Where does it hurt?

Today is Day 1. Chemo today and tomorrow and the shots and on and on and on. And so it goes. People keep asking, "How much longer do you have to do this?" It's a valid question. But it also seems to be the question - like when you're pregnant and every single person asks when you're due. I'm sure by the end of 3 months, most mothers-to-be want to have that shit tattooed to their forehead. Well, I don't even have a date to get tattooed. "Several months of aggressive chemotherapy." That's the sentence the Boston doctor said. So ... several months, I guess?

We do have that marker though. The hormone level. It started at 64,000 and now it's just 249. Like, Holy Shit, how amazing is that drop?!?! It dropped from 298 to 249 last week - not as dramatic but still heading in the right direction.

My worry is that it will start just creeping down now. Every single point will be a big deal. I just want it to be zero so badly. Maybe today??

In the meantime, I'm a little achy all over. Chris - in true doctor form - asked, "Where does it hurt?" All I could say is, "All over." How's that for being specific??

It Takes a Village

I'm not a big Hillary Clinton fan, but the Secretary of State might be right on this one. It does take a village ... if not to raise a child, at least to get through Cancer. Given a village of my own, I always thought there's a chance I could be the Idiot. But it turns out my village is so kind no one would call me the Village Idiot ... at least not to my bald face!

So so so so so many people have helped, are helping, continue to offer to help, are looking for some way to help. I'm so overwhelmed by the generosity of people who are really very, very busy and have their own lives to worry about. Every time I hit the mailbox there are wonderful and hysterical cards. My friend Todd who I know from work and his family took a break from the hysterical get well cards they've been sending and went with the Easter theme. He double dog dared me to put this one on the blog. I don't easily bend to dares ... but this card had me in stitches ... so me and my two dogs (double dog) are taking the dare.

"Wowee," thought Myrtle, "Somewhere there's a chicken with a really sore vajyajya!"
ONLY in America can you get a greeting card with the word vajayjay on it! Classic! Thanks Todd and fam!

This sickness sucks, but the cards are so great! It's like better than Christmas card season or even Wedding RSVP season! When we were engaged, I loved nothing more than going to the mailbox to see who cleared their schedule to come to our wedding and reply with a resounding YES and who was going to miss the event of the year ... their loss. I still saved all the Yeses with the fun notes from people. I'm a pack rat, and some day I will sit down and go through all those response cards and remember who loved us!

It's the same with these cards. It's like a little ray of sunshine every time I get an envelope. People write the funniest stuff too ... not a single card has been blue or depressing ... all upbeat and perky which helps keep me that way.

When Jackie came to visit she helped me hang some of the cards. After stringing up dozens of them, she took a step back, looked at the loot and said in her perfect Jackie way, "Geez, if only people weren't so damn selfish and they would just send you a card!" Sarcasm has always suited her!!

Can you see the one front and center with the large man playing golf on the beach that says, "Geez, I hope this visor doesn't make me look fat!" Kills me every time!!

Jackie's sense of humor is another ray of sunshine. Through two bouts of cancer and other unfortunate situations, Chris and I have cancelled about 25 vacations over the last couple of years. We had grand plans for Mexico with the Salvos, we were headed to Puerto Rico when we had a work conflict, three weeks ago we should have been in Antigua. Check out where we would have stayed. Better than Lancaster?? Um, yes! Blue Waters, Antigua But in grand Jackie fashion, she provided us with some sunshine alternatives:

Fun in the Sun Activity book! Complete with our friends already the beach! That's Stephen on the surf board. Ben is in a boat inside, even Tracy, Action Jackson and New Baby Noah are on our tropical adventure!

Let's be honest, when you need a good laugh, you need a village full of funny people. Thanks for being my village!

There's something about feeling effective

Wearing the wig needs an attitude. Today, I have that attitude. I put it on this morning, ran my fingers through it and then winked at myself in the mirror. Every time I felt like it was a groundhog on my head, I thought of that sass. That makes all the difference.

I did a lot of sitting last week. I didn't even try to not sit. I have a list of things I can do: Continue to hang all the wonderful Get Well Cards, organize our DVD's, pair all the unpaired socks, file the bills instead of letting them pile up in one spot for 12 months. There's always plenty to do. But I just did nothing.

