Check in

 Just checking in. How's everybody doing in the relentless lead up to Christmas? Those of you missing loved ones due to distance or the afterlife, are you doing okay? Text if you need to talk. I'm here. Church workers, do you have the support you need? We appreciate all you're doing to get ready for Christmas; thank you. Teachers, you hanging in there? I've been hearing varying descriptions of the classroom craziness and am praying for all of you heroes, haha! You can do it. Just a few more days. Keep breathing!

Another reason to celebrate: I am officially done with my Red Devil side of chemo! My doc said all my blood cell numbers were good to go, told me I looked wonderful, asked if I was up for it, and I declared, "let's get it over with!" I had a good day with my Zita- thanks, babe! Hooray for another thing crossed off the list. Whew! It has been a YEAR of ridiculousness, no doubt. And as for 2025...

My next appointment will be in January when my Taxol treatments kick off. Doc claims that one will be easier all around though I should expect neuropathy in my hands and feet for a few days after each treatment. Always some new wrinkle to add to the learning curve. We'll see how that goes. Right now, I'll just be over here pumping myself full of water and salad to keep things flushing out and moving along and doing small things as I can accomplish them. Looking forward to Thing Three's holiday concert, I have a visit with my plastics doc and PT this week, and otherwise it's real life and Christmas prep. 

Hang in there, everybody. Be safe, stay off the egg nog, sneak a cookie when nobody's looking, and take care of yourselves, not just everyone else. You're allowed naps. You're allowed coffee with a friend out of the house. You're allowed to decorate the tree with every ornament you own or just leave it lights only if that makes you happy! Go for a walk if the temps and the ice aren't intimidating. Play the Christmas carols or blast you own favorites. Have a bubble bath- when was the last time you had one? The only thing in our tub is spiders... it is sadly neglected and I may need to have a date with it after evicting the small predators since NOT all drains lead to the ocean...

My point is, the year is rapidly drawing to a close. I know you parents with kids at home are overwhelmed and everyone is counting down the days for school to be done for awhile. Wash those hands and eat real food and remember to hydrate. Breathe. You are all so loved. Enjoy your holidays the best that you can and don't stress about perfection. Be merry and bright! xoxoxxo

3700

 No, that's not an amount for a bill for any of my surgeries or chemo or insurance for driving Ori onto rocks, though good guesses all. That's the number of posts on this blog! Can you even believe it? It's like I have something to say... or something. Who'd have thought? (Nana, in the afterlife, is chuckling to herself and snarking, "anybody who ever met you! Are you kidding? All those times I had to separate you from Tammy at nap time because you wouldn't stop talking?!" Yes, well, there is that.

I'm sort of just checking in. I miraculously have zero doctors' appointments this week and am on the upswing after mostly a week of chemo crumminess. To say I'm not looking forward to next week's treatment is an understatement of epic proportions. However, it IS nice to know that I will sort of be feeling myself come Christmas, AND the AC part of chemo will be over with. Hooray! Merry Christmas to ME! As they used to say in karate, "LAST ONE, BEST ONE" though I'm not sure that quite applies here as the results are cumulative and I felt like... well, to quote our youngest, "dogwater" would be pretty applicable. I'm not sure if he means dog pee or the scum in their drinking water from their backwash because I'm afraid to ask, but either way, yeah, that kinda fits. To have the inside of your mouth feel sandblasted, to have the chemical roiling of your stomach, to feel like you've been dragged through solidifying cement with the accompanying pounding of your heart when all you've done is climb up a single set of stairs... I'd say dogwater fits. 

Yes, I am taking my anti nausea meds, though I could take more of them, though they come with their own side effects and I'd rather limit all that nonsense. Yes, I'm climbing back into bed (YAY, BED!) at every opportunity. I'm even feeling less guilty about it because my brain knows healing is hard work even though my spirit wants to Go Do Stuff. My Lisa says, "go back to bed for all of us who can't!" I figure I'm taking one for the team. Teehee. I should be drinking more, so if you talk to me, ask where I am water-wise and tell me to go take some sips. *Reaches for her glass of water whilst rolling her eyes* 

No, our Christmas tree isn't up yet, but our wreaths are, so that's progress. At this rate, once we get it up it might have to stick around until my birthday. Those of you who know us are asking, "how is that different from any other year?" Hush, you. 

