I've missed two chemo treatments for a total for three chemo-free weeks and I feel like a million bucks! We've also continued the up-down movement of hCG, but today, I'm back in the saddle. And by saddle I don't mean that mechanical bull I've always been meaning to try ... I mean the Lazy-Boy chair in the Chemo Lounge. It's been so long since I've sat with Kristin and laughed all day. I forget what her face looks like! But we will get really well re-acquainted today with 8 1/2 hours of drip drip.
My # yesterday was 5.5 - that makes the last four weeks:
10.9
5.9
3.5
5.5
Drivin' me nuts. But the fives and threes are so close to each other and so close to 2, I call it a wash. Still pushing 6 more weeks of chemo AFTER the magical less than two. So when co-workers say, "When are you coming back to work?" meaning, "How quickly can you get your ass back in the newsroom so I don't have to pick up your slack??" I say honestly, "It's gonna be a little while still."
No, really, my WGALers have been awesome. I've seen a few News 8 friends over the passed few weeks and everyone is so kind and really have gone above and beyond as far as filling in for the sick bitch. I'm so thankful to have such support. I want to be back as much as they want me back. My desk with Susan Shapiro needs two people. There's plenty of room for two people! ;-)
My ride/special guest/cancer buddy/mother-in-law is here to drive me to the Lounge. Gotta go. We're gonna keep on keeping on.
Cheers!
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Monday, January 7, 2013
The Cul-de-Sac
This is perhaps the funniest story ever.
Warning though: remember how a couple of posts back, I mentioned that everything I post is true? That I'm sharing all of this so you get a sense of what cancer is really like. Well, that might not totally be the case here. I might be making some shit up and embellishing a little bit. Full disclosure. This is second hand, but still really good.
Ok. So post-hysterectomy I had some questions. I didn't have a full hysterectomy, Dr. Evans left my ovaries. Otherwise I'd be in full menopause right now and I'd be crying every day from hormones, instead of crying just every other day from good old fashion depression. So ovaries are a plus. But I was confused as to what happened inside. My vagina is fine. ... but without a uterus, it just doesn't lead anywhere. It's a dead end.
My best friend Jackie and I are discussing this development as only best girlfriends can. We cut through the "being proper" parts of the conversation and get right to the nitty gritty. It just ends. The doctor just sewed it up at the end and that was that. You can imagine some of the things the two of us discussed. I won't elaborate here. But we considered it all.
However, the converstation about my vagina didn't stop there. That night in the Duddleston household, Jackie made her loving husband a nice dinner and she and Ben sat down at the table and talked about each other days. (See this is the shit I'm making up. It's color commentary though. Makes the story better. You can envision them at the table, right?) During the conversation over homemade ravioli (maybe), Jackie mentioned her conversation with me.
Picture this: now my renovated vagina is the topic of conversation over dinner between two people who are not me. Jackie explains the conundrum of the dead end. Ben sits and listens, considers the anatomy and then finally comments. "Look, we should really just call it a 'Cul-de-sac.' No one refers to things as a 'dead end' anymore. That makes it sound dirty. A Cul-de-sac is a desired location in real estate. You come in, turn around and head back out. What could be better? Everyone wants a cul-de-sac. Location, location, location."
Jackie just starts laughing. They've been looking at houses and Ben's right. They'd love a Cul-de-sac. Ben said, "See, now Chris has one all to himself." Men. Hysterical. Other people's dinner conversation. Now we call it the Cul-de-sac. Thank you Ben. You and your wife never cease to make me smile. Can't have cancer without a sense of humor.
Warning though: remember how a couple of posts back, I mentioned that everything I post is true? That I'm sharing all of this so you get a sense of what cancer is really like. Well, that might not totally be the case here. I might be making some shit up and embellishing a little bit. Full disclosure. This is second hand, but still really good.
Ok. So post-hysterectomy I had some questions. I didn't have a full hysterectomy, Dr. Evans left my ovaries. Otherwise I'd be in full menopause right now and I'd be crying every day from hormones, instead of crying just every other day from good old fashion depression. So ovaries are a plus. But I was confused as to what happened inside. My vagina is fine. ... but without a uterus, it just doesn't lead anywhere. It's a dead end.
