. Ring, ring. The doctor on call told us to go to the emergency room and she would have them take us on back. Well, get this. The doctor on call actually DID call the emergency room, they actually were waiting for us, and took us right back to a private room. The people in the waiting room were pissed. Well, maybe they weren't because I had on my Komen pink bandanna with my breast cancer baseball cap on top of that...so they knew. Still, I am sure somebody was pissed. You don't get escorted back without hitting the waiting room in this town unless you are George Clooney or a coach for UK.
As impressed as I was with the immediate sequestering, things went to pot pretty quickly after that. I was stuck three times, three of which included "digging around" for my vein. In case I have not mentioned this before, I HATE NEEDLES!!!!! I cry. I am a baby. I don't care who knows. They took about 6 tubes of blood by the time all was said and done and I cried like I was being tortured. Oh wait. It was torture. Possibly, the last straw was when the nurse was reading directions on how to access my port for a blood draw. No. That wasn't the last straw, this was... Having that same nurse NOT access my blood through the port which hurts like you would not believe, but rather having her then try to hit a vein on the top of my hand...AND DIG because she missed. Please understand what I am saying...she accessed my port, but no blood came out because she did it wrong...agonizingly wrong. Then, she tapped the top of my hand and repeatedly dug for the vein.
I tried to stay focused on Big Daddy but that actually made it worse. You see, when I hurt, Big Daddy hurts, and there just ain't a lot of things out in this big, bad world that move your heart like seeing the strongest man in the universe be sad for little, ole you.
The nurse left with a gallon of my blood, and Big Daddy told me how proud he was of me. "I didn't do well at all!!! That was horrible and I cried and cried!! How can you say I did well?!?!?!?"
"Because it is over and even though you wanted to rip these tubes from you, you stayed. You did great."
Sigh...
Eventually the lab tests came back and I was negative for the flu, swine, bird, moo shu or otherwise. They gave me some antibiotics and Motrin and we were sent home. Today we are to call my oncologist and see if he wants us to get the prescription filled or not. That's the thing...the oncologist makes all the decisions once you begin chemo. He is like the warden of my body and I have to have special requests granted through him...
May I go to church?
No.
May I go to Wal-Mart?
No.
May I go to the movies?
No.
May I go to over-priced grocery store that nobody goes to because it is too expensive if I go late, late at night because they are open 24-hours although I don't know why because nobody is ever in there because their prices are too high?
Still no.
Yeah. This guy calls all the shots. Anyway, we will be calling him first thing this morning...
We came on home. Babs had stayed with the kids while we were gone and they were in bed when we got home. Alarms were set so that the kids could wake themselves up, if need be. I hate that. It is MY job to wake up OUR kids, not some alarm. This whole cancer thing really ticks me off when it affects our kids. In fact, as we drove to the emergency room, Robin called because Precious Son had posted to Facebook: "My mom is on the way to the emergency room. I hate cancer."
Me, too Buddy...me, too...but primarily for the malicious and relentless hold of fear it has on you and your sister...and your Dad.
We were discharged and sent home. I already had in my mind what I wanted to eat because I was starving and had been since about 5, but was too tired to eat. (Words I never thought I would speak....along the same lines of "I forgot to eat"...puh-leeze.) We came home, I headed for the fridge to get some smoked Gouda and almonds, and there it was...the soup for Babs...and in the blink of an eye, life resumed to where it should have been all evening. Me wondering why that soup was in my fridge...
Monday was a good day as far as normalcy goes. I came on home from work around 2pm. Well, something happened between here and there. I kind of "hit the wall". I thought to myself that I could possibly sneak in a brief nap if I went straight to bed as I walked in the door. So, I did. I hit the door a little before 3 and was asleep before Dr. Phil came on. I had set my alarm for 3:30, because I had to take Beautiful Daughter to practice, along with her friend who had spent the night. (No school Monday.)
The alarm went off and I hopped up. Told the girls to meet me in the car and we were off. We dropped off the girls and then Precious Son took over the wheel and we headed to the barber shop for his 4:30 appointment. I stayed in the vehicle, laid the seat back and dozed. I have basically kept a headache since chemo on the 17th and today was no different. So, I stayed in the Suburban, put the windows down, and just vegged out.
The mother of Precious Son's barber has been battling breast cancer for 24 years. He came out to see me and offer his hope that I do well and beat it. His mother is not doing well at all. It's heartbreaking to see a gray haired, grown man get teary-eyed about his mom. This is a good guy. He told me that he was confident in my ability to win and then he went back inside. You know, the goodness in people is amazing when you aren't too busy to see it.
Precious Son drove us home, we picked up some things AND SOUP for Ms. B, dropped it off, and came back home. Precious Son ate his soup and watched one of his ESPN shows in my bedroom...and I dozed on and off. Fighting chills but refusing to close the windows because it was one of those gorgeous, autumn days that you simply cannot get enough of. I love listening to the wind rustle through the leaves and smell that autumnal smell that only God could make. Not to mention after seven days of rain and high humidity, the very sight of blue skies and sunshine was invigorating...even from my bed. So I laid there, Precious Son ate soup, and people who adore sports gave play-by-plays as my headache became worse, the chills more intense, and the fever rising.
Big Daddy picked up Beautiful Daughter from practice at 7... Some time between soup and 7, things became worse. Big daddy took my temperature and we called the triage nurse as instructed. You see, if I were to develop fever, chills, or anything uncomfortable, we were to call. Ring, ring. The doctor on call told us to go to the emergency room and she would have them take us on back. Well, get this. The doctor on call actually DID call the emergency room, they actually were waiting for us, and took us right back to a private room. The people in the waiting room were pissed. Well, maybe they weren't because I had on my Komen pink bandanna with my breast cancer baseball cap on top of that...so they knew. Still, I am sure somebody was pissed. You don't get escorted back without hitting the waiting room in this town unless you are George Clooney or a coach for UK.
As impressed as I was with the immediate sequestering, things went to pot pretty quickly after that. I was stuck three times, three of which included "digging around" for my vein. In case I have not mentioned this before, I HATE NEEDLES!!!!! I cry. I am a baby. I don't care who knows. They took about 6 tubes of blood by the time all was said and done and I cried like I was being tortured. Oh wait. It was torture. Possibly, the last straw was when the nurse was reading directions on how to access my port for a blood draw. No. That wasn't the last straw, this was... Having that same nurse NOT access my blood through the port which hurts like you would not believe, but rather having her then try to hit a vein on the top of my hand...AND DIG because she missed. Please understand what I am saying...she accessed my port, but no blood came out because she did it wrong...agonizingly wrong. Then, she tapped the top of my hand and repeatedly dug for the vein.
I tried to stay focused on Big Daddy but that actually made it worse. You see, when I hurt, Big Daddy hurts, and there just ain't a lot of things out in this big, bad world that move your heart like seeing the strongest man in the universe be sad for little, ole you.
The nurse left with a gallon of my blood, and Big Daddy told me how proud he was of me. "I didn't do well at all!!! That was horrible and I cried and cried!! How can you say I did well?!?!?!?"
"Because it is over and even though you wanted to rip these tubes from you, you stayed. You did great."
Sigh...
Eventually the lab tests came back and I was negative for the flu, swine, bird, moo shu or otherwise. They gave me some antibiotics and Motrin and we were sent home. Today we are to call my oncologist and see if he wants us to get the prescription filled or not. That's the thing...the oncologist makes all the decisions once you begin chemo. He is like the warden of my body and I have to have special requests granted through him...
May I go to church?
No.
May I go to Wal-Mart?
No.
May I go to the movies?
No.
May I go to over-priced grocery store that nobody goes to because it is too expensive if I go late, late at night because they are open 24-hours although I don't know why because nobody is ever in there because their prices are too high?
Still no.
Yeah. This guy calls all the shots. Anyway, we will be calling him first thing this morning...
We came on home. Babs had stayed with the kids while we were gone and they were in bed when we got home. Alarms were set so that the kids could wake themselves up, if need be. I hate that. It is MY job to wake up OUR kids, not some alarm. This whole cancer thing really ticks me off when it affects our kids. In fact, as we drove to the emergency room, Robin called because Precious Son had posted to Facebook: "My mom is on the way to the emergency room. I hate cancer."
Me, too Buddy...me, too...but primarily for the malicious and relentless hold of fear it has on you and your sister...and your Dad.
We were discharged and sent home. I already had in my mind what I wanted to eat because I was starving and had been since about 5, but was too tired to eat. (Words I never thought I would speak....along the same lines of "I forgot to eat"...puh-leeze.) We came home, I headed for the fridge to get some smoked Gouda and almonds, and there it was...the soup for Babs...and in the blink of an eye, life resumed to where it should have been all evening. Me wondering why that soup was in my fridge...
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Canoe for a Cure!
So, the rain has been coming down, sometimes torrentially, for the past seven days. I can understand why Oregon has the highest suicide rate in the country. Today was Race for the Cure and Big Daddy had already told us that if it was raining, we could not go. We "Slept in for the Cure", because it was raining cats and dogs with lightening and thunder and I think, people in canoes floating by. I had promised my "team" I would let them know by 7:30am if we were able to come because the race was set to begin at 8:30am. I really wanted to go this morning...but I just cannot get sick, which means I not only have to super-careful, but all of us do. Beautiful Daughter loves Race for the Cure so she was incredibly bummed. Precious Son, long about noon, asked what time the race started. Yeah, he is covered up with minute details about things. *laughing*
So, my second day at work, Friday, went well, too. We had "Dip Day" and everyone brought in chips, veggies, and assorted dips. Honestly, this could be my daily menu and I would be happy. My friends had "cloroxed" my desk and area and I sat there, finally able to get my computer up and running after being gone for eight weeks. Suffice it to say I ate more yesterday than I have eaten in the past two months...carrot stick...spinach dip...celery stick...ranch dip...cucumber slices...cucumber dip. Mmmmmmmmmmm. Switch up. Tortilla chip...bean dip. Yummmmm. It was a great and yummy day.
Headed out and stopped by our shop to get timesheets for payroll. Stopped by our friends business and visited with Elay for a while. I love her so much. She is one of these people who radiates goodness and grace from her smile alone. She exudes beauty, both outwardly and deep from within. When I think of "salt of the earth", Elay comes to mind. Just good people. Her husband is the exact same, although I won't call him beautiful for fear of him getting the "big head". *laughing* These people are strong cornerstones in my foundation and I am so grateful to even know them, and quite humbled to call them "friend".
Came home, did payroll, Big Daddy left to pay the guys, and I met Ms. B at the school around 5. Watched the kids, talked with Ms. B, which I love, and ordered pizza. Picked up the pizza at 6:45, friends came over at 7 and we visited until 10. Saw Big Daddy off to work and talked-texted with a dear friend until around 1:45am.
Why am I giving you all these details??? Because Friday was normal and I liked it very much. Friday was the first time I did not find my mind revisiting the chemo and working myself into a lather about the next one. Friday was normal. Friday was simple. Friday was good.
So, my second day at work, Friday, went well, too. We had "Dip Day" and everyone brought in chips, veggies, and assorted dips. Honestly, this could be my daily menu and I would be happy. My friends had "cloroxed" my desk and area and I sat there, finally able to get my computer up and running after being gone for eight weeks. Suffice it to say I ate more yesterday than I have eaten in the past two months...carrot stick...spinach dip...celery stick...ranch dip...cucumber slices...cucumber dip. Mmmmmmmmmmm. Switch up. Tortilla chip...bean dip. Yummmmm. It was a great and yummy day.
Headed out and stopped by our shop to get timesheets for payroll. Stopped by our friends business and visited with Elay for a while. I love her so much. She is one of these people who radiates goodness and grace from her smile alone. She exudes beauty, both outwardly and deep from within. When I think of "salt of the earth", Elay comes to mind. Just good people. Her husband is the exact same, although I won't call him beautiful for fear of him getting the "big head". *laughing* These people are strong cornerstones in my foundation and I am so grateful to even know them, and quite humbled to call them "friend".
Came home, did payroll, Big Daddy left to pay the guys, and I met Ms. B at the school around 5. Watched the kids, talked with Ms. B, which I love, and ordered pizza. Picked up the pizza at 6:45, friends came over at 7 and we visited until 10. Saw Big Daddy off to work and talked-texted with a dear friend until around 1:45am.
Why am I giving you all these details??? Because Friday was normal and I liked it very much. Friday was the first time I did not find my mind revisiting the chemo and working myself into a lather about the next one. Friday was normal. Friday was simple. Friday was good.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Back to Work!
Slept pretty well last night considering my mind was racing about going back to work. I was excited and ready to go, but also kind of nervous. Almost like a kid feels the night before school starts. Got up at 6 and we began the usual morning routine. Beautiful Daughter to shower first, then Precious Son, then me. Everything went along as normal, like I have not been off for 8 weeks.
Big Daddy was here as I got ready. He loved my new outfit and kept saying I looked so "slim". I love being "slim". In fact, when I want to eat an entire carton of Breyer's rocky road, I simply play back some compliment from Big Daddy using the word "slim" and I regain my willpower...although, sometimes, it is only briefly. :o)
Big Daddy took some pictures of me this morning before I left. You know, all dressed up, makeup, clothes that fit, and my fabulous faux do. All the way to work I kept wondering if people could tell I had a wig on. Yes, I know that would be impossible unless I had the wig cockeyed and drooped over one eye, but I still wondered. I felt very self-conscious in my vehicle all alone...like everyone knew. There was a time before in my life that if I had the kind of hair and body I was sporting this morning, I would have been feeling pretty darn good about myself...but this morning, I just felt...conspicuous.
I stopped by Krispy Kreme and picked up two dozen doughnuts because I wanted to do something nice for my co-workers. None of them really live near Krispy Kreme and I don't either, but it was a way to make the drive a tad longer...
I fought tears and deep feelings of "something" as I drove in. I have no idea why I wanted to cry. As a few rogue tears escaped down my cheeks, I literally asked myself "why are you crying?" I did not answer...there was no answer...I still don't know. It wasn't like there are people at work who are mean to me or that I have some terrible job or that there is an ogre under the bridge I have to cross. I work with amazingly kind and compassionate people who actually care about my family and me. What was wrong with me that I wanted to cry? Bigger question, why was I actually yielding at yellow lights instead of gunning it through? There is no telling how many wrecks I caused this morning because I yielded on yellow. We don't yield on yellow here. People will shoot you for that crap.
My drive is about 45 minutes from my house to work, and even with the doughnuts and yellow light yields, I still made it in by 9. I walked in and they came. There had been an email yesterday about not being able to hug me because I absolutely cannot get sick...and the desire to hug my friends was overwhelming. They wanted to hug me, too. Some forgot and we actually moved toward each other in that "I'm gonna hug you hard because I am so freaking glad to see you" kind of way, but then one of us would realize and we would stop short of the hug. It was at this moment I decided that on my list of "agonizing side effects brought about by chemo" list, I would definitely add "unable to give/receive hugs.
