The Unstoppable Umsteads

There are so so so many people whose help and generosity is just overwhelming. I'm lucky to be surrounded by such a support system. It would be unfair to single out one particular person or persons.

That being said: Todd Umstead and his family are hysterical! And they have kept me smiling this whole time. When I said "funny cards" - they found funny cards. The Easter VaJayJay card was from the Umsteads. I don't know that Jesus meant for the Easter celebration of his Resurrection and VaJayJay's to appear on the same card - but Todd and Dawn found it. And I loved it.

This is the latest well wish:

Old lady, furry dog: "Sorry my dog humped your leg... he feels really bad about it!"

Hysterical! Where do you find a card like this? And if I found it, I would be buy all of them because I can think of about a dozen people who would bust a gut if they opened this up!

On top of the dog cards, the Umstead's rock a menagerie of dogs and other animals at home. And the best part is ... they put them on the return address label with those little cartoon faces! When I get a card from them, at first glance, I'm thinking it's the Rodgers (who also send the funniest cards!). With five children and the same type of return address label, there are seven smiling cartoon faces on the Rodgers sticker. Those represent actual human beings. Todd and Dawn, plus daughter Olivia, are on the label along with 37 animals! I swear between dogs, cats, a hamster, plus an elephant I think - it's the Umstead Zoo! Makes me laugh every time.

Dawn keyed in on one of the biggest things when I first got sick: running errands. I - the Queen of Errand Running - simply could not get in and out of the car 53 times in an afternoon to get my stuff done. She was out running errands, she offered to run my errands. It's like a family of Visiting Angels.

Todd sent the last card, one of those talking ones, with an extra surprise inside: a print out from WikiAnswers.com.
Check this out:
http://wiki.answers.com/Q/How_tall_is_meredith_jorgensen 
The whole first post is crazy, CRAY-ZEE (except for the part where he says I'm prettier in person - that part is all true! Ha!)
So Todd finds this, prints it out, writes WTF on the top and sent it along. If this kind of stuff doesn't pass the cancer time, I don't know what will.

While it's all fun and games, my thanks and appreciation is serious. This man is bald for me. Todd's been a part of St. Baldrick's Day for years. It's an organization that urges people to raise money to shave their heads in support of children diagnosed with pediatric cancers. It's a fun and awe-inspiring event as dozens of people - a lot of local police officers and fire fighters - shave their heads. I was really hoping to go, see my friends and support the cause in April. Alas, I was having one of those "bad" cancer days and missed all the fun. But then Todd texted me this picture:

Todd definitely rocks that look better than I do. Thank you for all your support and well wishes. You have no idea how much it means!

4.0 ... We're getting there!

Ok, now we're on a roll. The hCG number dropped again from 5.6 to 4.0! We are really getting into the nitty gritty here. I was so happy with the number. As always, all the other fricken numbers dropped too. I guess that's what chemo will do to you. It's odd, I never thought I would look forward to chemotherapy, but I do. Two reasons: I'm anti-cancer and pro-Kristen. Any day that I can kill a little more cancer and gossip and laugh a little more with the Chemo nurse is a good day. So far I've had four straight weeks of chemo with no interruptions. The more I get done now the less I have to do in say, August.

The hemoglobin (I don't know if that's how you spell that - I think it always look like hemo- goblin - like a red ghost! ha!) was down to 5.2. Laymans terms: that's not good. It's supposed to be 12. I was short of breath and then (as Kristen kept reminding me) you could have a heart attack. I tried to convince her that I was a marathon runner at one time and my heart should be strong. (I leave out parts of that story like that marathon was 8 years ago and it took me half a day. Plus I load as much salt and butter on anything that takes salt and butter. Even stuff that doesn't: like adding salt to the already super salty Patio Pizza. So maybe my heart isn't that strong.) Either way, the blood work trumped my protests and they ordered a blood transfusion.

I've never had a blood transfusion before and Chris is pretty opposed unless it's absolutely necessary. He doesn't want me to come down with the hiv or hepatitis A-F. Chris remembers the days in Miami when they used pay homeless people for blood. Most of those donors were IV drug users so that blood wasn't always the best. I'm assured that the blood bank system is full of checks and balances, but why take the chance if you don't have to. But ... with red blood cells at 5.2 ... we had to. Taylor told me I looked like Powder the other day while we were on Oovoo (like Skype) on the computer. Remember Powder, old movie about a MAN (thanks Tayl) who was so pale. I got the point, I needed a little red in my cheeks and the blood transfusion would do that. Plus it would let some more oxygen get to my brain. Always a good thing.

