Well, which one? The good one or the bad one? It's always something.
This Wednesday the hCG was the GOOD NUMBER, dropping from 4.0 to 2.2! I am so happy it dropped. This is the part where I get bitchy: I'm so frustrated that it is painfully slow. It's like creeping it's way down to zero. Ugh, I want it over with so badly.
My progress is really so positive - I know that. I just had a bad taste in my mouth because of the BAD NUMBER. The damn platelets again. Why won't they just cooperate? Your platelets need to be 90 to get chemo. I came in at a resounding 26. Thanks for playing, but that's not high enough to receive treatment.
(When I get to the doctor's office each week, I like to work the room. Say hello to everyone, all the women patients and their cute husbands who are doting on them. I talked to this one women Wednesday. Asked how her numbers were. She said, "Oh gosh, not good. My platelets are so low. They are the lowest they have ever been. I'm nervous." I asked what's her number. She replied, "Ninety-two!" I could tell she was exasperated and I didn't want to pop her drama bubble. So I said nothing. But she asked, "What are yours?" I said, "Today they are 26 but last month they were 6." She shut up pretty quickly. See ... it's all about perspective.)
So while I was thrilled with the 2.2 hCG, I was disappointed in no chemo. I feel like every week I miss now is a week I have to tack on in August. A No Chemo Day is like a Snow Day when you are a kid in school, except without the fun of sledding. And then, when it's nice out at the end of the school year, they sock on these extra days. By that point you can't remember the fun of sledding. All you know is you're sweating to death and want to be in the pool. I want to be in the pool, damn it! We don't even have a pool, but I want in it.
The silver lining (and there's always one) is that without chemo I should be a rock star for Memorial Day Weekend! My mouth is so sore all I'm eating is pastina, apple sauce and ice pops. But you can bet I'm going to party it up for the holiday weekend. We're going to the shore. I might try to gum a hamburger and french fries. I can't wait to sit on the beach (under a hat, a muumuu and a tent because the sun is like kryptonite for me right now). But the soothing sounds of the ocean and the warm sea air is enough to cure anything.
Let's kick off the summer in style and with some positive vibes. And maybe, just maybe, we can end the season with a Cancer-Free Barbecue and a cold cosmopolitan! Cheers!
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Can I Wear A Cancer Sign?
This has been one of my biggest lessons during this illness. You have no idea what other people might be going through.
I'm learning everyone has something. Each family knows a sick person, or has lost someone, or struggles with an ongoing issue. Many people have had a life tragedy and just keep on plugging. While the pain of those struggles might be easing over time, some are raw and painful and you can't just wear it on your sleeve.
Though sometimes I'd like to. There have been a few times I wanted a tattoo on my forehead that read something like this:
"I HAVE CANCER BITCH, SO BACK OFF!"
It wouldn't be kind or prudent (and it would be really painful lasering that tattoo off once I'm better) but at least it would get my message across.
I feel it in the supermarket. By the time I've walked up and down the aisles and filled the cart I'm at my physical limit. I'm tired and now the cart is 400 pounds (yes, I need three boxes of Entenmann's nubby donuts) and of course I have the cart with one bum wheel.
Tangent: have you noticed the cart area at the supermarket lately? They have a camera pointed right at you as you come in as if to say "We're watching you. You steal those Entenmann's donuts, we're gonna getcha!), then they have four containers of antibacterial wipes. "For your safety." As if someone has ever actually contracted Hepatitis from pushing the cart. Can we - for five minutes - focus on fixing the shitty wheels on the shopping carts instead of resupplying the sani-wipes all day long? Germ-a-phobes would probably welcome a little staph infection if the carts just worked properly.
Back to the supermarket: I'm so tired by the end. I try to unload my cart as fast as possible. I try not to hold up the line by digging in my wallet for the Giant Preferred Shopper Club Card. I attempt to help bag the shit up. But I'm so tired. I look up at the people behind me and dodge the glares. This is when I want a sign that says, "BEAR WITH ME, I HAVE CANCER."
If nothing else, it would give people pause. I might be able to elicit some of those "Ah, poor girl" sighs from some old ladies. Mostly it would be an explanation for why I'm not in tip top shape, moving at warp speed.
That's when I realize it's not a lesson for everyone else. It's a lesson for me. I'm the bitch whose complaining behind someone in the supermarket line. I have no idea what might be going on with that person when they are not out shopping for nubby donuts. I'm going to take a breath, take a pause, and realize everyone has something. Maybe that someone wishes they had a sign too.
I'm learning everyone has something. Each family knows a sick person, or has lost someone, or struggles with an ongoing issue. Many people have had a life tragedy and just keep on plugging. While the pain of those struggles might be easing over time, some are raw and painful and you can't just wear it on your sleeve.
Though sometimes I'd like to. There have been a few times I wanted a tattoo on my forehead that read something like this:
"I HAVE CANCER BITCH, SO BACK OFF!"
It wouldn't be kind or prudent (and it would be really painful lasering that tattoo off once I'm better) but at least it would get my message across.
I feel it in the supermarket. By the time I've walked up and down the aisles and filled the cart I'm at my physical limit. I'm tired and now the cart is 400 pounds (yes, I need three boxes of Entenmann's nubby donuts) and of course I have the cart with one bum wheel.
Tangent: have you noticed the cart area at the supermarket lately? They have a camera pointed right at you as you come in as if to say "We're watching you. You steal those Entenmann's donuts, we're gonna getcha!), then they have four containers of antibacterial wipes. "For your safety." As if someone has ever actually contracted Hepatitis from pushing the cart. Can we - for five minutes - focus on fixing the shitty wheels on the shopping carts instead of resupplying the sani-wipes all day long? Germ-a-phobes would probably welcome a little staph infection if the carts just worked properly.