For those of you asking about meals for us, bless your sweet hearts. As I was telling my friend the other day, food is tricky right now, though this week should be better. Dada is still doing no carbs, the kids are pretty much all carbs, and I am absolutely all over the map like a pregnant woman. I will have a sliced baby cucumber. Then an hour later maybe cheese and crackers. Then another hour after that perhaps a little bit of meat or some peanut butter toast. Last night I was eating single Cheerios out of the box, one after another, while I watched TV. For lunch, I plan to devour an entire head of butter lettuce* with veggies and cheese and croutons (Thing Three is at school so I'll only have to fend off Thing Two since Thing One doesn't emerge for awhile yet) and maybe a can of tuna on it and it is going to be DELICIOUS and then my mouth won't feel like I've licked a salty camel straight from the Sahara. 

*In a text from Dada, that came out "butthead" lettuce so we will be henceforth calling it that.

All in all, and my doc is in agreement with this, I'm doing well. It doesn't always FEEL like that, but as I'm also not praying to the porcelain god, I'll take it. I may look like a drunken sailor on land who is using the wall with one hand to stay stable, but I'm still moving, thank you, Jesus. Today I'm actually on my second load of laundry**, have swept the kitchen floor, made phone calls which I despise (who's with me- where are my "I'd rather die than talk on the phone" peeps?), renewed Pepe's license plate, got some mail ready to go out, and some other stuff. I'm hogging 2/3 of the couch with paperwork and have displaced Thing Two completely. I have a pile of Stuff on the floor in the Old Lady Room that I need to deal with, but we are getting there.

** The second load is dog towels and blankets. Miss Honey, who will be at least 10ish years old this week, relieved herself on the hall rug before Thanksgiving and we didn't have time to deal with it other than baking soda and vacuum it before we travelled, so we lugged it outside where the weather could rain and snow on it to it's heart's delight. We brought it in a few days ago, still smelling of baking soda. The Idiot Bos decided to lick it in a bunch of places last evening while we were having dinner, then proceeded to barf on a different rug when his stomach realized it couldn't digest dog hair, dirt, and baking soda. Hence the load of towels. How he can manage to NOT throw up rat poison when he needs to but CAN vomit other stuff remains a mystery. Dumber than a box of rocks. Seriously. That's insulting to rocks. He's no smarter now than he was when we got him 7.5 years ago. Somebody save us. I am never picking out a dog again. And if Honey doesn't quit pooping on the deck, I am going to ask Santa not FOR a dog, but to kindly take both of ours!

So I'm off to make my salad. Have a wonderful hump day!

Rocks defeat cars as well as scissors

 Grab a Christmas cookie and a hot drink. This'll be lengthy. 

See that tiny bruise on my palm? That is because all y'all pray for me, especially during this chemo season. 

That tiny bruise is the only mark I have on me after my adventure to chemo #3 yesterday. Settle in and I'll tell you a tale of a damsel in distress and the heroic knights who stepped in to help her.

Yesterday morning, surprise snow started before bus time. It was pretty and swirly and Thing Three and I enjoyed watching the flakes dance in the headlights of oncoming vehicles on our road as we waited for his bus. We laughed at the swirls of them after the cars passed. 

Apparently it took everyone by surprise as no warnings had been given or salt trucks or plows or anything. Dada went into the office and texted back that the back roads were covered and to be careful if I went down any back roads to chemo.

Aye aye, cap'n.

So I took the interstate, saw at least two vehicles in the median, an ambulance coming on the oncoming side, passed a salt truck, all was well. The exit ramp was ... okay. The main drag was fine albiet still under construction. The only back road I took had another vehicle in front of me and HE managed the turn just fine. 

Ori had other ideas. 

Apparently I complain often about not being able to parallel park, because he took it upon himself to skid straight across the road and park (Thing One said "that's not parking- that's camping") in the landscaping on the opposite side despite the driving expert in my brain hollering, "don't mash the brakes; pump them!" I yelled back, "I AM pumping them and have been!" Then he hollered, "don't yank the wheel; steer into it!" I yelled back, "I'm TRYING!"

Too late. Into the decorative tall grasses and large rocks we went. 

*Insert cloud of piratey talk here. Loud. Repetitive. Think Napoleon at the bowling alley in "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure" when he gets a gutter ball, only my swearing was not eloquent French but repetitive cursing in my native language. I even threw in one of the words I feel Henry Cavill's Witcher says well, though my favorite is when John Malkovich says it. Moving on.*

It's not in any of the pictures, but believe it or not, these homeowners also have a big pond a little further beyond the rocks I hit. I doubt I'd have ever made it that far, but it's another aspect to be grateful for because being wet and cold would have been ever so much worse.

Bah. Rocks win every time.

