Hannah is asleep on the floor at the foot of my bed. She's sucking her thumb and is curled up with her blanket. She has had a long, hard day and is really tired. Emma is driving her dad crazy, she found a tomato in the refrigerator and wants to eat it for dinner. That's all she wants for dinner, a tomato.....and she wants to eat the tomato whole like an apple. She's weird, She's Emma. Dylan is being a teenager tonight, talking on the telephone all night to friends about who knows what. Why is it that teenagers insist on hogging the telephone all night. And Rainer is doing what he does best, juggling. He's juggling three children, three different dinners, a dog who jumped up on the cupboard and downed a loaf of bread and of course me. Just another night at our house.
I'm upstairs in bed, sort of watching T.V., sort of thinking about this afternoon and just sort of dealing with life in general. I had my first radiation treatment today. My radiation treatments were delayed for a couple of days because.....they needed a bigger machine with lots of power. I don't know if it's scary or funny, maybe it's a little of bit of both. The technicians drew lines all over my chest as I lay on a table. I could see green grid lines of the lasers on my body as they positioned a large machine above my chest. I just laid on the table as the technicians closed the vault door and turned the machine on. Seconds clicked by. Zap, cancer dies and pain goes away. Is that all that it takes? I hope so.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Making a scene
So yesterday, I had a melt down of sorts and am now paying for it. It was that feeling really bad after the first week of chemo week stuff and I was just trying to be normal.
I was working (probably too much), not eating enough (how many carne asada tacos can one person eat) and being my usual all around stressed out self. You know, basically trying to be the rock, Superwoman, or whatever you want to call it for my family. I had made it through Wednesday and was doing so-so but was having what I perceived as a weird side effects from the chemo. I thought I was having strong anxiety attacks about life in general. You know anxiety attacks, where you feel like someone is reaching their hand inside your chest cavity and grabbing your beating heart….and then squishing the life out of you. Sounds gross, but that was what I had been feeling lately and unfortunately it was getting worse.
On Thursday, I had a big – very long meeting at work. I know now, that until this cancer thing is over…..I will never, never, never sit in meeting, more than say…..an hour without then resting for hour in between. Don’t laugh; business meetings can be very, very strenuous. People banter back and forth, new ideas are exchanged, paths are defined, you have to stay awake and be at the top of your game. Everyone knows the work is hard and in meetings… …..the hard, unyielding, solid chairs are even more so brutal, especially when you have cancer in your chest bones. Sounds overly dramatic, but by two in the afternoon, it had been about six hours in that chair. I was having what I perceived was an anxiety attack.
I’m really thankful that there are doctors, nurses and neighbors. I left my meeting and drove myself home. The anxiety was huge; I was hot, sweaty and fidgety. I was breathing deeply and couldn’t stop talking – even if I was only talking to myself. I called my oncologist’s nurse, Sharon and my on island doctor, Maureen Koval. Sharon asked if I could go see my on island doctor and have my heart and blood pressure checked immediately and I asked Dr. Koval asked if I could come in to her office immediately……she said yes and don’t drive yourself. I walked over to my neighbor’s house and literally like “The Graduate” pounding on the window of the church yelling for Elaine, asked my neighbor Mark if he would drive me to the doctor’s office. Poor Mark. There I was, a bald headed, raving lunatic begging for a ride to the doctor’s office. I have no idea what he was thinking……but he was so wonderful. The nurse, the doctor, the neighbor were all wonderful…..just because they had said yes. I’m sure I would have driven my car into a ditch if I had driven myself. And yes, I know that I could have called 911…….but I live in the middle of no-where….and it would have just taken longer.
Dr. Koval quickly assessed the situation. She said, breathe deeply, listening to my heart with her stethoscope. This isn’t a heart attack, Joan. This isn’t an anxiety attack, as her assistant attached an EKG probe to my skin. This is PAIN; this is a lot of pain as I finally see it what it is for the first time. She touches the tumor on my sternum and I scream out loud. Yes, yes…..that hurts. I am going to give you a shot, Joan. You need some help. You can’t do this alone, you need something. I’m sorry, I’m sorry….I say over and over. Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault, she says as she holds my hand. I’m going to have to give you a shot in your behind. In my but, oh god no, I say to the nurse and as I fly off the table to the other side of the room. I drop my drawers and the long needle goes painfully in. And this isn’t even the scene……
My doctors talk to each other in hushed tones. They up my pain meds even more. It’s decided that if the pain hasn’t been abated by tomorrow I’m to go to Seattle for evaluation. I make it through the night and try once again to go to work. But I can’t make it even an hour. I know I have to go in to face my doctor, something has changed and I’m going to have to deal with it. I’m crazed with pain. At work, people are there trying to help me, but I can barely walk let alone let anyone help me. They offer their hands and I can't even let them touch me. I am frantic with pain. I just know that I have ten minutes to make a ferry and I need to get my car out of my office’s crowded parking lot. I am the screaming lunatic, barking at those who were just trying to help. They get someone to drive me. They are trying to move cars to let me out. I just rave on. Later, I feel bad. I feel embarrassed…..all they were doing was trying to help and all I could do was yell in their faces. How can I ever face them?
The news is the tumors on my sternum are not getting smaller. The pain is getting bigger because the tumors are getting bigger. Instead of using radiation at the end of this nightmare to make sure I never get cancer again, I’m going to have to use radiation now to kill this foe. Radiation is effective; it will kill the cancer in the bones. I hope. I start radiation on Monday.
Later, I'm offered the choice of weekend hospital stay with intravenous pain medication or staying home in bed and letting people help. I go home, lay in bed and a friend holds my hand as the sun streams through the window while I wait for the medication to work and Monday to come.
I was working (probably too much), not eating enough (how many carne asada tacos can one person eat) and being my usual all around stressed out self. You know, basically trying to be the rock, Superwoman, or whatever you want to call it for my family. I had made it through Wednesday and was doing so-so but was having what I perceived as a weird side effects from the chemo. I thought I was having strong anxiety attacks about life in general. You know anxiety attacks, where you feel like someone is reaching their hand inside your chest cavity and grabbing your beating heart….and then squishing the life out of you. Sounds gross, but that was what I had been feeling lately and unfortunately it was getting worse.
On Thursday, I had a big – very long meeting at work. I know now, that until this cancer thing is over…..I will never, never, never sit in meeting, more than say…..an hour without then resting for hour in between. Don’t laugh; business meetings can be very, very strenuous. People banter back and forth, new ideas are exchanged, paths are defined, you have to stay awake and be at the top of your game. Everyone knows the work is hard and in meetings… …..the hard, unyielding, solid chairs are even more so brutal, especially when you have cancer in your chest bones. Sounds overly dramatic, but by two in the afternoon, it had been about six hours in that chair. I was having what I perceived was an anxiety attack.