Back to the supermarket: I'm so tired by the end. I try to unload my cart as fast as possible. I try not to hold up the line by digging in my wallet for the Giant Preferred Shopper Club Card. I attempt to help bag the shit up. But I'm so tired. I look up at the people behind me and dodge the glares. This is when I want a sign that says, "BEAR WITH ME, I HAVE CANCER."
If nothing else, it would give people pause. I might be able to elicit some of those "Ah, poor girl" sighs from some old ladies. Mostly it would be an explanation for why I'm not in tip top shape, moving at warp speed.
That's when I realize it's not a lesson for everyone else. It's a lesson for me. I'm the bitch whose complaining behind someone in the supermarket line. I have no idea what might be going on with that person when they are not out shopping for nubby donuts. I'm going to take a breath, take a pause, and realize everyone has something. Maybe that someone wishes they had a sign too.
Monday, May 21, 2012
The Unstoppable Umsteads
There are so so so many people whose help and generosity is just overwhelming. I'm lucky to be surrounded by such a support system. It would be unfair to single out one particular person or persons.
That being said: Todd Umstead and his family are hysterical! And they have kept me smiling this whole time. When I said "funny cards" - they found funny cards. The Easter VaJayJay card was from the Umsteads. I don't know that Jesus meant for the Easter celebration of his Resurrection and VaJayJay's to appear on the same card - but Todd and Dawn found it. And I loved it.
This is the latest well wish:
Hysterical! Where do you find a card like this? And if I found it, I would be buy all of them because I can think of about a dozen people who would bust a gut if they opened this up!
On top of the dog cards, the Umstead's rock a menagerie of dogs and other animals at home. And the best part is ... they put them on the return address label with those little cartoon faces! When I get a card from them, at first glance, I'm thinking it's the Rodgers (who also send the funniest cards!). With five children and the same type of return address label, there are seven smiling cartoon faces on the Rodgers sticker. Those represent actual human beings. Todd and Dawn, plus daughter Olivia, are on the label along with 37 animals! I swear between dogs, cats, a hamster, plus an elephant I think - it's the Umstead Zoo! Makes me laugh every time.
Dawn keyed in on one of the biggest things when I first got sick: running errands. I - the Queen of Errand Running - simply could not get in and out of the car 53 times in an afternoon to get my stuff done. She was out running errands, she offered to run my errands. It's like a family of Visiting Angels.
Todd sent the last card, one of those talking ones, with an extra surprise inside: a print out from WikiAnswers.com.
Check this out:
http://wiki.answers.com/Q/How_tall_is_meredith_jorgensen
The whole first post is crazy, CRAY-ZEE (except for the part where he says I'm prettier in person - that part is all true! Ha!)
So Todd finds this, prints it out, writes WTF on the top and sent it along. If this kind of stuff doesn't pass the cancer time, I don't know what will.
While it's all fun and games, my thanks and appreciation is serious. This man is bald for me. Todd's been a part of St. Baldrick's Day for years. It's an organization that urges people to raise money to shave their heads in support of children diagnosed with pediatric cancers. It's a fun and awe-inspiring event as dozens of people - a lot of local police officers and fire fighters - shave their heads. I was really hoping to go, see my friends and support the cause in April. Alas, I was having one of those "bad" cancer days and missed all the fun. But then Todd texted me this picture:
That being said: Todd Umstead and his family are hysterical! And they have kept me smiling this whole time. When I said "funny cards" - they found funny cards. The Easter VaJayJay card was from the Umsteads. I don't know that Jesus meant for the Easter celebration of his Resurrection and VaJayJay's to appear on the same card - but Todd and Dawn found it. And I loved it.
This is the latest well wish:
 |
| Old lady, furry dog: "Sorry my dog humped your leg... he feels really bad about it!" |
On top of the dog cards, the Umstead's rock a menagerie of dogs and other animals at home. And the best part is ... they put them on the return address label with those little cartoon faces! When I get a card from them, at first glance, I'm thinking it's the Rodgers (who also send the funniest cards!). With five children and the same type of return address label, there are seven smiling cartoon faces on the Rodgers sticker. Those represent actual human beings. Todd and Dawn, plus daughter Olivia, are on the label along with 37 animals! I swear between dogs, cats, a hamster, plus an elephant I think - it's the Umstead Zoo! Makes me laugh every time.
Dawn keyed in on one of the biggest things when I first got sick: running errands. I - the Queen of Errand Running - simply could not get in and out of the car 53 times in an afternoon to get my stuff done. She was out running errands, she offered to run my errands. It's like a family of Visiting Angels.
Todd sent the last card, one of those talking ones, with an extra surprise inside: a print out from WikiAnswers.com.
Check this out:
http://wiki.answers.com/Q/How_tall_is_meredith_jorgensen
The whole first post is crazy, CRAY-ZEE (except for the part where he says I'm prettier in person - that part is all true! Ha!)
So Todd finds this, prints it out, writes WTF on the top and sent it along. If this kind of stuff doesn't pass the cancer time, I don't know what will.
While it's all fun and games, my thanks and appreciation is serious. This man is bald for me. Todd's been a part of St. Baldrick's Day for years. It's an organization that urges people to raise money to shave their heads in support of children diagnosed with pediatric cancers. It's a fun and awe-inspiring event as dozens of people - a lot of local police officers and fire fighters - shave their heads. I was really hoping to go, see my friends and support the cause in April. Alas, I was having one of those "bad" cancer days and missed all the fun. But then Todd texted me this picture:
 |
| Todd definitely rocks that look better than I do. Thank you for all your support and well wishes. You have no idea how much it means! |
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