As human beings, we need hugs. We need to give them and we need to receive them. It literally hurt my heart to not be able to hug my friends today...
We all gathered around each other and everyone said I looked great or like some glamorous movie star. Now, it was at this particular point I decided that wigs are cool. You get the hair you always wanted and people liken you to those elite few who reside in Hollywood and cause the masses to swoon. Honestly, it was very nice to hear that I looked nice when a few days ago I looked (and felt) like death warmed over.
We talked a bit. I teared up, but only once, and that was when I mentioned being afraid about the next chemo sessions. I am afraid. I won't lie about it or put on some phony smile and say things like "Oh, it will be okay" or "God won't give me more than I can handle". Sometimes I think God has way more confidence in me than He should...
I was able to spend the day chatting with my friends in small groups or one-on-one and it was delightful. I have missed them so very much. I know some people go to work for the paycheck and never invest in the lives of their co-workers but I have to tell you, if you are one of those people, you are missing out. It's nice to be cared about. It's wonderful to have people cheer you on when you are in a battle for your life. It's great to have a dozen phone numbers of people you can call if you need something and they will help you. I am again, so very thankful to work where I work, but more importantly, to work with the people I work with. They care about each other and they care about me. Now that's a perk.
The day went on and I was able to get my "return to work" papers for Human Resources. Long about 2:30, I had to tap out. I called Big Daddy as I left, as I promised I would, and he had a little snack waiting for me as I came through the door. I ate and went to bed. I had to record "Ellen" to watch some other day. The deep, deep sleep that has escaped my grasp for the past 8 weeks, snuggled up to me this afternoon and we slept.
It wasn't until later in the evening that I was able to put my finger on why I may have been so moved emotionally on the way to work this morning...
I was headed back to where my paycheck comes from, but not my identity...and my identity is tied to my friends at work as much as any other friends in my life...and I had missed them very, very much.
Big Daddy was here as I got ready. He loved my new outfit and kept saying I looked so "slim". I love being "slim". In fact, when I want to eat an entire carton of Breyer's rocky road, I simply play back some compliment from Big Daddy using the word "slim" and I regain my willpower...although, sometimes, it is only briefly. :o)
Big Daddy took some pictures of me this morning before I left. You know, all dressed up, makeup, clothes that fit, and my fabulous faux do. All the way to work I kept wondering if people could tell I had a wig on. Yes, I know that would be impossible unless I had the wig cockeyed and drooped over one eye, but I still wondered. I felt very self-conscious in my vehicle all alone...like everyone knew. There was a time before in my life that if I had the kind of hair and body I was sporting this morning, I would have been feeling pretty darn good about myself...but this morning, I just felt...conspicuous.
I stopped by Krispy Kreme and picked up two dozen doughnuts because I wanted to do something nice for my co-workers. None of them really live near Krispy Kreme and I don't either, but it was a way to make the drive a tad longer...
I fought tears and deep feelings of "something" as I drove in. I have no idea why I wanted to cry. As a few rogue tears escaped down my cheeks, I literally asked myself "why are you crying?" I did not answer...there was no answer...I still don't know. It wasn't like there are people at work who are mean to me or that I have some terrible job or that there is an ogre under the bridge I have to cross. I work with amazingly kind and compassionate people who actually care about my family and me. What was wrong with me that I wanted to cry? Bigger question, why was I actually yielding at yellow lights instead of gunning it through? There is no telling how many wrecks I caused this morning because I yielded on yellow. We don't yield on yellow here. People will shoot you for that crap.
My drive is about 45 minutes from my house to work, and even with the doughnuts and yellow light yields, I still made it in by 9. I walked in and they came. There had been an email yesterday about not being able to hug me because I absolutely cannot get sick...and the desire to hug my friends was overwhelming. They wanted to hug me, too. Some forgot and we actually moved toward each other in that "I'm gonna hug you hard because I am so freaking glad to see you" kind of way, but then one of us would realize and we would stop short of the hug. It was at this moment I decided that on my list of "agonizing side effects brought about by chemo" list, I would definitely add "unable to give/receive hugs.
As human beings, we need hugs. We need to give them and we need to receive them. It literally hurt my heart to not be able to hug my friends today...
We all gathered around each other and everyone said I looked great or like some glamorous movie star. Now, it was at this particular point I decided that wigs are cool. You get the hair you always wanted and people liken you to those elite few who reside in Hollywood and cause the masses to swoon. Honestly, it was very nice to hear that I looked nice when a few days ago I looked (and felt) like death warmed over.
We talked a bit. I teared up, but only once, and that was when I mentioned being afraid about the next chemo sessions. I am afraid. I won't lie about it or put on some phony smile and say things like "Oh, it will be okay" or "God won't give me more than I can handle". Sometimes I think God has way more confidence in me than He should...
I was able to spend the day chatting with my friends in small groups or one-on-one and it was delightful. I have missed them so very much. I know some people go to work for the paycheck and never invest in the lives of their co-workers but I have to tell you, if you are one of those people, you are missing out. It's nice to be cared about. It's wonderful to have people cheer you on when you are in a battle for your life. It's great to have a dozen phone numbers of people you can call if you need something and they will help you. I am again, so very thankful to work where I work, but more importantly, to work with the people I work with. They care about each other and they care about me. Now that's a perk.
The day went on and I was able to get my "return to work" papers for Human Resources. Long about 2:30, I had to tap out. I called Big Daddy as I left, as I promised I would, and he had a little snack waiting for me as I came through the door. I ate and went to bed. I had to record "Ellen" to watch some other day. The deep, deep sleep that has escaped my grasp for the past 8 weeks, snuggled up to me this afternoon and we slept.
It wasn't until later in the evening that I was able to put my finger on why I may have been so moved emotionally on the way to work this morning...
I was headed back to where my paycheck comes from, but not my identity...and my identity is tied to my friends at work as much as any other friends in my life...and I had missed them very, very much.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Back to Work Tomorrow...
It's almost midnight. The kids have been in bed and Big Daddy is dozing in and out as he kind of watches something on tv. He finally has a night off. I am thankful. I am sitting in long pajamas, a sweatshirt jacket with the hood on, and socks. I am eating ice cream and cookies. I am freezing. Today I had a terrible time just trying to stay cooled off. Tonight, however, I am very cold. Maybe the chemo effects your ability to control your internal thermostat. Maybe it's the ice cream. *giggle*
It is difficult for me to characterize today as anything less than "magnificent" when I think about how horrible the past few days were. And here's the thing...I still don't feel that great. It's just that after feeling like I was one breath away from death, feeling crappy actually feels pretty good. It's all so strange.
Went to class tonight and it went well. I am no longer allowed to hug my students because of the risk of getting sick, but they all understood. I never even realized how many students I hug every week. Of course, you expect to hug each other at the end of the semester, but I actually hug my students quite often. Something else to be thankful for...the amazing connection I have with my students. I love them. They mean so much to me...
Babs had to drive me to class tonight because I am still a little shaky. We had a good time. We always do. I love talking to her. I love it when she talks to me. She has a tendency to bottle things up so as not to burden anyone...but the thing is, when we share, we also share the burden. We talked about that a lot tonight. We also went to the mall to get me a pair of dress pants for tomorrow. I have lost more weight and needed some news ones as I head back to work.
We shopped around and I tried on a few things...all of which were 30% off! Of course, when you realize that they were on sale you also probably realize that they are on sale because they are summer clothes and it is the end of September. Don't nitpick, people. It will be summer again! Not to mention, I also bought a jacket! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Funny.
There are a few concerns for me tomorrow...most of which are just stupid, but that's what I do...invent problems where there aren't any. I have been very comfortable around my own house with our family and friends dropping by and me not worrying about whether or not my boobie pads are in or not. The people who come to see us do not care. It isn't even that I worry about my co-workers caring...because they won't, but I have this "awareness of everyone else's comfortability" thing going on and I just don't want to make anyone uncomfortable...with my cancer...and double mastectomy...and chemo...and bald head...and, and, and...
So, you see my point? No? I don't either, to be honest.
Will people stare at my chest and try to figure out or recall what I looked liked before? Have I had reconstruction yet? Are those pads in there? Can you see the scars? Is my binder showing? Is that a wig? How much weight has she lost? Have the pads migrated to the center of my chest and I now have a uni-boob????
Ugh.
Obviously, the most important thing to point out is yes, I have lost more weight and no, it is not from the chemo. It is from my changed lifestyle before the call came, thank you very much.
Ok, so maybe that is no the most important thing, but it is the one thing I can think about without having a meltdown. Yeah, the cancer has invaded, well, like a cancer, and it has changed the lives of my family in ways that I cannot control. I never wanted our children to live in fear of cancer...I know what that is like, and yet, here it is. Every morning. Every noon. Every night. It makes me angry.
Life has gone on and we certainly don't sit around the dinner table discussing cancer. We never even really talk about it anymore. Big Daddy asks me how I am feeling and the kids check on me, but that's about it. Oh. Well, and the sanitizing station Big Daddy set up at every door...but other than that, we don't live and breathe cancer. We just live and breathe life. I guess that is how things will go tomorrow... No one will ask any questions or everyone will, but then it will be over with and we can all get back to normal living and breathing. If people look at me and try to figure out what's mine, his, and theirs, then so be it. Not a lot I can do anyway. The thing is, I am not even upset or put off by the curiosity. Some people have never dealt with cancer. I guess I am their ambassador, of sorts. To them, I may be what cancer looks like...at least tomorrow, cancer will have on new pants.
It is difficult for me to characterize today as anything less than "magnificent" when I think about how horrible the past few days were. And here's the thing...I still don't feel that great. It's just that after feeling like I was one breath away from death, feeling crappy actually feels pretty good. It's all so strange.
Went to class tonight and it went well. I am no longer allowed to hug my students because of the risk of getting sick, but they all understood. I never even realized how many students I hug every week. Of course, you expect to hug each other at the end of the semester, but I actually hug my students quite often. Something else to be thankful for...the amazing connection I have with my students. I love them. They mean so much to me...
Babs had to drive me to class tonight because I am still a little shaky. We had a good time. We always do. I love talking to her. I love it when she talks to me. She has a tendency to bottle things up so as not to burden anyone...but the thing is, when we share, we also share the burden. We talked about that a lot tonight. We also went to the mall to get me a pair of dress pants for tomorrow. I have lost more weight and needed some news ones as I head back to work.
We shopped around and I tried on a few things...all of which were 30% off! Of course, when you realize that they were on sale you also probably realize that they are on sale because they are summer clothes and it is the end of September. Don't nitpick, people. It will be summer again! Not to mention, I also bought a jacket! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Funny.
There are a few concerns for me tomorrow...most of which are just stupid, but that's what I do...invent problems where there aren't any. I have been very comfortable around my own house with our family and friends dropping by and me not worrying about whether or not my boobie pads are in or not. The people who come to see us do not care. It isn't even that I worry about my co-workers caring...because they won't, but I have this "awareness of everyone else's comfortability" thing going on and I just don't want to make anyone uncomfortable...with my cancer...and double mastectomy...and chemo...and bald head...and, and, and...
So, you see my point? No? I don't either, to be honest.
Will people stare at my chest and try to figure out or recall what I looked liked before? Have I had reconstruction yet? Are those pads in there? Can you see the scars? Is my binder showing? Is that a wig? How much weight has she lost? Have the pads migrated to the center of my chest and I now have a uni-boob????
Ugh.
Obviously, the most important thing to point out is yes, I have lost more weight and no, it is not from the chemo. It is from my changed lifestyle before the call came, thank you very much.
Ok, so maybe that is no the most important thing, but it is the one thing I can think about without having a meltdown. Yeah, the cancer has invaded, well, like a cancer, and it has changed the lives of my family in ways that I cannot control. I never wanted our children to live in fear of cancer...I know what that is like, and yet, here it is. Every morning. Every noon. Every night. It makes me angry.
Life has gone on and we certainly don't sit around the dinner table discussing cancer. We never even really talk about it anymore. Big Daddy asks me how I am feeling and the kids check on me, but that's about it. Oh. Well, and the sanitizing station Big Daddy set up at every door...but other than that, we don't live and breathe cancer. We just live and breathe life. I guess that is how things will go tomorrow... No one will ask any questions or everyone will, but then it will be over with and we can all get back to normal living and breathing. If people look at me and try to figure out what's mine, his, and theirs, then so be it. Not a lot I can do anyway. The thing is, I am not even upset or put off by the curiosity. Some people have never dealt with cancer. I guess I am their ambassador, of sorts. To them, I may be what cancer looks like...at least tomorrow, cancer will have on new pants.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Finally, The Upswing
I am sitting on my bed as the clock ticks toward midnight and I am keenly aware of how good "normal" feels. We never appreciate "normal" until we are sick. I have always known that but saw it and felt it more like a spoiled child rather than an actual "sick" person. You know how people say things like "if it weren't for the bad days, we wouldn't appreciate the good ones", well, of course, there is truth in that...but it is also quite irritating to hear sometimes. Generally speaking, telling me things I already know just bugs me.
I did end up having to take some more anti-nausea medicine this morning, but it worked fairly well if I just stayed still, so I did that. Being still for me is a chore. I can easily list 1,000 things I could or should be doing right now, and here I sit. I just can't do them. I had great plans this morning though, as I ushered the kids out to the bus stop. I gathered up a few loads of laundry and sat them at the top of the stairs. I also ran a sink of hot, soapy water to wash the dishes that had accumulated since yesterday...or maybe the day before. Let's say I had accomplished these things by 7:40am. By 7:41am, I had taken my anti-nausea pill and laid back down. The dirty clothes sat at the top of the steps all day and the hot, soapy water turned chilly long about 3 o'clock. It was a toss up to see which would make my head pop off...
1. Having those two chores to do and not being able to do them or...
2. Watching car wreck attorney ads on tv until I thought I would hurl the tv out the window.
Tough call, however, it is painfully obvious why I do not watch tv. Even Monica from "Touched By An Angel" is grating my last nerve. She is probably working for "Dan the Man: Accident Attorney at Law" by now.
Anyway, I laid in bed, like I was supposed to and it did pay off. The upswing came and kept coming. I was able to sit upright and watch The Ellen DeGeneres Show and share a few laughs with Big Daddy after he finished working. I took a shower and even put on some makeup. We called our friends and made plans for dinner. Yes! I felt like eating!!! We picked up the kids, met at the restaurant, and had a lovely dinner. I felt human, again...and really, just in time. I was beginning to wonder...