I immediately call chemo to tell them I'll be late- alas, I was put on hold so another cloud of piratey talk ensued while I listened with the other ear for the woman to come back on the phone. I told her the basics and that I'd call back when I knew more. 

I called 911, my first ever experience, so there you go, Sharon- I live a sheltered life. The dispatcher informed me someone would be there right away and sure enough, within minutes an extrememly pleasant officer from the Sheriff's office pulls up and gets the ball rolling with the paperwork. Within a few more minutes, a tow truck shows up and another cheerful fellow hops out to take the situation in hand, me apologizing, him tut tutting that it's no problem, that he's seen so much worse.

I had already told the officer that I was headed to chemo and asked him dejectedly if he would be so kind as to take me there. Since I could have walked, though it would have taken awhile, and I think because he was pleased I'd be getting medical attention anyway, he said sure and had me bundle all the things I had to rescue from the car into the back seat of his cruiser.

Y'all, I've also never been in a police car before. He told me I got to sit up front. He EVEN asked if I wanted the lights and siren when we pulled up to chemo. 🙈 When I told some of the nurses that, they were all giggles and said they'd have said yes, but I was worried someone inside would think there was an emergency in an area with medically fragile people and opted a polite no, thank you. 

PLUS, and from a purely selfish and wanting to save any shred of dignity I had left standpoint, THANK GOODNESS we had mostly emptied the car out from our Thanksgiving trip because as it was, I was taking my purse and a backpack to chemo so I could work on Christmas cards and read and stuff, but I also had bags of boxes I was planning to mail. AND a skateboard from the trunk that belongs to the firstborn as well as a speaker and CDs and whatever else I thought shouldn't be sitting around in a towed domain. 

I looked at the officer and said, "do you think I'm the only person to head into chemo with a skateboard?" He chuckled at me. Such a good sport. 

Bye Ori. I'm so sorry. Goodness.

I am SO GLAD that it happened to me and not any of our family's young drivers. I am so thankful that nobody was coming the other way and that I didn't hurt anybody. I'm so glad I was already slowed, knowing it is a rough right turn. I'm glad I was as close as I was to chemo, that the tow truck could pull it out fairly easily. You guys, I KNOW that is all because of your prayers. Thank you. Clearly they are working! The nurses laughed at how good my blood pressure was despite the morning I'd already had. Nurses I've only had once before kept popping in to say, "Val! What in the world!? Are you okay? Oh my goodness!" Definitely the best team. I'm in such good hands. They even asked if I had a ride home- I did, the lovely Zita- and the nurses were hoping to get out of work early to get me home, haha!

My doc laughed and shook her head at me after she hugged me. She looked at all the stuff I'd lugged in and laughed again, calling for a wheelchair not for me but for ease of moving all that stuff to another room for chemo. She said, "in all my years of medicine, I've never had anyone stick googly eyes on their chemo, and I've never seen anyone bring a skateboard in the winter." I asked her how in the world I'm supposed to top it next time I go in. Grinning at me, she informed me all my blood cell numbers are perfect and everything looks great and that I'm tolerating all of this really, really well. 

Some of you are probably wondering if my port worked this time. Yes and no. My nurse, I'll call her J, whom I haven't seen since 6 years ago and was delighted to catch up with, asked how things were going (other than the accident) and I told her last week when I was in that it wouldn't draw blood. She started it, said, "hooray, we got it- oh no" and then we went through the "take a deeeeep, slow breath" and "okay, let's try arms up" and "let's lay you down because it might be positional" and finally, "okay, let me order some cath- [something or other but my brain changed it to cath-pow like Abby's CAFF-POW on NCIS] which eventually worked and they got blood out but the lab came again and my left elbow sacrificed to another jab. The lab lady, different from last week, was also excellent and nailed it first try. Apparently I'm staying well hydrated. 

Chemo went uneventfully, thank goodness, and I got some Christmas cards done and spoke with an insurance gal who was in Arizona, the lucky duck, but was from Missouri so knew about snow and ice and she felt sorry for me and I made her laugh when I told her the story, so all is in the works and I had a day of amazing people all around. 

Thing One said, "hmm, maybe we should have people pray for whatever vehicle you're taking, too. There was a loophole in there somewhere. God was scanning, 'Val, Val, Val, Val, chemo, Val, nope, nothing about the car, we're good!' ... my baby!!!!!" Poor thing. It's the same car the huge oak limb fell on and we'd gotten the entire roof and windshield replaced. Guess it was my turn to take out the bottom. I have no idea how much damage I did to the undercarriage and it's a 2007 so we shall see what insurance says. Man.