I’m really thankful that there are doctors, nurses and neighbors. I left my meeting and drove myself home. The anxiety was huge; I was hot, sweaty and fidgety. I was breathing deeply and couldn’t stop talking – even if I was only talking to myself. I called my oncologist’s nurse, Sharon and my on island doctor, Maureen Koval. Sharon asked if I could go see my on island doctor and have my heart and blood pressure checked immediately and I asked Dr. Koval asked if I could come in to her office immediately……she said yes and don’t drive yourself. I walked over to my neighbor’s house and literally like “The Graduate” pounding on the window of the church yelling for Elaine, asked my neighbor Mark if he would drive me to the doctor’s office. Poor Mark. There I was, a bald headed, raving lunatic begging for a ride to the doctor’s office. I have no idea what he was thinking……but he was so wonderful. The nurse, the doctor, the neighbor were all wonderful…..just because they had said yes. I’m sure I would have driven my car into a ditch if I had driven myself. And yes, I know that I could have called 911…….but I live in the middle of no-where….and it would have just taken longer.
Dr. Koval quickly assessed the situation. She said, breathe deeply, listening to my heart with her stethoscope. This isn’t a heart attack, Joan. This isn’t an anxiety attack, as her assistant attached an EKG probe to my skin. This is PAIN; this is a lot of pain as I finally see it what it is for the first time. She touches the tumor on my sternum and I scream out loud. Yes, yes…..that hurts. I am going to give you a shot, Joan. You need some help. You can’t do this alone, you need something. I’m sorry, I’m sorry….I say over and over. Don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault, she says as she holds my hand. I’m going to have to give you a shot in your behind. In my but, oh god no, I say to the nurse and as I fly off the table to the other side of the room. I drop my drawers and the long needle goes painfully in. And this isn’t even the scene……
My doctors talk to each other in hushed tones. They up my pain meds even more. It’s decided that if the pain hasn’t been abated by tomorrow I’m to go to Seattle for evaluation. I make it through the night and try once again to go to work. But I can’t make it even an hour. I know I have to go in to face my doctor, something has changed and I’m going to have to deal with it. I’m crazed with pain. At work, people are there trying to help me, but I can barely walk let alone let anyone help me. They offer their hands and I can't even let them touch me. I am frantic with pain. I just know that I have ten minutes to make a ferry and I need to get my car out of my office’s crowded parking lot. I am the screaming lunatic, barking at those who were just trying to help. They get someone to drive me. They are trying to move cars to let me out. I just rave on. Later, I feel bad. I feel embarrassed…..all they were doing was trying to help and all I could do was yell in their faces. How can I ever face them?
The news is the tumors on my sternum are not getting smaller. The pain is getting bigger because the tumors are getting bigger. Instead of using radiation at the end of this nightmare to make sure I never get cancer again, I’m going to have to use radiation now to kill this foe. Radiation is effective; it will kill the cancer in the bones. I hope. I start radiation on Monday.
Later, I'm offered the choice of weekend hospital stay with intravenous pain medication or staying home in bed and letting people help. I go home, lay in bed and a friend holds my hand as the sun streams through the window while I wait for the medication to work and Monday to come.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Just so-so
Just so-so tonight. I'm still really not feeling well from the last chemo treatment. I'm pretty cranky and whiny, but don't worry Rainer and the family is there to kick me in the but and make sure that I'm Just Joan and not an invalid.
I've been going into work in the mornings and working from home in the afternoons and evenings. It's been really hard, but you do what you got to do.
I've been pretty nauseous this time around and am really having a hard time eating. I'm probably dropping more weight than I should be. I think I'm driving my husband crazy with my obsession for Carne Asada Tacos.....he's like how many times can you eat tacos. Everyday. I guess it won't be so be such a big deal if it wasn't $7 a pop. Long time ago, we used to live in San Jose, CA. There was this great little taco place called L'Tacqueria. Lord, almighty they made the best tacos in the world. Guacomole, carna asada, cheese, tomatoes. Like I said, definately an obsession.
Well, Emma has climbed in bed with me and it's cuddle time. Her smiles and silliness make me feel good for moment.
I've been going into work in the mornings and working from home in the afternoons and evenings. It's been really hard, but you do what you got to do.
I've been pretty nauseous this time around and am really having a hard time eating. I'm probably dropping more weight than I should be. I think I'm driving my husband crazy with my obsession for Carne Asada Tacos.....he's like how many times can you eat tacos. Everyday. I guess it won't be so be such a big deal if it wasn't $7 a pop. Long time ago, we used to live in San Jose, CA. There was this great little taco place called L'Tacqueria. Lord, almighty they made the best tacos in the world. Guacomole, carna asada, cheese, tomatoes. Like I said, definately an obsession.
Well, Emma has climbed in bed with me and it's cuddle time. Her smiles and silliness make me feel good for moment.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Side Effects
Yep, it’s true the second chemo treatment is definitely worse than the first. You are more nauseous, you eat less, you sleep less as your heart races faster and the only thing you can do in the bathroom is pee. (Although there are bright moments in the middle of the night, when you race for the bathroom and find relief at hand). You just lie flat in bed waiting for the poison to do its stuff. And you know that on Monday morning, no matter how bad you feel you will get up, get dressed and go to work.
My hair is almost completely gone, everything tastes like burnt toast and my skin rivals the scaliness of a lizard. So I wear cozy knitted hats to keep my head warm, I covet Carne Asada Tacos whenever I can con my boys to go get them for me and a special friend has recommended the wonders of olive oil. Don’t laugh, she would know…..a fabulous pediatrician with a heart wider than the grand canyon…..she recommended this wonder drug. It’s natural, non-allergic, and it’s cheap. I slather it over my skin and believe it or not it works. The wrinkles seem to go away and the skin seems much softer. I know that I smell like a salad and maybe that’s why I’ve been craving lettuce. Of course when it comes to my face, vanity thy name is woman. I pull out the expensive Shiseido face cream that I normally use tiny amounts but now scoop out gobs with my fingers to rub all over my face and pray that somehow it will give me beauty….even though I know the beauty is no longer there, just the horror of a holocaust victim.