My best friend Jackie and I are discussing this development as only best girlfriends can. We cut through the "being proper" parts of the conversation and get right to the nitty gritty. It just ends. The doctor just sewed it up at the end and that was that. You can imagine some of the things the two of us discussed. I won't elaborate here. But we considered it all.
However, the converstation about my vagina didn't stop there. That night in the Duddleston household, Jackie made her loving husband a nice dinner and she and Ben sat down at the table and talked about each other days. (See this is the shit I'm making up. It's color commentary though. Makes the story better. You can envision them at the table, right?) During the conversation over homemade ravioli (maybe), Jackie mentioned her conversation with me.
Picture this: now my renovated vagina is the topic of conversation over dinner between two people who are not me. Jackie explains the conundrum of the dead end. Ben sits and listens, considers the anatomy and then finally comments. "Look, we should really just call it a 'Cul-de-sac.' No one refers to things as a 'dead end' anymore. That makes it sound dirty. A Cul-de-sac is a desired location in real estate. You come in, turn around and head back out. What could be better? Everyone wants a cul-de-sac. Location, location, location."
Jackie just starts laughing. They've been looking at houses and Ben's right. They'd love a Cul-de-sac. Ben said, "See, now Chris has one all to himself." Men. Hysterical. Other people's dinner conversation. Now we call it the Cul-de-sac. Thank you Ben. You and your wife never cease to make me smile. Can't have cancer without a sense of humor.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
"How's Your Belly Been?" Well ... Depends.
You're Welcome. To everyone who has ever had a poop story, you're welcome. In perhaps the grossest, most humiliating post on this blog (not to mention, in my life), I shared the terrible details of my belly problems. I thought I was the only one.
Well, no sooner do I blog about my bowels then people come out of the woodwork. The stories are wild, hilarious, humiliating and raw all at the same time. Friends have shared their darkest moments to let me know I am not alone. They too have shit themselves!
Nothing like sharing a terrible story to bring poopy people closer together. Who would have thought the world has such bathroom troubles? Obviously the people at Depends know. They've been making a killing off of our shitty misfortunes. My friends and family were quick and generous to supply me with what I needed depending on how my tummy felt.
Here are the supplies (of which I have some left over. I'm happy at least, I didn't run through both packs and need more!) Marcia picked up the green package. "Protection with Tabs" - you know how maxi pads have wings? Yeah, these are not wings. They mean tabs, like on a child's diaper. Because that's what these are, just for adults. Marsh was right though, they're breakaway, you can get them off quickly when you need to. This was phase one.
Then Angie gifted me with the pink package. "Silhouette" - These are more like pull-ups. But instead of having Sponge Bob designs on them, they are beige and more slimming. This is the brand that Lisa Renna wore on the red carpet. You know how girls in their 20's try really hard to hide a panty line by wearing thongs? Women in their 30's who shit themselves where Silhouette to hide the tabs of their Depends. It's just the next natural phase, I guess.
I was hiding these in the bottom of my closet since "the incident." I was embarrassed someone would see them. Now, my winter boots are taking up a lot more space and I had to clean house. I think I'm gonna move them to a guest room closet - you know, just in case. But I thought, there's nothing worse than sharing that story. Why not share the solution too. Thanks Depends. You were there for my shitty situation.
Hey, she looks good! Thursday, January 3, 2013
You Don't Need To Be A Math Genius
... to know that my latest number is kick ass!
3.5
Woo! Hoo! And that's after a week with no chemo. I'm convinced there's no rhyme or reason to two sets of numbers lately. A) the hCG and B) our tennis team ratings.
Two weeks after a hospital stay with 24 hours of Methotrexate dripping there's a decline to 5.1, then a slight uptick to 5.9, then a drop to 3.5 - go figure. But really, I'm not figuring, I'm just taking that number and running with it.
And apparently, no matter how much running you do up and down the tennis court to get the ball, the US Tennis Association will just make up your rating. After qualifying for the Regional Competition in Princeton this summer, some members of my tennis team got bumped up to 3.0 then recently bumped back down to 2.5. While it's a tennis bummer, I think the USTA secretly wants some of my girls to have a number in the 2's too. It seems to be the cool number to have. A little over two for them, and then a little under two for me. Besides, I haven't played tennis in so long, I'll be a 2.5 rating forever. I've got a lot of catching up to do - on the court and at the bar after the matches.