We came on home and Precious Son did his homework, Beautiful Daughter watched Dancing with the Stars with me, and Big Daddy got ready to go to work. I offered to fix Beautiful Daughter some ice cream, but she declined saying I was "sick" and "too tired". By God I wasn't. I got up and fixed that girl some ice cream and she ate it. Convincing Beautiful Daughter that I am not made of glass is taking some doing...she is still so petrified, I believe. However, she will never speak of this cancer...not to me, anyway. If she does, it makes it real...I know how she thinks... I just cannot convince her otherwise. Not yet.
When you look back at your life and wish things were a certain way, you have to ask yourself what role you are willing to play in changing them. While I did not choose to have cancer, it has afforded me the lifestyle I have always wanted. Time with my husband and time with our children. Why is that??? This is obviously going to plague me for quite some time... Did I not have the exact same items in my grocery cart before I got the call? Did I not have the exact same family? Did we not have the exact same goals and dreams? Ah. Perhaps not. Maybe before the call, we assumed we had the time to go along with all the hopes, dreams, and goals...after the call, maybe not.
Ah, time.
When you are a kid...it is sooooooooooooooo slow. "I am nine and a half!!!"
When you are a teenager you find yourself saying "I'll be 17 in six months!"
And the young adult...hitting 21, a biggie. Hitting 25...wow. A grown up.
Then the 30's come and you are like "HEY! What just happened!?!?!? When did I get old?!?!?"
You accept your 30's and BANG!!!, you turn 40. What the hell?????
A minute ago, I was nine and a half...
While I was feeling like the side effects of the chemo were not only torture, but would also never end, I realized how slow time can go by. It was as if the clocks of the universe were waging a war against me. "Make her suffer. Do not move forward. Make this last." Then the upswing finally came and time is flying by again.
Wow. A minute ago, I was dying...
I did end up having to take some more anti-nausea medicine this morning, but it worked fairly well if I just stayed still, so I did that. Being still for me is a chore. I can easily list 1,000 things I could or should be doing right now, and here I sit. I just can't do them. I had great plans this morning though, as I ushered the kids out to the bus stop. I gathered up a few loads of laundry and sat them at the top of the stairs. I also ran a sink of hot, soapy water to wash the dishes that had accumulated since yesterday...or maybe the day before. Let's say I had accomplished these things by 7:40am. By 7:41am, I had taken my anti-nausea pill and laid back down. The dirty clothes sat at the top of the steps all day and the hot, soapy water turned chilly long about 3 o'clock. It was a toss up to see which would make my head pop off...
1. Having those two chores to do and not being able to do them or...
2. Watching car wreck attorney ads on tv until I thought I would hurl the tv out the window.
Tough call, however, it is painfully obvious why I do not watch tv. Even Monica from "Touched By An Angel" is grating my last nerve. She is probably working for "Dan the Man: Accident Attorney at Law" by now.
Anyway, I laid in bed, like I was supposed to and it did pay off. The upswing came and kept coming. I was able to sit upright and watch The Ellen DeGeneres Show and share a few laughs with Big Daddy after he finished working. I took a shower and even put on some makeup. We called our friends and made plans for dinner. Yes! I felt like eating!!! We picked up the kids, met at the restaurant, and had a lovely dinner. I felt human, again...and really, just in time. I was beginning to wonder...
We came on home and Precious Son did his homework, Beautiful Daughter watched Dancing with the Stars with me, and Big Daddy got ready to go to work. I offered to fix Beautiful Daughter some ice cream, but she declined saying I was "sick" and "too tired". By God I wasn't. I got up and fixed that girl some ice cream and she ate it. Convincing Beautiful Daughter that I am not made of glass is taking some doing...she is still so petrified, I believe. However, she will never speak of this cancer...not to me, anyway. If she does, it makes it real...I know how she thinks... I just cannot convince her otherwise. Not yet.
When you look back at your life and wish things were a certain way, you have to ask yourself what role you are willing to play in changing them. While I did not choose to have cancer, it has afforded me the lifestyle I have always wanted. Time with my husband and time with our children. Why is that??? This is obviously going to plague me for quite some time... Did I not have the exact same items in my grocery cart before I got the call? Did I not have the exact same family? Did we not have the exact same goals and dreams? Ah. Perhaps not. Maybe before the call, we assumed we had the time to go along with all the hopes, dreams, and goals...after the call, maybe not.
Ah, time.
When you are a kid...it is sooooooooooooooo slow. "I am nine and a half!!!"
When you are a teenager you find yourself saying "I'll be 17 in six months!"
And the young adult...hitting 21, a biggie. Hitting 25...wow. A grown up.
Then the 30's come and you are like "HEY! What just happened!?!?!? When did I get old?!?!?"
You accept your 30's and BANG!!!, you turn 40. What the hell?????
A minute ago, I was nine and a half...
While I was feeling like the side effects of the chemo were not only torture, but would also never end, I realized how slow time can go by. It was as if the clocks of the universe were waging a war against me. "Make her suffer. Do not move forward. Make this last." Then the upswing finally came and time is flying by again.
Wow. A minute ago, I was dying...
Monday, September 21, 2009
Day 4 Post Chemo - Monday
It is now going on midnight, Monday. I am feeling somewhat better. I am actually cautious to write that, as if by saying I feel better, it will end. Like some kind of jinx or something because I am in 4th grade. Whatever. It has been a very long 48 hours, to say the absolute least.
"How hard can 48 hours be?? It's just two days. People can do anything for a mere two days". That was my way of thinking before the past two days. I have racked my brain trying to think of some way to articulate what I have been feeling since the first chemo. "Overwhelming, exhausting, fatigued, morose, deluged, engulfed, crushed..." None of them came close to expressing what I have felt from the chemo, but here it is. I finally can label my feelings for you to understand what I have just gone through...
"As close to death without dying".
That's it. I honestly understand why people with recurring cancer do not always seek more chemotherapy. When you are first diagnosed, of course, you will be aggressive and seek the optimum therapy available. Then you receive it. Then you rethink it.
Yeah, I get it. I understand why people opt out for another year of chemo and just tap out.
So, that's where I am. On the upswing, as Lucy calls it. Beginning to feel like I might make it. Daring to smile at something funny someone has said or even sit up. The human side of me is coming back out and although it was only a "mere two days", it makes me petrified to think I have three more of these and the effects are cumulative. A "mere two days" can literally stretch out the entirety of one treatment to the next over the three week respite.
Allow me to explain what I mean by "feeling better"...
I am able to sit up.
I am capable of keeping a banana down.
I only have a headache on one side.
I can drink slowly.
The light can be on.
I can use the bathroom by myself.
The gastrointestinal battle between diarrhea and constipation is easing off a bit, although, I am unsure as to which way yet.
Oh, yes! I am feeling fine as frog's hair! What to do next??? Maybe I will shift from my right side to my left side or maybe readjust the pillow under my neck. I could always check my phone. The possibilities are endless!!!
Needless to say, I am a wee tad angry at this whole side effect thing. I thought I had prepared myself for the fatigue..."I shall nap!" I also thought I had mentally prepared for the nausea... "I shall eat the next day!" And then there was the tremendous preparation for feeling like I am one breath away from dying... Oh wait. I had no idea. I thought I was SuperWoman and could handle whatever may come my way! If I were tired, I would press on! If Big Daddy wanted to go do something, we would do it! If something needed to be done, then done it would be! If meals needed to be prepared, I would cook! If the kids needed to be somewhere, I would take them! Life would go on and cancer would never, ever get me down!
What a dumbass.
Cancer nor chemo cares one iota about how much of a "do-er" I am. Cancer nor chemo seems to be bothered that my life is going on around me and I cannot even go to the bathroom by myself because I may fall. Cancer nor chemo is interested in the fact that I have things to do, people to tend to, and stuff to be done.
Everyone was seemingly impressed with my "positive attitude" when all this hit. Surgery was fine. Recuperation went well. Follow up appointments a breeze. I mean, really, how much of a choice did I have except to heal? But this stuff? This chemotherapy? It is a totally different ballgame and it sucks. You cannot prepare for it despite your very best efforts. You cannot prepare for something you have no knowledge of...and until you have had that first dose, you have no earthly clue.
Lucy came over yesterday and cried with me. She had brought us lunch because she knew what was heading my way...our way. I say "our" because watching Big Daddy is probably the worst part of it all. He is beside himself with worry about me. Making sure I am steady enough to walk, drinking enough, eating something, taking my medicines, checking my vitals...the whole nine. He is going to wear himself out and that hurts my heart. This is most certainly not his element or comfort zone, and yet he refuses to leave. This is what separates mortal men from heroes. I live with a hero.
So, Lucy brought us lunch, Ms. B brought me some Oreos, Babs brought dinner, and Midge brought homemade soup. How can you not get better? How can you not will yourself to fight with everything you have when your dearest friends are rallying around you so that you can live to see your children grow up with the love of your life by your side? There is one option...suck it up.
To say I am scared about the next chemo session is a wild understatement. To think, for even a second, that it won't be even worse than this time, ANNNNND will be even worse than THAT by the end of December, is preposterous because of course it will. When they say "cumulative" that's pretty much what they mean. It's going to be bad.
Giving up or quitting are not options, of course, so I will have to endure. Sounds so motivational, doesn't it? I am not motivating. I am not inspiring or emboldened. I have cancer... I have cancer and a husband who is beside himself with fear... We have children who are afraid I am going to die... Our family reaches beyond our doors to the homes of our friends who are on their knees in prayer for us... We have a God who promises to prosper us and never harm us...a God who offers hope and a future.
"How hard can 48 hours be?? It's just two days. People can do anything for a mere two days". That was my way of thinking before the past two days. I have racked my brain trying to think of some way to articulate what I have been feeling since the first chemo. "Overwhelming, exhausting, fatigued, morose, deluged, engulfed, crushed..." None of them came close to expressing what I have felt from the chemo, but here it is. I finally can label my feelings for you to understand what I have just gone through...
"As close to death without dying".
That's it. I honestly understand why people with recurring cancer do not always seek more chemotherapy. When you are first diagnosed, of course, you will be aggressive and seek the optimum therapy available. Then you receive it. Then you rethink it.
Yeah, I get it. I understand why people opt out for another year of chemo and just tap out.
So, that's where I am. On the upswing, as Lucy calls it. Beginning to feel like I might make it. Daring to smile at something funny someone has said or even sit up. The human side of me is coming back out and although it was only a "mere two days", it makes me petrified to think I have three more of these and the effects are cumulative. A "mere two days" can literally stretch out the entirety of one treatment to the next over the three week respite.
Allow me to explain what I mean by "feeling better"...
I am able to sit up.
I am capable of keeping a banana down.
I only have a headache on one side.
I can drink slowly.
The light can be on.
I can use the bathroom by myself.
The gastrointestinal battle between diarrhea and constipation is easing off a bit, although, I am unsure as to which way yet.
Oh, yes! I am feeling fine as frog's hair! What to do next??? Maybe I will shift from my right side to my left side or maybe readjust the pillow under my neck. I could always check my phone. The possibilities are endless!!!
Needless to say, I am a wee tad angry at this whole side effect thing. I thought I had prepared myself for the fatigue..."I shall nap!" I also thought I had mentally prepared for the nausea... "I shall eat the next day!" And then there was the tremendous preparation for feeling like I am one breath away from dying... Oh wait. I had no idea. I thought I was SuperWoman and could handle whatever may come my way! If I were tired, I would press on! If Big Daddy wanted to go do something, we would do it! If something needed to be done, then done it would be! If meals needed to be prepared, I would cook! If the kids needed to be somewhere, I would take them! Life would go on and cancer would never, ever get me down!
What a dumbass.
Cancer nor chemo cares one iota about how much of a "do-er" I am. Cancer nor chemo seems to be bothered that my life is going on around me and I cannot even go to the bathroom by myself because I may fall. Cancer nor chemo is interested in the fact that I have things to do, people to tend to, and stuff to be done.
Everyone was seemingly impressed with my "positive attitude" when all this hit. Surgery was fine. Recuperation went well. Follow up appointments a breeze. I mean, really, how much of a choice did I have except to heal? But this stuff? This chemotherapy? It is a totally different ballgame and it sucks. You cannot prepare for it despite your very best efforts. You cannot prepare for something you have no knowledge of...and until you have had that first dose, you have no earthly clue.
Lucy came over yesterday and cried with me. She had brought us lunch because she knew what was heading my way...our way. I say "our" because watching Big Daddy is probably the worst part of it all. He is beside himself with worry about me. Making sure I am steady enough to walk, drinking enough, eating something, taking my medicines, checking my vitals...the whole nine. He is going to wear himself out and that hurts my heart. This is most certainly not his element or comfort zone, and yet he refuses to leave. This is what separates mortal men from heroes. I live with a hero.
So, Lucy brought us lunch, Ms. B brought me some Oreos, Babs brought dinner, and Midge brought homemade soup. How can you not get better? How can you not will yourself to fight with everything you have when your dearest friends are rallying around you so that you can live to see your children grow up with the love of your life by your side? There is one option...suck it up.
To say I am scared about the next chemo session is a wild understatement. To think, for even a second, that it won't be even worse than this time, ANNNNND will be even worse than THAT by the end of December, is preposterous because of course it will. When they say "cumulative" that's pretty much what they mean. It's going to be bad.
Giving up or quitting are not options, of course, so I will have to endure. Sounds so motivational, doesn't it? I am not motivating. I am not inspiring or emboldened. I have cancer... I have cancer and a husband who is beside himself with fear... We have children who are afraid I am going to die... Our family reaches beyond our doors to the homes of our friends who are on their knees in prayer for us... We have a God who promises to prosper us and never harm us...a God who offers hope and a future.
Chemo Sucks.
It is now Monday morning and I am just now able to sit upright at the computer. Chemo was administered on Thursday and here we are Monday morning. I feel beyond terrible. I actually cannot even find the words to express how I feel.
Saturday found us at the band competition in another county and the kids (all of them) did a fantastic job. This was Beautiful Daughter's very first show and to say "she delivered", would be an understatement. She was amazingly poised and gorgeous and hit her marks. It was a wonderful time for her to enjoy the moment. Precious Son, knowing the drill as the consummate professional, did a fabulous job as well, hitting his notes and marching with extreme precision. It was a glorious day watching all these children who have worked so very hard come together and rejoice in their common goal. How blessed are we as parents?
There is definite fatigue and exhaustion, which are labels I use for feelings I have actually had...however, whatever I have been been feeling is beyond fatigue and exhaustion. When I gave birth after 13 hours of labor...that was exhaustion. When I convinced my friends that pulling up the carpet in our house to expose hardwood floors and then having this makeover completed in three days before Big Daddy arrived home...that was fatigue. Whatever I have been feeling is grossly beyond anything I have ever felt before.