So I hope you enjoyed your cookie and hot drink and a story to make you laugh. I'm fine, all is well, 2024 has not been my year but that's okay, nobody was hurt except our poor, faithful Ori who clearly, despite what he thinks, does NOT know how to parallel park any better than I do!

Be safe out there, people. Tis the season for GERMS and scary road situations. And clean out your vehicle. 😉

Seriously, thank you all for the prayers. I know they make a difference. My doc told me she would have understood if I'd cancelled but was thrilled that I came despite everything so we could stay on schedule. The facts that the tiny bruise was the only physical mark on me, that my blood pressure was great, that I didn't cry when the authorities showed up... all of that points to His faithfulness to me because of your interventions. Please don't doubt that prayer works. I'm living, breathing proof!

Fluid fugazi and Fireballs

 My oncologist let me delay my third chemo so that I could fully enjoy Thanksgiving. Enjoy it I did! I delighted in everything tasting the way it should. You know that line from "Into The Woods" about "and there was far too much food..."- well, that was surely us. And a lot of America, I bet!

Last week I went in for pre-travel fluids so I'd be well hydrated and plumped up, I guess, haha. On the drive there, I figured, "everything's still tasting right and I don't have any mouth sores yet... let's try a Fireball!" Imagine my delight when I didn't breathe fire and enjoyed my candy while driving! Wahoooooo!

Upon arrival, the nurse was cheerful and we were discussing Thanksgiving plans with family before she grumbled about my port being a stinker. Apparently sometimes fluids can go IN but drawing blood OUT doesn't work, and since both parts of that are important, she had to call someone from the lab to come stick my arm instead. No big, and apparently I was hydrated enough that she got it on the first try, mercifully (especially as I hadn't been thinking about drinking, assuming they'd access my port)! However, I wasn't super thrilled. The entire point of a port is to save my arm veins- no touchie! Grrr!

An option she gave was to administer a blood thinner and then she would check the port every half hour for up to two hours to see if the blood thinner was doing its job. Or we could skip it and just have the lab do it. I went for the second option as I've never had blood thinners and have no idea what they'd do to me, especially right before heading out of town for the holiday. Not It, thanks.

So if all y'all are still praying, please mention that all involved parties would love for the port to do it's darn job (both parts) from here on out. Thanks!

Going, going…

 Not quite gone, but it’s getting there. To those of you who’ve heard me comment that I look like a lightbulb that’s trying to grow hair… see for yourself! I look like a Minion!

Happy 45th birthday smiles to Hinrew! We love you bunches and are sending you big hugs and smooches.

Two months out, my scar looks fantastic. Every doc who has seen it says it’s healing really well. I have to admit that it looks way better than I was expecting it to. I’m thankful. 

Skellie Shenanigans

 Thing Two had his annual checkup with Dr. Jon, the amazing pediatrician we've had for 19 years now. He is a great sport, so we figured he'd get a kick out of some Shenanigans. Cadaver made an appearance to the absolute delight of the nurses and we waited to see if Dr. Jon could pick out the real Thing Two...

We got a few looks in the waiting room...

Dr. Jon took it in stride and said we should have Cadaver get on the scale to see which one of them actually weighed the most. As usual, he cautioned Thing Two about the potential detriment he might face if he gets a bad illness as he has zero body fat and no padding to draw from if he loses weight from being sick. Otherwise he was pleased with the visit and said his heart and lungs and all that jazz sounded great and that it's fun to hear all of it through very little extra padding, haha! 

He showed us the BMI chart, on which Thing Two doesn't even register. He said that the chart makers weren't going to make an extra low line just for him. He said he's still growing though it's slow and steady and he had gained a little in height and weight both since his last check. Overall, he was pleased to see us, Cadaver and all, and Thing Two got his flu shot. 

And we gave my Dad a roommate 😀:

Chemo #2, check!

 Okay gang, I'm officially halfway done with the AC part of chemo. Two down, two more to go. This time I get a three week break before my next one so that I may feel like myself and enjoy my favorite holiday with some of my favorite peeps! Yippie! 

Dad got to go with me yesterday and kept me company through all the sitting around. I reminded my nurse about "a slow steroid, please" and she said, "oh, no worries, I ALWAYS do that one over a 10 minute span- I don't push it!" There were no issues, no turning tomato red, no weird tingles, nothing. I felt like my heart was beating just a little fast during my bag of Pepcid, which I don't remember happening before, but it could just be the massive chemical dump that was happening and it didn't last long sooooo...

