Part 3: My Inspiration, Agnes

She was wonderful to me from day one. Agnes Piersol's story is one of continuous chemo and contsant smiles. She's helped me get through my illness and is an inspiration to everyone in that Chemo Lounge. I was honored to tell her story. But really, watch the clip and you realize she's telling her story: with grace and hope and clarity. I hope you enjoy watching it as much as I enjoy knowing her.

WGAL SERIES PART #3"
The Nut Lady; Agnes Piersol

What a Good Week of Chemo!

See, these are sentences you never think you'll say. But after months of this poison, you learn to appreciate the Good Chemo Weeks. This was one of them.

First, I could get chemo. Nothing like have a "chemo snow day" when it's 98 degrees outside. You want to get this stuff done now, so you don't have to make up a day in August (when it's 110 at this rate. I'm not a Al Gore fan, but after a no-snow winter and these sweltering temps, maybe he's onto something with whole "Global Warming" thing!)

Second, my numbers were good. I don't know which little part of my body makes those platelets. Yet, as soon as they are too low for chemo, that little platelet-making-machine seems to get to work. I went from 23 to 124 in a week. Now that's what I'm talking about.

We gave Marcia a break this week and great friends Angie Speitel and Joe Mitton served as Special Guests. It was packed on Wednesday. And you know me, with an audience and some funny stories before I get the benadryl, I had the room laughing. Who says you can't have fun at chemo? As soon as that drug kicks in though, I start slurring and have to take a nap. I haven't had drink since February, but that Benadryl makes you feel like your drunk. I'm not used to that feeling so early in the morning, but I can make anything fun.

We're looking at just a few more weeks of chemo. It would be great if we could get them in all in a row and just be done. But the chances of that are slim. Because I'm toward the end, now I'm getting really antsy. I just keep reminding myself: one step at a time, keep your eye on the prize.

Trying not to look too far down the road but ... we might opt for surgery post-chemo to remove this nasty little tumor in my uterus. I would hate to leave it in and have Cancer #3 a year from now. Although, the Boston doctor says that might not be necessary. So we are weighing the risk/reward of everything and I'm trying not to be too jealous of all the beautiful pregnant people with their cute growing tummies. All in good time. All in good time.

Relay for LIfe

As a reporter, I get to do a lot of cool things, go fun places and cover special events on a regular basis. The Lancaster County Relay for Life has been one of those events. I think I've been to at least three of them as a reporter for WGAL. When I visited, they were held at Lancaster Catholic High School. For a while, the county had just one. But the more people were touched by cancer, the more people wanted to participate. Now there are hundreds of teams, raising millions of dollars in 6 different relays in Lancaster County.

The staff of 8 Lime asked me to participate with them this year. Cally Marzolf is a nurse on the Cancer Floor and she's always taken wonderful care of me (both in 2009 and this year). Just seeing her smiling face when she walks in the door makes you forget you're even in the hospital. When she asked if I would walk the Survivor Lap for her team Hands of Hope, I was honored to be a part of such an amazing team.

As a reporter, I've witnessed the Survivor Lap and the Luminaria Ceremony and they are emotional events. But standing on the track on a cancer patient I was fighting back tears. The stands are full of people who have all held onto to hope. They continuously clap as the cancer survivors make their way around the track. It's so unbelievably inspiring.

I walked with a cancer survivor named Randy Bucher. He stopped me in Walmart a few weeks ago and said he'd be at the Relay and was I going. I told him I'd be there. In the crowds of people on the track, Randy found me and we walked together. Afterwards, he sent me this e-mail: Meredith, it was nice walking the lap with ya ! not sure why we look mad lol stay strong! i will keep you in my prayers.

I don't think we're mad. We're just serious about surviving cancer!! The relay also features the Survivor of the Year and the Caregiver of the Year. This year the American Cancer Society picked Kim Smith, a 4 year breast cancer survivor. What a wonderful choice! I know Kim and she is a brilliant attorney, a powerful and accomplished woman and absolute role model. She also kicked cancer's ass, which makes me love her even more! One day, I'm going to be like her.

I'm not quite a survivor ... yet. But God knows, I am surviving. And they didn't kick me off the track for that technicality. Part of the reason I'm surviving is because of Cally and her co-workers on 8 Lime. If you'd like to donate to their team, Hands of Hope, please visit their link:
Hands Of Hope Relay for Life

The Luminaria in my honor.

Fewer Posts? WTF??

I know I'm slacking a little bit on posting. To be honest, I've had the shits of this. Not the blog, specifically. But the cancer. We started this on February 2nd. It's the middle of June. Ugh. I was wearing my winter coat to go to chemo. Now I'm rocking shorts and flip flops.

I think the only reason I'm starting to get bitchy about this is because we're doing so well. I hope we're getting close to done. If we were stuck in the middle still, I'd put on my Suzy Sunshine Smile and ramp up the positive attitude. But now, I'm nothing but attitude.

I will work on posting more. In the meantime, forgive me if I'm grumpy. I'm bored of cancer. "Cancer Free" is the new Justin Beiber ... and I'm getting Beiber Fever.

  VS.

Part 2: On WGAL

I've been sharing stories about my cancer treatment on WGAL. There will be four stories total. This is the link for story #2 which aired last week.

Kristin is a bonafide star!!! She was so nervous but she shined! She made the story: a little expertise, a little sass and a good lesson.

It's also important to note that broadcast journalists don't have to spell a lot of things correctly. Mainly just the people's names. And I nearly fucked that up. My dear Kristin is spelled KRISTIN - not Kristen, as I've been doing since 2008 (you think she would have spoken up sooner! It's all her fault!) And just about 45 minutes before the story aired, I finally got her last name correct: AHRENS. The woman is literally bringing me back to life - you think I could get her name right! (My bad, girl!)