My legs shake as when you have the chills or are experiencing extreme muscle fatigue. They simply shake. I have no strength to stand. I cannot walk very far without believing I am going to collapse. There is nausea. There is jaw pain. There are times when I am covered in sweat although I have not moved.
My body is fighting itself...as is my mind. Everything is counter-intuitive. I am hungry, but nauseous. I have a headache, but still desire some mental stimulation. I am exhausted but need to get up. I am lying down but cannot lay still. My mind races. My body is literally trying to outdo itself against itself. Sleep continues to play tricks with me. Sometimes it comes but mostly not. If I do sleep, it is incredibly brief. The legs continue to shake and move as if I have restless leg syndrome. Nothing is as it seems to should be...nothing.
This is Day 4 Post Chemo and I am hopeful to feel better today. I simply cannot imagine yet another day of what I have felt like and not lose my mind.
Saturday found us at the band competition in another county and the kids (all of them) did a fantastic job. This was Beautiful Daughter's very first show and to say "she delivered", would be an understatement. She was amazingly poised and gorgeous and hit her marks. It was a wonderful time for her to enjoy the moment. Precious Son, knowing the drill as the consummate professional, did a fabulous job as well, hitting his notes and marching with extreme precision. It was a glorious day watching all these children who have worked so very hard come together and rejoice in their common goal. How blessed are we as parents?
There is definite fatigue and exhaustion, which are labels I use for feelings I have actually had...however, whatever I have been been feeling is beyond fatigue and exhaustion. When I gave birth after 13 hours of labor...that was exhaustion. When I convinced my friends that pulling up the carpet in our house to expose hardwood floors and then having this makeover completed in three days before Big Daddy arrived home...that was fatigue. Whatever I have been feeling is grossly beyond anything I have ever felt before.
My legs shake as when you have the chills or are experiencing extreme muscle fatigue. They simply shake. I have no strength to stand. I cannot walk very far without believing I am going to collapse. There is nausea. There is jaw pain. There are times when I am covered in sweat although I have not moved.
My body is fighting itself...as is my mind. Everything is counter-intuitive. I am hungry, but nauseous. I have a headache, but still desire some mental stimulation. I am exhausted but need to get up. I am lying down but cannot lay still. My mind races. My body is literally trying to outdo itself against itself. Sleep continues to play tricks with me. Sometimes it comes but mostly not. If I do sleep, it is incredibly brief. The legs continue to shake and move as if I have restless leg syndrome. Nothing is as it seems to should be...nothing.
This is Day 4 Post Chemo and I am hopeful to feel better today. I simply cannot imagine yet another day of what I have felt like and not lose my mind.
Friday, September 18, 2009
Day 1 Post Chemo - September 18, 2009
After I posted yesterday's blog entry, it was around midnight. I was getting sleepy, but just my eyes, not my body. I had purchased a new book and took it upstairs to read in bed...and I did read until almost 4am. It wasn't even that great of a book...
The alarm went off at 6am for the kids to get up and get ready for school. We have shifts here, Beautiful Daughter at 6am, Precious Son at 6:30am. I get them some breakfast as Precious Son checks in with ESPN and Beautiful Daughter straightens, curls, or scrunches her hair. Never the same look two days in a row, you know. I then wake up Big Daddy and he heads out to our shop to get the guys going. He will return home soon, though...
I started the laundry and picked up the house a bit. I never did shake the headache that began last night. Took some more Tylenol and then the rest of my regimented medicines. Steroids and Vitamin B6 and some others. I hope I got them right. Went upstairs and laid down and took about an hour and a half nap. I was jolted awake with an incredible pain in my lower jaw accompanied by chest pain. I know these are possible symptoms of a heart attack, so I sat up quickly and tried to assess my situation.
My assessment was that I am not a doctor.
I called the oncology/chemo unit as instructed and told them what had happened and about my headache. I am fine. Apparently, as long as I am not bleeding from my eyes or something equally ghoulish, I am fine.
The day has progressed well enough. I am very tired but unsure if it is because I did not sleep last night or because of the chemo. Regardless, I bought some Benadryl today and will be taking it tonight to get back on schedule.
Big Daddy took me to my hair appointment and Donna cut my hair as short as she possibly could without attaching an Indian feather headdress and sending me to be sacrificed as the white woman in the wigwam. I am practically scalped and that is exactly what I wanted. Like I mentioned yesterday, we are looking at 14 days before all the hair is gone. Let's just make this as easy as possible, shall we? Besides, I am also 14 days away from wearing my awesomely sexy wig with the hair I have always wanted. LOL
I made Big Daddy's favorite meal for tonight and Babs is coming over with her hubby to share it with us. Yes, it is the brown beans and cornbread meal with that lettuce and grease along with fried potatoes and onions. I think I will have my favorite, too...Breyer's Rocky Road with chocolate chip cookies. It's a win-win, folks.
I promised Big Daddy I would post early so I could be in the bed by 9:30pm. He is very concerned. When he lost me in Wal-Mart, it was obvious that he is my protector. Anyway, I am doing this now so that I can be obedient and go to bed on time tonight. You see, as I was up all night, so was he. You have to know by now that Big Daddy is not going to let me be alone if something is wrong and if I am up at 4am, then something is wrong. Again, he is my hero.
The alarm went off at 6am for the kids to get up and get ready for school. We have shifts here, Beautiful Daughter at 6am, Precious Son at 6:30am. I get them some breakfast as Precious Son checks in with ESPN and Beautiful Daughter straightens, curls, or scrunches her hair. Never the same look two days in a row, you know. I then wake up Big Daddy and he heads out to our shop to get the guys going. He will return home soon, though...
I started the laundry and picked up the house a bit. I never did shake the headache that began last night. Took some more Tylenol and then the rest of my regimented medicines. Steroids and Vitamin B6 and some others. I hope I got them right. Went upstairs and laid down and took about an hour and a half nap. I was jolted awake with an incredible pain in my lower jaw accompanied by chest pain. I know these are possible symptoms of a heart attack, so I sat up quickly and tried to assess my situation.
My assessment was that I am not a doctor.
I called the oncology/chemo unit as instructed and told them what had happened and about my headache. I am fine. Apparently, as long as I am not bleeding from my eyes or something equally ghoulish, I am fine.
The day has progressed well enough. I am very tired but unsure if it is because I did not sleep last night or because of the chemo. Regardless, I bought some Benadryl today and will be taking it tonight to get back on schedule.
Big Daddy took me to my hair appointment and Donna cut my hair as short as she possibly could without attaching an Indian feather headdress and sending me to be sacrificed as the white woman in the wigwam. I am practically scalped and that is exactly what I wanted. Like I mentioned yesterday, we are looking at 14 days before all the hair is gone. Let's just make this as easy as possible, shall we? Besides, I am also 14 days away from wearing my awesomely sexy wig with the hair I have always wanted. LOL
I made Big Daddy's favorite meal for tonight and Babs is coming over with her hubby to share it with us. Yes, it is the brown beans and cornbread meal with that lettuce and grease along with fried potatoes and onions. I think I will have my favorite, too...Breyer's Rocky Road with chocolate chip cookies. It's a win-win, folks.
I promised Big Daddy I would post early so I could be in the bed by 9:30pm. He is very concerned. When he lost me in Wal-Mart, it was obvious that he is my protector. Anyway, I am doing this now so that I can be obedient and go to bed on time tonight. You see, as I was up all night, so was he. You have to know by now that Big Daddy is not going to let me be alone if something is wrong and if I am up at 4am, then something is wrong. Again, he is my hero.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Chemo Treatment #1 - September 17, 2009
Obviously, I am alive, so that's a plus...well, at least to most of you. The chemo did not react with me in some sort of bizarre way as I had anticipated, however, no day with Pandora is uneventful, so let's begin...
I was at Wal-Mart at 6:30am. I picked up some man-magazines for Big Daddy and the first season of The Office on dvd, along with gallon sized bottles of hand sanitizer. Babs will be bringing over some hospital masks and we had already been given gloves for when Big Daddy and Robin were changing my disgusting fluid bulbs. (collective "ew" inserted here) I also picked up a few thingies of mints and gum, then put the gum back because Big Daddy pops it and that is a huge peeve...ask any student of mine, it's in my syllabus. "No gum popping or I will fail you."
Big Daddy and I arrived at the hospital around 8am for labs. My vein rolled. Shocked? Then you have not been reading. So, Linda, the phlebotomist, dug around and caught the little sucker and drew my blood. She hugged me as I left and said she was sorry but hopeful. I love Linda. We went on to the waiting room and then were escorted back to our bedroom. It had a tv in it and the bed was comfy. A nurse named Dawn came in and told us her address as related to ours...a few houses up the street and our kids go to school together and have since elementary. Wow. Small world.
Dawn went page by page of teaching instructions and information...possible allergic reactions, crisis intervention, and when to and when not to ring the bell. LOL She was very sweet. Dawn has been a chemo nurse for 18 years and had only had 2 people in that whole time who said accessing the port hurt. I don't know who the first person was, but allow me to introduce you to the second person...
Hello, my name is Pandora Spocks and you just hurt me so bad I am now crying like a baby.
No joke. True story.
Now, I had requested time and again, because I am absolutely fine with being a "baby" about pain, for some lidocaine or some sort of numbing agent. Dawn assured me that it wasn't necessary. We debated. She won. She lied. We moved on to the flu shot.
Dawn informed me that of alllllllllllllllllllllllllllll the flu shots she had given, no one had ever complained. Guess what. It hurt like a, well, let's just say it hurt a lot. Dawn hit my nerve. My real nerve, not my mental "gettin' on my last nerve", nerve...and it hurt. Dawn was not off to a good start with me, but she made up for it because she gave me a hug too, and we went on from there. Later Dawn told me she had never hit someone's nerve before while giving a shot. Oh, the irony and fun of being an "anomaly of science and medicine".
The hard part was over as the Benadryl started taking effect. 50 mgs of Benadryl and you just don't care. I was hoping for Ativan, thinking I needed Ativan, but I didn't and I am glad I just had the Benadryl. At this point, I am very tired of being loopy on drugs. Dawn started the IV push of saline, followed by the Herceptin, which took about an hour and 45 minutes. Next, she hung the IV bag of anti-nausea medicines for the Taxotere, the big meanie of chemotherapy. The anti-nausea meds took another 30 minutes to drain into me.
Then the Taxotere was started. Slow at first, so as to watch for the severe allergic reactions sometimes associated with it such as difficulty breathing, lower back pain which is the cause of something kidney-related, hot flash fever, and/or falling out on the floor like I thought I would. So, I thought I would stay awake as this med was administered and eat a little snack. I stayed awake for a whopping ten minutes and was out like a light. No side effects just a comfy pillow is all I recall.
The Taxotere drained into me and then it was time for the final chemo drug, Cytoxan. So one would think, right? Because that is what Dr. Horn had told us and what was written on the order, but alas, no. Change up in the pitching order. We are now going to give you Carboplatin. Huh? Well, at least it begins with a "C", right?
I was so groggy and sleepy I may have said something along the lines of "what happened to the Cytoxan?" to which Dawn replied "Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah..." I was asleep. At some point, you just have to trust these people. As it turns out, Big Daddy was Johnny-On-The-Spot and he asked Dawn why the change in meds. Apparently Dr. Horn had changed his order after we had left the other day. No big. Like we know the difference anyway. All this stuff is new. We are not the experts here...in fact, we are still so new that we are barely patients!!! Anyway, after the new drug with a "C", there was the last saline push. Then we were done.
So, our day started pretty early at the hospital, lasted until 4pm, and then to the pharmacy to pick up anti-nausea meds, tea tree oil for my nails, and Vitamin B-6 for my skin and nails. Nails are important, people. They may be the only thing I can save!!! Came home. Ate some dinner. Went back to bed. Kids came home thanks to Babs picking them up for us from practice. We all chit-chatted around and the kids (and Babs) felt better about the whole chemo thing. I told them I have a hair appointment tomorrow at 3 because Dawn said to go ahead and get it cut short. We have about 14 days before it falls out.
Ms. B is bringing dinner for us tomorrow despite my saying we will be fine. That's just how she is...a loving, caring, giver. Plus, as Lucy pointed out, we don't know that I will be fine tomorrow. Another beautiful thing about having chemotherapy...everyone reacts differently. However, as I sit here writing to you, it is almost midnight, and I feel just fine. I had dinner ready for our kids when they got home and enjoyed some down time with the family as we watched the season premiere of The Office. I do love Michael Scott. hahahahaha
As for tomorrow or even a week for now, I may not feel great, but like a good friend said, "you need to think of it as CUREtherapy as opposed to CHEMOtherapy". It's just not an option to quit or give up despite the side effects; veins rolling, shots to the nerve itself, vomiting, dehydration, headaches, hair falling out, breasts removed, or anything else. I have a family who wants me around. I have friends who think I am a hoot. I have students who say the nicest most humbling things to me about how I have changed their lives. I have people I am supposed to lead to God. I have a supportive ministry to build. I have lessons to learn myself about how to be a better wife, mother, friend, mentor, and Christian. There is simply too much to do for me to be finished yet. I am not a quitter and I will not surrender this battle, either. When God calls me home, I reckon I will go, but I just cannot imagine Him showing me the cancer only to have my life cut short in serving Him, so I will go on. (was that incredibly reminiscent of 'Titanic' or what?!?!? LOL)
As for today, the first chemotherapy treatment, it was a success. Yeah, it hurt here and there and may have been a little scary, but Big Daddy was there, holding my hand, drying my tears, and reassuring me that I could do it. And all throughout the day, as I awoke for a brief minute or two, there he sat in the most uncomfortable chair, reading his man-magazines and making sure I was never alone. If for no other reason, I will win this war on cancer so that I can spend the rest of my life loving him...even more than the past twenty years, and that's a lot. He is my hero, my best friend, the absolute love of my life.
I was at Wal-Mart at 6:30am. I picked up some man-magazines for Big Daddy and the first season of The Office on dvd, along with gallon sized bottles of hand sanitizer. Babs will be bringing over some hospital masks and we had already been given gloves for when Big Daddy and Robin were changing my disgusting fluid bulbs. (collective "ew" inserted here) I also picked up a few thingies of mints and gum, then put the gum back because Big Daddy pops it and that is a huge peeve...ask any student of mine, it's in my syllabus. "No gum popping or I will fail you."
Big Daddy and I arrived at the hospital around 8am for labs. My vein rolled. Shocked? Then you have not been reading. So, Linda, the phlebotomist, dug around and caught the little sucker and drew my blood. She hugged me as I left and said she was sorry but hopeful. I love Linda. We went on to the waiting room and then were escorted back to our bedroom. It had a tv in it and the bed was comfy. A nurse named Dawn came in and told us her address as related to ours...a few houses up the street and our kids go to school together and have since elementary. Wow. Small world.