Medically, the number is down but so are my platelets. So I was disqualified from chemo for the second week. I get a little nervous when I can't get the juice. I'm afraid the number will go up ... but look at this week?? What do I know?? No chemo AND a better number AND I'm feeling more peppy and more like myself?? Not a bad gig.
I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I have to because this Groundhog Day will be 1 year since my re-diagnosis. That's a long time. A lot longer than I ever anticipated at the outset of this. But then again, a lot of this is different than my "expectations." And you can't really have expectations with cancer. It's gonna do what it's gonna do and you have to roll with it. I think that's a lesson God has probably been trying to instill in me through this whole thing. I think I'm just getting it now. Geez, am I stubborn.
It's my birthday at the end of the month. When I started this - the 3rd round of chemo - in October, I thought it would be great to be wrapped up by my birthday. It's clear that won't happen, but it's not such a bad thing. I will start my 33rd year sick and end it well. Maybe even with a baby in the works somehow or another. Think positive thoughts and positive things will come to you. And I'm thinking less than 2 is right around the corner, baby!
Happy New Year! Lucky '13 is gonna be our year!
3.5
Woo! Hoo! And that's after a week with no chemo. I'm convinced there's no rhyme or reason to two sets of numbers lately. A) the hCG and B) our tennis team ratings.
Two weeks after a hospital stay with 24 hours of Methotrexate dripping there's a decline to 5.1, then a slight uptick to 5.9, then a drop to 3.5 - go figure. But really, I'm not figuring, I'm just taking that number and running with it.
And apparently, no matter how much running you do up and down the tennis court to get the ball, the US Tennis Association will just make up your rating. After qualifying for the Regional Competition in Princeton this summer, some members of my tennis team got bumped up to 3.0 then recently bumped back down to 2.5. While it's a tennis bummer, I think the USTA secretly wants some of my girls to have a number in the 2's too. It seems to be the cool number to have. A little over two for them, and then a little under two for me. Besides, I haven't played tennis in so long, I'll be a 2.5 rating forever. I've got a lot of catching up to do - on the court and at the bar after the matches.
Medically, the number is down but so are my platelets. So I was disqualified from chemo for the second week. I get a little nervous when I can't get the juice. I'm afraid the number will go up ... but look at this week?? What do I know?? No chemo AND a better number AND I'm feeling more peppy and more like myself?? Not a bad gig.
I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. I have to because this Groundhog Day will be 1 year since my re-diagnosis. That's a long time. A lot longer than I ever anticipated at the outset of this. But then again, a lot of this is different than my "expectations." And you can't really have expectations with cancer. It's gonna do what it's gonna do and you have to roll with it. I think that's a lesson God has probably been trying to instill in me through this whole thing. I think I'm just getting it now. Geez, am I stubborn.
It's my birthday at the end of the month. When I started this - the 3rd round of chemo - in October, I thought it would be great to be wrapped up by my birthday. It's clear that won't happen, but it's not such a bad thing. I will start my 33rd year sick and end it well. Maybe even with a baby in the works somehow or another. Think positive thoughts and positive things will come to you. And I'm thinking less than 2 is right around the corner, baby!
Happy New Year! Lucky '13 is gonna be our year!
