Burning the Candle at Both Ends?

This is a phrase my dear Mother is prone to use on me. Yes, I have a tendency to burn the candle at both ends. I just like to be highly effective. Make a plan, get things done, enjoy the sense of accomplishment. Well, Day One of chemo was no different.

Think of it though. It was the first of many treatments and it started on the first day of Lent. How prophetic that I would start my rough road on the same day we count down to Jesus' "rough road." (It's probably inappropriate to compare a couple of cancer infusions to hanging on the cross, but I'm also not the Savior of Mankind.) So at least I will count the 40 days and 40 nights of Lent knowing that I'm suffering through chemo, but I don't have to suffer like Jesus did.

Either way, I had to go to Ash Wednesday Mass. But that was the last of a list of things I had to do on Day One.

First was the infusion. Then there was lunch. I was famished and Marcia agreed to feed me at the first place I found acceptable. We settled on Subway. I order my classic 6 inch Turkey Sub. It wasn't until Marsh ordered an egg whites sandwich that I realize she is a good Catholic and I'm a heathen. It's a Holy Day of Obligation and meat is out. Well, the poor guy behind the counter already made my sandwich by the time I thought of it. And I was so fricking hungry, I looked upward, said I was sorry and ate that sub like it was the last turkey sandwich in the world.

Next, it was off to the nail salon. You might think I was wiped by the first day of treatment and I was. But not too wiped that I couldn't sit for 45 minutes with my favorite girl. Anyone who has had a good nail tech knows, a nail appointment is more a counseling session with a polish change on the side. I feel bad for people who choose the non-English speaking nail techs - the feedback on serious life problems is just not the same.

Kay is my love and I wanted to see her, plus my nails were in desperate need to see her, so Marcia took me to the salon. We laughed, we joked, we picked the hot color of the week, and I left feeling prettier and happier than when I went.

It's always good to be around pretty young women like Kay and Erin. They always teach me something and Marsh got a lesson of her own too.


Erin offering tech advice.


For the woman who pays all her bills online, e-mail friends and family regularly and texts like a champ - Marcia is in a technology class all her own. But as she started texting Al in the salon, the phone would click with every letter. Erin said, "We have to change that." So the two of them sat on the couch and tried to manage the phone. It's that kind of full service salon.


So after Chemo and my nails, I finally went home to sleep. I took a much needed nap and woke up my own at 6:30 - just in time to go to Mass. Or so I thought. I pull up for what I think is 7pm Mass and there's no steady stream of people filing in. So I know I've messed something up. When I walk in the back, the service is halfway over - started at 6:30 - and I just missed the giving of the ashes, by like 30 seconds. So I sulk into a back pew and stay for the rest of Mass.

Afterward, I have the gall to stop and talk to Father Leo - who has been so wonderful since my recent diagnosis. I give him an update and he says he's praying for Chris and me. Then I point to my (empty) forehead and admit, "I missed the ashes part." He says no problem, we can fix that right now.

In the sacristy, he fixes me up with a prayer and a cross of ashes on my forehead. Then Fr. Leo looks at his work and laughs. He says, "Oh, I've kinda made a mess. But it looks like angel." I'm thrilled he let me slide, so I'm not picky. But then he leads me to the mirror and says, "Really, I'm trying to pretend that's an angel, but it looks like a bat." Either way, I got the ashes. That's what counts, right?

Angel or bat? You decide.

Two Days Down

Today was a great day. Chris had off in the morning, so we had a Chemo date. Today's infusion was shorter - only one bag of chemo. And I was much better prepared. I put the numbing cream on 30 minutes early - as clearly stated on the tube.

Not a tattoo, just a stamp to show were to stick.

Plus, I took a Vicoden before we left too. The goal of that was to keep my hands from twitching. Amazingly, the Vicoden didn't make me loopy, but it did keep the twitches at bay.



The Cookes, just chillin' on a Thursday morning.

 Took a small snooze when we got home. The dogs have been guarding me closely. Either to make me feel better or to plead for even more treats. We definitely over-treat them, but I don't really care. They make us happy and it's nice to have a warm, albeit furry, body to cuddle with.

Marcia dropped of Mrs. Speitel's Chicken - one of our favorites!! It was gone in no time. Two days down ... a couple more to go.

Who Has "Freshman" Written on Their Forehead?