Dawn went page by page of teaching instructions and information...possible allergic reactions, crisis intervention, and when to and when not to ring the bell. LOL She was very sweet. Dawn has been a chemo nurse for 18 years and had only had 2 people in that whole time who said accessing the port hurt. I don't know who the first person was, but allow me to introduce you to the second person...
Hello, my name is Pandora Spocks and you just hurt me so bad I am now crying like a baby.
No joke. True story.
Now, I had requested time and again, because I am absolutely fine with being a "baby" about pain, for some lidocaine or some sort of numbing agent. Dawn assured me that it wasn't necessary. We debated. She won. She lied. We moved on to the flu shot.
Dawn informed me that of alllllllllllllllllllllllllllll the flu shots she had given, no one had ever complained. Guess what. It hurt like a, well, let's just say it hurt a lot. Dawn hit my nerve. My real nerve, not my mental "gettin' on my last nerve", nerve...and it hurt. Dawn was not off to a good start with me, but she made up for it because she gave me a hug too, and we went on from there. Later Dawn told me she had never hit someone's nerve before while giving a shot. Oh, the irony and fun of being an "anomaly of science and medicine".
The hard part was over as the Benadryl started taking effect. 50 mgs of Benadryl and you just don't care. I was hoping for Ativan, thinking I needed Ativan, but I didn't and I am glad I just had the Benadryl. At this point, I am very tired of being loopy on drugs. Dawn started the IV push of saline, followed by the Herceptin, which took about an hour and 45 minutes. Next, she hung the IV bag of anti-nausea medicines for the Taxotere, the big meanie of chemotherapy. The anti-nausea meds took another 30 minutes to drain into me.
Then the Taxotere was started. Slow at first, so as to watch for the severe allergic reactions sometimes associated with it such as difficulty breathing, lower back pain which is the cause of something kidney-related, hot flash fever, and/or falling out on the floor like I thought I would. So, I thought I would stay awake as this med was administered and eat a little snack. I stayed awake for a whopping ten minutes and was out like a light. No side effects just a comfy pillow is all I recall.
The Taxotere drained into me and then it was time for the final chemo drug, Cytoxan. So one would think, right? Because that is what Dr. Horn had told us and what was written on the order, but alas, no. Change up in the pitching order. We are now going to give you Carboplatin. Huh? Well, at least it begins with a "C", right?
I was so groggy and sleepy I may have said something along the lines of "what happened to the Cytoxan?" to which Dawn replied "Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah..." I was asleep. At some point, you just have to trust these people. As it turns out, Big Daddy was Johnny-On-The-Spot and he asked Dawn why the change in meds. Apparently Dr. Horn had changed his order after we had left the other day. No big. Like we know the difference anyway. All this stuff is new. We are not the experts here...in fact, we are still so new that we are barely patients!!! Anyway, after the new drug with a "C", there was the last saline push. Then we were done.
So, our day started pretty early at the hospital, lasted until 4pm, and then to the pharmacy to pick up anti-nausea meds, tea tree oil for my nails, and Vitamin B-6 for my skin and nails. Nails are important, people. They may be the only thing I can save!!! Came home. Ate some dinner. Went back to bed. Kids came home thanks to Babs picking them up for us from practice. We all chit-chatted around and the kids (and Babs) felt better about the whole chemo thing. I told them I have a hair appointment tomorrow at 3 because Dawn said to go ahead and get it cut short. We have about 14 days before it falls out.
Ms. B is bringing dinner for us tomorrow despite my saying we will be fine. That's just how she is...a loving, caring, giver. Plus, as Lucy pointed out, we don't know that I will be fine tomorrow. Another beautiful thing about having chemotherapy...everyone reacts differently. However, as I sit here writing to you, it is almost midnight, and I feel just fine. I had dinner ready for our kids when they got home and enjoyed some down time with the family as we watched the season premiere of The Office. I do love Michael Scott. hahahahaha
As for tomorrow or even a week for now, I may not feel great, but like a good friend said, "you need to think of it as CUREtherapy as opposed to CHEMOtherapy". It's just not an option to quit or give up despite the side effects; veins rolling, shots to the nerve itself, vomiting, dehydration, headaches, hair falling out, breasts removed, or anything else. I have a family who wants me around. I have friends who think I am a hoot. I have students who say the nicest most humbling things to me about how I have changed their lives. I have people I am supposed to lead to God. I have a supportive ministry to build. I have lessons to learn myself about how to be a better wife, mother, friend, mentor, and Christian. There is simply too much to do for me to be finished yet. I am not a quitter and I will not surrender this battle, either. When God calls me home, I reckon I will go, but I just cannot imagine Him showing me the cancer only to have my life cut short in serving Him, so I will go on. (was that incredibly reminiscent of 'Titanic' or what?!?!? LOL)
As for today, the first chemotherapy treatment, it was a success. Yeah, it hurt here and there and may have been a little scary, but Big Daddy was there, holding my hand, drying my tears, and reassuring me that I could do it. And all throughout the day, as I awoke for a brief minute or two, there he sat in the most uncomfortable chair, reading his man-magazines and making sure I was never alone. If for no other reason, I will win this war on cancer so that I can spend the rest of my life loving him...even more than the past twenty years, and that's a lot. He is my hero, my best friend, the absolute love of my life.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Twas the night before chemo and all through the house...
Today, I was supposed to gather my things for tomorrow, my first chemotherapy treatment. Today, I did not do that. Instead, I paid bills, both personal and for our business, went to the bank, went to the pharmacy to pick up my prescription for something I am supposed to take the day before chemo (which I forgot about until 3pm), went to pick up Beautiful Daughter's friend, met Babs, went to school to watch the kids do a run-through, dropped all four kids off at church, went to class, taught, picked up the kids from church, went to the Christian book store for a book I have been looking for for two weeks, dropped off kids that aren't legally mine so I can't keep them which makes me sad because I love them so much, came home, divied up a smorgasbord of a meal I cooked for tomorrow for Babs' family and ours, reviewed homework, chatted with Big Daddy as we walked to drop off cards to our little friend who is having surgery tomorrow, received my pep talk from Big Daddy ("we are gonna buck up and battle!"), checked email, Facebook, got some ice cream and cookies, and here I am. Honestly, I did a lot more today but you get the drift. There is no bag packed for tomorrow.
My concern about tomorrow is not the norm, I am sure. I have had this thought looming over me as each and every doctor report has come back saying "Wow! This is new", or "Gee, I have never seen this before", or my most recent favorite: "You are an anomaly of science and medicine". So, of course, why would I think tomorrow is going to be any different? If fatigue, nausea, vomiting, dehydration, allergic reaction, discomfort, pain, and/or port problems are the norm and I am NOT the norm, that means only one thing...I am going to die tomorrow because nobody dies from chemo...
I can hear it now...
Chemo nurses IV push my chemo and there is an immediate reaction and I am down for the count.
"Wow! This is new", Nurse 1 says to Nurse 2 who follows up with "Gee, I have never seen this before". I code and that is that and then, on my tombstone I will be unable to put on there "I told you I was sick" and will have to settle for "She had a bilateral mastectomy for nothing, now THAT sucks."
You see, for years, I have had this planned...
Here lies Pandora Spocks
"I told you I was sick!"
See? That's funny. I want people in the cemetery to see it and at least smile as they are there to pay tribute or to visit a loved one who has passed. The gift that keeps on giving, kind of thing. Now? Impossible. I won't be "sick", so that won't funny. It will make me a liar, and I won't lie. So here we are...
Here lies Pandora Spocks
She had a bilateral mastectomy for nothing.
Now THAT sucks.
So much for plans, I guess.
I am not scared, per se. I am not even really worried at this point. I was, but I am not now. I received an email from a friend who is having a lump biopsied tomorrow. I had been with her for another appointment, but because of her young age, they did not biopsy her lump...even with a strong history of breast cancer in her family. She didn't rant and rave despite having every right to because the medical community is IGNORING this young woman and her entire history because she is 29. AAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!! Anyway, her email was not about her appointment tomorrow, instead, it was about her young nephew, serving in Iraq.
The nephew saw his best friend get killed in battle. He left behind a young wife and three small children. The nephew is now doubting God because how could God allow this to happen day after day after day to people who are good and fighting the good fight? My friend asked me what she should say to him to help him find God again and to not doubt His love for him.
Tomorrow, my friend's world may be turned upside down but tonight, she is focused on God and saving her nephew from a life of searching and always feeling lost if he walks away from God. Her concern is not for herself because her calling as a Christian is bigger than herself.
And so it goes with me. Before the email I was all upset about my epitaph not being funny for future generations of cemetery-goers... After the email, it's clear as crystal. I am part of a bigger calling than myself and there is a boy out there fighting a war he did not start, and he needs prayer...
Father God, I come before you tonight with a heart of thanksgiving, honor and praise. I acknowledge You for who You are, God of all creation, heaven and earth. You are God. Tonight, dear Father, I lift up to you my friend who is undergoing a difficult procedure tomorrow and I pray You steady the hands of the physician and you calm the spirit of my friend. I pray for her healing through whatever path she must walk. I humbly thank you for my friend and I trust You for her care.
Heavenly Father, I lift up to you my family and friends who have done so much for me, more than I could ever deserve. While I judge myself a sinner undeserving, they have shown me Your love through prayer and deed, and I shall be forever and humbly thankful. Where there were closed doors, You opened a new ones and I found a new friends. My cup runneth over as I am Yours.
I praise Your holy name, dear God, and I thank You with all my heart, for my husband and my children. The very ones who relay Your strength and courage and I know I will win this fight. You would not have shown me the lumps if You were not going to use me for a while to come. I pray I serve You well.
Finally Father, I lift up to You our soldiers who are trying so desperately to right the wrongs of evil abroad. And this special nephew, God, touch him, move his spirit, allow him to hear You speak softly to him as You comfort him. Protect him, dear God, as only You can and not only from battle and the enemy we see, but also from satan, who only requires a foothold. Please be with those who have lost loved ones in this war and please be with those who seek You in mourning and loss, trial and tribulation, sin and anger. Dear God, please include me.
God, You are my God, and I forever praise You.
I will seek You in the morning,
And I will learn to walk in Your ways...
And step by step You lead me,
And I will follow You all of my days.
Amen.
My concern about tomorrow is not the norm, I am sure. I have had this thought looming over me as each and every doctor report has come back saying "Wow! This is new", or "Gee, I have never seen this before", or my most recent favorite: "You are an anomaly of science and medicine". So, of course, why would I think tomorrow is going to be any different? If fatigue, nausea, vomiting, dehydration, allergic reaction, discomfort, pain, and/or port problems are the norm and I am NOT the norm, that means only one thing...I am going to die tomorrow because nobody dies from chemo...
I can hear it now...
Chemo nurses IV push my chemo and there is an immediate reaction and I am down for the count.
"Wow! This is new", Nurse 1 says to Nurse 2 who follows up with "Gee, I have never seen this before". I code and that is that and then, on my tombstone I will be unable to put on there "I told you I was sick" and will have to settle for "She had a bilateral mastectomy for nothing, now THAT sucks."
You see, for years, I have had this planned...
Here lies Pandora Spocks
"I told you I was sick!"
See? That's funny. I want people in the cemetery to see it and at least smile as they are there to pay tribute or to visit a loved one who has passed. The gift that keeps on giving, kind of thing. Now? Impossible. I won't be "sick", so that won't funny. It will make me a liar, and I won't lie. So here we are...
Here lies Pandora Spocks
She had a bilateral mastectomy for nothing.
Now THAT sucks.
So much for plans, I guess.
I am not scared, per se. I am not even really worried at this point. I was, but I am not now. I received an email from a friend who is having a lump biopsied tomorrow. I had been with her for another appointment, but because of her young age, they did not biopsy her lump...even with a strong history of breast cancer in her family. She didn't rant and rave despite having every right to because the medical community is IGNORING this young woman and her entire history because she is 29. AAARRRRGGGGHHHH!!!!! Anyway, her email was not about her appointment tomorrow, instead, it was about her young nephew, serving in Iraq.
The nephew saw his best friend get killed in battle. He left behind a young wife and three small children. The nephew is now doubting God because how could God allow this to happen day after day after day to people who are good and fighting the good fight? My friend asked me what she should say to him to help him find God again and to not doubt His love for him.
Tomorrow, my friend's world may be turned upside down but tonight, she is focused on God and saving her nephew from a life of searching and always feeling lost if he walks away from God. Her concern is not for herself because her calling as a Christian is bigger than herself.
And so it goes with me. Before the email I was all upset about my epitaph not being funny for future generations of cemetery-goers... After the email, it's clear as crystal. I am part of a bigger calling than myself and there is a boy out there fighting a war he did not start, and he needs prayer...
Father God, I come before you tonight with a heart of thanksgiving, honor and praise. I acknowledge You for who You are, God of all creation, heaven and earth. You are God. Tonight, dear Father, I lift up to you my friend who is undergoing a difficult procedure tomorrow and I pray You steady the hands of the physician and you calm the spirit of my friend. I pray for her healing through whatever path she must walk. I humbly thank you for my friend and I trust You for her care.
Heavenly Father, I lift up to you my family and friends who have done so much for me, more than I could ever deserve. While I judge myself a sinner undeserving, they have shown me Your love through prayer and deed, and I shall be forever and humbly thankful. Where there were closed doors, You opened a new ones and I found a new friends. My cup runneth over as I am Yours.
I praise Your holy name, dear God, and I thank You with all my heart, for my husband and my children. The very ones who relay Your strength and courage and I know I will win this fight. You would not have shown me the lumps if You were not going to use me for a while to come. I pray I serve You well.
Finally Father, I lift up to You our soldiers who are trying so desperately to right the wrongs of evil abroad. And this special nephew, God, touch him, move his spirit, allow him to hear You speak softly to him as You comfort him. Protect him, dear God, as only You can and not only from battle and the enemy we see, but also from satan, who only requires a foothold. Please be with those who have lost loved ones in this war and please be with those who seek You in mourning and loss, trial and tribulation, sin and anger. Dear God, please include me.
God, You are my God, and I forever praise You.
I will seek You in the morning,
And I will learn to walk in Your ways...
And step by step You lead me,
And I will follow You all of my days.
Amen.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Saturday from Heaven
As horrible as Friday was, Saturday was the polar opposite. The kids had to be at the high school by 9am for an all-day mini camp for marching band and Big Daddy had plans to watch the UFC fighting at the Harley Davidson shop. This left me with the day free to hang out with my friends, so I did.
Babs had asked me if I would be available for lunch and a movie about a week ago and I had jumped at the chance. I love movies, but not shoot 'em up movies or blood and guts movies. I love romantic comedies and movies based on true stories, well, as long as the true story does not involve blood and guts.