We’ve moved the living room T.V. upstairs to the bedroom. I have just been too sick to go downstairs. It’s just too hard to lie of the couch. My girls have cajoled me into watching “Land Before Time” Part Fifty for probably me the millionth time. I don’t what makes me sicker the movie or the chemo. It’s hard on the girls, they know that mommy is sick but they just want to be there to hold my hand and make sure that they are there with me. There are tears and laughter and their smiles and whispers sometimes make me feel just a little bit better.
My mind is racing with all of the things I have to do, like trying to filling out my son’s college financial aid form or writing a spec for work to integrate one system with another. These tasks must be done, and I know that soon or later I’ve got to do them. But right now, the side effects of chemo keep me flat on my back while Rainer sits in the chair next to me watching the Daytona 500.
My hair is almost completely gone, everything tastes like burnt toast and my skin rivals the scaliness of a lizard. So I wear cozy knitted hats to keep my head warm, I covet Carne Asada Tacos whenever I can con my boys to go get them for me and a special friend has recommended the wonders of olive oil. Don’t laugh, she would know…..a fabulous pediatrician with a heart wider than the grand canyon…..she recommended this wonder drug. It’s natural, non-allergic, and it’s cheap. I slather it over my skin and believe it or not it works. The wrinkles seem to go away and the skin seems much softer. I know that I smell like a salad and maybe that’s why I’ve been craving lettuce. Of course when it comes to my face, vanity thy name is woman. I pull out the expensive Shiseido face cream that I normally use tiny amounts but now scoop out gobs with my fingers to rub all over my face and pray that somehow it will give me beauty….even though I know the beauty is no longer there, just the horror of a holocaust victim.
We’ve moved the living room T.V. upstairs to the bedroom. I have just been too sick to go downstairs. It’s just too hard to lie of the couch. My girls have cajoled me into watching “Land Before Time” Part Fifty for probably me the millionth time. I don’t what makes me sicker the movie or the chemo. It’s hard on the girls, they know that mommy is sick but they just want to be there to hold my hand and make sure that they are there with me. There are tears and laughter and their smiles and whispers sometimes make me feel just a little bit better.
My mind is racing with all of the things I have to do, like trying to filling out my son’s college financial aid form or writing a spec for work to integrate one system with another. These tasks must be done, and I know that soon or later I’ve got to do them. But right now, the side effects of chemo keep me flat on my back while Rainer sits in the chair next to me watching the Daytona 500.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Full House
Yesterday was chemo day and I was so looking forward to it. Don't laugh, but my first experience with chemo treatment was wonderful and I almost, but not quite, would recommend it to my friends, not.....the main problem with chemo is that afterwards it sucks. My first chemo was very pleasant, quiet, warm, relaxing. There were hush tones and warm wet towels and hot blankies remeniscent of sauna baths. Nothing really hurt - except for maybe that final shot in the stomach....ouch. But the chemo treatment was good, I got to stretch out on a comfy chair, got some good drugs before the chemo push, was able to take a little nap which is contrary to my very stressfull and hectic life. And when I opened my eyes and it was all over the man I love most was there holding me hand. It wasn't bad at all.
This time my chemo treatment was different. Even the waiting room was different. Last time, there were maybe three of us waiting for treatment. This time well over 15, maybe even 20 people were in the waiting room, space was at a premium. It was crowded. There were us old timers, dressed in our warm hats or stylish wigs - since we know what it's all about - us old timers that are nervous but know what is going to happen. We sit at tables putting puzzles together as we wile away the time waiting for our turns, or read books as we curl up on the sofas rather than not so pleasant chairs. However, there were alot of newbies there this time, taking up much space with their entourages. There was the confident young mother, with her two year old in tow, along with her mom and mother-in-law. In between talking to work on her cell phone, passifying her two year old and dealing with dueling grandmoms, she was trying to look supremely confidently with your cool neon green and black horizontal glasses and very mod lime form fitting green capris. (I just can't get help get jealous of beautiful people......I will always be Just Joan, not that is bad....it just is...I am working on this jealousy) And I thought to myself......she's the one who's going to break. Another newbie consisted of a very loving married couple. They had to be in there late fifties, holding hands, her head on his shoulder. You could tell that the fit together like spoons. And as I could overhear their conversations, you could tell that they had been together for a very long time as they finished each others sentences. And even though I could tell that they were scared, I knew in my heart of hearts, that they would get through this. The final newbie I remember was an elderly chinese woman flanked by her two grown daughters. The woman couldn't speak english and I could tell she was so confused by everything that was happening. Her daughters, american from head to toe, were trying to help her. Offering her hugs and explaining what was going on and why they were here. Languages were flying, english and chinese. And although I couldn't understand chinese, I could understand the woman's body language....why, why, why. And why can't I just go home. We don't do this from where I come. And her two daughters telling her that they loved her and didn't want her to go.....to please do this for them. And still more why's. Fortunately, she was surrounded by love and I hoped that her daughters would help her through this.
Soon it was my turn and I knew immediately this was going to be not so pleasant.....and feared it was going to be down right terrible. Fortunately, I had the same nurse - best one on the earth - again for my journey this time. This time I hadn't gotten a nice cozy corner in the back, due to the full house, I was stuck out in the hall way. On one side, was a gentlemen with an entourage of over 10 people complete with 1 yr, 3 yr, and 5 yrs olds running up and down the hall playing NASCAR races, sharing chemo is such an adventure. The other side consisted of at least a 5 member gossip club staight out of a PTA meeting. Plus I was near the nurses station, with their telephones going off every other minute and patients beepers going on every half minute.
I immediately gave Jennifer, the world's best nurse, a warning that I was going to probably be very emotional. Giving her back ground on me that I was exhauted from doing 40 hrs of work in the last three days and had been looking forward to peace and quiet. Jennifer immediately took action. She re-routed the nurse call station and got the beepers turned down. She pulled out some curtains to at least close me in a little bit so I wasn't sitting out in the hall like everyone else and started rotating a stream of the warm blankies and hot towels. Nurse are truly heros.
Jennifer started the treatment - pricking my arm for the I.V. I find it amazing that the IV doesn't even hurt to go in. They give you lidocaine, the stuff that dentist use to numb your teeth, to numb your arm before they put the I.V. in. I wish they had done that when I had had my three C-Sections, to this day I remember horrible pain from the nurse slicing my arm as she tried to jab that I.V. into my arm. Next, in went the saline, then some anti-nauseous medicine followed by the happy drug Ativan. I only get a very small dose, but it takes away the anxiety, makes you down right happy and wonderfully sleepy. Then comes the first chemo drug. First one I call red juice, it's three large huge viles of red poison that they have to manually push into your blood stream. The worse part about this is that for the next four days you pee bright red. A little disconcerting, but eventually it goes away however only after you drink 8 to 12 oz. of water for those four days. Yuck, not pleasant. Than back to another chemo drug....this poison sort of burns when it drips in, so they turn up the saline pouch to counter act the burning sensation. I had started to drift off during this part, the hallway had become less of a race way and I was so sleepy and tired. When lo and behold, my heart's desired had come to hold my hand. It was good.