My doc was thrilled with both my bloodwork numbers and my range of motion. It's so nice to have a cheerleader like her. I don't know what parts per million or whatever the units are supposed to be, but my white blood cells were 9.9, hemoglobin is supposed to be at least 10 and mine's 12.3, and platelets are to be over 100 and mine were 167, so she was actually cheering when she read those. I guess those are the magic 3 that they keep a close eye on. 

We talked again about radiation and I told her we have our second opinion consult tomorrow morning. She said her very strong vote was for proton therapy. It'll be interesting to see what Dr. P recommends tomorrow.

We also discussed having my lady parts- ovaries, tubes, and uterus- out in the future, but it's not an immediate thing. At this point, I told her I feel like a Mrs. Potato Head just ditching pieces left and right. "Well, don't need THOSE anymore and who needs hair and I don't need THAt and..." My Dad and my doc both cracked up, but it's the best mental image I can summon up to describe my poor old bod at this point! 😄 As if to drive the point home, my period started today and I find myself musing about the absolute indignities of cancer treatment and planning and all of it:

- mosquitoes who bite me don't even have the decency to die thanks to the chemicals in me which I find absolutely unfair.

- I have no body parts capable of feeding an infant yet my ovaries and uterus care not, apparently, and just keep chugging along though that ship has not only sailed but has been used as a funeral pyre, lit on fire, and sunk. Yet here we are. 

- I got to discuss my bowels and my periods in front of my father, poor thing.

All of it is weird. But I have the best team, the best tribe, a big God and far too much food and I am hanging in there! 

AND happy birthday to my precious Mommeeeeeee today! We all send birthday hugs home with Dad. Miss you and love you bunches! 

Happy hump day, everybody. Take good care of you!

All I need now is a torpedo

 The radiation consult went... well? Hard to say when we still have so many questions. I need to set up a second opinion/pick your brain session with my local doc here who did my photon radiation the first time around. 

I was impressed with both the research student and Dr J. They were upfront about there being very little longitudinal data because proton therapy, which they are recommending, is a newer technique. They've been doing it for awhile at their location but just opened it up a few months ago to breast cancer patients, so I'd be part of something... new? Fresh? Exciting? Terrifying? 

"All of it, Frank." (That's from "Father Goose", another childhood favorite which stars Cary Grant and Leslie Caron and comes highly recommended! We use a TON of the lines from that one on a regular basis.)

As my charming husband likes to remind me on every possible occasion, I was four chapters behind in my college physics class my freshman year when he visited. Therefore, I'm probably not the ideal person to spell this out, but if I have the general gist of the science, then photon therapy (that I had the first time) is essentially the same dose over designated area. I had 33 sessions, once per day, of that over several weeks. 

I claim ZERO understanding as to how a photon torpedo works, which is what I keep hearing in my head thanks to years of my mother watching "Star Trek"...

Proton therapy, I guess, targets more specifically and then the energy drops off more quickly, in theory sparing some damage. That's a good thing because what is under where they're targeting? Oh you know, my heart and my lungs. No big. 😏Again, I THINK I have that right. They can focus it like a mountain versus a plateau. Yeah, let's go with that. All I need to do now is write "Radiation for Dummies", hehe.

Dr. J recommends the proton therapy this time over photon therapy and that would be twice a day with at least a six hour window between sessions because in that window healthy cells can repair themselves but cancer cells can't. I think that is fascinating! How cool is that? Because it would be twice a day, I'd be done in about 3 work weeks. 

"But I thought... but we'd been told multiple times that you can't re-radiate an area that had already been radiated. Won't that damage the bypass surgery that I just had? Will insurance cover any of this? Why is one better than the other? Would either work? Why do you recommend one over the other? What SHOULD we be asking that we don't know to ask? Argh, why isn't there statistical data yet?" 

Those questions and more swirled around the room as we chatted. Dr. J seemed very knowledgeable and earnest and asked great questions. It sounds like he was on the tumor board so he's already heard of and talked over my case. As always, I marveled at how I felt seen as myself and not simply a patient number on a file somewhere. Truly these medical professionals have callings and not just occupations. I'm so thankful for their passion as well as their compassion. I also appreciated his earnestness. 

I'll keep you posted but that's really all I know right now. No studies to really compare, so until I talk with my local rads doc, we'll just bounce that beach ball of photon versus proton around... *doink doink doink*

Halloween birthday boy

Somehow I didn't get a photo of Thing Two in Halloween garb, but as he was head to toe black as the Angel of Death, I trust you can use your imagination to envision this:

He loped to an open garage to collect a treat and was accosted by what he called "a tiny princess- she was about thigh high" who asked him, "are you a real pirate?"