My first reaction to that lethargy is disgust. I would like to accomplish something. I don't feel like I've earned my spot on this planet if I can't produce something meaningful. It's like a weight on my shoulders, a guilt I can't shake. But I'm so tired. So I just sit.

In my sitting ... and my wonderful, non-stop talking with Ashley ... I came to one rationalization. Wednesdays and Thursdays are big days. The chemo is important. It's killing the cancer beautifully. But while I put a lot of importance on the actual infusions, that's just getting the poison in there. After I leave the chemo room, the drugs are still pumping through me, hunting down those nasty little cancer cells. It's that micro-biological battle that's probably making me so tired. If there's a world war going on inside your body, you should probably just lay down and let the sides duke it out. Don't give the chemo any more work to do by organizing the house paints while the drugs are trying to shrink tumors. At least that's what I came up with. So I sat.

It's been wonderful to be back at work on Monday and Tuesday. If I'm not a great journalist, at least I'm a prolific journalist. When operating at 100%, I can turn a package, two vo-sots and a live shot or two with no problem. Now, I'm thrilled to get one interview done. I'm not as speedy but I'm still as dedicated to producing something worthwhile at work. It gives me a sense of value and I like that.

You know what else gives me value?? Hysterical presents like this one ... from Jeannette. Wait till I should you the leather one!!

What better to accent your noggin' than a feather headband??

It just HAD to be windy!

I'm back at work today and I'm so happy to see all my friends. I try to be as least dramatic as possible when I walk in, but everyone is so nice and asks how I am doing and says my hair looks good, so it's a little dramatic. I don't necessarily believe the hair part. I'm wearing the shaggy wig and it simply feels ridiculous. It's feels like a high, furry hat. And the bangs are sticking me in the face. I think if it was real hair I wouldn't mind the hair in my face so much. It's just that it's a little prickly and it feels unnatural.

This is the look after I walked to my car in the 60 mph wind. Not my best look!

On top of feeling a little self conscious, it's a blustery mess out today! Like really pretty damn windy! So on top of feeling like there's a raccoon on top of my head, now I'm worried about it flying off! I wish there was a hidden camera watching me as I play with the wig. I must look like a spastic idiot with a tic of some sort.

Cancer: Take 1 With Hair was a whole lot easier than Cancer:Take 2 Without Hair.

I'm thrilled to be back in a routine though. The routine of being in the hospital is boring. Despite the wonderful programming we provide at News 8, most television is simply awful. (ie: Ice Loves Coco) I have been laying low at home for the last three days. Friday I didn't even turn on the TV because I couldn't stand it anymore. That's saying something. Now I can dive in on the 37 books I have on my bedside stand.

Did I mention the de ja vu factor of the hospital stay? Same room as 2009. During Cancer 1, I started writing a book about all the funny shit that happened. I never did anything with it - probably because God knew there were would a Volume 2. But I went back to it a found the part about that hospital room.

Here's the except:

"Last time I was in the hospital, I had a great view of the cemetery. It was a good reminder: "If you don't make it here, we'll just put you there." This time though, the view from my room was pretty non-descript - another wing of the hospital, I could see about 10 windows from my hospital bed. It didn't take long to notice the lights were on at all hours on the night in the wing across the way. Sometimes the lights would flick on and off really fast. Odd. The next morning I found out - that is the psych ward. Again: "If you don't make it here, we'll just put you there."

It snowed while I was in the hospital. I was on a heavy morphine drip for a couple of days, so things are fuzzy. But I distinctly remember looking out the window and noticing the snow flakes were falling UP. The nurse said it wasn't the morphine, it was a weird wind tunnel created by the two wings of the hospital. I can imagine what the patients in the psych ward thought about the rising snow flakes."

At least it didn't snow this time.

Nothing but sunshine this time! Of course, it was sunny and 75 while I was trapped inside!

My Throne. Note the French Fries on the table. My appetite is just fine!

I was running a small florist in my room! I loved it!! So beautiful and it smelled wonderful too. Nothing like some gerber daisies and roses to take the cold edge off a hotel room!