Seven hours yesterday, me and an IV pole and three bags of blood. Again, I'm praying that the donors are all saints. Marcia and Hilary sat with me the whole day. We played cards (Hilary won - shocking. Go Fish is a game of chance. It's statistically impossible that that woman should win all the time - but she does. Plus, it makes her happy when she's victorious, so it makes me happy too!) Before you knew it, I was the color of a normal human being. And I can breathe when I walk up a flight of stairs. Modern medicine.

5.6!!!

Oh, thank you dear God. The number was 5.6 - down from 20.9! The doctors feel like we are back on track! I feel like the weight of the world has been lifted off my shoulders.

Mom sent this to me at the begininng of the treatment and it's hanging on my fridge:
Joshua 1:9
Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified, do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

I get so weak sometimes that I was terrified and disouraged. But all your prayers and well wishes helped lift me up. We're going to be okay and I have you all and Chris and God to thank.

A Positive Attitude

There are some silver linings to cancer.

I've lost 11 pounds. Another 11 and I'll be bikini ready. While I don't recommend cancer as a way to get to your fighting weight, I'm thrilled with the drop. Dr. Evans has noted my weight loss with a frown of disapproval. She said, "I need some meat on your bones if you get sick." I have plenty of meat left, mostly around my midsection. I refer to it as the classic "muffin top" but maybe it's baked goods made with meat - like mince meat pie around my gut.

The saddest part to me is while I'd love for chemo to help me drop the spare tire, it's my boobs that are suffering. I'm sure it's 5.5 pounds lost from the left one, another 5.5 from the right. It's an injustice of nature that the weight should leave the fun spot first.

On the upside, I was cold in the hospital so I might invest in one of these scarves.

I'm loving the rose tattoo on the woman on the left. Classy!

Another positive: I'm really catching up on my sleep. I feel like there are times when life just feels like a rat race. People say, "I'll sleep when I'm dead." Sometimes it seems as if that's the only time you'll slow down. I'm complaining about running around like crazy and I have no children. I can't imagine the working moms juggling three children do it. Do you ever get out of the car? Now, I barely get IN the car. Running errands is a massive accomplishment, going food shopping is like a marathon for me.

So the snuggly time on the couch with the girls is a welcome change and a much needed rest. When I think back to this illness, this is what I will remember. This is what having cancer looks like for me:

I've had this couch for 10 years and after all this laying down, I've definitely put a dent in the cushions. At least Barlie keeps me warm. I have a kink in my neck from watching TV in the same position. I'm thinking of moving the couch to the other side so I have to look to the right instead of the left.

Well, it's a big night tonight. Chris and I have tickets to the Lancaster Chamber of Commerce dinner with guest speaker Former British Prime Minister Tony Blair. I plan to dress to the nines and wear my best wig. I've been resting for two days just to save up the energy to walk from the front of the convention center to the back where my table is. And it's a big day tomorrow when we get the latest blood work. I think it's going to be fine. Will keep you posted!

Bad Blood = Weekend of Waiting

It's really been going down a lot, the cancer number. But we hit a snag on Wednesday. The beta hCG number increased from 9.9 to 20.9. Considering it WAS 64,000 this number pales in comparison. The question now is why?

There are several possible answers.
1) I didn't have chemo for three weeks around the time of the last hospitalization. That could account for the increase, but we did have a decrease since the hospitalization - weird.

B) The cancer is no longer responding to the chemotherapy and could be growing rather than shrinking.

4) The Super Moon last night has thrown everything out of whack - like a hospital full of crazies on a full moon ... but a Super Moon!

I'm pretty sure it's Reason 4) using the deductive reasoning of my journalism degree.

So without knowing for sure, it gives an insecure patient who has kind of had the shits of this already, plenty of time for conjecture and non-scientific guess work. The doctor in Lancaster called the doctor in Boston who ordered a CATScan of the chest and an MRI of the uterus. He used the words "possibly drug resistant," "surgical resection" and "might have to take the uterus" as POSSIBILITIES in the conversation with Lancaster doctor. She passed it along to me and all I heard was "take the uterus" and then I pretty much checked out.