Yes, I still got the stomach shot.....ouch and it was still very painful. But chemo treatment #2 was done and now I have only more 4 more to go before the next phase. It just such a long journey, chemo, masectomy, more chemo, radiation, breast reconstruction. My journey seems to long. I hope that I will last and more importantly that my friends will be there too.....especially when I open my eyes and see them holding my hand.
This time my chemo treatment was different. Even the waiting room was different. Last time, there were maybe three of us waiting for treatment. This time well over 15, maybe even 20 people were in the waiting room, space was at a premium. It was crowded. There were us old timers, dressed in our warm hats or stylish wigs - since we know what it's all about - us old timers that are nervous but know what is going to happen. We sit at tables putting puzzles together as we wile away the time waiting for our turns, or read books as we curl up on the sofas rather than not so pleasant chairs. However, there were alot of newbies there this time, taking up much space with their entourages. There was the confident young mother, with her two year old in tow, along with her mom and mother-in-law. In between talking to work on her cell phone, passifying her two year old and dealing with dueling grandmoms, she was trying to look supremely confidently with your cool neon green and black horizontal glasses and very mod lime form fitting green capris. (I just can't get help get jealous of beautiful people......I will always be Just Joan, not that is bad....it just is...I am working on this jealousy) And I thought to myself......she's the one who's going to break. Another newbie consisted of a very loving married couple. They had to be in there late fifties, holding hands, her head on his shoulder. You could tell that the fit together like spoons. And as I could overhear their conversations, you could tell that they had been together for a very long time as they finished each others sentences. And even though I could tell that they were scared, I knew in my heart of hearts, that they would get through this. The final newbie I remember was an elderly chinese woman flanked by her two grown daughters. The woman couldn't speak english and I could tell she was so confused by everything that was happening. Her daughters, american from head to toe, were trying to help her. Offering her hugs and explaining what was going on and why they were here. Languages were flying, english and chinese. And although I couldn't understand chinese, I could understand the woman's body language....why, why, why. And why can't I just go home. We don't do this from where I come. And her two daughters telling her that they loved her and didn't want her to go.....to please do this for them. And still more why's. Fortunately, she was surrounded by love and I hoped that her daughters would help her through this.
Soon it was my turn and I knew immediately this was going to be not so pleasant.....and feared it was going to be down right terrible. Fortunately, I had the same nurse - best one on the earth - again for my journey this time. This time I hadn't gotten a nice cozy corner in the back, due to the full house, I was stuck out in the hall way. On one side, was a gentlemen with an entourage of over 10 people complete with 1 yr, 3 yr, and 5 yrs olds running up and down the hall playing NASCAR races, sharing chemo is such an adventure. The other side consisted of at least a 5 member gossip club staight out of a PTA meeting. Plus I was near the nurses station, with their telephones going off every other minute and patients beepers going on every half minute.
I immediately gave Jennifer, the world's best nurse, a warning that I was going to probably be very emotional. Giving her back ground on me that I was exhauted from doing 40 hrs of work in the last three days and had been looking forward to peace and quiet. Jennifer immediately took action. She re-routed the nurse call station and got the beepers turned down. She pulled out some curtains to at least close me in a little bit so I wasn't sitting out in the hall like everyone else and started rotating a stream of the warm blankies and hot towels. Nurse are truly heros.
Jennifer started the treatment - pricking my arm for the I.V. I find it amazing that the IV doesn't even hurt to go in. They give you lidocaine, the stuff that dentist use to numb your teeth, to numb your arm before they put the I.V. in. I wish they had done that when I had had my three C-Sections, to this day I remember horrible pain from the nurse slicing my arm as she tried to jab that I.V. into my arm. Next, in went the saline, then some anti-nauseous medicine followed by the happy drug Ativan. I only get a very small dose, but it takes away the anxiety, makes you down right happy and wonderfully sleepy. Then comes the first chemo drug. First one I call red juice, it's three large huge viles of red poison that they have to manually push into your blood stream. The worse part about this is that for the next four days you pee bright red. A little disconcerting, but eventually it goes away however only after you drink 8 to 12 oz. of water for those four days. Yuck, not pleasant. Than back to another chemo drug....this poison sort of burns when it drips in, so they turn up the saline pouch to counter act the burning sensation. I had started to drift off during this part, the hallway had become less of a race way and I was so sleepy and tired. When lo and behold, my heart's desired had come to hold my hand. It was good.
Yes, I still got the stomach shot.....ouch and it was still very painful. But chemo treatment #2 was done and now I have only more 4 more to go before the next phase. It just such a long journey, chemo, masectomy, more chemo, radiation, breast reconstruction. My journey seems to long. I hope that I will last and more importantly that my friends will be there too.....especially when I open my eyes and see them holding my hand.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Tears
I am crying tonight. I am full of grief and pain. I am crying all over a stupid old medical bill. I hate that I have this cancer; I hate what it’s doing to me. And I hate what it’s going to cost me.
Earlier this year, I had a problem with skin cancer. In no way was it related to my current condition, more likely the skin cancer was from sheer stupidity on my part. As a kid, I lived in the sun. We all did. I swam, I played, and I lived. But I was stupid. What did I, or any one else for that matter, know about sun damage. I was a fair skinned freckled face who tried to get a tan. Except that I didn’t tan, I turned the color of beets. The cancer was an inconvenience but I dealt with it. The doctors carved out a piece of my left hand and got rid of the cancer. They left behind a Frankenstein scar that I’ve grown sort of fond of. The hand is so-so (I still can’t get my wedding ring on – which peeves me no end), I’ve got a groovy scar, and the cancer is gone. However my little inconvenience with cancer left behind mountain of medical bills that I’ve been dealing with.
I thought medical bills were under control. I was making monthly payments and the mountain had become a molehill. Or so I thought. However due to some miscommunication with the hospital, the receivable due to the hospital was sold off to an attorney, who in turn filed a summons. They are both sorry, there is nothing they can do….so please pay. So the $300 bill has turned into a $1300 nightmare and I either have to fight it or am going to have to pay it.