He rumbled, "oh yeah."

I did have these photos with "his" yellow tree. He is affectionately known locally as "Yellowjacket." I wanted to get one of him in his robe as it creeps ever higher and shorter on him, but we've had some frosts and now those lovely yellow leaves are a sad brown, not the "happy crispy brown leaf" as our friend Sharon coined. 

The rest of us. My wig was trying to bisect my brain, which I suppose was a good thing as it was rainy with a wind advisory, but it reignited my "I have zero desire to wear a wig when I'm bald" mantra...

Thing Three loves over the top costumes and has already devoured the vast majority of his haul. Good thing we put off him getting braces until the New Year.

And the amazing artistry of Thing One:

Hope you all had a Halloween and are not finding candy wrappers behind your couch or in other suspicious locations!

 

Fall beauty to nourish your stressed out soul

 

I can't be the only person who is stressed out over the election today, so I figured I'd share the absolutely gorgeous Ohio morning I experienced today. As always, you can click on the photos to enlarge them. Enjoy! And vote!

Smoke detector reminder and other stories

 I am a little alarmed at how early the chemo side effects have set in. I worked on that previous post twice and still forgot to relay the funny story. *sigh* Bear with me, folks.

One of the 4 anti nausea drugs in the premedication umbrella-

-which makes me laugh because the wording is funny. I only get two chemo meds. I have four anti nausea meds. And they're called the "premedication" part? Hahaha! I am definitely living yet again the courtroom scene from "What's Up, Doc?" where the Judge is lamenting his drug dependence. If you haven't seen it, go track it down. Here's the specific snippet I mean but the whole thing bears seeing.-

-is apparently a steroid. The first med is a quick push one and went into my port just fine in a matter of less than a minute. The second one, the steroid, made me feel burny and tingly in places that I knew I didn't have a UTI so I assumed it was from whatever drip I was getting and that it was temporary. However, then I started to feel flushed and began to see tiny sparkles. My Doc was talking to me, my Lisa was there, there was also a pharmaceutical student present, so I interrupted to announce, "Um, I'm starting to see sparkles and it feels like I'm breathing through a straw...?" They all looked closer at me and the Doc says, "oh yep, turn that medication off and get a nurse." The meds get shut off, I feel the heat start to drain back out of my face, and the arriving nurses reassure me that I just got that steroid too fast, it's already in, all will be well. Note into chart about a slower steroid. Got it. Okiedokie. Whew, hot flash. My Doc uses it as a teachable moment and points out how my color is already better, asks if I'm also experiencing burning and tingling, and yes indeed, it was a reaction to receiving a steroid. 

"Have you ever had a steroid before?"

"Umm, I don't think I have, actually!"

She assured me that oral ones for, say, poison ivy or some such would still be fine, and reiterated that this one was just pushed too quickly for me, but my body has since caught up and all is well. Moving on...

Everything else was fine, no surprises other than I expected a hanging bag of Red Devil and it turned out to be in a syringe that the lovely nurse has to physically sit there and push over a few minutes, which lessened the impact of the googly eyes since we were the only ones who could see them, haha, but oh well. 

However, try explaining later to your husband about a steroid reaction and then have him turn to your bestie questioningly and have her answer, "she was redder than her sweater." Poor love of my life. But now we know. AND I was right about the burny and tingly feeling dissipating right away.

So Daddeeeeee, when you're up next time, we will ask for a slow steroid. No worries! I got you!

That was all on Monday. Some of those anti nausea meds last for 72 hours so the next few days I felt... chemically... I guess is the best way to put it. Not truly nauseous even when they wore off but felt like I could be, so I took some of the prescription they'd sent me home with, heeding Dada's advice to "not be a hero" and Lisa's advice to "stay ahead of it."  I'm eating a ridiculous amount of small meals and can absolutely see why the Doc cautioned that these particular chemo meds can make people gain weight: it feels better to have something in my stomach. She also warned that chemo weight is harder to lose than regular, but finished with "but I'm not worried about you because you're active and you'll be okay." I devilishly mentioned that the holidays were in between now and when I'll be finished so who would ever know if it was the chemo or the yummy foods? Hehehehe. I'm again struck by how similar chemo is to pregnancy: nausea, brain fog, weight fluctuation, craving something but not having any idea what, laying down to close your eyes and awakening hours later.

Thank you to my school friends for the ginger chews and to my friends who've sent candies and to my hubby who found me coconut bites. Y'all rock, as usual!