So, we made plans last week for this big day out, Babs, Midge, and me. My house sits in between their houses, so we decided to meet here. The weather was so gorgeous and sunshiney, I sat on the front porch and waited for them.
Oddly, Midge was riding with Babs as they arrived. I had no idea what they could be up to, but it obvious that they were up to something. I walked up to them as they got out of the car and they looked like twins. Both were wearing blue jean shorts, flip flops and long-sleeved, white tee shirts that read: "I wear pink for my hero, my best friend". It was an amazingly sweet moment. These two beautiful women had ordered these shirts to show their support and I was incredibly touched.
We ate at TGIFridays, and if you have never tried their fried green beans, you must. They are delicious. I am not one to eat fried food, however, these fried green beans are simply too wonderful for words. Well, if you consider "mmmmmmmmmmmmm" a word, then maybe.
We talked, we laughed, we ate, and we laughed some more. I had brought my camera with me as usual, so we had some people take pictures of the three of us for posterity, I guess. It was wonderfully happy.
Next, we went to see Tyler Perry's "I Can Do Bad All By Myself" and it was fabulous! This was by far the best Tyler Perry movie to date. What a talented man. No one could love Madea more than I do. She is my hero. If you have not had the pleasure of watching the Madea movies, you should. They are uplifting and Madea is too funny for words.
After the movie, we each had different plans to attend to. I headed to the high school to pick up the kids and to watch the final run-through for the day. These kids are amazing. They work so very hard and are committed to this higher calling of "being a team". They are learning great lessons without even realizing it. They are being shaped for their futures. It is an exciting time for everyone as our first competition looms...
Big Daddy arrived back home from the Harley place the same time the kids and I arrived home from our running the roads. We cooked dinner and had a very quiet evening together as a family. It was then that I realized how precious the simple things in life are...
Lunch with friends
Brushing your daughter's hair
Watching your husband sleep
Listening to your son as he discusses the latest football stats for his favorite NFL team
Sharing a blanket
Making popcorn
Tickle fights
Petting the pooch
When life was so busy for us before the diagnosis, we missed a lot of these "simple things" as a family. Always rushing toward the goal, the achievement, the event...and missing the "now". Isn't it oddly cliche how it takes a life threatening illness to make you appreciate the "now"? Why do we do that? Everyone knows that tomorrow is not guaranteed so why do we place so much stock in it? We are counting on tomorrow being there and us being there...and there is no promise of tomorrow being there at all.
Hopefully you are taking the time to have a Saturday from Heaven with your friends or family. Hopefully you are fully aware that life is short and there are no guarantees that everything you want to accomplish will be accomplished. But we have today, so let's make it count. The old saying about "today is a gift and that is why we call it the present" always seemed so lame to me before...and now it seems quite poignant. Yet another example of how very true the simplest of things can be.
Enjoy your present.
Babs had asked me if I would be available for lunch and a movie about a week ago and I had jumped at the chance. I love movies, but not shoot 'em up movies or blood and guts movies. I love romantic comedies and movies based on true stories, well, as long as the true story does not involve blood and guts.
So, we made plans last week for this big day out, Babs, Midge, and me. My house sits in between their houses, so we decided to meet here. The weather was so gorgeous and sunshiney, I sat on the front porch and waited for them.
Oddly, Midge was riding with Babs as they arrived. I had no idea what they could be up to, but it obvious that they were up to something. I walked up to them as they got out of the car and they looked like twins. Both were wearing blue jean shorts, flip flops and long-sleeved, white tee shirts that read: "I wear pink for my hero, my best friend". It was an amazingly sweet moment. These two beautiful women had ordered these shirts to show their support and I was incredibly touched.
We ate at TGIFridays, and if you have never tried their fried green beans, you must. They are delicious. I am not one to eat fried food, however, these fried green beans are simply too wonderful for words. Well, if you consider "mmmmmmmmmmmmm" a word, then maybe.
We talked, we laughed, we ate, and we laughed some more. I had brought my camera with me as usual, so we had some people take pictures of the three of us for posterity, I guess. It was wonderfully happy.
Next, we went to see Tyler Perry's "I Can Do Bad All By Myself" and it was fabulous! This was by far the best Tyler Perry movie to date. What a talented man. No one could love Madea more than I do. She is my hero. If you have not had the pleasure of watching the Madea movies, you should. They are uplifting and Madea is too funny for words.
After the movie, we each had different plans to attend to. I headed to the high school to pick up the kids and to watch the final run-through for the day. These kids are amazing. They work so very hard and are committed to this higher calling of "being a team". They are learning great lessons without even realizing it. They are being shaped for their futures. It is an exciting time for everyone as our first competition looms...
Big Daddy arrived back home from the Harley place the same time the kids and I arrived home from our running the roads. We cooked dinner and had a very quiet evening together as a family. It was then that I realized how precious the simple things in life are...
Lunch with friends
Brushing your daughter's hair
Watching your husband sleep
Listening to your son as he discusses the latest football stats for his favorite NFL team
Sharing a blanket
Making popcorn
Tickle fights
Petting the pooch
When life was so busy for us before the diagnosis, we missed a lot of these "simple things" as a family. Always rushing toward the goal, the achievement, the event...and missing the "now". Isn't it oddly cliche how it takes a life threatening illness to make you appreciate the "now"? Why do we do that? Everyone knows that tomorrow is not guaranteed so why do we place so much stock in it? We are counting on tomorrow being there and us being there...and there is no promise of tomorrow being there at all.
Hopefully you are taking the time to have a Saturday from Heaven with your friends or family. Hopefully you are fully aware that life is short and there are no guarantees that everything you want to accomplish will be accomplished. But we have today, so let's make it count. The old saying about "today is a gift and that is why we call it the present" always seemed so lame to me before...and now it seems quite poignant. Yet another example of how very true the simplest of things can be.
Enjoy your present.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Friday From Hell
I have a table in my dining room which is where the daily mail is deposited. I have a system, although no one else may think so or understand, it works for me. However, when my table system is chaotic, so is my life. I try very hard to keep the table top cleared because this means I have organized and appropriately handled all the mail...thus my life is in order.
Enter cancer.
Cancer comes in and sits in the middle of my table, bringing with it piles of mail.
Explanations of Benefits
Doctor Bills
Laboratory Bills
Surgeon Bills
Scan Bills
Pathology Bills
Two Colonoscopy Bills (I know, I know)
Utility Bills
Mortgage Payment Bills
Insurance Bills
Phone Bills
Buffalo Bills
You get the idea.
On Friday, I had sorted through and matched up my Explanation of Benefits with my doctor bill co-pay amounts and the balance owed. Lo and behold, there it was, one of several...CLAIM DENIED.
What?
How can an insurance company possibly deny a claim for a pathology report when the diagnosis is cancer?
Ok. So, I gather my paperwork, get the account numbers and everything I could possibly need and start calling. I decide to begin with the doctor's office...
They told me to call the insurance company...
The insurance company told me to call the lab...
The lab told me to call the doctor's office...and so it went.
At one point, I was fairly convinced someone was videotaping me without my consent so that the episode could air on "Punked" or some other moronic tv show. Then it occurred to me that "Punked" is for celebrities and until I land a spot on The Ellen Show, I am still a nobody and nobody's are not videotaped for "Punked", so this must be real.
Being unable to locate my husband's pistol, I went ahead and called the doctor's office back, telling their billing department the exact same thing I had told them twenty minutes earlier. Amazingly, they still did not care.
Now, do not confuse the doctor's billing department with the doctors and nurses. The doctors and nurses have been phenomenal...it's those other people. The ones with no conscience.
"Ma'am, there is nothing we can do. You will have to contact the insurance company and have them take a look at it."
"No. I don't need to contact them, YOU need to refile. The insurance company has said you have miscoded the diagnosis. I did not have a bilateral mastectomy as a preventive care."
"Well, that is what the doctor dictated, so that is what we have to go by."
"No, he didn't."
"Yes, he did."
"No, he didn't."
"Yes. He. Did."
"No. He. Did. Not."
"Mrs. Spocks, it really is out of our hands. We can only submit to the insurance company what the doctor has dictated. This bill is your responsibility."
"Bite me, Andy."
"Excuse me? Did you say to 'bite you'?"
"Look here, Billy (I have memory issues with names). I am not paying this bill. I am not responsible for this bill. I just hung up with the insurance company and they WILL pay this bill if you resubmit it with the correct diagnosis code on it. I have breast cancer. I had a double mastectomy. We passed 'preventive care' decades ago and I can assure you, there is a mistake somewhere because my doctor did NOT say this was a voluntary surgery so that I might not get cancer. Bobby, I am telling you, I HAVE CANCER SO RECODE IT AND RESUBMIT THE CLAIM IF YOU WANT YOUR MONEY!!!!!"
"Is there a number I can reach you if we have any questions?"
"Try 1-800-ANTHEM BLUECROSS. They will be happy to help you with any questions you might have. Now, Johnny, if you call me and tell me one more time that my breasts were cut off as a means of preventive care, I am coming down there and speaking to you in person. Seriously, Jimmy. I will come down there and you won't like me. File the claim correctly and do not send me anymore bills. "
"Our coders are in Atlanta, so it may take a few days before I know anything."
"Fair enough, Bobby. It may take me a few days to gather up bail. It's been a rough couple of days with me and some other billing departments. Are you familiar with the Madea movies? Well, I am the white Madea...Madea Blanco to you."
I hung up with Freddie and realized that in the past hour and a half, I had said the words, "I have cancer" more than the entire time since my diagnosis. No one was listening to me. No one was holding my hand. No one seemed to care at all! This whole time I had been so blessed to have incredibly thoughtful and empathetic nurses, physicians, and aides...some of whom had even cried with me! Total strangers had reached out to me and dried my tears as I was rolled away on a gurney from Big Daddy...held my hand as I was ushered into another surgery...and had smiled at me that "mommy smile", like when you are little and you know you want something and your mommy knows you can't have it but she wants to be able to give it to you, like a pony or a candy store.
There were no nurturing mommies in the billing departments for any of these places I had to call. Not one of them said "Oh my, you are so young, what a shame" or "well, honey, aren't you just the sweetest thing" or "you know, you are going to beat this thing"... Nobody said any of that stuff to me. They just wanted me to pay.
Big Daddy had been gone all day with our business as he was trying to get everything lined up for when I begin the chemo. The kids were in school. My friends were at their jobs and I realized how alone I felt...just me and those three words..."I have cancer".
Nothing had changed. The family who has rallied around me were still there. The friends who have stopped their lives to help me fight for mine were still there. The people who have shown their true colors, true spirit, true selves, were still there or not there, whatever the case may be. Nothing had changed except that I had given it a voice.
"It" was cancer. The murderer of my mother. The robber of my health. The threat to my daughter. Here "it" was and I was facing it alone.
Big Daddy had gone out of his way since the day the call came to make sure I was never alone. Never. Sometimes I wanted to be alone for a little bit. You know how it is...you can accomplish soooooooooooo much more when you have the house to yourself. My house has almost been like some sort of sporting match where you "tap out" for relief as a new athlete steps in to take over. Babs taps out for Midge who taps out for Big Daddy who taps out for Ms. B. who taps for, well, you get the idea. Never alone...until now. And now I had said it over and over and over...and no one that heard it cared.
Big Daddy came in that afternoon and I was sitting in the living room, looking out the window watching cars drive by... He could easily tell I was upset and that I had been crying. He asked what was wrong I tried for a whopping two seconds to hold it together, but couldn't.
"I may be a tad overwhelmed." And then I told him through tears and sniffley snorts of snot what all had transpired.
Big Daddy held me and reassured me like only he can do and promised that we would get through this thing together and that there was no need to worry or fret about miscodings or misfilings or anything else that detracts from my concentrating on getting better.
"Even the mean people?"
"Yes, even the mean people. Forget about them."
"Even the family members that are being so hurtful?"
"Yes, even them. We don't need them."
"Do I look like a raccoon?"
"Yes."
And we laughed.
So this was the day that the words may have come out of my mouth more than ever before, but it was NOT the day we gave up the fight or the day that the "mean people" won. Sure, I have hurt feelings because I let some people and some family members get to me, but I also have a husband, two children, more friends than ever and deeper, closer bonds with family members that have stepped up and put family first...and those people outnumber the mean people every day...and the words they say to me are louder and more clear than uttering the words "I have cancer" because those people say they love me.
As for you mean people...I hope you find love. Some of you, because of how you are, will take a while to find, so you may want to start looking now.
Enter cancer.
Cancer comes in and sits in the middle of my table, bringing with it piles of mail.
Explanations of Benefits
Doctor Bills
Laboratory Bills
Surgeon Bills
Scan Bills
Pathology Bills
Two Colonoscopy Bills (I know, I know)
Utility Bills
Mortgage Payment Bills
Insurance Bills
Phone Bills
Buffalo Bills
You get the idea.
On Friday, I had sorted through and matched up my Explanation of Benefits with my doctor bill co-pay amounts and the balance owed. Lo and behold, there it was, one of several...CLAIM DENIED.
What?
How can an insurance company possibly deny a claim for a pathology report when the diagnosis is cancer?
Ok. So, I gather my paperwork, get the account numbers and everything I could possibly need and start calling. I decide to begin with the doctor's office...
They told me to call the insurance company...
The insurance company told me to call the lab...
The lab told me to call the doctor's office...and so it went.
At one point, I was fairly convinced someone was videotaping me without my consent so that the episode could air on "Punked" or some other moronic tv show. Then it occurred to me that "Punked" is for celebrities and until I land a spot on The Ellen Show, I am still a nobody and nobody's are not videotaped for "Punked", so this must be real.
Being unable to locate my husband's pistol, I went ahead and called the doctor's office back, telling their billing department the exact same thing I had told them twenty minutes earlier. Amazingly, they still did not care.
Now, do not confuse the doctor's billing department with the doctors and nurses. The doctors and nurses have been phenomenal...it's those other people. The ones with no conscience.
"Ma'am, there is nothing we can do. You will have to contact the insurance company and have them take a look at it."
"No. I don't need to contact them, YOU need to refile. The insurance company has said you have miscoded the diagnosis. I did not have a bilateral mastectomy as a preventive care."
"Well, that is what the doctor dictated, so that is what we have to go by."
"No, he didn't."
"Yes, he did."
"No, he didn't."
"Yes. He. Did."
"No. He. Did. Not."
"Mrs. Spocks, it really is out of our hands. We can only submit to the insurance company what the doctor has dictated. This bill is your responsibility."
"Bite me, Andy."
"Excuse me? Did you say to 'bite you'?"
