The Dogs

If you have children and you've told me a story about them, I've probably followed up your story about human children with one of my stories of my dogs. It's a problem, I know. A spit-up story about Noah, my best friend Jackie's adorable son, would undoubtedly be followed up with a story about when Barlie ate the field grass and then puked it up on my Persian rug. An endearing story about how our cousin Nancy Lynn's son's has trouble getting the puck on the ice rink could surely be followed up with me explaining how Molly has trouble fetching the ball then actually bringing it back to us so we can throw it again.

You get the picture. We're a little dog crazy. We're seriously blurring the lines between humans and K-9s. And to be honest, I don't really care. Barlie is my first born. She's my baby. Then we thought we couldn't get enough of a good thing and got Molly - who is a terrorist. But still so soft and sweet, we can't help but love her even though she puts holes in all our pillows.

So when I started to say, "I can't handle the dogs right now," you knew something was bad. Really, reflecting back on last week, it was me who was bad. I was tired and weak. I was in pain and couldn't move, no less react quickly. For days I was saying to Chris, "It's too much. I can't do them right now." The barking would give me an instant headache. It was no more barking than usual - the mailman, the dry cleaning pick-up lady, a squirrel right outside the window taunting them - but it just got to me more easily. And the people - there are so many of them - loved ones, friends, generous family members who stop by to help. It's just that you need to manage my dogs when someone comes in. It only take a moment, a treat to satiate them, a scratch on each head and then they are bored of you and collapse on the floor like they've been shot. It's just that I didn't even have it in me to do that much.

Then the tails. I'm not even sure whose tail it was the last time. But one of the dog's tail knocked over a glass of some liquid or another twice in 48 hours. The first time was a glass of chocolate Ensure that ended up all over Katie's latest needlepoint. She was so gracious about it and we spot treated as best we could. But I could see it was stained and I felt bad and then mad and frustrated. The next accident was just waiting to happen. There were five people in the den. I was sitting under a blanket on the couch. Hilary was happily eating a McDonald's hamburger. But I could see Molly eyeing that patty up. I could envision Molly disregarding Hilary and grabbing the hamburger right out of her hand. While I'm worrying about that on the inside, a dog tail does it's dirty work right in front of me, knocking a glass of water all over the electronics; my i-pad, my camera, I saved my phone at the last minute.

That was the point of no return. I just couldn't take it anymore. I cannot do everything and I certainly couldn't get rid of cancer and manage the dogs and the people all at the same time. Something had to give. It was the dogs.

We needed doggie help and I didn't know where to turn. But I knew I needed a break. While I'm trying to think of a plan, I'm simultaneously thinking about all the mothers who battle cancer. They're fighting the same disease and maybe have 3 kids at home. How do they do it? What am I complaining about? Do the moms send their children to a kennel? Does Grandma come pick them up and give the mom a break? Who knows. All I knew was I needed some help. Chris called AJ and Mary Ann and asked if they'd take the dogs for a couple of days. They refused. So we did what we always do - hire someone. And our team of helpers went to work. Angie Speitel had the name of a great kennel nearby. Marcia worked her magic and got the girls into that kennel - even though it was closed that day and not taking any dogs. And then Chris scooped them into the car and off they went. I sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Marcia and Katie rubbed my back and reassured me while I cried. I felt like the worst Mommy ever. Maybe this is why God took my uterus. I'm not fit to be a Mommy of dogs, how could I possibly care for human children?!?

They were really only gone for a day and a half. And I missed them so much. I realized the dogs behavior didn't get any worse. It was just my response to them that got worse. They are dogs; thousands - millions of people have dogs who are worse or better behaved than mine. I just have to learn to shake it off. I have to learn to relinquish the control. I have to learn to take a deep breath and know that it is all going to be okay. I have to learn to be calm. I keep wondering why God gave me this cancer, what am I supposed to learn from this. I just listed 4 lessons this cancer could teach me ... and even now, in Chemo Round #3, I haven't learned them yet. I'm trying. I really am. It's just really hard.

It was really hard being without the girls too. So on Monday morning, we picked them up from the kennel. Barlie was mad. Like really mad at me. She was barking in a different tone and sending her anger directly at me. Molly - as usual - was oblivious. It was as if she was just walking around muttering, "That was a fun field trip. Can I have a treat?" Barlie was looking straight at me saying, "I can't believe you did that to us! Don't abandon us again. I'm your first born, remember?" So, like all crazy dog people would, Barlie and I had a heart to heart. I spoke to her in normal English, no "doggie talk," and I clearly explained that Mommy is sick and she's tired and she needs you and Molly to be on best behavior. I said I'm sorry that I sent you away and of course a kennel is not as fun as the 10 acres you get to roam around on here. But I needed a little break. I promised not to send them away again and asked for Barlie's forgiveness. I think she obliged because the tone of her bark changed after our talk.

I felt bad, but did what I needed to do at the time. I've reflected on it and decided I can do better. I think Barlie can do better too and she promised to talk to Molly and convince her to behave better as well. We've come to an agreement. They're my babies and I won't send them away again.

The Latest Numbers!

Wednesday used to be The Day. The day we got the numbers. Some need to be up, others desperately need to be down. During Round #2 of chemo The Day was always Wednesday. Well, now we're going to shake it up. The Day is now Tuesday. This way we know a day ahead of time whether I will be able to receive chemo. This week it's Monday because of Turkey day. It turns out, because of some problematic numbers I haven't been able to get chemo in weeks.