Sunday, December 30, 2012
A Happy Holiday Hiatus
| Merry Christmas!! Sorry I have not posted in a bit. We were busy being Merry! Wow! What a wonderful holiday we had! You can't keep a Cooke down during the holiday season and this year was no exception ... the only difference was I had a legion of elves this year. And I was more like a sack of potatoes laying on the couch while all the elves made magic (and an entire meal.) Sometimes it takes a village, sometimes it takes the Jorgensen/Cooper/Luna/Cooke Brigade to throw a feast. And feast we did. (I'm still eating Christmas Day leftovers. Is that a health risk, or you think that shit is still edible?) Cancer recap: Week before Christmas, blood went from 10.9 to 5.1 - that's what I'm talking about! Good, old fashioned Christmas Miracle! That was after the Cisplatin week, which seems to be the drug that is working the best. My awesome girlfriend Chris Steltz slept over at the hospital with me. (I just typed "my dear, dear friend Chris" but thought that made her sound stuffy, when in fact, she is one of the most fun loving, laid back people I know. She is a dear but "hot stuff" fits her better.) I told her we had to wear cute pajamas and stay up all night and share secrets like we were college roommates. Her only reply was, "Well, of course, but I don't have cute pajamas." So while picking up stocking stuffers at CVS, I went out of my way and bought her $9 pink polka dot flannel pj's. They've probably fallen apart in the wash already. My mom and her husband Bruce, my youngest sister Taylor and her children, Hailey (6) and William (3) arrived from North Carolina on Saturday. We played and played and played. And then sometimes Aunt Mimi (that's me) needed to take a nap. So I'd lay down and then a little William would sneak in and come to the edge of the bed and say, "Aunt Mimi, whatcha doing?" Inevitably he would climb in with me and snuggle (my favorite) and we'd turn on the TV and watch Sponge Bob (his favorite) and no napping would occur. But that's the fun of having family around, right? Wouldn't change my snuggle time for anything! It snowed a bit here on Christmas Eve. So special. The kids who came from North Carolina didn't bring any snow clothes - go figure! But we bundled them up and let them loose. This is really the first time William has been old enough to go out and play in the snow! So fun to watch his excitement and watch him get cold!  
Yes, Santa came. Yes, there were a million presents under the tree. Yes, our garbage pails are overflowing from the amount of wrapping paper and boxes left over. Yes, you need a PhD to get most kids toys out of the packaging. Yes, invariably small children will want to play with the one toy that they can't - in this case it was William's tee-ball batting practice game. Not an indoor game and everything was snowy/muddy outside. (Aunt Mimi, can you open this for me? Can I play this now? I'm going to go outside to play this now.)
There were two distinct piles on Christmas morning: Pink and Barbie - Toy Story and Sponge Bob
My Santa Claus was very good to me. Chris gave me a beautiful David Yurman ring and a big deal Nikon camera. So maybe the pics on this blog will be of better quality now. I tried to get fancy/schmancy with this one: a pic of the ring with the new camera (see how I worked that all in?? I got Chris a firearm and a surf board. We're hoping he doesn't attempt to use those gifts at the same time.)  The Cookes joined us for dinner Christmas night for a total of 15 mouths to feed. It was no problem because we made enough food for 150 people. I like to think that our families would have come to our house even if I wasn't sick this year. But if cancer is the reason that so many of us got to share the holiday together, I'll take that as a beautiful blessing. |
Thursday, December 13, 2012
I'm Going To Stop Writing Notes To Myself
I have two parents; one's a saver, one's a thrower-awayer. Dad has a series of boxes hidden somewhere that he calls "The Archives." I'm sure it has my Kindergarten report card, a crayon drawing from 5th grade and the program from my college graduation. That kind of stuff, times 60 years of collecting. If Mommy came across something like that, she's say this is clutter and what are we going to save it for. That's why her house is immaculate. I trend toward saving and that's why my house is a mess.
I don't think there is a right or wrong, but this "saving" or "remembering" thing that I have bit me in the ass while I was decorating for Christmas. I don't know if it's the journalist in me, but writing stuff down to "save" it for later has always been big. I kept a journal in high school - it is now the most hysterical thing to read. My spelling was just as bad as it is now and my handwriting was worse. Also, I write myself a Leap Day Letter every four years. I have four of them so far. I tell my 4 year future self what's going on now and I ask her questions about what it's like when I read it the future. I project where I think I'm going to be in four years. In 2004's Leap Letter, Chris and I just started dating. In 2008's letter, we were planning our wedding. I like to see how things change and what you thought it would be like.
While opening up one of my 36 Rubbermaid containers full of decorations, I found a note I wrote myself last year. I must have been in a good mood when I was cleaning up from Christmas, because I gave the 2012 Meredith some information to make decorating easier this year. Namely, (see below) that "several strands of light on the garland don't work." In other words, I was too lazy to fix it at the end of the 2011 season, but be forewarned for the 2012 season. Because I knew I would be reading this little note to myself 12 months later, I added "are you pregnant?" as a note to myself. Last year at this time, it was totally plausible that I might be pregnant right now. If only the 2011 Meredith knew what was coming. I opened the container this year, took out the garland, found the note at the bottom and sat down and cried. No, I'm not pregnant. No, I'm never gonna be pregnant. Yes, I think I might stop writing myself notes. Who could have known? It stung a little bit.