I got an F as soon as I got to the Cancer Center today.

I'm being a little dramatic (if you can imagine such a thing). Kristen, at Dr. Evans office, is simply the most caring, wonderful, fun loving person you could ever meet. She would never give anyone an F. But I did f-up from the first moment.

I walked into the Chemo Room in the back of the office. I don't know if that's what Dr. Evans officially calls it, but let's be honest - that's what happens there, so I'll call it the Chemo Room. It's bright, with lots of windows and lots of barcaloungers - right up Chris' alley. There's pretty wall paper with dainty purple flowers, tasteful sea foam green valences on the windows. You can tell this is a woman's office. She took the time to soften the institutional part of the Chemo Room. It's a place you can feel comfortable.

The first thing I did was make eye contact with some of the women who were already hooked up to their chemo polls and said hello ... then felt compelled to say, "I'm new here." I'm sure these stoic patients knew that, most of them have been there for weeks and haven't seen me yet. They know a newbie when they see one! A few introduced themselves to me. A few asked "if I was that girl from television." It seems like a kind group.

Marcia and I nestled into two of the chairs. Kristen comes over all smiles. She and I were people who really enjoyed each other's company in 2008 and 2009. I'm sad to have to come back for cancer treatment, but getting to spend time with her again is one of those silver linings. Plus Mimi and Beverly, also office staff, are always wonderful too. You have to have special personality to work in a cancer office and these women shine.

(Side note: Kristen and I talked pedicures in 2009. She wanted a quick place to go on her lunch break. I suggested a spot next to WGAL. If I remember correctly, she went. And then at some point, Googled the business on the state licensing website and found out it had all sorts of health violations. Perhaps that was a bad suggestion. Albeit, on Monday, before my port surgery, I treated myself to a pedi at that exact spot. Here's how my tooties turned out:

Have the blues?

The color is hideous, I know. But I picked it out myself. I was feeling blue every morning I woke up. By midday, the depression has been subsiding. But I thought it's okay to feel blue sometimes. So I painted my toes blue. But they are the furthest part of my body from my head. So my toes can take care of being blue, leaving plenty of room for my head to feel strong. Plus, I hope i didn't pick up an infection at the nail place!)


So ... Kristen says, "How was the numbing cream?" I said, "I have it right here," (pulling it out of the depths of my pocketbook, proud I even remembered it.) "I didn't put it on yet." So Kristen chuckles, holds up the front of the box toward me and reads me what it says in gosh darn black and white: "Apply cream to site 30 minutes BEFORE chemotherapy." Damn it. I was supposed to read the box too?!? They are certainly asking a lot here. So we had to wait 30 minutes for me to fix the first fuck up. No biggie. They can't start my chemo without me ... we just started it a little tardy. Chalking that up to first day jitters.

Kristen accessed the port like the Champion of Needles she is. I didn't feel a thing - total piece of cake. They drip in a bunch of stuff - some Benadryl, an anti-nausea medicine, some fluids, then two different bags of Chemo. Today was Etoposide and Dactinomycin. Then I got a shot of Methotrexate in the ample chub of my rear end.

For those of you who remember last time, I was given only Methotrexate. First once an week, then daily. I doesn't cause you to lose your hair and I, then too, had it administered IM - intra muscular - a.k.a. in the ass cheek. By doing the Methotrexate by shot 4 times a week this time around, it cuts out that 12 hour infusion. Not a bad trade if you ask me.

Everything was good. I felt a little woozy. I didn't feel too sad, or overwhelmed. I did get these twitches in my hands and forearms - like Restless Leg Syndrome but of a different limb. Kristen says that happens because of one of the drugs. I'll take a Vicoden tomorrow before chemo and that should subside. Loving the Vicoden. It's great that Chris is coming with me tomorrow because he'll have to drive my loopy ass there. I aim to be drugged up and numbed up, using the cream as directed.

Tomorrow, I'm going to get an A.

Let's Do This!

Today's the day we start. I'm ready. I bought myself a bunch of "lounge wear" at the Victoria Secret store. All my "hang out" pants are about 4 inches too short. Acceptable for working out or lounging at home, but I needed some pants that are a socially acceptable length to wear outside this house. Remind me to tell you the STF story later.


We start at 11am and should be finished in a few hours today. NOT a 12 hour infusion - thank goodness!! Marcia is taking me - she's such a good egg! Will report back later!