Yesterday, four days after chemo, I woke up and felt like my brain was actually clearer and more myself. I still feel that way today and haven't taken any meds other than my usual allergy pill, multivitamin, and calcium with vitamin D. I've had my breakfast and am cautiously optimistic for a nice weekend. My Doc said to keep track of what I felt when so we can determine "my pattern" and predict what I'll need and when. 

Next week I'm scheduled for a bag of fluids and a blood draw, both through the port so no worries, and my radiation consult. I have extremely mixed feelings about all this radiation business. I've heard from several sources that you can't re-radiate the same area, so why the tumor board wants me to have a consult about it boggles me. Plus, they mentioned I could be a candidate for proton therapy, but when I look that up it says it targets a tumor, which I no longer HAVE, so again, I'm stymied. Guess that's why I gotta talk to the experts. I asked my Doc about it during chemo and she set me straight: don't dismiss it out of hand. We want to throw everything at this, so go see what they say. 

Yes, ma'am. 

As far as the whole armpit area/ bypass surgery part is going, it's been 6.5 weeks since surgery and range of motion is definitely improving. I'll get some pictures up at some point, but things are looking decent-ish. I'll never win any Sex Goddess Body awards but since I was never aiming for that anyway, no big loss. I'd rather have ice cream! 

Moving is definitely better for me than sitting, and sleeping is wonderful. Enjoy that extra hour this weekend and do NOT feel guilty if you use it for sleeping! I'm waving my wand over here and giving you permission to use it however it will most bless your life. *swish swish* Don't forget to check your smoke detectors and have a wonderful weekend, everyone!

Red Devil

 

In case you haven't figured it out already, my superpower is finding silver linings. I don't just lean towards positivity, I'm pretty much rooted there. If there is good in a situation, I'm likely to trip over it. 

So I added googly eyes to my "Red Devil" chemo. My doc asked me why. I told her it was to remind me that it was a friend, not a foe, and that it is to help me and not hurt me. She said she'd never seen anyone do that before. 

I'd heard stories of other patients who have had it and how it wipes you out. Zero energy. But it's also, from what I've read, excellent at killing cancer cells at every stage of growth. Sounds like an excellent weapon to employ. 

Am I tired? You bet. Do I still plan to take my 3 mile walk today? Also yes- not gonna squander that sunshine while it lasts! Do I have laundry on the line? Also yes. Am I drinking my water- the goal is 64 ounces daily- yes. I'm at about 32 done right now, so not too shabby. 

(Here is where I fell asleep the first time attempting this post.)

So to back up, my first AC chemo (Adriamycin and Cyclophosphamide) was on Monday. They started me with about 4 anti-nausea meds, at least one of which that lasts 72 hours. I just looked up some more stuff about those and, holy cow, I should just stay off the Internet. Adriamycin also goes by Red Devil, hence the googly eyes to remind me it's a friend; it kills cancer in every stage of its life cycle and prevents replication. Also some serious side effects in addition to less serious ones like hair loss. (Been there, done that, Jeep hair, don't care.)

But effects on the heart is nothing to sneeze at, so they'll be keeping a close eye on me just as they did with my year of Herceptin. As far as I know, this is only 4 cycles AND I have the benefit of some wiggle room: since it used to be given every three weeks, I can do that so I don't have a treatment right before Thanksgiving, wahoo! They've discovered when they add a Neulasta patch to bump up your cell production that they can shorten the cycle to two weeks between each treatment, but also can give the grace week for scheduling purposes. Whilst I don't mind being a lightning bug (the patch attaches to your arm and blinks for 27 hours until it does your 45 minute injection and then the light clicks to red and it turns off. Then you remove it.) it is on my left side because of the risk of lymphedema being elevated on my right side. Well, guess who generally sleeps on her left side? Haha. Them's the breaks. 

Round One is done. 

I started this post yesterday afternoon, then had to pause to take a nap. Did my 3 mile walk later, had a good sleep, all that jazz, and had a two hour nap today before I got back to the blog! Then whilst reading the "how to get through chemo" parts of the literature it said take naps if you need to but try to keep them to about 30 minutes. Whoops.

I'm to drink tons of water and am doing well in that regard. Might just float away. People are asking how to help and our fridge and freezer are FULL, so remind me to drink water. Not rum*, not Fireball, no Mike's Hard Lemonade. 

Water.

