Cancer is so five minutes ago

I am sorry I have neglected the blog for so long. Especially with the last post being so indulgent. My reason is simple... I AM SO OVER CANCER! I'm bored with it. Aside from my fridays being taken up with chemo, I wouldn't even know I had cancer. No side effects, no sickness, nothing. So here is where I am supposed to say, "I am so lucky! I am so blessed. How wonderful." The problem is that I am so sick of being bald and ugly. It's really the only thing that's going on. Me...being bald. It's not a lot to blog about.

It does make for some good quotes from my kids.

Lily: "Mommy, you're invited to my birthday party. But you'll have to wear your wig or everyone will laugh at you."

Caroline: (As I'm crouched down, tying my shoes.) "You have a shiny, bald head."

Benson: "I love you, Mom. Even when you're bald."

Ella: "It looks like you're wearing a mask." (Because there is a distinct line from where my face has color and my head is white, white, white.)

Ahhh. Good times, good times.

Super Woman

Beth is not one to brag. Well, sometimes she brags. Like when she reminds me that she has never gotten a ticket (in fact she has never even been pulled over), that she is better than me in Brick Breaker (game on my phone), and she ONCE beat me in bowling. Aside from that, she usually doesn't do too much bragging. So, I am going to brag for her: SHE IS KICKING CHEMO'S ARSE!!

She is 4 weeks into this 2nd round of Chemo and she is feeling great. Almost no ill-effects at all. Two weeks ago, she had Chemo on a Friday afternoon and we left for LA the next morning. We flew all day and went straight to the beach after landing. As we were playing volleyball she says, "can you believe I had Chemo only 24 hours ago?"

She is amazing!


24 hours post Chemo and she's ballin it up on the beach


I wonder if the anti -nausea medicine would have help her on this boat ride


Chemo apparently makes you a horrible horseshoe player


Couple random things...

• Before we left for LA, we told the Chemo doctor that we were going to miss a week of treatment. He said, "no problem, I'll just give you 1 1/2 doses today and 1 1/2 doses when you get back. That way you'll be on track." Hey, Logie! How about we get 1 1/2 doses every week so we can be done about 4 weeks early???

• I have been meaning to blog about a guy that is getting Chemo in the same office as us. He is there EVERY time we are there. He is large man and he likes to sleep during his treatments. The problem is that he is a chronic snorer. It is a thundering snore. I've never heard anything like it before. The reason we haven't blogged about him is that words can't describe this guy. I was going to snap a quick video of him in action last week, but for some reason he decided that he was going to stay awake for the treatment. I will try again this Friday. Until then, I want you to picture a large bear choking on a t-bone steak.

• I knew it was too good to be true. After a lengthy"investigation" on Beth, our insurance company decided to start paying some bills. I was actually pretty impressed with them. Seemed like bills were getting paid and they even sent me a nice little spreadsheet of all the bills they had paid to date and what our out-of-pocket expenses would be. That is when they told us that the boob doctor was "Out of Network" and they would only cover a portion of the bills. This would have been nice to know before he whacked off 2 boobs and rang up a bill of $50,000. I HATE INSURANCE COMPANIES - ALL OF THEM. If you haven't seen Sicko, go rent it at Blockbuster or put it in your NetFlix Que.

Cali-therapy Day Four

I told Alan I wanted to blog everyday so I could have a journal of each fun day on our visit home... so he's been doing it on our family blog. What a wannabe. Anyway, he skipped day four so I will fill you in.

Breakfast at Martha's. This is by far my favorite place for breakfast in the South Bay. I know most people would say Uncle Bill's, which is good, but Martha's is better. I get the hummus omelet almost every time. Delicious.

Bike ride on the strand. This is what we would do almost every weekend as a family. This time we of course had to rent/borrow bikes (thanks Caroline!). It was a gorgeous day and even saw dolphins along the way.

We had big plans to go walk around Third Street Promenade but the sun was beckoning. So we put that off, grabbed our bathing suits and hurried back to the beach. Even though the water was freezing, the kids didn't seem to mind. They all ended up wet and had a fantastic time.