Numbers are up and so is my frustration level
I'm having a grumpy day. My numbers bumped up a little. I had 9 hours of chemo yesterday and I missed a big Christmas party. I'm just in a bad mood.
The stupid hCG went from 7.4 to 10.9 - just enough to be annoying. I panicked two weeks ago when it shot from 4 to 39. So a three point creep to 10 is nothing compared to that. But 10 is not good enough. 10 means there's still cancer. And I am so sick and tired of cancer.
Chemo at the office was fine yesterday. Kristin, and special guests Angie and Marcia are the highlights. I saw my dear friend and chemo buddy, Agnes and she's in need of extra prayers right now. So say one for her in my stead this week. We need to lift her and her family up to the Lord.
I'm trying not to project too far ahead. However, this continued roller coaster of hCG levels is really frustrating. And I don't want to continue to do this up and down for months. I feel like it simply means what we are doing is not working. I think everyone else is like 97% sure I won't die, but when I get nervous, I'm only 85% sure I won't die. And that 15% can be a bitch on a bad day.
I'm still trying to laugh and Mean Cards helped me do that this week. This is a line of greeting cards that are simply mean. I bought 4 of them for friends, so if you get one, it means I love you even though the card is mean. I found this one and bought it for myself.
The words are a little fuzzy, but is says "A lot of us think you're faking." With that picture of the chemo pole and the head hanging low, like he's guilty. I was laughing out loud in the store. This is what I think a lot of people at work think. I'm sure they are like, that bitch is not even sick, she's always been dramatic, she shaved her head and just wanted a solid year off of work. She's a doctor's wife and doesn't need the money anyway, this was just the way she would get out of work rather than quitting like everyone else. So for the people who think that, this card is from me to you!
This is the inside:
It reads: "not me, of course." I feel like this is a card Joe Mitton would send and I would laugh. I kept laughing while I was at the store, Tellus 360, the re-claimed wood store on East King Street. That's where I got the cards. They also had a mean magnet I thought was perfect. It now graces my fridge.
Same stick figure, holding a Martini glass saying "it will make everything all better." I agree and I can't wait to drink one. So good when it touches the lips!!
Hopefully someday soon ....
The stupid hCG went from 7.4 to 10.9 - just enough to be annoying. I panicked two weeks ago when it shot from 4 to 39. So a three point creep to 10 is nothing compared to that. But 10 is not good enough. 10 means there's still cancer. And I am so sick and tired of cancer.
Chemo at the office was fine yesterday. Kristin, and special guests Angie and Marcia are the highlights. I saw my dear friend and chemo buddy, Agnes and she's in need of extra prayers right now. So say one for her in my stead this week. We need to lift her and her family up to the Lord.
I'm trying not to project too far ahead. However, this continued roller coaster of hCG levels is really frustrating. And I don't want to continue to do this up and down for months. I feel like it simply means what we are doing is not working. I think everyone else is like 97% sure I won't die, but when I get nervous, I'm only 85% sure I won't die. And that 15% can be a bitch on a bad day.
I'm still trying to laugh and Mean Cards helped me do that this week. This is a line of greeting cards that are simply mean. I bought 4 of them for friends, so if you get one, it means I love you even though the card is mean. I found this one and bought it for myself.
The words are a little fuzzy, but is says "A lot of us think you're faking." With that picture of the chemo pole and the head hanging low, like he's guilty. I was laughing out loud in the store. This is what I think a lot of people at work think. I'm sure they are like, that bitch is not even sick, she's always been dramatic, she shaved her head and just wanted a solid year off of work. She's a doctor's wife and doesn't need the money anyway, this was just the way she would get out of work rather than quitting like everyone else. So for the people who think that, this card is from me to you!
This is the inside:
It reads: "not me, of course." I feel like this is a card Joe Mitton would send and I would laugh. I kept laughing while I was at the store, Tellus 360, the re-claimed wood store on East King Street. That's where I got the cards. They also had a mean magnet I thought was perfect. It now graces my fridge.
Same stick figure, holding a Martini glass saying "it will make everything all better." I agree and I can't wait to drink one. So good when it touches the lips!!
Hopefully someday soon ....
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