But what is even worse than this stupid old medical bill, is the realization that I am going to have even more medical bills. The bills are going to be bigger and worse nightmares. And the little voice inside me tells me what I know and fear. I know that I am eventually going to be forced to sell my home that I love so much to pay these stupid medical bills. I am going to loose my home all because of this stupid cancer. I hate this cancer.
The tears are rolling down my cheeks, I want to scream, I want to yell. I don’t want to loose my home. Part of me knows that I am being irrational, but the feelings are there tonight. I didn’t want this cancer, and I don’t want these bills. Why do I have to do all of this? I love this house more than life itself. But the bills are coming and I will have to pay them. It’s just hard to face the fact that this cancer is costing me so much; it’s eventually going to cost me the home that I love. Yes, I am going to try to fight the $1300 nightmare, but it’s just so hard. I hate this. Can’t this go away, can’t the tears go away.
Earlier this year, I had a problem with skin cancer. In no way was it related to my current condition, more likely the skin cancer was from sheer stupidity on my part. As a kid, I lived in the sun. We all did. I swam, I played, and I lived. But I was stupid. What did I, or any one else for that matter, know about sun damage. I was a fair skinned freckled face who tried to get a tan. Except that I didn’t tan, I turned the color of beets. The cancer was an inconvenience but I dealt with it. The doctors carved out a piece of my left hand and got rid of the cancer. They left behind a Frankenstein scar that I’ve grown sort of fond of. The hand is so-so (I still can’t get my wedding ring on – which peeves me no end), I’ve got a groovy scar, and the cancer is gone. However my little inconvenience with cancer left behind mountain of medical bills that I’ve been dealing with.
I thought medical bills were under control. I was making monthly payments and the mountain had become a molehill. Or so I thought. However due to some miscommunication with the hospital, the receivable due to the hospital was sold off to an attorney, who in turn filed a summons. They are both sorry, there is nothing they can do….so please pay. So the $300 bill has turned into a $1300 nightmare and I either have to fight it or am going to have to pay it.
But what is even worse than this stupid old medical bill, is the realization that I am going to have even more medical bills. The bills are going to be bigger and worse nightmares. And the little voice inside me tells me what I know and fear. I know that I am eventually going to be forced to sell my home that I love so much to pay these stupid medical bills. I am going to loose my home all because of this stupid cancer. I hate this cancer.
The tears are rolling down my cheeks, I want to scream, I want to yell. I don’t want to loose my home. Part of me knows that I am being irrational, but the feelings are there tonight. I didn’t want this cancer, and I don’t want these bills. Why do I have to do all of this? I love this house more than life itself. But the bills are coming and I will have to pay them. It’s just hard to face the fact that this cancer is costing me so much; it’s eventually going to cost me the home that I love. Yes, I am going to try to fight the $1300 nightmare, but it’s just so hard. I hate this. Can’t this go away, can’t the tears go away.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
TEAMJoan, A League of Extraordinary Gentlepersons
When I was diagnosed with cancer, I asked my friends to join me at the local pub, raise a pint and wish me well as I started on a very long journey. I have the most extraordinary group of friends, they are doctors, lawyers, marketing executives, CEO’s of homes, teachers – they are my friends. They are mothers, daughters, fathers, sons, and I don’t know think I could make this journey without them.
My friends come from different parts of my life. They are fellow moms and dads, who commiserate over raising our children together. They are co-workers, who have toiled long hours on projects that seem to never end. They are members of my church family that bring the warmth of community to our home. They are knitters, whose needles click together over cups of tea as sweaters, scarves and hats are made. These remarkable women and men, some who know each other, some who don’t, have banded together and have become a force to be reckoned with. They call themselves TEAMJoan.
TEAMJoan. Sounds like a superhero, doesn’t it. Believe, these women and men are nothing short of superheroes. They have mobilized, organized and create laughter in their wakes. Using a book called, “Share the Care” they had pooled their hidden talents to help me battle my monster called cancer. They have fundraised on my behalf, provided comfort food that warmed our hearts, and they have sat with me as the tears have flowed out of my eyes. I am not ashamed to say that I love these people…..even more today then yesterday. And the love grows each day.
The book, “Share the Care” is about all about sharing the care of those you love during long illness. I am on very long journey and know that I need help. The book has helped me and my friends understand that one person can do it. While some people can cook up fabulous meals, others can arrange milk to be delivered to your home for your children, and even others take on the role of laundry fairies when you least expect it. One of the hardest workers on the TEAMJoan has teased me that all I have to do is live, while they are working their asses off (pardon my language). Their medicines have included lasagna, laughter, hugs and good jokes.
Their names are Terri, Jane, Katy, Behan, Susan, Bob, Julie, Janet, Scott, Bridgette, Chelle, Andrea, and so many others. Don’t you think that’s pretty normal names for superheroes? So here the deal, I need these people and they need you. This will be a long journey for me and them. And I worry about my love ones. The more superheroes on this journey, the easier it will be for me to win the battle against this monster cancer. I feel like I need to lighten the load on all of my superheroes. Would you like to join the ranks of superheroes? What would Batman be without Robin? What is SpongeBob without Patrick? I know that I have to have help and the less I have to ask of any one person, the easier it is on everyone. Can you help me take care of my friends so that I can win the battle?
This is hard to do for me to do, however if you are interested in wearing a red cape and leaping tall buildings…..or maybe just providing good knock, knock jokes (my kids, including my 45 year old one, love knock, knock jokes) please contact Behan at giffordclan@msn.com or Bob at island8780@msn.com.
My friends come from different parts of my life. They are fellow moms and dads, who commiserate over raising our children together. They are co-workers, who have toiled long hours on projects that seem to never end. They are members of my church family that bring the warmth of community to our home. They are knitters, whose needles click together over cups of tea as sweaters, scarves and hats are made. These remarkable women and men, some who know each other, some who don’t, have banded together and have become a force to be reckoned with. They call themselves TEAMJoan.
TEAMJoan. Sounds like a superhero, doesn’t it. Believe, these women and men are nothing short of superheroes. They have mobilized, organized and create laughter in their wakes. Using a book called, “Share the Care” they had pooled their hidden talents to help me battle my monster called cancer. They have fundraised on my behalf, provided comfort food that warmed our hearts, and they have sat with me as the tears have flowed out of my eyes. I am not ashamed to say that I love these people…..even more today then yesterday. And the love grows each day.
The book, “Share the Care” is about all about sharing the care of those you love during long illness. I am on very long journey and know that I need help. The book has helped me and my friends understand that one person can do it. While some people can cook up fabulous meals, others can arrange milk to be delivered to your home for your children, and even others take on the role of laundry fairies when you least expect it. One of the hardest workers on the TEAMJoan has teased me that all I have to do is live, while they are working their asses off (pardon my language). Their medicines have included lasagna, laughter, hugs and good jokes.