We also went back to the hospital to see more of beautiful baby Eli. Holding that little nugget is almost enough to make me want to have another one. Almost.

Cali-therapy Day One

Even just stepping off the plane you could smell just a hint of saltiness in the air. Like the ocean was sending out its welcome. It was a beautiful thing. Before we had made it to the top of the jet way we had all ready shed our sweatshirts, pushed up our sleeves and wished we were wearing shorts. Today was a gorgeous day, 74 degrees I think.
We hadn't been in LA for more than three minutes when we had our first celebrity sighting of the trip. Elijah Wood (Frodo Baggins) was cruising the airport. We picked up our rental car and drove straight to In-N-Out. After lunch and a quick wardrobe change we were off to the beach. I can't begin to describe how therapeutic it was. It was like going back eight months, to friends and volleyball and warm weather. It was a flash back to simpler times. I think we will try to spend a part of everyday that we're here on the beach. It's just something you take for granted when you have no intention of leaving it... but boy have we missed it. We had time to come home and wash our hands and feet before going to our friends the Brandon's house for a great backyard BBQ. It was exactly what a grieving, bald-headed, cancer patient needed. It was like a metaphorical group hug. Being surrounded by great friends and family, watching our kids play together, like no time has passed. It was beautiful. Truly.

So I think this is it. The cure for cancer. Chemotherapy sucks. It's all about Cali-therapy, or beach therapy, or out-of-the-snow-and-into-the-sunshine-therapy, or whatever you want to call it. But I'm pretty sure it's making a difference. I feel better already.

Chemo Fridays

(This post I started last Sunday, never finished and therefore never posted. Better late than never, right? At least that's what I keep telling myself when I see my big stack of Christmas cards that are still in my kitchen.)

Almost halfway there. Eight weeks down, twelve to go. And if this last weekend was any indication of how the these next weeks will be, well then I think I can handle it. So far, so good. I think Taxol and I might be able to get along, unlike it's ugly cousins Adriamycin and Cytoxin. I am definitely not sad to see them go. One of those little buggers burned the bottoms of my feet and my fingertips. Walking was getting excruciating and assembling Ben's 8 million piece Lego star wars ships that had been left undone for weeks was pretty ridiculous. Like I said before, good riddance. I didn't really have any negative side effects this time. Fatigue and burning eyes, but that's about it. Well, and baldness. But those are all just carry overs so I can't really hold them against the Taxol.

Today I feel...

Merry... we had a fantastic Christmas. Gushy... my eyes will not stop tearing. It's gross. I am constantly wiping and dabbing my eyes. The doctor said it's because I have chemo tears that irritate my eyes. Oh good. Chemo tears. Homesick... for family, friends, the beach, and for a good ol' backyard barbecue. It wouldn't hurt to have a junior super deluxe with black beans from El Som, either. Giddy... as I look lovingly on my life size poster board cut-out of 'Edward' that my neighbor Cheryl gave me. It is hilarious. Hopeful... for what this new year could hold for us. As much as this year has had it's trials and dark moments, it's also been a year of incredible blessings and great spiritual growth. Aerodynamic... with no hair and no boobs I feel like I could give Micheal Phelps a run for his money. Now if only I were an athlete. Relieved... that the AC (adriamycin and cytoxin) part of the chemo is now behind me. Apprehensive... now that the AC part of the chemo is over and the taxol portion is about to begin. With the AC, I at least knew what to expect. Sore... unfortunately it's from something I'm almost to embarrassed to admit to. I think I hurt my arm playing Alan in Tiger Woods golf on the Wii. Sad. Ecstatic... We are coming home!!! We will have 9 fabulous days with friends and family. January 17-25. Get out your Disneyland passes, dust off the volleyballs, and fire up the grills because we are coming home!

Chemo sucks

Just after thanksgiving Beth's hair started to fall out. Wanting to take control of the situation she decided that she wanted to buzz her head. Our good friend Lee Ann came over to document the event. Here are some pictures and for those interested, more pictures can be seen by clicking here.

Say bye bye to the $75 Aveda Hair cut she got only 1 week earlier. Just put that on our cancer tab please.

All the kids were a little freaked out by the whole event and chose to stay away for most of it - especially Benson.