My last day of the juice was Nov. 1st. The next week was bad. I had fevers and my white blood cells were dangerously low. I think they're supposed to be like 1500 and mine were 10. You don't have to be a math genius to realize that is bad.

The week after that the red and white blood cells were fine but those damn platelets were low. Supposed to be 100 to receive chemo, mine were 33. But let's face it, a 33 is pretty good compared to my all time low of 6. Gotta focus on the glass half full.

Let's review the most important number though, the beta hCG.
Nov 1. - 10
Nov. 6 - 5.9
Nov. 13 - 5.3
Nov. 19th - Today - 4.5

Eeking ever so close to the magic "less than 2." And all of those small drops were with no chemo. Chris had even prepared me for a jump this week, saying without chemo for 19 days there was a good chance the # would rise. It's always good to prepare for the worst and hope for the best. Today's 4.5 was a nice surprise.

Here's the plan: chemo in the hospital Tuesday and Wednesday this week. That way I can be out of the hospital for Thanksgiving. Chris is still off of work for another week. I think he's finally back to himself again. It takes about a week to shake off the stress of work and usually that's when he has to go back. He hasn't shaken off the stress of his wife with cancer, but it's nice to be able to focus on one thing at a time. And right now that's me. I'm so blessed to have him and for him to be part of an office that's so wonderful, helpful and caring in true times of need. Chris and I can only hope to repay the debt we've racked up at his office and my office.

I've had such a wonderful flux of visitors and loved ones. I would of course much rather have them to Lancaster to go out and wine them and dine them. However, it turns out that sitting on the couch in your pj's and talking non-stop worked out just perfectly for Katie and Jesse. It goes to show you those high school bonds can still mean a lot - even 15+ years later when you have cancer.

My sister Ashley and  her husband Arty arrive tomorrow and I'm so thrilled to see them! I will be one day post chemo on Thanksgiving so I'm not going anywhere - not leaving this house - might not leave my bed except for the turkey part. So Arty, my chef/brother-in-law, will cook the feast for us! What a treat! He also agreed to put up our Christmas lights outside. It's something he doesn't get to do in Florida - unless it's a palm tree. And it's something I just simply wouldn't be able to do this year, period. It's a perfect fit!

It really does take a village to beat cancer. I might be the village idiot, but thanks to all the other villagers, I'm going to be just fine.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

I've had cancer so long and been blogging for so many months, I can't remember what I wrote before. I'm pretty sure, the last time I lost my hair, I used Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow as the title. It goes to show you, I'm really not that creative.

Lost my hair for the second time. The first time was traumatic, this time was just dramatic. Chris was in Dallas for a conference. I had hoped that my hair follicles would hold on until he got home. No such luck. I took a shower that morning and just the force of the water alone was enough to detach my hair from my head. When I first stepped under the stream of water I could feel hair leaving my head and trailing down my back. At first I was creeped out but then I realized it was just locks flowing down my body toward the drain. It was then that I made the decision to just do it - use the water to its full advantage. I kept putting my hands through my hair under the water until there was very little left. I did open the shower curtain halfway through to get a look at the damage. And man did it look damaged! I had bald splotches where I had concentrated the water and then other sections still full of hair. Would have been a great freaky look for Halloween, but not for life, so I just kept washing my hair away.

This was the result of the shower-hair-removal-method.

 

 

Not the cleanest job, that's for sure! Look at those bangs! They just wouldn't let go. And the sideburns - I mean, c'mon! So it wasn't a total success, but I wouldn't call it a total failure either. I had to have Chris shave it again, to clean it up a bit, but it took like 6 days to get to that. You would be amazed how little you get done on days when you literally have nothing to do!

 

This is what was left behind. Now, if you have a problem with clogged drains - like we do - I don't recommend this method. You're sure to be bathing in ankle deep water because nothing goes down that drain after you do this. But like I said, I didn't have much of a choice after the power of the water made the locks leave.

Let's talk about something else important - how fucking dark that hair is?? I am a blonde, right? I mean, it's not my imagination that it says blonde on my license and that I act like a total ditz half the time. I've never actually dyed my hair - too expensive, have to sit at the salon too long - but I've been rocking Sun-In like a champ for decades. (Compare $3 bottle from CVS versus $150 dye job every 8 weeks. Sun-In wins every time.) So I've always had a little peroxide help but that hair looks black!

In anticipation of losing the lovely locks, I had Ronda take my picture again. It's clear I'm not one to run away from a camera. Plus, Ronda loves a muse. So it's a win-win and I wanted to document my cute pixie do before it left. So this is three months worth of hair, post-chemo. If I'm lucky, it might be like this again in about April.



 

Note: Ronda loves taking pictures by our stone wall. It really does make for a fun back drop. The best part of this picture? Not only is my hair a work in progress but so is the wall. Look closely, our new mason was about 75% done repointing the cement that holds those beautiful stones in. So the bottom half is finished, that top foot or two is still loose and cement-less. Thankfully Hurricane Sandy had already passed through and none of the stones fell on my head. Love a good photo shoot and love the wall after it's been secured in place for another 60 years.

 

 The hair looks a little blonde here, right? It's definitely lighter on my head than it was in the bottom of the tub! Everyone kept saying it looked like I had frosted tips. Darker at the roots, lighter at the ends. No matter what color it was, I was happy to have it on my head.

 

So happy ... I couldn't keep my eyes open! I like to include the fuck-up pictures so you know I'm not a total narcissist. I can't take myself seriously, so you shouldn't either.

Bald is in ... at least in my house anyway. And again, the silver linings ... now I take a really quick shower and I don't have to shave my legs ... because that hair fell out too! There's always an upside!