"Look here, Billy (I have memory issues with names). I am not paying this bill. I am not responsible for this bill. I just hung up with the insurance company and they WILL pay this bill if you resubmit it with the correct diagnosis code on it. I have breast cancer. I had a double mastectomy. We passed 'preventive care' decades ago and I can assure you, there is a mistake somewhere because my doctor did NOT say this was a voluntary surgery so that I might not get cancer. Bobby, I am telling you, I HAVE CANCER SO RECODE IT AND RESUBMIT THE CLAIM IF YOU WANT YOUR MONEY!!!!!"
"Is there a number I can reach you if we have any questions?"
"Try 1-800-ANTHEM BLUECROSS. They will be happy to help you with any questions you might have. Now, Johnny, if you call me and tell me one more time that my breasts were cut off as a means of preventive care, I am coming down there and speaking to you in person. Seriously, Jimmy. I will come down there and you won't like me. File the claim correctly and do not send me anymore bills. "
"Our coders are in Atlanta, so it may take a few days before I know anything."
"Fair enough, Bobby. It may take me a few days to gather up bail. It's been a rough couple of days with me and some other billing departments. Are you familiar with the Madea movies? Well, I am the white Madea...Madea Blanco to you."
I hung up with Freddie and realized that in the past hour and a half, I had said the words, "I have cancer" more than the entire time since my diagnosis. No one was listening to me. No one was holding my hand. No one seemed to care at all! This whole time I had been so blessed to have incredibly thoughtful and empathetic nurses, physicians, and aides...some of whom had even cried with me! Total strangers had reached out to me and dried my tears as I was rolled away on a gurney from Big Daddy...held my hand as I was ushered into another surgery...and had smiled at me that "mommy smile", like when you are little and you know you want something and your mommy knows you can't have it but she wants to be able to give it to you, like a pony or a candy store.
There were no nurturing mommies in the billing departments for any of these places I had to call. Not one of them said "Oh my, you are so young, what a shame" or "well, honey, aren't you just the sweetest thing" or "you know, you are going to beat this thing"... Nobody said any of that stuff to me. They just wanted me to pay.
Big Daddy had been gone all day with our business as he was trying to get everything lined up for when I begin the chemo. The kids were in school. My friends were at their jobs and I realized how alone I felt...just me and those three words..."I have cancer".
Nothing had changed. The family who has rallied around me were still there. The friends who have stopped their lives to help me fight for mine were still there. The people who have shown their true colors, true spirit, true selves, were still there or not there, whatever the case may be. Nothing had changed except that I had given it a voice.
"It" was cancer. The murderer of my mother. The robber of my health. The threat to my daughter. Here "it" was and I was facing it alone.
Big Daddy had gone out of his way since the day the call came to make sure I was never alone. Never. Sometimes I wanted to be alone for a little bit. You know how it is...you can accomplish soooooooooooo much more when you have the house to yourself. My house has almost been like some sort of sporting match where you "tap out" for relief as a new athlete steps in to take over. Babs taps out for Midge who taps out for Big Daddy who taps out for Ms. B. who taps for, well, you get the idea. Never alone...until now. And now I had said it over and over and over...and no one that heard it cared.
Big Daddy came in that afternoon and I was sitting in the living room, looking out the window watching cars drive by... He could easily tell I was upset and that I had been crying. He asked what was wrong I tried for a whopping two seconds to hold it together, but couldn't.
"I may be a tad overwhelmed." And then I told him through tears and sniffley snorts of snot what all had transpired.
Big Daddy held me and reassured me like only he can do and promised that we would get through this thing together and that there was no need to worry or fret about miscodings or misfilings or anything else that detracts from my concentrating on getting better.
"Even the mean people?"
"Yes, even the mean people. Forget about them."
"Even the family members that are being so hurtful?"
"Yes, even them. We don't need them."
"Do I look like a raccoon?"
"Yes."
And we laughed.
So this was the day that the words may have come out of my mouth more than ever before, but it was NOT the day we gave up the fight or the day that the "mean people" won. Sure, I have hurt feelings because I let some people and some family members get to me, but I also have a husband, two children, more friends than ever and deeper, closer bonds with family members that have stepped up and put family first...and those people outnumber the mean people every day...and the words they say to me are louder and more clear than uttering the words "I have cancer" because those people say they love me.
As for you mean people...I hope you find love. Some of you, because of how you are, will take a while to find, so you may want to start looking now.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Midge
Let me just say that I did not want to overwhelm my readers with a litany of beautiful and wonderful people that you may never know, so I decided to pepper my entries with tributes to my friends so that you can distinguish them as you read along. Today is about Midge...and you are gonna LOVE her!
So as not to play favorites, I have also written an homage to Midge, akin to that of Babs' posted earlier. I do hope you enjoy it for it truly reflects the essence of Midge...
I like that boom boom pow
Them chickens jackin' my style
They try copy my swagger
I'm on that next bit now
I'm so 300o and 8
You so 2000 and late
I got that boom boom boom
That future boom boom boom
Let me get it now
This beat be bumpin' bumpin'
This beat go boom boom
Let the beat rock
Here we go, here we go
Satellite radio
Y'all getting hit with (Boom boom)
Beats so big I'm steppin on leprechauns
Boom boom
Ok. So I am totally kidding. However, Midge is easily embarrassed and I don't want to do that to her, so suffice it to say that she is the one who stood by me the past 10 years through my mess ups, dumb ideas, and chinese buffets. She gets my jokes we laugh so hard we get those pains in the side that hurt so bad, but you can't stop laughing. Midge has laughed with me, cried with me, prayed with me, and I am forever blessed that she continues to choose me as her friend.
Midge is caught in this generation when her true calling was the sixties. She has long, long hair that she has been "going to get cut" for about 20 years. She loves peace signs, funky earrings, and yelling at people who can't drive. She has tried new churches with me and sat in plenty of waiting rooms for me. Her biggest dream is to own a farm with her husband of 25 years, wear long, flowy skirts, and never brush her hair. To me, that's a pretty humble dream...and so is she.
A Midge-ism:
Me: "Why do you smoke?"
Midge: "I only smoke occasionally."
Me: "Ok, so why do you smoke occasionally?"
Midge: "Because I don't drink."
Midge, I humbly thank you for sticking around with me to see how the world turns out for us. I adore you.
Boom, boom, pow.
So as not to play favorites, I have also written an homage to Midge, akin to that of Babs' posted earlier. I do hope you enjoy it for it truly reflects the essence of Midge...
I like that boom boom pow
Them chickens jackin' my style
They try copy my swagger
I'm on that next bit now
I'm so 300o and 8
You so 2000 and late
I got that boom boom boom
That future boom boom boom
Let me get it now
This beat be bumpin' bumpin'
This beat go boom boom
Let the beat rock
Here we go, here we go
Satellite radio
Y'all getting hit with (Boom boom)
Beats so big I'm steppin on leprechauns
Boom boom
Ok. So I am totally kidding. However, Midge is easily embarrassed and I don't want to do that to her, so suffice it to say that she is the one who stood by me the past 10 years through my mess ups, dumb ideas, and chinese buffets. She gets my jokes we laugh so hard we get those pains in the side that hurt so bad, but you can't stop laughing. Midge has laughed with me, cried with me, prayed with me, and I am forever blessed that she continues to choose me as her friend.
Midge is caught in this generation when her true calling was the sixties. She has long, long hair that she has been "going to get cut" for about 20 years. She loves peace signs, funky earrings, and yelling at people who can't drive. She has tried new churches with me and sat in plenty of waiting rooms for me. Her biggest dream is to own a farm with her husband of 25 years, wear long, flowy skirts, and never brush her hair. To me, that's a pretty humble dream...and so is she.
A Midge-ism:
Me: "Why do you smoke?"
Midge: "I only smoke occasionally."
Me: "Ok, so why do you smoke occasionally?"
Midge: "Because I don't drink."
Midge, I humbly thank you for sticking around with me to see how the world turns out for us. I adore you.
Boom, boom, pow.
Survey SAYS..."Equivocal"
I highly recommend you visit this website (http://www.herceptin.com/her2-breast-cancer/testing-education/what-is.jsp) to learn about the HER2NEU breast cancer gene, if you want additional information. It is an accurate and factual website about the breast cancer chemotherapy drug, Herceptin. The site explains stuff I know nothing about despite having breast cancer because I did not pay attention in chemistry...
Ok. So, the HER2NEU results finally came back after much anticipation because the results of this test determine how long I have to undergo chemotherapy. 4 cycles versus 1 year. So, Dr. Horn (oncologist) calls and reschedules my appointment because he wants to see me sooner. So, we go and the test results saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay...
"Equivocal".
"What?"
"Yes, your tissue has been broken down to the molecular level and the results are still equivocal."
"What?"
"Basically, yet again, you are an anomoly of science and medicine. Test after test after test, your results come back as indefinitive."
"Wow. That's ambiguous." (never one to miss an opportunity to be a smartypants)
"Yes. And with that, we are going to have to treat you aggressively as if the HER2NEU was positive, to be on the safe side."
Long pause. Blinking eyes. Crickets chirping. Roaring in ears...
"Beginning as soon as possible, hopefully tomorrow, I want you started on a full year of chemo. We will do 12 weeks of the Taxotere and Cyclophosomide and then Herceptin for the rest of one calendar year. Are you available tomorrow?"
"Uhhhhh..."
I looked at Big Daddy and he smiled that smile and said "Yep. Tomorrow is good."
We asked some questions that I don't even recall at this point and we were escorted to the nurse's desk to set up everything. My mind was reeling. I could not concentrate on any, one topic longer than 1.5 seconds. This was happening. I have to get chemo because I have cancer. Not even cut and dry cancer like everyone else gets to have, but "Equivocal Cancer" for the anomolies, freaks of nature, walking physical specimens. I was a "test pilot", per se, for the women-who-have-this-disease-sort-of-but-not-really-because-it-was-in-your-lymph-nodes-and-nothing-was-in-the-actual-breast-but-we-don't-know-so-to-be-on-the-safe-side-we-are-cutting-them-both-off-and-starting-you-on-a-regimen-of-gosh-I-hope-this-works-chemotherapy-because-you-are-awfully-young-for-this-not-to-work-so-let's-just-be-as-aggressive-as-possible-in-the-treatment.
The nurse scheduling me for the chemo handed me a list of appointments that I found overwhelimg especially when I realized they were for one day. Fortuantely, I had resigned myself to the three hours of time that chemo was going to take...oh! Wait a minute!!! Did that woman just say something about a bedroom and an all-day affair?!?!?!?! What? I really was not paying attention, but c'mon!
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"You need to be here at 8am for labs. That will take about an hour and then you will be assigned to a bedroom. There is a tv in there and we have a library, if you all are interested. The chemo nurses will monitor you the entire day with extensive teaching throughout. Be here at 8."
"You mentioned something about an all-day affair?"
"Yes, Honey. You will be here all day. The labs take an hour and then the chemo is about 5 or 6 hours."
Ok. So there MUST be a camera somewhere because this cannot be accurate. I had just MADE myself accept the three hour tour and now, the entire day????
*QUICK NOTE ABOUT ME*
If you want to drive Pandora to the brink of crazy, give her an all day appointment where she cannot come and go, make plans, leave, or do anything else she needs to do because she is so darn busy. Period.
So, here we were with all day appointment...the first of many. I begin chemotherapy Thursday, September 17, 2009.
It should be fine, though, I mean, there is a tv.
*ANOTHER QUICK NOTE ABOUT ME*
I do not watch tv.
Ugh.
Ok. So, the HER2NEU results finally came back after much anticipation because the results of this test determine how long I have to undergo chemotherapy. 4 cycles versus 1 year. So, Dr. Horn (oncologist) calls and reschedules my appointment because he wants to see me sooner. So, we go and the test results saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay...
"Equivocal".
"What?"
"Yes, your tissue has been broken down to the molecular level and the results are still equivocal."
"What?"
"Basically, yet again, you are an anomoly of science and medicine. Test after test after test, your results come back as indefinitive."
"Wow. That's ambiguous." (never one to miss an opportunity to be a smartypants)
"Yes. And with that, we are going to have to treat you aggressively as if the HER2NEU was positive, to be on the safe side."
Long pause. Blinking eyes. Crickets chirping. Roaring in ears...
"Beginning as soon as possible, hopefully tomorrow, I want you started on a full year of chemo. We will do 12 weeks of the Taxotere and Cyclophosomide and then Herceptin for the rest of one calendar year. Are you available tomorrow?"
"Uhhhhh..."
I looked at Big Daddy and he smiled that smile and said "Yep. Tomorrow is good."
We asked some questions that I don't even recall at this point and we were escorted to the nurse's desk to set up everything. My mind was reeling. I could not concentrate on any, one topic longer than 1.5 seconds. This was happening. I have to get chemo because I have cancer. Not even cut and dry cancer like everyone else gets to have, but "Equivocal Cancer" for the anomolies, freaks of nature, walking physical specimens. I was a "test pilot", per se, for the women-who-have-this-disease-sort-of-but-not-really-because-it-was-in-your-lymph-nodes-and-nothing-was-in-the-actual-breast-but-we-don't-know-so-to-be-on-the-safe-side-we-are-cutting-them-both-off-and-starting-you-on-a-regimen-of-gosh-I-hope-this-works-chemotherapy-because-you-are-awfully-young-for-this-not-to-work-so-let's-just-be-as-aggressive-as-possible-in-the-treatment.
The nurse scheduling me for the chemo handed me a list of appointments that I found overwhelimg especially when I realized they were for one day. Fortuantely, I had resigned myself to the three hours of time that chemo was going to take...oh! Wait a minute!!! Did that woman just say something about a bedroom and an all-day affair?!?!?!?! What? I really was not paying attention, but c'mon!
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"You need to be here at 8am for labs. That will take about an hour and then you will be assigned to a bedroom. There is a tv in there and we have a library, if you all are interested. The chemo nurses will monitor you the entire day with extensive teaching throughout. Be here at 8."
"You mentioned something about an all-day affair?"
"Yes, Honey. You will be here all day. The labs take an hour and then the chemo is about 5 or 6 hours."
Ok. So there MUST be a camera somewhere because this cannot be accurate. I had just MADE myself accept the three hour tour and now, the entire day????
*QUICK NOTE ABOUT ME*
If you want to drive Pandora to the brink of crazy, give her an all day appointment where she cannot come and go, make plans, leave, or do anything else she needs to do because she is so darn busy. Period.
So, here we were with all day appointment...the first of many. I begin chemotherapy Thursday, September 17, 2009.
It should be fine, though, I mean, there is a tv.
*ANOTHER QUICK NOTE ABOUT ME*
I do not watch tv.
Ugh.
Two Things...
Two things need some clarification based upon some private emails, so if neither of the first two things applies to you, ignore the first part of the message and then I will say something to you after the first two things. Okie dokie?
