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.

Hospital

Quick update: no chemo yesterday, the platelet level was back up, but I had a massive blood clot in my arm around the mediport. I've been admitted into the hospital. We got the clot to break up. I will have to be here for 3 more days until they thin my blood out. i'm a little bummed and in a little pain, but we are dealing. St. Patricks Day: Lancaster General Hospital Style.

p.s. - we shaved my head on tues.

Meet the Girls

When Chris and I typically refer to "The Girls" we mean the K-9's. Barlie is now 7, Molly (the terror) is 5. But since I picked up my wigs, there are new girls in town. I'm using the Original Girls for inspiration.

Here they are. I've named them. The one in the middle will be the "go-to" wig. It is exactly like a haircut I've had before. I think that's the one I will wear the most.

When I was in college and my girlfriends and I would go out, we would all pick different names. Sort of an alter ego. Or just a go to name and fake phone number we would spit out if a creeper wouldn't leave us alone. So my name was Sarah. Not that interesting, I didn't go with something sexy like Veronica or off-color like Bubbles. But Sarah seemed to work. I'm calling the middle wig Sarah.

The one on the right is wig #2. It's longer, like chin length. We're not going to be fooling anyone. On TV, I'm going to go from pixie to chin length in an instant. However, I thought this one was Rachel-esque, from Friends. If only my face would look like Jennifer Aniston's when I put this wig on - that would be a transformation. So this is Rachel.

Then there is the red one on the left. It doesn't look like much there (I put it on a water bottle - I didn't need three fake heads at home), but when I put it on - it is something! My eyes literally change color. So this will be the play thing, sassy and a little naughty. So given it's color and "attitude" I'm naming this one Molly. I think the dog would be honored if she understood. She's not the smart one though, that's why we always say to her "You're so pretty." So Molly it is.

Then Emily Forrey signed me up at this wonderful organization that sends awesome headwraps and good wishes to women experiencing hair loss because of illness. So I have my first stylish wrap ... in pink no less! Right up my alley.

I think we're going to be okay.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow ... or maybe Wednesday

I feel like I'm flexing the muscles of my skull in an effort to keep the hair attached. It's not working.

The shit is falling out. And I think it's hysterical. If you put your forefinger and your thumb together on a bit of hair ... and pull ever so slightly ... you end up with a good amount of hair between your fingers that was seconds before attached to my head.

I showed Chris on Friday. I said, "Look at this! (pluck, gasp, giggle!)" Chris said, "Wow! That's crazy. Can I try?" And he did ... in a different spot at least. I think we're having fun with it.

So this is what the drain looked like this morning.

All that hair, just from my head. My pillow is not much better. I was only in the shower for like 3 minutes because the more water I was running on my head, the more hair I could feel sliding down my back. Better to get in and get out. 

We were legitimately trying to go to church this morning - it being Lent and all. Plus I have so many wonderful friends at church who check in on me and want to know how I'm doing. It's like religion with a side of social hour.

But after my mere 3 minute shower, I knew we were never going to make it to church. My gut is simply not cooperating. I had terrible stomach pain again. So I retreated to the bed, curled up in the fetal position and stayed there for hours. I didn't even blow dry my hair - which means the little bit that I still have is sticking straight up. I wasn't too disappointed about not drying it though. Whenever I hold the dryer in one place for too long, I notice the hair that was there drifting off in the other direction. So, no Church, no primping, lazy day. I might try to keep what's left on my head for work Monday and Tuesday. After that, it might be time for a razor. Eek. (so not there yet emotionally)

But thanks to my fabulous friends I have food and delicious cookies to eat. Tons of gossip magazines. Dozens of hysterical greeting cards! (My fave is from Jamie Burkholder)



In addition to reading my cards ... Chris and I did explore The Story of Farts today. Marla and JR Rogers sent the book The Gas We Pass after I mentioned the Everyone Poops book. I didn't know it had a gas companion, but it does!! Marla said every good home library has this book! Plus she added the Holes in Your Nose to our collection too. I'm putting them both on the Medical Book section of the shelf next to Chris' Anatomy and Physiology text books.

(Has another sister book called Breasts!)

The one thing the nose book doesn't mention is the constant dripping during chemo. But have no fear, Stephanie at the wig shop - a 3 year Breast Cancer Survivor - filled me in. She urged me to keep a tissue up my sleeve. "Like your grandmother used to." Well, Great-Grandma Phyllis did always have a tissue up her sleeve. When I asked why, she explained that the HAIR IN YOUR NOSE FALLS OUT TOO! So there's little there to catch the snot. Hence the tissue. And she's right. I'm full of dripping snot!



Rambling Thoughts

Today was a good day. I feel okay. I think having some time off from chemo while my platelets bounce back is good for my body. It's just my head I need to work on.

My mind just doesn't stop. I wish I could just be calm, let all the thoughts be quiet. But I'm finding it's hard. First, I just think about what has to be done today. Then I think of things I might be able to accomplish if I'm feeling good. Next I think about when would be a good time to nap. I've never napped as an adult, but there is something wonderful about crawling into the bed in the middle of the day for a little recharge. When Chris is at work and I'm home, the dogs and I crawl in. Sometimes I sleep the whole day until Chris comes home from work. I feel like a bum when he wakes me up - he's done a whole day of doctoring and I ... well ... snuggled with the girls.