Their names are Terri, Jane, Katy, Behan, Susan, Bob, Julie, Janet, Scott, Bridgette, Chelle, Andrea, and so many others. Don’t you think that’s pretty normal names for superheroes? So here the deal, I need these people and they need you. This will be a long journey for me and them. And I worry about my love ones. The more superheroes on this journey, the easier it will be for me to win the battle against this monster cancer. I feel like I need to lighten the load on all of my superheroes. Would you like to join the ranks of superheroes? What would Batman be without Robin? What is SpongeBob without Patrick? I know that I have to have help and the less I have to ask of any one person, the easier it is on everyone. Can you help me take care of my friends so that I can win the battle?
This is hard to do for me to do, however if you are interested in wearing a red cape and leaping tall buildings…..or maybe just providing good knock, knock jokes (my kids, including my 45 year old one, love knock, knock jokes) please contact Behan at giffordclan@msn.com or Bob at island8780@msn.com.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Not something I really wanted to do
My family cut my hair off tonight. Yep, my long, straight red hair is now in the garbage can. It had been falling out for the past few days. At first it was just wisps of long hair on my pillow and more than usual strands of hair tangled in my comb. However today, large clumps were just falling out and I knew it was time. So I decided to make it a fun family event.
When the gang got home this evening, I called out to the girls that it was time to cut Mommy's hair off. I thought it would be a good idea to braid strands of my hair and then the girls could clip off the braids for a souvenirs. I wanted to involve the girls and make it fun rather than what it is, scary. The girls scrambled upstairs to get the girly hair box - a box full of flowered headbands, butterfly hair clips, neon bright hair scrunches and tons of rubber bands. I plopped down on the couch while Hannah climbed all over me as she braided clumps of my hair, securing each braid with a tiny rubber band. Like a professional hairdresser, my Hannah neatly braided my hair. Did I look like Bo Derek from the movie 10.....no, but it made my daughter happy that she could do something for me.
Rainer got out the scissors and hair shaver. He got a big chair and I sat in the kitchen with all of the lights on. The girls called Dylan downstairs and made him the official hair photographer. Of course, he groused about not knowing how to use my camera. Hmmm, Dylan you point and click. Do, I have to. Yes, you have too.
The girls were giddy with excitement. Hannah got to chop the first lock of hair off, then Emma. Hannah, the first grader, smoothly snipped the braid off. Emma, my four year old, needed help from her big sister. Once, twice, three times I could hear the scissors cut away at my hair as Emma sawed through the hair. They danced around me as they each took a turn clipping off the braids from my head. I kept my head down and I could hear Rainer in the background saying, "Be careful, you don't want to cut Mommy's ear off". Dylan clicked away with the camera. I even reached up an clipped a braid off. The girls lined the braids up on the kitchen counter all in a row. Look mommy, look at all the different colors of your hair.
Then it was time for the razor. Rainer started the razor and began running it through my hair and the rest of my long locks of hair floated to the floor. The girls were still doing hair dances and running wild. It was getting to me and I said that it was time for them to go take a bath as Daddy finished up with my hair. Before they took off upstairs and bath time, I asked them what I looked like. They both laughed and said that I looked like Dylan from last summer when he had had his head shaved (Dylan had gone to New Orleans last summer to deconstruct and rebuild houses for Katrina Flood victums - he shaved his head because the weather was 90 degrees and long hair would have been too much). I asked Dylan what he thought of my new hair cut.....his comment......"It's ugly"....and then he too went upstairs. As Rainer was sweeping up my hair from the floor, I asked him how he felt about cutting my hair. He replyed that it was not something that he really never had wanted to do, but that he had done it for me. It was then that the tears welled up inside. Did I cry.....no, not much. More of a scrunched up face and watery tears held back in my eyes. It was just a moment between husband and wife. You know Joan, I don't love you for your hair......I love you for you.
What does it really look like......Dylan's right, it's ugly. It's very dark with lots of gray. My head looks like an egg that needs to shave....although I know that the rest will soon fall out as well. So it was a good night and I know that my girls are not at all afraid. There was a little bit of sorrow of the over the loss of my hair. But it's nice to know that I am loved by my family whether or not I have hair.
When the gang got home this evening, I called out to the girls that it was time to cut Mommy's hair off. I thought it would be a good idea to braid strands of my hair and then the girls could clip off the braids for a souvenirs. I wanted to involve the girls and make it fun rather than what it is, scary. The girls scrambled upstairs to get the girly hair box - a box full of flowered headbands, butterfly hair clips, neon bright hair scrunches and tons of rubber bands. I plopped down on the couch while Hannah climbed all over me as she braided clumps of my hair, securing each braid with a tiny rubber band. Like a professional hairdresser, my Hannah neatly braided my hair. Did I look like Bo Derek from the movie 10.....no, but it made my daughter happy that she could do something for me.
Rainer got out the scissors and hair shaver. He got a big chair and I sat in the kitchen with all of the lights on. The girls called Dylan downstairs and made him the official hair photographer. Of course, he groused about not knowing how to use my camera. Hmmm, Dylan you point and click. Do, I have to. Yes, you have too.
The girls were giddy with excitement. Hannah got to chop the first lock of hair off, then Emma. Hannah, the first grader, smoothly snipped the braid off. Emma, my four year old, needed help from her big sister. Once, twice, three times I could hear the scissors cut away at my hair as Emma sawed through the hair. They danced around me as they each took a turn clipping off the braids from my head. I kept my head down and I could hear Rainer in the background saying, "Be careful, you don't want to cut Mommy's ear off". Dylan clicked away with the camera. I even reached up an clipped a braid off. The girls lined the braids up on the kitchen counter all in a row. Look mommy, look at all the different colors of your hair.
Then it was time for the razor. Rainer started the razor and began running it through my hair and the rest of my long locks of hair floated to the floor. The girls were still doing hair dances and running wild. It was getting to me and I said that it was time for them to go take a bath as Daddy finished up with my hair. Before they took off upstairs and bath time, I asked them what I looked like. They both laughed and said that I looked like Dylan from last summer when he had had his head shaved (Dylan had gone to New Orleans last summer to deconstruct and rebuild houses for Katrina Flood victums - he shaved his head because the weather was 90 degrees and long hair would have been too much). I asked Dylan what he thought of my new hair cut.....his comment......"It's ugly"....and then he too went upstairs. As Rainer was sweeping up my hair from the floor, I asked him how he felt about cutting my hair. He replyed that it was not something that he really never had wanted to do, but that he had done it for me. It was then that the tears welled up inside. Did I cry.....no, not much. More of a scrunched up face and watery tears held back in my eyes. It was just a moment between husband and wife. You know Joan, I don't love you for your hair......I love you for you.