Beth has a perfectly shaped head

There were a lot of laughs and some tears

All finished

Oh brother...

Friday was my third treatment. I normally meet with the doctor before treatment to go over how the last one went and talk about any problems or questions.
So I say, "Well, I have been getting these headaches behind my left eye (and I had a pretty bad one as I was sitting in his office)."
He looks at me and completely seriously asks, "Do you need a brain scan?"
To which I respond incredulously, "DO I??!!"
What kind of question is that? With all the nasty side affects wouldn't you think that headaches would be somewhat commonplace? A brain scan? Please. Are comments like that really necessary?

Cancer Ramblings

Time to get a few things off my chest about this whole cancer thing.

First and foremost, Beth and I are having a slight disagreement on which route to take when the reconstruction (boob job) takes place. She is thinking more along the lines of a Resse Whiterspoon job. While I am leaning more towards the Scarlett Johansson look. Who's with me?

Feel free to chime in with your opinions. I will make sure I thoroughly research all options...

For the past couple of weeks I have been trying to convince Beth into taking her Indiana State Drivers License picture when she is completely bald. That way when she gets pulled over for speeding, she can hand the driver license to the cop and explain that the picture was taken during her battle with Breast Cancer. What cop would give her a ticket? Or better yet, she could say she just got done with a Chemo treatment and was rushing home before she yakked in the car. This has to work 9 times out of 10 doesn't it....

Our first experience with the Chemo doctor didn't start off all that well. Beth and I are sitting in a consultation room before treatment #1. Dr Logie is explaining all the effects that Chemo will have on Beth. All the while he is trying to sound as reassuring and positive as possible. Suddenly a nurse comes barging in and says, "EXCUSE ME! DR LOGIE, WE HAVE AN EMERGENCY. BERTHA IS UNCONSCIOUS AND IS NOT RESPONDING. COME QUICK!!!". Beth and I look at each other with a look of "really? did that just happen?". All right, Chemo sounds like the way to go. Sign us up....

Chemo makes you weak and feel like you have the flu. So is there not a better excuse to use the electric wheel chairs at Target? Beth refuses to use them. I just don't get her thought process sometimes...

I think someone should start a "Chemo Awareness" month. There has to be a better way to treat Cancer...

The girls are loving the influx of hats that have entered our home...

We are very thankful to have health insurance in times like these, but seriously, could they make the process any harder? We are 3 months into her being diagnosed and not one bill has been processed by insurance. They are waiting for proof of prior insurance, a list of doctors Beth has seen in the past 2 years, certificate of credible coverage, detailed bills from the surgeon, visual evidence of cancer (okay I made the last one up). The best part is NOBODY calls you from insurance if something is missing. They wait until you find out that they don't have all the documents they need. All the while the boob doctor is waiting to get paid...

Beth is well into week 3 of 20. Only 17 more weeks of Chemo. She is amazing and she is my hero.

I am off to do more research for reconstruction.

Alan

To Bic or not To Bic

Holy Smokes. It is totally falling out. I knew it would happen and I knew I wasn't prepared. I guess I just didn't know how unprepared I am. I'm not ready. It's getting all patchy and it feels like it is poking me back. Like the follicles are all hyper sensitive. Alan spent the night trying to comfort me in two ways. One, by telling me that I have the most beautifully shaped head he's ever seen. (Extremely sweet, and to which every time he said it I would get all misty and give him a heartfelt 'thank you'.) And two, by offering to bic my head for me so I wouldn't worry so much about the stubble falling out. Hmm. Didn't quite get the same reaction. Even though I'm not convinced that it wouldn't be best. The question is, could I actually do that?

Pregnancy, Menopause and Periods...

I have so much to catch up on that the idea of one comprehensive post is out the window. So I think I will take a page from Heidi's book and spew a little blog vomit. Here it goes...