At first though, I was so tired I would just fall right to sleep. Now I lay there and think about 57 different things all at the same time. Sometimes I'm impressed by how many thoughts I can have simultaneously. Like I can have a song in the way back of my head, I'm running through the To Do list in the middle part of my  brain and at the same time having a pretend conversation with someone ... all in my head. I really need to take a deep breath.

I like to say my prayers. If not for their calming effect, at least for the repetition. I hope God doesn't get mad if you fall asleep saying the Rosary. I don't know that I've ever finished the Rosary before falling to sleep. It's usually in mid-Hail Mary. But I think - as a woman - Mary must realize how tired I am and I don't think she holds it against me.

I think about things 5 years away. I run through our "potential" family. When this is over, will my uterus cooperate? Will we be so nervous that instead of a baby, it will just be Cancer The Third. Should we just book plane tickets to China ... see the Great Wall, pick up a little girl and call it a day? We adopted our dogs and I love them more than live itself. I'm sure Chris and I could be the Lancaster version of Brad and Angie (ich, I don't like her ... or that stupid leg) and host the United Colors of Benetton on Lark Lane. But do you see how crazy I go and how quickly I get there?!?

Take a deep breath, Mer. Left foot, right foot.

Cancer By Number

Remember Paint by Number? We're playing Cancer By Number. Today there are two numbers 5700 and 37. It's like Sesame Street. Today's Cancer is brought to you by the letter N and the number 5700. N - for No chemo!

The 5700 is AMAZING!! Let's put it in perspective. This is the beta hCG number - the pregnancy cancer hormone that tells us how much cancer is left. In Round 2, we were diagnosed at 18,000. Jumped to 64,000 before treatment and had to whittle our way down from there. Last week we had a dramatic initial drop from 64,000 to 36,000. HUGE! Dr. Goldstein from Boston even e-mailed me to say how impressed he was by the drop. (I'm such a pleaser, I want to make the oncologist proud. His e-mail felt like a gold star in 3rd grade!)

Today's blood work is even better ... beta hCG = 5700! Woowoo! We are kicking that cancer's ass! Like really kicking it! Take that, bitches!! At this rate, I could be cancer free by Friday. (That's not true, we shouldn't get away from ourselves ... but I'm just sayin' - it's good.) BUT ....

(there's always a but) ... my platelets are at 37. Thirty seven, you say? What the hell does that mean? Again with some context: They don't give you chemo if your platelets are under 90. So 37 is nowhere near 90. Idiots version of medicine (ie: MY version): platelets are a part of your blood that help your blood clot if you bleed. At 37 mine is "critically low" according to the lab. They will not give you chemotherapy at this level.

Kristen at the Cancer Center says they had a woman with a platelet level of 3 and she survived a car crash. So you're not going to die, you just have to be careful. So 37 means no chemo today. No chemo tomorrow.

I was almost disappointed. I was already in the chemo room, I had put the numbing cream on the port (A+ for me), Chris and I were already settled into the barcaloungers. I was mentally prepared for an infusion. In some of the cancer reading I've done, they stress the importance of being able to continue treatment as scheduled. Every time you have to cancel a treatment it's a little bit of a setback. So I felt concerned that the cancer would go "unanswered" for a week. But Chris says with a drop in hCG like that it's clear the poison is doing it's job!

My tummy is still not right. But other than that, I'm feeling okay. So it will be nice to continue to have "good days" while we wait for those platelets to regenerate.

In the meantime, my hair is definitely falling out now. Day 15, right on schedule. I did get my last official cut last night. What do you think?



I'm at Work!!

Yeah! I feel like myself again.

Yesterday I had every intention of going to work. These should be my best days, Monday and Tuesday, Day 13 and 14. But I realized quickly yesterday morning there was no way I could leave my house and be further than a few steps from the bathroom. My job is not one of those where you are always in the office, close the facilities. So I had to make a judgement call pretty early. Yesterday it was not going to work.

But today I woke up perky and my tummy was cooperating. I'm wearing my bright yellow Fillings suit jacket - so my outlook is following suit. It's incredible how much you appreciate your health when it is suddenly not there. I run on all cylinders all the time, so slowing down is painful - physically and emotionally. I never consider getting up, taking a shower and getting ready for work as an actual event. But with a little chemo on board, that "morning routine" is like a mountain to climb. I feel like I need a nap after getting out of the shower and drying off. I put my towel on my head like a turbine each morning. But now, after carrying the weight of the towel around for like 5 minutes, I feel like I need to rest my neck. I get very dramatic very quickly!

Today is Day 14 - the day the hair starts leaving this world. I noticed a few more strands than normal when I ran my hands through the coif this morning. I think it might be a little while longer before I have a problem ... but what the heck do I know.

I did notice this at the mall the other day.

It's a mannequin at the same store that had the bald ones last week. For the record, Beth Walton guessed Forever 21. But Ronda took the cake by guessing Bebe correctly! I think it's hysterical that only after I pick a short hot red wig - now the mannequins are rocking them! I'm totally a trend setter!