What does it really look like......Dylan's right, it's ugly. It's very dark with lots of gray. My head looks like an egg that needs to shave....although I know that the rest will soon fall out as well. So it was a good night and I know that my girls are not at all afraid. There was a little bit of sorrow of the over the loss of my hair. But it's nice to know that I am loved by my family whether or not I have hair.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
It's a night
It's a just another night at our home. Emma and Hannah have been bouncing from room to room like tornatoes, leaving coats, blankies, and toys behind in their wake. Dylan made dinner - a family favorite - procuitto and peas - that has been scarfed down by all. He's now upstairs in his room and I can hear him cackling over Jon Stewart or Stephen Colbert. Rainer is doing laundry while giving his witty commentary on the election returns that are blasting in the background from the T.V.
And me, what am I doing. Lately, I don't know. I'm just trying to make it while living with the pain. They never tell you that cancer is painful, especially when it sneaks into your bones without your knowledge. Lately, I feel like I walk around with a crowbar that has gone straight through my chest and come out my back. Horrify sight, isn't it. Well, the pain is just as bad.
Tomorrow, I'm graduating from Viocodin addict to Percoset addict because the pain keeps getting worse instead of better. My doctor is thinking of switching me to radiation just because the pain continues to grow. I'm really tired of this and I have so far to go.
The pain come in waves......and I wonder when will I get to have just another night at home.
And me, what am I doing. Lately, I don't know. I'm just trying to make it while living with the pain. They never tell you that cancer is painful, especially when it sneaks into your bones without your knowledge. Lately, I feel like I walk around with a crowbar that has gone straight through my chest and come out my back. Horrify sight, isn't it. Well, the pain is just as bad.
Tomorrow, I'm graduating from Viocodin addict to Percoset addict because the pain keeps getting worse instead of better. My doctor is thinking of switching me to radiation just because the pain continues to grow. I'm really tired of this and I have so far to go.
The pain come in waves......and I wonder when will I get to have just another night at home.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
A glass of wine.....
Tonight I broke down and had a glass of wine. It's Saturday and it's supposed to be my day of rest. However, it has felt nothing like a day of rest. I had planned on laying in bed all day, sleeping occasionally and pretty much do nothing. Oh, the best laid plans of mice and men. Besides, I've learned lying in bed alone, staring at the ceiling isn't all quite it's cracked up to be.
Work yesterday was brutal. It's end of month wrap up, we've got a trillion things going on and my boss is pounding me for information. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but it's hard work....and normally doesn't bother me. Normally, it's what I thrive on. But these days aren't normal. I came home exhausted and in pain. I slept..... a little and then my Saturday started.
My biggest problem is that I stress myself out. I wanted to do something simple, you know.....pick up around the house. Maybe knit some on the hat for my soon-to-be bald head. Work on some month end reports for my boss. Simple things. But I'm learning simple things are lately the hardest things.
We've got people coming over tomorrow to watch the Super Bowl......America's highest form of entertainment. Don't get me wrong, I'm really, really looking forward to laughter, quarterbacks getting slammed on their buts, and of course all the food snacks - potatoe chips and onion dip, buffalo wings and ranch dip, veggies and dip.....you know, mainly the dip. Yummmm. But trying to pick up the house is like a form of Chinese Water torture these days. I grew frustrated that I just couldn't do it.
I tried laying down and sleeping, hoping to dream away some of the pain and stress. But I couldn't shut my mind down. I kept thinking about work I should be doing. Wishing that I could watch T.V. (No, we are weird - we don't have a T.V. in the bedroom). I tried calming myself by watching the wind blow the trees outside, but even that was boring.
Finally, I came downstairs, popped a few pain pills and tried to knit. Knitting has been to me the greatest form of stress relief in the world. It's calming, it's beautiful, it's warm. It's great to be able to take two needles and jab at yarn, instead of taking jabs at say a co-worker who has been bugging you, or a husband who spends more time playing sudoku games on their computer rather than talking to you, or your son who goes out with friends and forgets to call home. However, the ice pick in my chest just didn't allow for me to sit still and work on my knitting.
I was stressed, my throat hurt, my chest was in pain and even my head hurt. And that's when I said the magic words, "Rainer, I'd like a glass of wine". He didn't say no. I know that he had been watching me all day and had seen my agitation, frustration, pain. Oh yes, I know that he knows that I am hurting. He handed me the wine and I slowly sipped it, letting it's magic work. And magic it was. I relaxed. Things became just a little easier. I was able to knit for a short time, even pounded out another budget for my boss and just plain relaxed. I didn't drink very much just two glasses of wine....but it helped.
It's now after 9:00 pm. The pain is back in full force and I've popped yet some more pills. My son still hasn't called, but I know he's a good kid and if something was truely wrong he would call. Tomorrow, I'm going to lie in bed in the morning and use some good ole guilt on the family to get the house clean.......and who knows, maybe I'll have another glass of wine during the game.
Work yesterday was brutal. It's end of month wrap up, we've got a trillion things going on and my boss is pounding me for information. It's not necessarily a bad thing, but it's hard work....and normally doesn't bother me. Normally, it's what I thrive on. But these days aren't normal. I came home exhausted and in pain. I slept..... a little and then my Saturday started.
My biggest problem is that I stress myself out. I wanted to do something simple, you know.....pick up around the house. Maybe knit some on the hat for my soon-to-be bald head. Work on some month end reports for my boss. Simple things. But I'm learning simple things are lately the hardest things.
We've got people coming over tomorrow to watch the Super Bowl......America's highest form of entertainment. Don't get me wrong, I'm really, really looking forward to laughter, quarterbacks getting slammed on their buts, and of course all the food snacks - potatoe chips and onion dip, buffalo wings and ranch dip, veggies and dip.....you know, mainly the dip. Yummmm. But trying to pick up the house is like a form of Chinese Water torture these days. I grew frustrated that I just couldn't do it.
I tried laying down and sleeping, hoping to dream away some of the pain and stress. But I couldn't shut my mind down. I kept thinking about work I should be doing. Wishing that I could watch T.V. (No, we are weird - we don't have a T.V. in the bedroom). I tried calming myself by watching the wind blow the trees outside, but even that was boring.