My oncologist said that during my chemo treatments I would feel like I was going through menopause with all of its glorious side effects. I wasn't too concerned and I was actually a little excited to not have to deal with periods either for the next 6 months. However, aside from the hot flashes that have me reaching for my thermometer every hour, I feel more pregnant than anything else. Queasy, body aches, sore boobs (o.k. That's not from the chemo, but still.), waking up during the night to pee, ultra sensitive skin, gas pains, and cramps, just to name a few prego symptoms that I've been experiencing. So why the heck am I still having periods if I feel pregnant and I'm in some temporarily induced state of menopause?!!! Can't a girl catch a break?

I shaved my head yesterday. Well, Alan did. I decided I was much more afraid of my hair actually falling out than being bald so I thought I would just beat chemo to the punch. I was hoping I would feel empowered by it, but really I just feel butch. I look in the mirror and I see a red headed boy with a buzz looking back. I look like a bully. So I am compensating by wearing way too much make up (even though I hardly left my bed at all today) and dropping hints to Alan that for Christmas I want necklaces, earrings, perfume, and anything else that screams feminine. It reminds me of the time my dad shaved my head and my brother couldn't walk by me without rubbing my head with both hands and saying "I wish I had a watermelon, I wish I had a watermelon."

I've decided that this round of treatment will be much better than the last time. They told me it would be worse, but nothing can be worse than the unknown and the debilitating fear it caused me last time. I think sicker is fine as long as I know what I'm up against. So it's mind over matter this time and I think its working out for me. I still feel pretty nasty, but not being terrified certainly makes everything more doable. For that I am extremely grateful.

My right shoulder twitches about once every 45 seconds. Kind of like a mini shrug. Freaky side effect or precursor to turrets?

Oh. A little p.s. to the shaving my head thing. I am relieved that there were no unexpected bumps, ridges, or divots to report. And my hair isn't actually falling out yet, but if I pull on it it comes out in a clump, roots and all. (If hair that is only a 1/4 of an inch long can come out in clumps.) Note to self... stop pulling on hair.

I am also completely HGTV'd and Food Networked out. And I just re-read the Twilight series.

Apparently the steroids are still doing their thing because it's 1:37 am and I know I won't be able to sleep yet. That is a funny thing though. Now that I have such a hard time sleeping, I have developed a fondness for the sound of Alan's snoring. (Save your comment about how you don't snore for people that will believe you, Homes.) It makes me happy that I'm not keeping him up at night with all my restlessness. I really do like the sound of it now. It's peaceful.

It's a beautiful day and it's great to be alive...

I slept last night. I woke up this morning. I wasn't nauseous. I helped my kids get ready. I even ate a little bit of breakfast. That is a good morning.

This first round of treatment went much better than I had expected. Not that it was a cake walk, just that I had imagined myself taking up a semi-permanent residence next to my toilet, looking and feeling like death warmed over. Really my main complaints were general yuckiness and nausea (never barfed) and my body was pretty sore. The last couple days I've spent more of the night in my bathtub than in the my bed, but I slept pretty soundly last night. (There are steroids in the chemo combo that can make you feel pretty restless. Which is pretty sad when you feel sick and all you want to do is rest!) Luckily, I am surrounded by amazing people who make being sick seem like a vacation instead of a punishment.

In all my long hours in the bath the last couple of nights, I have put together some thoughts on things that might not be too bad in my current situation. Here they are.

• We're going to save a lot of money on shampoo and hair products.
• I've already lost 20 lbs. Not directly from the cancer, but there is nothing like disease staring you in the face to keep you motivated to be healthier.
• I don't even own a bra anymore.
• Pretty soon I won't need to shave my legs.
• Alan has started doing the laundry.
• There is a DVD player in our bedroom now. (However our entertainment center is the ironing board.)
• I can start a super cool hat collection.

OK, so I thought I had more. Anyway, as you can see there are good times ahead.

I did it!

