Woman Gives Birth to an Alien – day 227

Due to a miscalculation in traffic, I arrived at the radiation unit a few minutes early today.  I figured, no problem, I’ve been needing to catch up on last month’s People Magazine anyway.  Will Brad leave Angie…more importantly, will I care? Maybe it’ll be the one where they showcase really fat people who lose half their body mass with just diet and exercise.  I always look for the one guy who couldn’t afford a traditional gym and ended up lifting gallons of paint or punching bags of grain – ala Rocky Balboa.

I settled in to my beige upholstered chair where thousands of cancer patients had sat before me and took a moment to look around.

There they sat, people who come here everyday in different stages of treatment and different levels of healing. People either with hope or looking for hope. Their loved ones in tow making idle conversation with anyone in the room who’ll listen.  Honorably trying to lift the heavy mood to make it feel like we’re all waiting to pick up tonight’s pizza.

And what I notice is that  they do keep the mood light. With chatter about hand sanitation and skin ointments and where to get the freshest coffee in the hospital they distract us all.  Boldly they put themselves out there to keep the focus on the here and now, instead the real reason that all our paths have crossed.

As patients we get all the caring looks and random acts of kindness from strangers who see our bald heads and ‘know” but when it comes to treatment we go reluctantly. We’ve been poked at,  carved into, and emotionally pushed around and we’re very, very tired.  We might not even make it in except that we have these brave souls who help us and make us food and drive us to and from and try, try ,try to make it all tolerable.  And oddly enough they manage to do just that.

 

Fuzz Happy – day 222

Suddenly the magnifying mirror that hangs in my bathroom is my best friend.  Everyday I look in to see what new wisps of hair are growing in.  Today I see tiny little brow and lash hairs.  This makes me particularly happy because they were the last to go and I thought might be the last to grow back.

I never appreciated how eyebrows and lashes center a person’s face until I lost them. Without them the cranium takes on an alien shape hovering far above the eyeballs like a mad scientist.  I’m also thinking some chemo patient along the way must have inspired the SNL Cone Heads skit.  Anyway, today I started looking like a girl again and to celebrate I’m wearing lipstick and a dress.

In other news, my head hair is also growing back and has been for about 6 weeks.  It would probably be much further along save the fact that two weeks ago in a fit of hormonal rage I went to my local barber and asked him to “shave it all off“.  Despite the look of pity on his face and a healthy appeal to “let it grow” I demanded he take “this bullshit, peach-fuzz, crap, off my head“.  Did I mention it was coming in white and had the texture of a monchichi doll (http://serialdrama.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/2008/03/30/monchichi.jpeg).

Anyway I’m back to being a suede head and I like it.

 

The Year of Learning – day 213

As you know, 2010 is declared my year of living outside the box or outside my comfort zone.  Basically the year of doing all things new and exciting and maybe even a little scary.  Does this include sky diving, race car driving and rock climbing – yes!  Does this include speed dating, blind dating and online (yuk) dating – potentially! Anything goes as long as it’s new to me and/or sends a small chill up my spine to think about.

I decided to start light and I signed up for a whisky tasting class, by my self.  I showed up 5 minutes early to a room of 13 men and one other woman (and thought to myself, brilliant!).  The beauty of an alcohol based class is that no matter how awkward the students are at first, as more glasses are poured, more interactions ensue.  So this night we were tasting 9 different Scotch Whiskies starting with sweeter “Highland” scotches and ending with peppery “Island” scotches.

Now I don’t have to tell you that I have NO savory taste buds so the only whisky I could taste and enjoy were the first few. As the drinks got stronger and peatier (think: liquid kielbasa) the less I could savor.  In fact, towards the end it all tasted like some flavorless warm fluid to me.  Naturally my classmates didn’t know this so each time the instructor poured another drink they’d look to we women for the first taste and then proceed to take their drink.  And each time I’d shoot it back in one swift move and say “mmmm smooth, with a slight vanilla undertone”.  I know it’s a little twisted but it totally cracked me up.

 

Eating Scotch – day 212

6 weeks since my last chemotherapy treatment and I can feel my body awake from it’s deep and dark slumber.

I say this not so much in the Sleeping Beauty sense where a kiss kindles her spirit and upon awaking she’s radiant and perfectly coiffured.  In my case it means pimples are now free to make themselves present, oils are back at previous production levels and all those stray hairs are peaking through their follicle manholes to stake their claim once again.

Things that are still on the mend are 1) the absent feeling in my feet, 2) my ever illusive taste buds, and 3) my ability to eat rich foods and not throw up.

If you’re wondering why I would eat “rich foods” when I can’t taste them, it’s simple, I really miss eating great food.  Since that last treatment I take Any and Every chance I get to test my taste buds. I mean, they might have come back in the last hour?  —- Needless to say I’ve gained 7lbs in 6 weeks.  My body, while not able to process anything rich like Mexican food and unable to savor anything delicious like Chinese food IS able to enjoy desserts allll daaay loong.  Ergo, 7lbs.

The only other “food group” my system is happy to ingest is Whisky and so I oblige it every chance I get.  Next year this might be my Alcoholics Anonymous blog.

 

Maps always have dragons – day 198

“Mapping” is a common term in radiation oncology. Basically, they take images of where your organs are located in your body and map how best (read: safely) to radiate you without hitting other vital organs.  If you didn’t quite catch that – yes—our organs are not always in the same place.  In my particular case the organ in question was that well known superstar – the heart.  The more central my heart was the better it would fair in radiation but the further it lay to the left of my chest the more dangerous the 8 week procedure would be.  (Thank you MGH, you saved me from cancer but gave me heart disease).