Finally, I came downstairs, popped a few pain pills and tried to knit. Knitting has been to me the greatest form of stress relief in the world. It's calming, it's beautiful, it's warm. It's great to be able to take two needles and jab at yarn, instead of taking jabs at say a co-worker who has been bugging you, or a husband who spends more time playing sudoku games on their computer rather than talking to you, or your son who goes out with friends and forgets to call home. However, the ice pick in my chest just didn't allow for me to sit still and work on my knitting.
I was stressed, my throat hurt, my chest was in pain and even my head hurt. And that's when I said the magic words, "Rainer, I'd like a glass of wine". He didn't say no. I know that he had been watching me all day and had seen my agitation, frustration, pain. Oh yes, I know that he knows that I am hurting. He handed me the wine and I slowly sipped it, letting it's magic work. And magic it was. I relaxed. Things became just a little easier. I was able to knit for a short time, even pounded out another budget for my boss and just plain relaxed. I didn't drink very much just two glasses of wine....but it helped.
It's now after 9:00 pm. The pain is back in full force and I've popped yet some more pills. My son still hasn't called, but I know he's a good kid and if something was truely wrong he would call. Tomorrow, I'm going to lie in bed in the morning and use some good ole guilt on the family to get the house clean.......and who knows, maybe I'll have another glass of wine during the game.
Friday, February 1, 2008
Ain't Dead yet.....
Ain't dead yet, she says in her best Monty Python british accent. Come on, you remember from "Monty Python and the Holy Grail", the injureds knight hoping around on one leg after having both arms and a leg cut off......Come, on, Come on, I'll fight you......I ain't dead yet. I may feel like it, but I'm not.
Week one down, 17 more weeks of chemo to go. I saw my doctor yesterday. I was armed with my notebook in hand, top three concerns boldly written across the page. In order of priority, Pain, Sleep, and the unmentionable, evil nemesis, Constipation. I was extremely agitated by the time I got to my appointment and my mouth was rambling about 120 mph. I had had an earlier finance meeting with a bank that had gone an hour over in time - it was a good meeting, but I hadn't taken my pain meds in the appropriate time and was racked with huge pain. After giving my weekly dose of blood and talking with the cancer psyche counselor and downing a pain pill, I finally felt like I started to settle down.
I met with my doctor and he told me he's a little concern. My plautlet level is down to 2000. He thought if would be around 3000 - I guess normal is 4000. He was also upset that I lost 10 lbs. (when it's now actually 12 lbs - more on that one later). He also could see that I was into sleep deprivation. So I've been told to try to rest more, eat more, and sleep more. I'm going to take Ambien at night - which some people are aghast, but when you lay in bed all night staring at the ceiling praying for the morning.....I'll take the Ambien. I'm supposed to eat many small bland meals - which is hard because nothing tastes good. Currently my new favorite food is Carna Asada Tacos - not for the yummy tomatoes, or steak....but for the lettuce and cilantro hot sauce. And finally he's having me take some over the counter products to battle the constipation.
Constipation is one of the terrible, dirty little secret side effect of cancer that they don't tell you you about. It's from all the meds you take, chemo, pain pills. You become a pill zombie and pop anywhere from 8 to 30 pills a day. Your poor insides just don't know what to do about all of this stuff.....and no matter how much prune juice and roughage you eat, the stuff just piles up inside your plumbing system. I am now taking Collace - 2 pills twice a day and Sennekot, 2 pills twice a day.....like I said, pill popping machine. But I'll tell you what......that Sennekot works. I took it around 3:30 pm yesterday......and around 5:00.....I was having my own little episode of South Park. I was definately putting Cartman to shame.......the stuff just flowed right out. (That's how I lost another 2 lbs) Poor Rainer, he now has to deal with the toilet......and Dylan's comment, Moooommmmm........
I'm okay......still in tons of pain. I know that I'm working way too much and need to stop that. I'm trying to learn.....and it's really hard for a type "A" personality.....to not work 12 hours a day. I need to learn to pace myself. I need to learn to sleep - which is really hard because sometimes the little voice says inside scares me and says "be careful, you may just not wake up".
I'm working on it.......it's just hard to loose control......
Week one down, 17 more weeks of chemo to go. I saw my doctor yesterday. I was armed with my notebook in hand, top three concerns boldly written across the page. In order of priority, Pain, Sleep, and the unmentionable, evil nemesis, Constipation. I was extremely agitated by the time I got to my appointment and my mouth was rambling about 120 mph. I had had an earlier finance meeting with a bank that had gone an hour over in time - it was a good meeting, but I hadn't taken my pain meds in the appropriate time and was racked with huge pain. After giving my weekly dose of blood and talking with the cancer psyche counselor and downing a pain pill, I finally felt like I started to settle down.
I met with my doctor and he told me he's a little concern. My plautlet level is down to 2000. He thought if would be around 3000 - I guess normal is 4000. He was also upset that I lost 10 lbs. (when it's now actually 12 lbs - more on that one later). He also could see that I was into sleep deprivation. So I've been told to try to rest more, eat more, and sleep more. I'm going to take Ambien at night - which some people are aghast, but when you lay in bed all night staring at the ceiling praying for the morning.....I'll take the Ambien. I'm supposed to eat many small bland meals - which is hard because nothing tastes good. Currently my new favorite food is Carna Asada Tacos - not for the yummy tomatoes, or steak....but for the lettuce and cilantro hot sauce. And finally he's having me take some over the counter products to battle the constipation.
Constipation is one of the terrible, dirty little secret side effect of cancer that they don't tell you you about. It's from all the meds you take, chemo, pain pills. You become a pill zombie and pop anywhere from 8 to 30 pills a day. Your poor insides just don't know what to do about all of this stuff.....and no matter how much prune juice and roughage you eat, the stuff just piles up inside your plumbing system. I am now taking Collace - 2 pills twice a day and Sennekot, 2 pills twice a day.....like I said, pill popping machine. But I'll tell you what......that Sennekot works. I took it around 3:30 pm yesterday......and around 5:00.....I was having my own little episode of South Park. I was definately putting Cartman to shame.......the stuff just flowed right out. (That's how I lost another 2 lbs) Poor Rainer, he now has to deal with the toilet......and Dylan's comment, Moooommmmm........
I'm okay......still in tons of pain. I know that I'm working way too much and need to stop that. I'm trying to learn.....and it's really hard for a type "A" personality.....to not work 12 hours a day. I need to learn to pace myself. I need to learn to sleep - which is really hard because sometimes the little voice says inside scares me and says "be careful, you may just not wake up".
I'm working on it.......it's just hard to loose control......
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