I hope you enjoy!

Meredith's WGAL Story Part 2

No Go for Chemo

Wednesdays are big days. I've even started to look forward to them. So when I walk into the office and Beverly, at the front desk, shakes her head, I'm actually disappointed.

Such was the case yesterday. Good numbers and bad numbers all rolled into one.

The Good: the hCG is down to 1.5!! Can I get a "Hell Yeah!" After staying steady at 2.0, which counts as remission, breaking the 2 mark was exciting.

The Bad: Platelets were down. Blah blah blah. Where have I heard that before? Like 36 times in the last five months. They are supposed to be 100 to receive chemo. I've talked Kristin into it even in the 70's. But a 24 is never going to fly.

The Ugly: the look on my face when Kristin sends me packing. All my friends were there on Wednesday; Kerri, the only other patient who doesn't yet qualify for AARP. Plus my friend Enid and her husband. She's nearly ending treatment. How much longer will I have to chat with them and hear about San Diego and how their grandsons are doing? So, as Kristin says, I "worked the room," said my quick hellos and then goodbyes.

I'm so lucky and so thrilled the cancer is dying - or practically dead - at this point. But I am disappointed for the home stretch of treatment to be pushed back another week. My sister Taylor will come to visit in two weeks with my wonderful niece Hailey and nephew William. I was hoping to carve out a vacation week of no chemo during their visit. But God picked this week as a break instead, so we'll play with fun children then get the poison. Oh well. It will all work out. It always does.

But let's face it, life can't be that bad when you are wearing a shirt like this:



"Bald is the New Blonde" So true, so true. The T-shirt, the smile and a lot of laughs courtsey of Adam and Kristy Aurand! Thanks guys!

Can't a Girl Just Sit While She's Getting Chemo for 8 Hours!

Ok, People. It's on. The Race to the End. The Light at the End of the Tunnel. The Point of No Return. (Well, that last one doesn't really apply, but you get the drift.) Let me be clear: the chemo continues, but the numbers are so damn good, you can't help but be excited. I am.

HCG holding steady at 2.0! Didn't tick down to register a <2 on the lab scale. But according to two high powered oncologists 2.0 is good enough for government work. I'm not about to ask for more chemo. All the other labs: red, white and blue - er, I mean, platelets, were fine. We are on a roll. And if my producer Ronda has anything to do with it, we're on a Keiser Roll. (Her mom didn't put an H in her first name, which has plagued her all her life. But her husband's family doesn't quite spell Keiser right to be a roll. At this point though, we'll let that slide.)

I'm having interesting reactions to the upcoming chemo treatments. I think, thus far, I've maintained my upbeat attitude. Maybe it's the fact that we're nearly done that makes me complain about them more now. This week was the one long treatment. The morning starts at 7:45am when Marcia and I do our Wednesday morning routine. Bloodwork, Bagels then Chemo. Kristen, the chemo nurse, hangs a whole lot of bags on that pole on the long days. The only one I really care about is the Benadryl. It's hysterical how totally loopy I get. If smoking pot is anything like that, I can understand why people get high. It doesn't give me the munchies but I definitely go a little crazy and then promptly fall asleep. This day just keeps going though, so by the time Deb, my special guest yesterday, drops me off at home, we're pushing 4 o'clock and I need another nap.

The day before treatments, I'm now having these terrible waves of nausea. I can feel my throat closing off the way it does before you are going to yack. This is out of the blue on Tuesdays. Just the thought of the drugs coming the next day gives me a physical reaction. My friend Adam smartly remarked, you're not eating the chemo, why are you nauseous. Good point, Adam, good point. I don't know, but it's annoying. Goes to show you it's all psycho-sematic (is that how you spell it?) Mind over matter, except in this case my mind is taking over before I have a reason to have something the matter!

I'm almost relieved to get hooked up Wednesday morning. Every hour I'm there is another hour down. But yesterday, I was marking the quarter hours ... with a trip to the bathroom. It. Was. So. Annoying. There is this one drug they give me on the long infusion days, Cisplatin. It's so bad for you that when you body filters it and parts of the drug sit in your bladder, it burns the lining of your bladder. Eats right through it. So doctors couple this drug with a diuretic (spelling again?) to make you go to the bathroom regularly. The more you pee the less time the drug sits in your bladder making unnecessary holes. Not a bad concept unless you have to get up every 30 seconds.

Usually I wait until I'm about to float to the bathroom. Most days I get up every half hour. Yesterday, no rest for the weary. All I wanted to do was enjoy my Bendryl induced sleep and here I am ready to wet myself. Isnt' Cancer glamorous? No kidding, every 15 minutes. I thought I should just barricade myself in the John, bring my book in with me(the second in the 50 Shades of Grey series - total smut) and sit there for the whole infusion. Two problems, I'd be hogging up the rest room and the Barcalounger chair is so much more comfortable than the porcelain throne.

Plus, and this is the real kicker, there's a minor seam leading into the bathroom. You know, like a rubber strip between the two parts of the floor. No big deal if your walking to the bathroom, BIG fucking deal if you're wheeling your friendly chemo pole in there every 15 minutes. It's like a god damn speed bump. You know the kind of speed bumps they put in residential neighborhoods that people use as cut throughs? Like that kind of unnecessary, annoying speed bump. I practically have to carry the pole over it. Really? I've been sick since February, have exactly no muscle tone left (haven't used the Shake Weight all year, but normally Mary Beth Filling and I are big fans!) and here I am, hauling large equipment in the bathroom. If Kristen doesn't name the Chemo Lounge the Meredith Cooke Memorial Gossip Lounge, the least I'm going to have her do is put a ramp over the speed bump into the bathroom. Geez!