Well, that defeats the purpose of being cancer-free and hoping to get pregnant. I can't very well let the embryo piggy back on my kidneys for nine months. That phrase "take the uterus" hurt like a ton of bricks. But as everyone keeps saying "Don't worry. It will be alright. Everything will work out. I just know it will be fine. Hang in there." (Should I keep going? There are like 75 other phrases in the same genre.) I try to take each of those sentences in and digest the words and feel their meaning and make it part of me and part of my mission to move forward with a brave face.

But it's really hard.

I'd really like to keep my uterus.

I can see now it would be nothing short of a blessing to be pregnant and carry our child.

It might work out like that. It might not. I have a lot of emotional work to do either way.

On Wednesday we'll draw the beta hCG again. That will tell a lot. Is it Wednesday yet?

************************

Not to be a total Debbie Downer ("Waa Waa!" as Holland would say), I had a great night on the town for Ronda's 40th Birthday Celebration. A Civil War Murder Mystery at Bube's Brewery! I rocked the red head!

Ronda, Joe, Julie, Michael, Me and Beth
BTW: The butler did it.

What's the plan from here?

After the Holy Six Pack of Platelets (see previous post), my platelet count and all of my blood levels rebounded nicely. I guess. I thought I'd be "too sick for chemo" for another week. No problem by me. But, alas, the labs were good and chemo called.

So to recap, at it's height the hCG # was 64,000. Last week it was 9.9. Single digits. So low they start marking decimal points. That's some amazing medicine!! We need to get to zero - less than 2 is actually the measurement. While it seems like it's so close, we've been here before. In 2009, I was <2 for two weeks and then it bumped up to 2.4, resetting the "3 consecutive zero's" count. So this end game can get a little tricky.

Plus, Dr. Evans explained it like this. The number drop is important, but the percentage is even more so. For a while, the hCG level dropped by more than 50% - an astonishing drop. The decrease from 11 to 9.9 is still good though - a 10% drop. But as you can see, it starts to slow down a bit. Like on Biggest Loser, when someone is 500 pounds they drop the first 50 lbs in no time. It's that pesky last 10 pounds that takes forever to shave off. We're in the 10 pound range ... and by golly if I could run for miles and do hundreds of sit-ups to get to <2 I would. It's just that that won't help AND I get winded just going up a flight of stairs. So it's up to the chemo.

Had infusions last Wednesday and Thursday. Nauseous all weekend. Big infusion coming up this Wednesday and more blood work. Keep your fingers crossed and the prayers coming. I'd like to say we're halfway through (my end-game was July 4th) but Dr. Evans cautioned rushing it (she said Labor Day - Bah! Humbug!) Left foot, right foot, left foot, right foot. I think I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. Can you?

I was so cold the first time I was in the hospital, they put warm blankets over my head. Beth says I was envoking Mother Teresa with the blue stripes. I know one thing: I ain't no Saint.

  Not that wrinkley yet either. (May she rest in peace.)

Catching Up

Hi, sorry. You would think blogging would be easy ... but it's not. Every time I sit to write a bit something else comes up. Or a dog nudges my arm wanting a belly scratch. It's hard to type and belly scratch at the same time. I've tried.

I survived the hospital. That was two weeks ago now. I did have a platelet transfusion. It's a little less than a full blood transfusion but Chris was concerned because there's always a risk of getting some "bad blood" when they transfuse. I ended up with what they call a Six Pack of Platelets - meaning it's six different donors - only upping the changes someone has TB. But my girlfriend Jeannette calmed my fears by calling it the Holy Six Pack - she says only holy, happy, clean people donated for me! If only it was a six pack of Miller Light I'd be fine.

My Aunt and Godmother, Diane, my mom's second sister came from Florida for a week to help me. What a privilege to have her take a week off a work to tend to me. We talked about all sorts of things, solved some of the worlds problems (including how to run a hospital floor efficiently - we're convinced we can do it better). We laughed and watched TV, tried to go for lunch one day when I was home until I threw up in the car on the way there.

I didn't say a word, Aunt Di just went about the tasks of making sure both Chris and I were fed, the laundry was done, the dishes cleaned. I felt so loved and so enjoyed her company.

Plus, Di has always had a great sense of humor which came in great when we cleaned out the laundry area. Where else would you put the fur hunting cap with flaps ... but on your head.

Classic! Now that's a look!

If we can't have fun with Cancer - no one can!!

Thank you Aunt Diane. You were wonderful and I appreciate your help more than you can know!