Ash Wednesday ... Again

You know you've had cancer too long when you start celebrating events for the second time around. With Groundhog Day Round 2 out of the way ... the next repeat was Ash Wednesday. Because Ash Wednesday is typically on a Wednesday ;-)  I had chemo this year and last year. If you remember, I missed the ashes part of Mass last year and had to beg Father Leo. This year Marcia and I snuck in ashes after bloodwork, before lunch and before chemo. We were so late to Mass we got there just in time for ashes. Then we were running late for lunch, so we ditched out just after Communion. It was definitely an abbreviated service for us. Marsh said God will forgive us. I like myself an Express Mass, so I was thrilled. Next year for Ash Wednesday, I will be cancer free and have a cute, probably still short haircut.

 

This year for Lent, I'm giving up Cancer. 

 

 

Last year's ashes.

This year.

3.1 - The Rollercoaster Continues

My emotions are directly related to this damn number. And because it went down to 3.1 this week ... I'm a happy kid!

I was able to get chemo this week. Five hours of drip at the Chemo Lounge is like a dream compared to the hospital. I feel like Marcia and I are light on our feet walking into the lounge. We don't have to be admitted, we don't have to carry overnight bags, we don't have to wait 4 hours to be hooked up to the drugs. We just sit and talk with the other women and hang out with Kristin. It's a good day.

The Boston doctor recommended I go back on birth control. I think I might be one of the only women without a uterus taking the pill. But he's trying to monitor other hormones. Ovulation includes two other hormones with "h" in them. We monitor hCG, but there's also Lh and Fsh. So being on birth control will shut those two down for a while. He just wants to make sure we're not picking up other "h" hormones instead of the hCG.

I'm feeling well. I could sleep forever. But that's the only major side effect right now. It's really a blessing. I had a pretty bad head cold over the weekend. But when I thought about it - other than cancer - I haven't been sick the whole year. So a little head cold was bound to sneak in.

I'm thrilled with this week's numbers and I hope next week's are even lower. Until then ...

A Waste of Weight Watchers

If you think cancer will make you skinny, you're wrong. One could only hope, right? At least there should be some up-side to chemotherapy and being hospitalized. I remember this from the first time I had cancer. I thought I would waste away. I was hoping at least ... like when the girls say in "A Devil Wears Prada" "I'm one stomach flu away from my goal weight!"

This is very distressing to me. I eat constantly. So that might be the problem. But also, I don't move that much. Also an issue. I understand basic weight loss: eat less, move more. It's just that doing that is near impossible right now. I get winded going up a flight of stairs and get hungry when I look at the outside of the refrigerator.

The steroids don't help. Moon face is the term they use. I have moon face, moon ass, moon arms, moon thighs, moon belly, moon back fat. Alas, I hark back to a time when I was thin. Upon meeting me one woman said about me once, "Of course she's skinny, she's 23. Weren't we all skinny when we were 23?" Touche. So I dug up this picture to make myself feel better and let people know I wasn't always a moon ... plus it's fun to show this circa 1996 pic off.

Thin, right? But like weirdly thin. Like "that girl should eat a burger" thin. People used to say my legs went all the way up. I didn't really get what they meant when I was 16, but looking at this picture I get it now. I think I was 16 or 17 in that photo. Oh, those were the days.

Fast forward: 

This is actually a terribly embarrassing picture to post. But I said I would share what was real and this is it. I'm glad the flash makes it at least a little harder to see. Mike Everhart reads the blog while he eats breakfast. I don't want him to throw up first thing in the morning. The legs don't go on forever - they just got wider. I took out my belly button ring long ago - it would have been swallowed by the rolls by now. The handles make it easier for Chris to love me, but harder to fit into jeans. I have as much arm flap as a middle school lunch lady serving Sloppy Joe's. The only upside I see is my boobs. I was as flat as a board growing up. But now, add 40 pounds and you get a bonus: boobs!  

I joined Weight Watchers just after that first surgery in September in Boston. I just finished "emotional eating" my way through Boston while I rested the week post-op. I thought I at least deserved that. Then I got on the wagon. Weight Watchers has an app (who doesn't now? I want the "Mer App") and it was almost fun to count points (for like 5 seconds.) Then I had the hysterectomy. Do you want to talk about emotional eating? Come sit down next to me and bring some chocolate chip cookies and milk and I'll tell you all about it. You only have one hysterectomy and it's not supposed to be at 32, so I didn't want to waste the opportunity! Mangia Mangia!

I cancelled the Weight Watcher subscription. Much like my Netflix, money was leaving my account each month and nothing was happening on my end. Might as well keep the money for pizza.  

I feel very un-pretty. Everyone will say, no, no, you're still pretty. blah, blah, blah. Save it. Don't send a single card that says I'm pretty. I'm just venting. But I have no hair and I weigh more than I ever have in my life. This is what cancer looks like for me. If I looked my prettiest ever during cancer that would be bad, right? So I'm saving my pretty for later. It'll come ... with some hair and some exercise. I will be healthy then too, so that glow of survival will certainly make my skin shine, right? Chris loves me, even like this. I love that I'm still alive. So that's really all that matters.

I got my inspiration for my self portrait from Demi. While she looks SMOKING HOT ... woman be crazy! But damn, crazy looks good, huh?