And ginger ale and Gatorade and schedule IV fluids if I feel I need them. Thankfully ice cream is not forbidden, though I don't think that counts as liquids. Shucks. And I know half of you just shouted, "MILKSHAKES!" I hear you. =)

So far, so good. I am a bit alarmed that I already feel more... chemically... than I feel like I should- this is cumulative and that was only my first and yikes- but maybe cells in my body are now on full alert running around hollering, "enemies foreign and domestic! Move, move, move!"

The election coverage isn't helping, haha. Dada hears my hugs sighs of exasperation and doesn't even look up from what he's doing to remark, "why do you even READ about it?" *Grumble, grumble, grumble* 

Go vote. You have a voice. Go use it. 

Anybody needs a napping buddy, come on over! 

Apologies in advance for future continuity issues and/or lack of proofreading. I dunno how people hold down jobs during this unless it's love for and support from their coworkers (which I can absolutely see). Hang on to your brain cells, friends, cuz I'm gonna need 'em!

* Also, and yes, Mom, it took me this long to figure it out, but I think I now know why stereotypical sailors head straight for alcohol upon landing. After months at sea, becoming used to the six different motions of a ship on a sea, then landing to discover only gravity is working against you has gotta feel WEIRD. I think they use alcohol to recalibrate their fluid looseness that is their "usual/normal" state when at sea! Self medication. Makes sense to me!

Quick update

 

Quick update before we head to the last high school home football game of the season:

Port surgery went fine. It was under the estimated 45 minutes, no issues, not terribly sore, haven't seen it yet cuz it's under a dressing, though it is all set and ready for use next week. Only snag seems to be the usual adhesive reaction... I have three spots where they put leads on my chest for my vitals and they are all clearly outlined in rash. Itchy, itchy Ichabod, i i i... That's my scar from my previous port!

Follow up appointments yesterday both went well also. My plastics doc was pleased with the scar, took some pictures, and said he will see me at the 3 month mark. 

Physical therapy was a workout; I can see why people are worn out afterwards. She was really pleased with my range of motion, so that was very encouraging. She said I qualify for the "advanced" version of exercises, haha, so she sent me home with a packet to work through and she will also see me again at the 3 month mark. 

Chemo starts next week and I've decided to take some googly eyes with me to stick on the IV bag. I also plan to wear my orange and black striped witchy socks since it'll be the week of Halloween. And I have snacks and my bestie Lisa and things to keep us both occupied and out of trouble for the multiple hours we will be there. Apparently this set takes around 3 hours and I have both a blood draw (through my port, yippie!) and an office visit with my oncologist before the chemo starts. Add in a bag of anti-nausea meds in addition to both bags of chemo and probably a bag of saline to keep me flushing and I'll be floating away in no time! Interestingly and unfortunately, there is an IV fluids shortage because the factory was in Asheville, NC! 

I'll keep you posted. Have a wonderful weekend, everyone!

October Shenanigans

 

October Shenanigans seem to be more fun around here than regular ones, probably because we have more participants! This Halloween kid (who resembles a skellie these days more than the pudgy little pumpkin of his early months of life) made a basket, haha.

We plan to get photos of him out here in his robe by “his” yellow tree, as well, so you can see how the robe creeps ever higher as he’s grown. 

Generally we don’t do tons of high sugar cereal, but I make exceptions in October for this one and in March for Lucky Charms. Took us multiple stores, but Dada found it!

Fall is so gorgeous!

 

Is it just me?

 Does anybody else’s brain follow the same path as mine?

I opened the curtains this morning to the sun shining from a blue sky onto green grass and colorful fallen leaves, so I mused, “huh. Beautiful.” 

I pivoted to walk to the kitchen and within three steps, I find myself singing, “it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day in the neighborhood, won’t you be mine?”

I stopped and wondered where I’d heard that lately and then backed up my thought train to realize I was the one who cued it just by thinking, “beautiful.” 

How many times a day, I wonder, is my thought train hijacked by my own self? And this is all pre-chemo. Now I hear Argus Filch sneering gleefully in Harry Potter, “ohhhh, we aaaaaaare in trouble now, aren’t we?”

Shenaniganery

Allow me to pull a Ducky from NCIS:

This reminds me of a tale from my childhood. When I was young, I attended a summer camp which occurred during a year of the Summer Olympics. Ergo, our counselors set up various games and races for us to participate in. 

One of the counselors was attempting to recall the names of the track and field events:

"Javelin? Discus? Broad? Is that one? Standing Broad Throw?"

You cannot imagine the merriment of her fellow counselors as they burst into laughter and quickly corrected her, "Standing Broad Jump; there's to be no throwing of broads!"

              Here's Cadaver, reporting for launch:

And here he is, all gussied up and ready for action: