Today was a good day. I feel okay. I think having some time off from chemo while my platelets bounce back is good for my body. It's just my head I need to work on.
My mind just doesn't stop. I wish I could just be calm, let all the thoughts be quiet. But I'm finding it's hard. First, I just think about what has to be done today. Then I think of things I might be able to accomplish if I'm feeling good. Next I think about when would be a good time to nap. I've never napped as an adult, but there is something wonderful about crawling into the bed in the middle of the day for a little recharge. When Chris is at work and I'm home, the dogs and I crawl in. Sometimes I sleep the whole day until Chris comes home from work. I feel like a bum when he wakes me up - he's done a whole day of doctoring and I ... well ... snuggled with the girls.
At first though, I was so tired I would just fall right to sleep. Now I lay there and think about 57 different things all at the same time. Sometimes I'm impressed by how many thoughts I can have simultaneously. Like I can have a song in the way back of my head, I'm running through the To Do list in the middle part of my brain and at the same time having a pretend conversation with someone ... all in my head. I really need to take a deep breath.
I like to say my prayers. If not for their calming effect, at least for the repetition. I hope God doesn't get mad if you fall asleep saying the Rosary. I don't know that I've ever finished the Rosary before falling to sleep. It's usually in mid-Hail Mary. But I think - as a woman - Mary must realize how tired I am and I don't think she holds it against me.
I think about things 5 years away. I run through our "potential" family. When this is over, will my uterus cooperate? Will we be so nervous that instead of a baby, it will just be Cancer The Third. Should we just book plane tickets to China ... see the Great Wall, pick up a little girl and call it a day? We adopted our dogs and I love them more than live itself. I'm sure Chris and I could be the Lancaster version of Brad and Angie (ich, I don't like her ... or that stupid leg) and host the United Colors of Benetton on Lark Lane. But do you see how crazy I go and how quickly I get there?!?
Take a deep breath, Mer. Left foot, right foot.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Cancer By Number
Remember Paint by Number? We're playing Cancer By Number. Today there are two numbers 5700 and 37. It's like Sesame Street. Today's Cancer is brought to you by the letter N and the number 5700. N - for No chemo!
The 5700 is AMAZING!! Let's put it in perspective. This is the beta hCG number - the pregnancy cancer hormone that tells us how much cancer is left. In Round 2, we were diagnosed at 18,000. Jumped to 64,000 before treatment and had to whittle our way down from there. Last week we had a dramatic initial drop from 64,000 to 36,000. HUGE! Dr. Goldstein from Boston even e-mailed me to say how impressed he was by the drop. (I'm such a pleaser, I want to make the oncologist proud. His e-mail felt like a gold star in 3rd grade!)
Today's blood work is even better ... beta hCG = 5700! Woowoo! We are kicking that cancer's ass! Like really kicking it! Take that, bitches!! At this rate, I could be cancer free by Friday. (That's not true, we shouldn't get away from ourselves ... but I'm just sayin' - it's good.) BUT ....
(there's always a but) ... my platelets are at 37. Thirty seven, you say? What the hell does that mean? Again with some context: They don't give you chemo if your platelets are under 90. So 37 is nowhere near 90. Idiots version of medicine (ie: MY version): platelets are a part of your blood that help your blood clot if you bleed. At 37 mine is "critically low" according to the lab. They will not give you chemotherapy at this level.
Kristen at the Cancer Center says they had a woman with a platelet level of 3 and she survived a car crash. So you're not going to die, you just have to be careful. So 37 means no chemo today. No chemo tomorrow.
I was almost disappointed. I was already in the chemo room, I had put the numbing cream on the port (A+ for me), Chris and I were already settled into the barcaloungers. I was mentally prepared for an infusion. In some of the cancer reading I've done, they stress the importance of being able to continue treatment as scheduled. Every time you have to cancel a treatment it's a little bit of a setback. So I felt concerned that the cancer would go "unanswered" for a week. But Chris says with a drop in hCG like that it's clear the poison is doing it's job!
My tummy is still not right. But other than that, I'm feeling okay. So it will be nice to continue to have "good days" while we wait for those platelets to regenerate.
In the meantime, my hair is definitely falling out now. Day 15, right on schedule. I did get my last official cut last night. What do you think?
The 5700 is AMAZING!! Let's put it in perspective. This is the beta hCG number - the pregnancy cancer hormone that tells us how much cancer is left. In Round 2, we were diagnosed at 18,000. Jumped to 64,000 before treatment and had to whittle our way down from there. Last week we had a dramatic initial drop from 64,000 to 36,000. HUGE! Dr. Goldstein from Boston even e-mailed me to say how impressed he was by the drop. (I'm such a pleaser, I want to make the oncologist proud. His e-mail felt like a gold star in 3rd grade!)
Today's blood work is even better ... beta hCG = 5700! Woowoo! We are kicking that cancer's ass! Like really kicking it! Take that, bitches!! At this rate, I could be cancer free by Friday. (That's not true, we shouldn't get away from ourselves ... but I'm just sayin' - it's good.) BUT ....
(there's always a but) ... my platelets are at 37. Thirty seven, you say? What the hell does that mean? Again with some context: They don't give you chemo if your platelets are under 90. So 37 is nowhere near 90. Idiots version of medicine (ie: MY version): platelets are a part of your blood that help your blood clot if you bleed. At 37 mine is "critically low" according to the lab. They will not give you chemotherapy at this level.
Kristen at the Cancer Center says they had a woman with a platelet level of 3 and she survived a car crash. So you're not going to die, you just have to be careful. So 37 means no chemo today. No chemo tomorrow.
I was almost disappointed. I was already in the chemo room, I had put the numbing cream on the port (A+ for me), Chris and I were already settled into the barcaloungers. I was mentally prepared for an infusion. In some of the cancer reading I've done, they stress the importance of being able to continue treatment as scheduled. Every time you have to cancel a treatment it's a little bit of a setback. So I felt concerned that the cancer would go "unanswered" for a week. But Chris says with a drop in hCG like that it's clear the poison is doing it's job!
My tummy is still not right. But other than that, I'm feeling okay. So it will be nice to continue to have "good days" while we wait for those platelets to regenerate.
In the meantime, my hair is definitely falling out now. Day 15, right on schedule. I did get my last official cut last night. What do you think?
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
I'm at Work!!
Yeah! I feel like myself again.
Yesterday I had every intention of going to work. These should be my best days, Monday and Tuesday, Day 13 and 14. But I realized quickly yesterday morning there was no way I could leave my house and be further than a few steps from the bathroom. My job is not one of those where you are always in the office, close the facilities. So I had to make a judgement call pretty early. Yesterday it was not going to work.
But today I woke up perky and my tummy was cooperating. I'm wearing my bright yellow Fillings suit jacket - so my outlook is following suit. It's incredible how much you appreciate your health when it is suddenly not there. I run on all cylinders all the time, so slowing down is painful - physically and emotionally. I never consider getting up, taking a shower and getting ready for work as an actual event. But with a little chemo on board, that "morning routine" is like a mountain to climb. I feel like I need a nap after getting out of the shower and drying off. I put my towel on my head like a turbine each morning. But now, after carrying the weight of the towel around for like 5 minutes, I feel like I need to rest my neck. I get very dramatic very quickly!
Today is Day 14 - the day the hair starts leaving this world. I noticed a few more strands than normal when I ran my hands through the coif this morning. I think it might be a little while longer before I have a problem ... but what the heck do I know.
I did notice this at the mall the other day.
It's a mannequin at the same store that had the bald ones last week. For the record, Beth Walton guessed Forever 21. But Ronda took the cake by guessing Bebe correctly! I think it's hysterical that only after I pick a short hot red wig - now the mannequins are rocking them! I'm totally a trend setter!
Yesterday I had every intention of going to work. These should be my best days, Monday and Tuesday, Day 13 and 14. But I realized quickly yesterday morning there was no way I could leave my house and be further than a few steps from the bathroom. My job is not one of those where you are always in the office, close the facilities. So I had to make a judgement call pretty early. Yesterday it was not going to work.
But today I woke up perky and my tummy was cooperating. I'm wearing my bright yellow Fillings suit jacket - so my outlook is following suit. It's incredible how much you appreciate your health when it is suddenly not there. I run on all cylinders all the time, so slowing down is painful - physically and emotionally. I never consider getting up, taking a shower and getting ready for work as an actual event. But with a little chemo on board, that "morning routine" is like a mountain to climb. I feel like I need a nap after getting out of the shower and drying off. I put my towel on my head like a turbine each morning. But now, after carrying the weight of the towel around for like 5 minutes, I feel like I need to rest my neck. I get very dramatic very quickly!
Today is Day 14 - the day the hair starts leaving this world. I noticed a few more strands than normal when I ran my hands through the coif this morning. I think it might be a little while longer before I have a problem ... but what the heck do I know.
I did notice this at the mall the other day.
It's a mannequin at the same store that had the bald ones last week. For the record, Beth Walton guessed Forever 21. But Ronda took the cake by guessing Bebe correctly! I think it's hysterical that only after I pick a short hot red wig - now the mannequins are rocking them! I'm totally a trend setter!Monday, March 5, 2012
Zit
Do you ever hear about people who suffered a traumatic event when they were young, or were in a horrific accident and they can't remember it? There are stories of people repressing the bad stuff so far down they forget it even happened. Mostly, I think those stories are bullshit. Obviously something bad happened which makes the person a half a bubble off level. That's why there are so many weird people ... because their babysitter used to play "hide and seek" with them and then they are slightly "off" as adults.
As a person who firmly believes in the principals of therapy, I think more people should cough up their co-pay, find the closest social work and spill their guts. It works for me just fine. But because I've been going to counseling since my parents got divorced when I was 14, one would think I've little left to talk about or discover.
Wrong. (I can always talk more.)
What I'm realizing is that this cancer shit was bad last time ... and I forgot. Or I repressed it. Or I tried so hard to pretend that everything was going to be okay that I didn't dwell on the suck factor. Now I remember.
This acne thing is for the birds. I had an average amount of pimples when I was in high school. I had my share of issues in high school though, so zits weren't even on the Top 10 list. Remember I mentioned STF? That stands for Skin Tight Floods and that was my nickname in high school. I was 5 foot 10 by the time I was 13 and I weighed 98 pounds soaking wet (although I think that is a stupid phrase, as if all the water in my clothes and hair would weigh so much it would push me to what, like 102.? Really, is that 'soaking wet' part all that necessary?) Needless to say, I looked like a freak. Then we had to clothe me. They don't make clothes for people like that. They have a Big and Tall store for men. Have you ever visited a Tall and Awkwardly Thin Store for teenage girls? No.
Some of you (and I'm thinking of you by name) are rolling your eyes right now that I'm complaining about this. Well, suck it. Finding a pair of jeans was not hard - it was impossible. Kids are cruel even if you are skinny and they made fun of me. STF. I wore bad jeans to Youth Group one night with loafers and white socks. You could see about 7 inches of white sock. Chris Glasser asked me, "Hey Mer, where's the flood?" In typical Meredith fashion, I didn't get the joke, but laughed anyway. "Aha ha ha ha!" (followed by a bewildered look. Chris was popular, I would laugh at anything to fit in.) Well, the laugh was on me, because that turned into Skin Tight Floods, which turned into STF, which now lives in infamy in my circle in St. James, New York.
So I had to deal with that, rather than acne as a teen. Which might be why God is giving me that now.
Remember how my mom thought the Cosmos meant the stars not the drink? Maybe she meant the constellations you can draw on my face if you connect the dots. I swear that's Orion's belt on my chin! The only massive plus is that I have loads of serious TV make-up. I slapped some of that on and I'm nearly a new person. So this proves what you see on TV is not true. We are uglier in person and even chemo zits can be make-believe on television!
Now I'm remembering that this happened last time. If you asked me randomly a month ago, did you break out a lot while you were on chemo, I would have said no. But little stuff, really meaningless stuff like bad skin, is what you forget about.
I might make a good Show and Tell though. I told Dr. Evans of some of the side effects I was having, including the stomach problems and chest pain and added the zits last. She says to remember that this is a pregnancy based cancer. My body thinks it's pregnant, I still have high levels of the Beta hCG pregnancy hormone. So maybe my body isn't breaking out from chemo, it's breaking of from being "pregnant." Again, I get all the shit of pregnancy and then no baby at the end. How is that fair??
Then Dr. Evans says her daughter has to bring something to school for Show and Tell. She was given the letter Z and had to come up with something that starts with that letter. While I think an 11 year old's first reaction might be zebra, Dr. Evans says her daughter was insistent on bringing a zit to school. When asked if she really knew what a zit was and how she would do that, her little girl said she would draw a big picture of a pimple and Show and Tell Z: for Zit. While Dr. Evans said she was going to try to talk her daughter out of that, we remarked I would be an excellent exhibit at Show and Tell.
As a person who firmly believes in the principals of therapy, I think more people should cough up their co-pay, find the closest social work and spill their guts. It works for me just fine. But because I've been going to counseling since my parents got divorced when I was 14, one would think I've little left to talk about or discover.
Wrong. (I can always talk more.)
What I'm realizing is that this cancer shit was bad last time ... and I forgot. Or I repressed it. Or I tried so hard to pretend that everything was going to be okay that I didn't dwell on the suck factor. Now I remember.
This acne thing is for the birds. I had an average amount of pimples when I was in high school. I had my share of issues in high school though, so zits weren't even on the Top 10 list. Remember I mentioned STF? That stands for Skin Tight Floods and that was my nickname in high school. I was 5 foot 10 by the time I was 13 and I weighed 98 pounds soaking wet (although I think that is a stupid phrase, as if all the water in my clothes and hair would weigh so much it would push me to what, like 102.? Really, is that 'soaking wet' part all that necessary?) Needless to say, I looked like a freak. Then we had to clothe me. They don't make clothes for people like that. They have a Big and Tall store for men. Have you ever visited a Tall and Awkwardly Thin Store for teenage girls? No.
Some of you (and I'm thinking of you by name) are rolling your eyes right now that I'm complaining about this. Well, suck it. Finding a pair of jeans was not hard - it was impossible. Kids are cruel even if you are skinny and they made fun of me. STF. I wore bad jeans to Youth Group one night with loafers and white socks. You could see about 7 inches of white sock. Chris Glasser asked me, "Hey Mer, where's the flood?" In typical Meredith fashion, I didn't get the joke, but laughed anyway. "Aha ha ha ha!" (followed by a bewildered look. Chris was popular, I would laugh at anything to fit in.) Well, the laugh was on me, because that turned into Skin Tight Floods, which turned into STF, which now lives in infamy in my circle in St. James, New York.
So I had to deal with that, rather than acne as a teen. Which might be why God is giving me that now.
 |
| Pre-make up |
 |
| Post make up - thank god! |
Now I'm remembering that this happened last time. If you asked me randomly a month ago, did you break out a lot while you were on chemo, I would have said no. But little stuff, really meaningless stuff like bad skin, is what you forget about.
I might make a good Show and Tell though. I told Dr. Evans of some of the side effects I was having, including the stomach problems and chest pain and added the zits last. She says to remember that this is a pregnancy based cancer. My body thinks it's pregnant, I still have high levels of the Beta hCG pregnancy hormone. So maybe my body isn't breaking out from chemo, it's breaking of from being "pregnant." Again, I get all the shit of pregnancy and then no baby at the end. How is that fair??
Then Dr. Evans says her daughter has to bring something to school for Show and Tell. She was given the letter Z and had to come up with something that starts with that letter. While I think an 11 year old's first reaction might be zebra, Dr. Evans says her daughter was insistent on bringing a zit to school. When asked if she really knew what a zit was and how she would do that, her little girl said she would draw a big picture of a pimple and Show and Tell Z: for Zit. While Dr. Evans said she was going to try to talk her daughter out of that, we remarked I would be an excellent exhibit at Show and Tell.
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