So on the day of mapping I said a prayer and figured it was out of my hands.  I walked in and met two young sassy technicians.  I could imagine they shed their scrubs at night and perused the boston nightlife wearing shiny shirts and sunglasses.  They introduced themselves and explained they’d be taking digital pictures of everything today to document my case.  I made the obligatory “I hope I won’t see my boobs on the internet” joke and we were off.

After the first few xrays I noticed there was a pause in momentum. It was when I saw my radiation oncologist that I knew something was up. He came over, an older, distugueshed man with a gorgeous accent.  If I had to cast him in a movie I’d probably pick Omar Sharif (circa 1990) to play him.

Anyway, at this point, Dr. Omar walks over and utters words no one dreams of hearing.  “your heart is in the worst possible spot.”  NOT — “I’m sorry, our technology for healing you is not advanced enough to protect you”.   And certainly NOT “you have an enormous heart and unfortunately it’s in our way”.

He then asked me to take a deep breathe and hold it. So I channeled my inner yoga guru and pulled in the deepest breath I could manage.  Instantly the look on his face and the 3 other people in the room changed.  “you’re a great breather”  he said.  “well,” I said “I’ve been working on it all my life”.  A quick chuckle and the mapping continued…

 

How do you say alopecia in Korean? – day 119

Any women who has ever gone into a nail salon in the South End knows the powerful effects of the “up sell” machine at play.  If you go in and ask for a pedicure they instantly ask if you want a manicure too.  If you ask for a manicure & pedicure they ask of you want French tips.  And if you’re a Mediterranean woman and venture into the “waxing” category the up sell possibilities become almost endless and board on harassment.

In the past I’ve entered such establishments with my ARMOR UP and quickly make it clear I know exactly what I want and will NOT be sold any more or less.  But like clockwork once they get me on the table for my eyebrow wax they inevitably ask “do you want your lip waxed too”.  I always get instantly offended that a) my defensive act has had zero effect on them and b) they’ve blatantly pointed out I have a mustache that needs waxing. How dare they?

Fast forward to this past Sunday, when I went in to have a relaxing and blissful pedicure.

“No — just a pedicure, No — not a manicure and No  — no French tips”.

As the pedicure was ending and the polish was entering the “dry” phase the technician looked up at me and in her broken english asked “would you like a lip wax”.     WHAT? There I sat, bald a cue ball, eyebrows barley hanging on for dear life.  Not a stray hair anywhere on my body to speak of and STILL Mi Lee felt the pounding, burning need to try to up sell me.  Even she must registered how ludicrous her question was and yet she just couldn’t help herself.  I stared at her for a good 30 seconds completely dumfounded.  Eventually she just got up and walked away.

 

Marathon side effects – day 114

Still recovering from Chemo #4. In the thick of a myriad of side effects from the chemo…from the drugs to manage the chemo and from the drugs that manage the drugs…(you get the idea).  Each morning I wake up hoping it’ll be a better day.  Still waiting.

 

Marathon sleeping – day 111

I just finished chemo #4 and I’m in the sleep phase of it all.  For those calling just know that my phone is in the living room and if I don’t answer it’s only because I’m fast asleep.  I’ll call when i’m back among the consious.

Thans you to folks who dropped off food, flowers and care packages this weekend.  They all helped feel belly and soul all weekend.  xoxo

 

Chemo 3 – not a piece of cake – day 102

Well it’s true, what they say….chemotherapy SUCKS!

If you know someone who’s gone through chemo or is going through chemo – call them now…tell them you love them…don’t hold back.  Tell them you know it’s rough and you’re praying for the day it’s over.  As a participant I will say that it’s not bravery that gets me through, because God knows if I could bail from having to do this, I would! It’s the calls and small acts of kindness from friends that let me know I’m not alone and that some day soon this will be over.  And that when it’s over we’ll all go out and eat sushi and laugh and dream of things to come.

This past chemo was predicted to be a bad one.  The next chemo is supposed to be REALLY bad.  My oncologist says it’ll one of “the worst”.  I can’t quite let myself think about it because I can’t imagine it getting worse.  But whatever it is, it ‘ll pass and I’ll get through it.

Most people I know, know that in January of every year I declare a theme for my year to come.  I call it my “Year of something”.  In my early 30′s I had the “Year of Glam” where I did all things glamorous like I drank champagne on a regular basis, went to the French Riviera, wore a gold bathing suit, etc.  Several years later I had the “Year of YES” when I swore I’d do anything and everything I was invited to do no matter how scary. (It was one of the best years of my life).   I’ve decided to name next year my year of “Stepping out of the box”.  I got this idea from Oprah but I really liked it.  I’m still working on the details but I am definitely stepping it up a notch…why the hell not.

 

Water for Life – day 93

Who knew hydration would be one of my biggest challenges while receiving chemo. After the first infusion I learned I had become severely dehydrated. My doctor took one look at me and instantly read me the riot act. I got a long speech about over working my liver, my dangerously low blood pressure, black outs, stalling treatment, blahblahblah

I guess in my daily self-monitoring “priority list” I kinda rate “do not barf on anyone today” way above “do I feel thirsty?”

This thing is water tastes really gross and all the crystal lite on the planet can’t change that.  So this past week Jen and the kids set up a water beverage taste-testing.  I rated each one on a scale from 1-10 based on “drinkability” and found a few winners.  FUZE and Vitamin Water turned out to be my favorite.  I’ve already had three of them today. So BRING IT ON, Dr. Moy.

I’m gonna drink from now until Thursday and hope this infusion goes better then the last.