I can't believe I actually did it. I can't believe that I did it with out the secret oncology police needing to bind me and throw me in the back of the paddy wagon to take me in. I did it. (Albeit not without quite a few tears.) My first chemo treatment went pretty well. I should mention that I was armed with every bit of friendship 'armour' that I could think of. I wore Rachel's bracelet, Tori's shirt, books and magazines from lots of different friends and brought all of the loving cards and notes that people have given me so I would feel loved and encouraged all over again. I even debated whether or not I would look like an idiot if I brought the teddy bear Caroline sent. I decided I would and left it at home. (It's huge.) Now that I'm thinking about it, I probably looked like an idiot even without the bear! I brought enough stuff with me! Polly took the kids for us (We love you, Polly! They had so much fun at the nature preserve and they love Opie/Ruby!) and Alan took the day off to be with me. After I got hooked up and under way he skipped out for a second and brought back lunch. We snuggled up on the single bed, ate McCalisters giant baked potatoes and played scrabble on our ipod touch. So really, aside from the loads of toxic chemicals dumped into my veins, it was kind of a nice afternoon.

I know it takes a while for the symptoms to kick in so for now the only side effects are a nasty metallic taste in my mouth and fruit punch colored pee. So, (since I took you all with me to our first treatment...) thanks for going with me. I couldn't have done it without you!

Extreme Makeover: Cancer Edition

My hair has been way too long for way too long. But since I knew it would all be falling out anyway, I wasn't really anxious to spend the money to have it cut. I thought I would just shave it the night before it was going to expel itself. Anyway it was getting almost impossible to tame, let alone look half way decent. I can hardly lift my arms to wash my hair and it was pretty tough to even pull it back into my 3-day ponytail. I finally decided about 45 min before I went to have the port placed that I couldn't take it for even one more minute. There is a Great Clips down the street and I thought, what the heck. I just need them to whack it off to my shoulders. I don't need a fantastic style, it's all coming out in a little bit anyway, right? Holy smokes. Big Mistake. So, lesson learned. After a $50 fix-it cut at a lovely Aveda salon I now feel like it will once again be sad to lose my hair. I have a cute, super short do. Ella said that she really liked it and that it looked a little like Kate's hair (holla). Which is really wonderful because before we even left the salon at great clips, she said that my hair kinda looked like Professor Snape's hair from the Harry Potter movies. Yep. It was bad.

I wish I could think of something funny for the rest of the post. Chemo starts on Friday. This coming Friday. I can't even type that without freaking out. I think even though we had talked about chemo before, I was never really committed to the idea. Like something would change before it ever became a reality. Friday seems like a huge reality. I keep waiting for some miracle to save me. When I was young and (often) unprepared for a test or something the next day, I can remember just praying the school would catch on fire or something so I wouldn't have to take it. (That sounds really bad. Wow.) Well now I'm kind of at that spot. Hoping that all chemo shipments get lost in transit. It seems so surreal. Ella's birthday party is on Thursday. The next day I have my first treatment. Fourteen days from that, I will be bald. Gross. This does not seem possible. Seriously. My life is pretty busy and even still I just can't see this as something I will be doing next week...and the 20 weeks after that. Unbelievable. Crazy.

Well, here we go. Bring it on. Do your worst, cancer. (Not really.) I can take it. (I hope.) As I'm trying to talk tough can I just say that everyone... friends, family, neighbors, well wishers...I will forever be changed because of your kindness. I am not capable of what I have been through or what still lies ahead without you.

Here we go again

Tomorrow I have the port put in. I have to say that although it is a very minor surgery, I am absolutely dreading it. Anything sticking out of me totally gives me the heebs. Anyway, it's minor. I think the procedure is 30 minutes and I go home like an hour later.

The truth is that this whole thing totally sucks. I'm sick of surgeries. I'm sick of IV's and general anesthesia. It's not the mastectomy or even the chemo (although I am seriously doubting that something that makes you so terribly ill can be beneficial to an already sick person, but that's a different post). It's all the incidentals along the way. The scars from the drains, the scars from the sentinel node biopsy, this stinkin' port. What the crap. I don't want people to poke me anymore. I don't want anymore antibiotics (did I mention that I have strep throat?). And I just finished a round from after my last surg. I don't want to have more general anesthesia. I don't even like taking Tylenol. Seriously, it's getting old.

I have to say that it is one of those 'black heart' days anyway so I probably shouldn't be blogging. Well, I check in at 11:00a, surgery at 12:00. Home by 2:00. Puke from 4:00 on.

I'm thinking that one good thing about the port is that on days like today when I am a total grouch, I could self medicate and just mainline some chocolate. That might be a fun experiment.