Let's Backtrack a Little

The Shaving of the Head:

During our meeting with Dr. Goldstein in Boston, one of the first things he said was, "You're going to lose your hair." Getting to that point was interesting. I think we had a good plan; cut it short little by little so it wasn't as stringy when it was falling from my head. I was down to the shortest pixie cut about the time the doctors expected it to fall out. Everyone was pretty dead on too. On the drug I'm taking Etoposide (sp?) the hair starts to depart at 14 days. There we were at 14 days when I started to notice my hairs didn't want to stay attached to my head anymore.

So that's the logistics part. But you have to consider the emotional part and after I had my "plan" the emotions were all I was considering. I felt like when the hair was gone it was going to be real. As if the mediport, the chemo infusions, all the blood test etc. didn't seal the deal enough. The bald part was really going to hit Cancer home.

I went to work Monday and Tuesday last week. The hair was bad. I didn't even wash it the one day. The next I refused to blow dry it because I was sure the power of the blow dryer would just send the hairs flying from my head. It was getting thin. You could see my scalp. But I just wasn't ready yet. I knew I had chemo on Wednesday and that I wouldn't be at work for at least two days. I thought if I can make it until then, it will be hair or no hair on my terms.

Amazingly, the back didn't look too bad. I'm sure a lot of people would prefer if I would report the news facing this way anyway.

Tuesday night I asked my husband to shave my head.

I think we were both nervous. Chris and I have a nice "getting home from work" routine. We hang out in the kitchen, debrief about our days, play with the dogs and sort of catch up. Often this includes a Miller Light. Since I've been off the alcohol train lately, Chris is picking up the slack as only a good husband would. I think the 2 Miller Lights he had when he got home from worked helped ... because shaving your wife's head is not as easy as it seems.

YOU KNOW WHEN YOU WATCH TV AND THEY SHAVE SOMEONES HEAD AND ONE MINUTE THERE IS HAIR THERE AND THE NEXT IT'S BALD. THAT IS BULL SHIT.

I just want to be clear. Whether it's that scene in the cancer movie 50/50, or Demi shaving her head in GI Jane, or the shit we watch on the Military Channel when the Marines get a high and tight hair cut in seconds flat. I'm here to tell you - it's Hollywood. Really shaving your head takes about an hour.

We lined the floor with a plastic drop cloth and I got out the good clippers. I'm saying that sarcastically, because they were $9.99 from CVS and that's probably the reason this shit took a hour. By simply running my fingers through my hair, it would come out in droves. We put some music on in the bathroom and Chris set to work.

What's the biggest worry when you are going to shave your head? That your head is shaped funny under all that hair. It turns out I have nothing to worry about there - my noggin is a perfect specimen. The problem was getting to it and then getting rid of all the dandruff that apparently has been living there for quite some time.

Chris was careful and kind, paying special attention not to nick my skull or cut off an ear. We laughed at how long it took. We removed a lot of hair just by tugging on it, so we didn't think the actual cutting would be so arduous. I was warming up one of Mrs. Rannazzisi's Lasagna for dinner that night. I thought I'd for sure be bald before it was warmed through. Instead, the oven timer kept reminding me we were ready to eat. But I still had half a head of hair.

I'll admit I put make-up on before we shaved my head. I didn't think I could stand to look at my head without hair AND without lipstick.

A little spotty, a little red and if you look closely, pretty flaky. Ick! Get me some Head and Shoulders!

We finally decided enough is enough - we could smell the Lasagna drifting in from the kitchen - we had been at this about 45 minutes. We took to the razor. We bic'ed it!

It was done! It felt funny. It looked funny. I still scare myself when I walk passed a mirror. But it was done. And this is how much hair is on the floor when you remove it all from your head.

At least Barlie came by to give her approval!

Back to the Chemo Routine

It's been a hectic week. Yet, after a set back with the platelet level two weeks ago and the blood clot last Wednesday. we're now back on track.

My wonderful sister, Ashley, came from Florida to help take care of me. It's helpful that I have a helper while Chris is at work. He can focus on his patients during the day and Ash can focus on me. I've been so lucky to have so many people be my "special guests" on chemo day.

I had a 2 1/2 hour infusion on Wednesday. They drip anti-nausea medicine and steroids through the medi-port first, then some Benadryl, then the chemo. It's the Benadryl that's my favorite part. I can feel it wash over me, making me drowsy. Before you know it I'm slurring my words and the next thing you know I'm out. How bad could chemo really be if you sleep through it.