Raise Your Hand if You're Sure

I'm sure that this port is essential to getting better. I'm sure that the chemo will burn the cancer to hell. I'm just not sure I'll be able to raise my right hand for a couple of days. I'm not gonna lie, it's a little sore. More like uncomfortable, I guess. Work was fine yesterday, but I kept putting my left hand over my right shoulder, I guess to guard or shield my latest piece of equipment. I thought Dr. Heinle was going to place the port on the left side - no real reason for that, just what I surmised - but it's on the right side. So I looked like I was walking around saying the Pledge of Allegiance ... with the wrong hand. I might be blonde, but I know how to do that correctly!

All bandaged up. Ready to go.

X Marks the Spot

It's in. And it's fine. It went fine. I feel fine. We're one step closer to getting better.

The surgi-center runs like a well oiled machine. Everyone was so kind. I asked for some Versed before they took me back to the OR. I told the nurse it's the only part of this stupid little surgery that makes it worth it. Chris said that I fit the model for "drug seeking behavior." I agree with him. I was seeking some Versed!

Not sure what a medi-port is? Me either.
Here's where you can find out what Wiki says about it.

I almost lost it this morning though. The goal was to go to work today. I woke up with Chris so he could take a look at the incision and change the dressing. He peeled off the old dressing which was stiff with a little brown dried blood. Chris is so gentle when he does it though. He has those good hands. I looked down briefly and could see the cut line with a little crusty scab on it then a stamp of a circle with and X in it, to mark the actual location of the port. For a second, I thought, oh look - it's like a treasure hunt. The nephews would love this stamp! Then, I felt like I was going to puke. Just for a minute or two. I headed for the bathroom just in case, but it came and went. My husband/doctor says it's not uncommon for people to get queasy when their dressing is being changed. At least I'm a little normal. So I didn't throw up, I got in the shower, Chris helped wash my hair and I felt revived and clean.

I'm at work now. I feel okay. What was I going to do at home? Sit around and sulk? I have a great story already - I'll be live at Noon. The news keeps coming, even if I'm not here, but it's nice when I can feel like I have some purpose.
Also, I have this eye twitch. It just won't go away. Chris says that eye twitches can be brought on by a lack of sleep or stress. I can't imagine why I would have either one of those problems.

Pre-Port Party

I get the port today. I'm not feeling great about it. I think the anxiety of all of this is starting to build and quite frankly overflow a bit. So today's the day. There's no turning back now. Last time I had cancer, (still a ridiculous phrase that I hope no one else ever has to utter) I feel like I got away pretty unscathed. Kept my hair, no port, no scars, no mark with which to remember the illness. Can't get away with that after today.

I would like to say I apologize for my vanity ... my concern about losing my hair or my anger that the port will leave a scar ... but then I think, I don't have to apologize for a goddamn thing. I just hope the scar isn't too big, I don't want to have to be reminded of this awfulness every time I wear a strapless dress. And Mike Hostetler, the Sports Anchor at WGAL, would agree, I have good collarbones. He's a connoisseur.

So we had a small party, Beth and I. Chris was on call last night and couldn't partake in the imbibing. So my across-the-street neighbor Beth and I made up for him. She invited me over for Cosmos. How perfect. Truth be told, we skipped my preferred drink and came up with another delicious option. The Saint Tropez.

Mike might know collarbones, but Beth is a connoisseur of St. Germain - a wonderful Elderberry Liquore (is that how you spell that? "Lick-CORE" is what I'm going for, not lick-her) that she discovered three summers ago. We would sit at her pool, drink a light, refreshing St. Germain Cocktail (or four) and then float in the sunshine. By the time we sat up straight, the sun and drinks would go to our heads so quickly, there was no way we would stay on the raft. It was a fun summer. And it's a fun drink.

So for the "Pre-Port Party" Beth did a little recon work. She discovered an entire St. Germain website.
St. Germain Recipes are just a click away!
After trolling though a ton of viable options, we landed on the Saint Tropez (get it, Saint for Germain + Tropez sans the San). Dee-lish. We had three. Talked about how this cancer sucks. Didn't linger there long. Chatted about all other things important, like recent trips and fun memories and plans post-port. Then I stood up and recalled quickly how we felt those summers in the pool. Thank God I live across the street. It was a quick commute home.