1. To be come a "follower" of this blog and be able to post comments (which keep me going, by the way, so thank you all so much!!!), go to www.google.com and sign up for a gmail account. Gmail is Google's email. That's it. You never have to use the account for anything. You merely have to sign up in case I get a stalker, they can be tracked. LOL
2. When I have referred to "my previous employer" in a negative way, I am NOT referring to my employer from 8/2000-2/2006. I am referring to the place of employment from 2/2006-10/2008. I loved my time at the first place...until the end, but that is just the way that kind of stuff goes, which is why we end up leaving anyway.
Ok. So, if none of that pertained to you...here are YOUR two things!
1. If you are not very hungry but still want dessert, just start with dessert. I really like this plan. It has served me well.
2. I saw a kid in a t-shirt yesterday and it had a picture of Jesus on it standing, with His hands outstretched, and underneath His picture it said "BRB". I laughed pretty hard. I didn't think it was sacrilegious and hope you don't either. If you do, I sincerely apologize and I will "be right back" with something less controversial later today.
Blessings!
~Pandora
1. To be come a "follower" of this blog and be able to post comments (which keep me going, by the way, so thank you all so much!!!), go to www.google.com and sign up for a gmail account. Gmail is Google's email. That's it. You never have to use the account for anything. You merely have to sign up in case I get a stalker, they can be tracked. LOL
2. When I have referred to "my previous employer" in a negative way, I am NOT referring to my employer from 8/2000-2/2006. I am referring to the place of employment from 2/2006-10/2008. I loved my time at the first place...until the end, but that is just the way that kind of stuff goes, which is why we end up leaving anyway.
Ok. So, if none of that pertained to you...here are YOUR two things!
1. If you are not very hungry but still want dessert, just start with dessert. I really like this plan. It has served me well.
2. I saw a kid in a t-shirt yesterday and it had a picture of Jesus on it standing, with His hands outstretched, and underneath His picture it said "BRB". I laughed pretty hard. I didn't think it was sacrilegious and hope you don't either. If you do, I sincerely apologize and I will "be right back" with something less controversial later today.
Blessings!
~Pandora
Friday, September 11, 2009
Friday, September 11, 2009
First and foremost, I know you find the anniversary of 9/11 just as memorable and somber as I do. This day changed our country, our mindsets, and our families. It changed us as a nation. I long for the passionate unity we shared as a nation on September 12, 2001. No political agenda, nor race, religion, or financial ranking mattered. We were united as one nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all...especially justice for those who hate us for being Americans.
September 11th catapulted Beautiful Daughter into a spiral of fear, doubt, and insecurity. She was convinced that terrorists were waiting under her bed to "kill her daddy because he was a hero that helped people". She was terrified that our "big, blue building" would be the next target. This little girl would remain scared for the next two-plus years. Despite counseling, she would cry and fret every time her daddy left for work. The stress for this 6 year old was unbelievable and heartbreaking. Seeing what the terrorists did to our nation was incomprehensible...seeing what they did to my daughter was unforgivable.
A new post is forthcoming, however, I felt it my responsibility as an American to acknowledge the day our country was attacked on its own soil.
May America seek the one, true God and become united because we are Americans, not because we have been attacked.
September 11th catapulted Beautiful Daughter into a spiral of fear, doubt, and insecurity. She was convinced that terrorists were waiting under her bed to "kill her daddy because he was a hero that helped people". She was terrified that our "big, blue building" would be the next target. This little girl would remain scared for the next two-plus years. Despite counseling, she would cry and fret every time her daddy left for work. The stress for this 6 year old was unbelievable and heartbreaking. Seeing what the terrorists did to our nation was incomprehensible...seeing what they did to my daughter was unforgivable.
A new post is forthcoming, however, I felt it my responsibility as an American to acknowledge the day our country was attacked on its own soil.
May America seek the one, true God and become united because we are Americans, not because we have been attacked.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Cranial Prosthesis
Even typing the title makes me laugh out loud..."Cranial Prosthesis". Good Lord. It's a wig.
Sooooooooo, not something I was looking forward to doing, however, Big Daddy was getting a little antsy about my not having purchased anything in relation to my "new normal". He was probably concerned that I was in denial, no, wait, that was someone else...so I guess he was concerned that I was handling things too well, no, um, sorry, that was someone else, too...ok, so he was concerned that I might catch cold without something on my head come October. We shall go with that.
So, after another doctor's appointment, we went to this warehouse with patient-related items in it like those big ole recliners that literally lift you straight up so you can get in and out of the chair...four-pronged canes...C-PAPS (always attractive evening wear)...scooters and rascals...motorized wheelchairs and the cream of the crop, oxygen tanks. Yay me!!!
Whatever.
Within this warehousey-store-place, there is a separated area for women with cancer. They have all sorts of items to help a girl feel like a girl, or at the very least, look like one. They have wigs, scarves, head coverings, breast prosthetics, mastectomy camisoles, assorted breast cancer awareness goodies like socks, lapel pins, bandannas, etc. It was pretty nice, truth be told.
There was a woman there named Mary and you could tell by the way she ignored Big Daddy and I that she thought we were just looking around for kicks. However, she finally asked us if we needed any help and I went ahead and told her. As usual, I tried to explain as simply as possible, so that everyone could be on the same page...
"I would like to find the head wraps like they had on Survivor where you can wear them on your head or, if you are skinny enough, you can wear it like a tube top, and I guess after a double mastectomy, anyone, skinny or fat, could fit into a tube top, although I think they used to call them halter tops, oh, no, wait, halter tops tie at the back of the neck, so yeah, a head wrap like on Survivor...you know what I mean?"
"No."
"Ok. You know, like, when the teams would merge and then a new thingy would be brought out and they would all wear it and sometimes they would get to decorate them some special way to represent their new team and how unified they now were, of course, I don't know if they still do that whole merging thing anymore because I don't watch tv, well, I do like to watch Super Nanny because the families she visits are pretty screwed up and the show makes me feel better about myself as a parent because our kids are awesome and they get good grades and are very active in lots of things, but mostly church because they love their church, in fact, it's their favorite place to be...you know?"
"No."
"Oh. I was hoping you had them."
"Had what?"
"The buffs. THAT'S IT!!!!! THEY ARE CALLED BUFFS!!!! You remember how Jeff Probst would hand them out or they would have to draw one out of some shrunken island head to be chosen for their new teams and they were called buffs! I don't even know where I came up with calling them head wraps because they are definitely called buffs and not head wraps which remind of those lettuce wraps they have at P.F. Cheng's, which, by the way, I am so hungry right now and I am thinking some Chinese food might taste good right after we leave here. What do you think, Big Daddy?"
And I turned to him and he was gone.
Ok. Just kidding. He had not gone anywhere, but he surely wanted to. My guess for where he wanted to go would be the Duct Tape Shoppe, but it's just a guess.
So, Mary had no buffs, tube tops, head wraps or halter tops, however, she did have wigs. She invited us to come back into her Cranial Prosthesis Salon and measure my head. We went. She did. I am a Large. (please note that the bigger the head, the bigger the brain)
Mary asked me about my diagnosis and who I had seen and if I had my first chemo yet and blah, blah, blah. It wasn't that I was tuning her out or not paying attention, ok, fine, I wasn't paying attention, but here's why!
On the top shelf, nestled between the 'Dorothy Hamil' and the 'Bleached Blonde Bimbo', I saw it.
The hair I had always wanted...it was darker brown with a hint of auburn and across the top were the most perfect highlights I had ever seen! The bangs came down in a fun, flirty way and if you played your cards right, you could see a bit of a spike going on. Not so much that you could poke someone's eye out, but a subtle spike like "brown-chicken-cow-cow". It was perfect.
We gathered the perfect wig from the shelf and I tried it on. There are few words to explain how happy I was to see myself looking THAT good. The hair I had always wanted...thin...in shape...about to head out for Chinese food with Big Daddy...all of it! It was wonderful! No haircut appointment had ever left me with this euphoric feeling because while the initial cut is wonderfully coiffed as your hairdresser (Hi, Donna!!) fixes it in the most darling of ways, you know this is temporary, as in as soon as you walk away from your hairdresser's chair and pay. We never manage to have our hair look as awesome as our hairdresser does! But here we were, today, in this place, with the hair of my dreams (if I were to dream of hair) and it was so freakin' sexy!
For the first time since my diagnosis, I thought I may be able to do this without embarrassing our children or having people stare at me as I am escorted by my husband somewhere fancy. I actually loved my wig...and my wig loved me right back, sister!
Big Daddy hemmed and hawed around for a few minutes, just checking out the scenery, and after about 4 minutes he turned to Mary and said...
"Mary? Would you please excuse us for about 20 minutes and could you lock the door on your way out?"
I laughed so hard. Normal people would have been embarrassed, but not me. I laughed out loud and so did Mary. She said she would, but with that great big window, there was really no need for her to go...(which suggests to me that Mary is somewhat of a voyeur, but still...)
We left the warehousey-store-place and I knew this was a good day...and needless to say, I was also hoping for a good night! *wink*
I had to keep the wig on because of what the anti-lice-gangster-convenience-store-robber-pantyhose thing did to my hair. Truly scary.
Cancer patients have become very upset about losing their hair, and while I understand it, my advice is to embrace these changes as best you can. Do not be so resigned to hate something or convince yourself that something is going to be horrible. I may not have wanted to go "wig shopping", but it turned out to be a wonderful day. I was even asked out for a Chinese dinner by the most handsome man in the world...
Sooooooooo, not something I was looking forward to doing, however, Big Daddy was getting a little antsy about my not having purchased anything in relation to my "new normal". He was probably concerned that I was in denial, no, wait, that was someone else...so I guess he was concerned that I was handling things too well, no, um, sorry, that was someone else, too...ok, so he was concerned that I might catch cold without something on my head come October. We shall go with that.
So, after another doctor's appointment, we went to this warehouse with patient-related items in it like those big ole recliners that literally lift you straight up so you can get in and out of the chair...four-pronged canes...C-PAPS (always attractive evening wear)...scooters and rascals...motorized wheelchairs and the cream of the crop, oxygen tanks. Yay me!!!
Whatever.
Within this warehousey-store-place, there is a separated area for women with cancer. They have all sorts of items to help a girl feel like a girl, or at the very least, look like one. They have wigs, scarves, head coverings, breast prosthetics, mastectomy camisoles, assorted breast cancer awareness goodies like socks, lapel pins, bandannas, etc. It was pretty nice, truth be told.
There was a woman there named Mary and you could tell by the way she ignored Big Daddy and I that she thought we were just looking around for kicks. However, she finally asked us if we needed any help and I went ahead and told her. As usual, I tried to explain as simply as possible, so that everyone could be on the same page...
"I would like to find the head wraps like they had on Survivor where you can wear them on your head or, if you are skinny enough, you can wear it like a tube top, and I guess after a double mastectomy, anyone, skinny or fat, could fit into a tube top, although I think they used to call them halter tops, oh, no, wait, halter tops tie at the back of the neck, so yeah, a head wrap like on Survivor...you know what I mean?"
"No."
"Ok. You know, like, when the teams would merge and then a new thingy would be brought out and they would all wear it and sometimes they would get to decorate them some special way to represent their new team and how unified they now were, of course, I don't know if they still do that whole merging thing anymore because I don't watch tv, well, I do like to watch Super Nanny because the families she visits are pretty screwed up and the show makes me feel better about myself as a parent because our kids are awesome and they get good grades and are very active in lots of things, but mostly church because they love their church, in fact, it's their favorite place to be...you know?"
"No."
"Oh. I was hoping you had them."
"Had what?"
"The buffs. THAT'S IT!!!!! THEY ARE CALLED BUFFS!!!! You remember how Jeff Probst would hand them out or they would have to draw one out of some shrunken island head to be chosen for their new teams and they were called buffs! I don't even know where I came up with calling them head wraps because they are definitely called buffs and not head wraps which remind of those lettuce wraps they have at P.F. Cheng's, which, by the way, I am so hungry right now and I am thinking some Chinese food might taste good right after we leave here. What do you think, Big Daddy?"
And I turned to him and he was gone.
Ok. Just kidding. He had not gone anywhere, but he surely wanted to. My guess for where he wanted to go would be the Duct Tape Shoppe, but it's just a guess.
So, Mary had no buffs, tube tops, head wraps or halter tops, however, she did have wigs. She invited us to come back into her Cranial Prosthesis Salon and measure my head. We went. She did. I am a Large. (please note that the bigger the head, the bigger the brain)
Mary asked me about my diagnosis and who I had seen and if I had my first chemo yet and blah, blah, blah. It wasn't that I was tuning her out or not paying attention, ok, fine, I wasn't paying attention, but here's why!
On the top shelf, nestled between the 'Dorothy Hamil' and the 'Bleached Blonde Bimbo', I saw it.
The hair I had always wanted...it was darker brown with a hint of auburn and across the top were the most perfect highlights I had ever seen! The bangs came down in a fun, flirty way and if you played your cards right, you could see a bit of a spike going on. Not so much that you could poke someone's eye out, but a subtle spike like "brown-chicken-cow-cow". It was perfect.
We gathered the perfect wig from the shelf and I tried it on. There are few words to explain how happy I was to see myself looking THAT good. The hair I had always wanted...thin...in shape...about to head out for Chinese food with Big Daddy...all of it! It was wonderful! No haircut appointment had ever left me with this euphoric feeling because while the initial cut is wonderfully coiffed as your hairdresser (Hi, Donna!!) fixes it in the most darling of ways, you know this is temporary, as in as soon as you walk away from your hairdresser's chair and pay. We never manage to have our hair look as awesome as our hairdresser does! But here we were, today, in this place, with the hair of my dreams (if I were to dream of hair) and it was so freakin' sexy!
For the first time since my diagnosis, I thought I may be able to do this without embarrassing our children or having people stare at me as I am escorted by my husband somewhere fancy. I actually loved my wig...and my wig loved me right back, sister!
Big Daddy hemmed and hawed around for a few minutes, just checking out the scenery, and after about 4 minutes he turned to Mary and said...
"Mary? Would you please excuse us for about 20 minutes and could you lock the door on your way out?"
I laughed so hard. Normal people would have been embarrassed, but not me. I laughed out loud and so did Mary. She said she would, but with that great big window, there was really no need for her to go...(which suggests to me that Mary is somewhat of a voyeur, but still...)
We left the warehousey-store-place and I knew this was a good day...and needless to say, I was also hoping for a good night! *wink*
I had to keep the wig on because of what the anti-lice-gangster-convenience-store-robber-pantyhose thing did to my hair. Truly scary.
Cancer patients have become very upset about losing their hair, and while I understand it, my advice is to embrace these changes as best you can. Do not be so resigned to hate something or convince yourself that something is going to be horrible. I may not have wanted to go "wig shopping", but it turned out to be a wonderful day. I was even asked out for a Chinese dinner by the most handsome man in the world...
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