I pack this huge "chemo care" bag each time. It's full of food and books and magazines and water and my i-pad. Everything you could need to pass the time. I have yet to dig anything out of the bag because either a). I'm talking the whole time with my special guest (shocking) or b). I'm asleep.

Thursday was the shorter infusion, barely two hours. I did get the shakes again - this time in my legs instead of my arms. So I doubled up on the Vicodin which helps quell the restless leg/limb feelings. It took a little while to kick in. So Ash graciously rubbed my legs which helped. Then we took the chemo pole for a walk up and down the hallway to keep my legs occupied. By the time we did one lap, the chemo was finished.

I feel good today. I'm sleeping like a rock, so that helps. My head gets cold sometimes, but I've received a bunch of great head coverings. I mix and match them with my outfit and my mood. My wigs are good. I'm only really wearing them when I go out in public. The Sarah wig, my go to one is a little itchy and the bangs poke me in the eyes. So I might need Kara, the hairstylist, fix that up for me.

My nephew Alexander came over yesterday and I think he was genuinely freaked out for a little bit. First I had a beanie kind of thing on. Then I said, "Do you want me to take it of?" I guess he nodded, probably more out of obligation that actually wanting to see my bald head. So I showed him my bare noggin' and I think it was a little jarring. I asked if he wanted to rub it and see how it felt, but that was way too much. Just like Meredith, coming on too strong to the boys!

So I put a hat on. We ate dinner. Then I modeled my wigs for him. His response when he saw the first one? "Wow, that looks so much better." Spoken like a true 9 year old. Then when I brought the red one out, he wanted to try it on. By the end of the night I think he felt a little more comfortable and he said we could still be friends. Thank goodness, because he's my love.

Nander, even more of a red head - Mer, with her Chef Boyardee look

There's no place like home, there's no place like home.

Hi. Sorry I haven't written in a bit. Grandma says she plays Solitaire on the computer every night, checks her e-mail and reads my blog. I assume that because I posted nothing new, Gram, that just gave you more time to play Solitaire.

So I was in the hospital. I'm thrilled to be out of the hospital. I think I was a trooper for a couple of days. Two nights in ICU which is really like being awake for 48 straight hours because they wake you up every 5 minutes. Three nights on the Cancer floor. Better sleeping environment, except for the flashbacks I was having to March 2009 when I spent 14 days in the same exact room. Eerie. It was here on days 5 and 6 that I really started having the shits of it.

However, tonight, I shall sleep in my own bed, cuddle with my husband who will keep me warm and safe, and be flanked on either side by my doggies who will breathe heavily and shed on me. I could not be happier.

The dogs went ape-shit when I got home today. I was gone six days - I could have been on a solo Caribbean vacation for all they knew - it was a long stretch. So you walk in and they are barking and crying and wagging their little tails so fast you think they might fly off. And when their tails get tired of wagging, they move their entire backsides back and forth, just so their tails keep wagging so they know how happy they are to see you.

At least that's what I think they are doing. They might just be looking at me saying, "Good, Bitch is bac!, She'll give us treats for sure!"

Either way, I'm happy to oblige.

There's so much to catch up on. I can't possibly do it tonight. I will fill in the blanks over the next couple of days. But the Cliff Notes version is: Big blood clot all around my port, three little vascular procedures cleared it up in 48 hours, started on blood thinner Coumadin, it takes several days for that to get up and running in your system. I hung out in a hospital room during a glorious 75 degree Spring weekend for the levels to rise. I couldn't take it any longer and Marcia sprung me from jail around lunch time today. (Once we were in the car, I said, "Hit the gas! Don't look back! We're outta here!") She's the best of the best! I'm not in a lot of pain. My arm is sore but not as swollen. I'm just wiped out.

Shaving my head was a hoot in and of itself, so I'll tell you the funny stories about that later. (It's not at all what it looks like on TV and Taylor cannot be relied upon to keep her shit together in a crisis. She was sobbing, I was trying to laugh. Love you, Tayl!)

For now, I'm aiming for sweet dreams and I wish Grandma and all my friends and family the same. Good night from Lark Lane.