Chemotherapy

Seems like such a simple word. Only a couple syllables long. Then you might notice: weeeell it has the word therapy thrown in there, it can't be thaaat hard, and it's pretty easy to say, oh and it even has a short nickname so if you are feeling tired that day and don't want to use the whole word you can just say....chemo. Easy right?

When I think of chemo (and I force myself to) what runs through MY head is one singular thing, not a plethora of things. Just one thing. And for a few minutes you get the idea that indeed sounds simple enough.

What a simple, couple syllables, sounding like only one thing you have to do DECEPTIVE word. It's a charade of all charades.

To even get to the chemo part, which I refer to as "the cocktail" because I need to have myself walk down some path of disillusion in all this stark harsh lighting soon you gonna be a baldie take your shirt off constantly reality, there is lots of prep work to do before. Besides the visits with my oncologist to be sure I'm strong and healed up I visit a cardiologist for an echocardiogram. It's to get a baseline of my heart. Then back to the hospital for an IV port placement procedure. Member? Going in right next to my ticker. 

Because the skin getting healed up, closed up part seems to be moving along from what recent doctor visits tell me it is important to keep it moving. Next??!! I call out in the imaginary waiting room of all the pending items that runs through my head. Next was the visit to my cardiologist for the echocardiogram. Done. I check that off on my imaginary clipboard I'm holding while I yell out again: neeexxxttt. 

Ah yes, port placement. What that really means is this. I go back to the hospital (please know I constantly refrain from saying scene of the crime as I AM prone to use dramatic words) and get to stay for half a day. I'm put to sleep while they open me up a teeny bit and place something up on the left side of my chest for my chemo treatments. The chemo I will get won't be administered by IV in the arm. Couple of reasons: I have to go too many times. When you have lymph nodes removed you don't want that arm getting poked/prodded too much to avoid lymphodema. That ain't fun. It's permanent. So no blood pressure, taking blood and def no IV on the left side. Like forever. The chemo cocktail I'll get can cause tissue damage if the "special cocktail" drips out of my IV. See? I pay attention sometimes. So they use a port. My port procedure was put off and off due to skin not being closed all the way. All clear and ready for take off time. It's happening Tuesday the 21st. Neeeexxt?

The next "prep yoself before you wreck yoself" item is you go back to school. In a way. Except in the school I went to while growing up when they told me things like Lincoln freed the slaves or Washington was the first president it didn't make my mouth drop open in surprise and then flies gathered around.

Because when you are gonna get the chemo cocktail you need to attend what they call "chemo class" and it's there they drop some info on you that has your head spinning, your mouth opens and you start to drool which makes them stop teaching class occasionally and say "what, you're making that face again, what's the matter"?  I didn't realize I was doing that face so I just said "oh me? Neh, just ignore me. New stitches and am trying not to curse out loud due to nerve pain so I can listen". Which was true at the time but that's not why I was making a confused or overwhelmed face.

A friend of mine who calls every week or so to get the live updates says "what's that mean" when I tell her I have to go to chemo class. I tell her "oh, I don't know. Maybe they are gonna tell me how to look good throwing up or something." She says "Oh wow really?" NOooooooo-that's my 14 year old immature brain processing it and then spitting it out in a dry monotone voice. Like hell if I know what they are going to tell me. Well I sure do now.

While there was talk about throwing up, how to feel good and look your best there was also A TON of other information. Overwhelming important stuff. And lots and lots of prescriptions with simple to read (allegedly) instructions on what to take when. Boy was I glad 3 other people were there listening too. At least I think they were listening.

Oh my, Stan! Stan! Shes talking about the chemo again and she always says really bad cuss words when she does- I imagine you say to yourself in that high sweet voice while clutching your hand to your chest.

Oh calm down now, no one is going to drop eff bombs, however I do reserve the right. Rough road ahead I'm told. Besides the shocking reason I needed the port and the shocking disappointing amount of other drugs I have to take both before and after each chemotherapy infusion there are just lots of things that can happen. 

Oncologist Nurse:  Are you easily prone to nausea?

Me (stammering):   Uh, does dry heaving if Im forced to go to Walmart or gagging if I see someone wear jean capris with socks AND sneakers count? Seriously, no one should try that look ever. I'm doing you a favor telling you that.

Oncologist nurse:   So basically you're saying you are easily prone to nausea.

Me in quiet voice:   Um yea, yup, basically (I don't want to come off as too smart in these meetings, they might expect me to help out or something).

Oncologist nurse:    Ok, here's what you need to do. 

And then she lists like 25 things. I only stopped her a few times to ask if this was all written down somewhere. She says it sure is, don't worry we will repeat it and are here to help you throughout. She sends me home with a thick folder. 

Neeexxxttt? These days in between my doctor visits, I'm doing my after school homework and studying. Only it feels like some sort of bizarre detention from a class that has strange titles. How to get rid of constipation. Here a handy recipe for that. What to do if you throw up more than twice. How to deal with the metallic taste you will have. How to prevent or treat mouth sores (no lie folks). Don't buy that stuff that makes your eyelashes grow during chemo, wait until after. Note: that was when I found out I was going to lose my eyelashes, maybe my eyebrows and THAT caused my mouth to drop open in shock. I'm sure I made "that face".

Oh yes, there's homework and information for the people around me too. How to wash your hands to prevent the spread of infections. Don't bring smelly things around the "chemo patient." (I like those topics.) Be sure the chemo patient doesn't have more than two loose bowel movements without calling the office. Really. I'll be talking about that?? Out loud. With someone? I def want those conversations happening. How about don't let the chemo person sleep all day without drinking water or they could wind up in the hospital with severe dehydration. 

I have a strong feeling and suspect I wasn't the only one in the room with a shocked open mouth and flies gathering round. 

The author Paulo Coehlo tells us

"When your legs are tired, walk with your heart." in his book- Manuscript found in Accra.

Amazing simple words from one of my favorite authors. "She always says that" you say. I know-I know! I could say this about 15 or 20 authors if pressed. It's words, remember? I love them. Especially ones that inspire me and move me. Or make me cry and scream with laughter. I could fill entire pages on my blog about him or quote him everyday if I didn't know a few things. First thing I know is in MY blog the words mostly need to come from my own heart and from the road I have traveled. Second because I believe everyone needs to discover good words and people like Paolo Coelho on their own terms in their own way. It's my hope that you do.

This phrase I share with you I happened to come across this morning while drinking my coffee in my sun filled and surprisingly chilly kitchen (Surprising? I live in arizona remember?). It stopped me dead in my tracks today. It struck me so that I read it over and over. For many reasons. I understand these words. I mean I reeaaaallllyy understand them.

Yes. My legs are real tired lately. All this forced lying around after surgeries and procedures got them that way. EFF U cancer. So my legs are weaker now. My legs that have carried me through so much. That helped me walk right over some high drama like it ain't nobody's business. My legs would do that quick -oh my, I think see some crazy ass stuff getting ready to go down- and walked me right out of it doing that quick walk half jog using your arms. But not lately. I often wonder what is the reason behind the reason I have been made to be so still lately. Who knows. I haven't figured it out. And I sure don't try to. It's important to not let that kinda stuff run too long in my head. You know what stuff I'm talking about. In case you don't I'll say it here. I don't care for vagueness too much (except for when it comes to my age then I'm all about that shit). The kind of questions that cause you to wonder what is it you did so terribly bad in your life that got you to where you are. Well it's nonsense baloney thinking and doesn't deserve space in my head now. So I don't go there. Well maybe for 3 seconds. Then I get distracted with something interesting my dog is doing or a funny email a good friend sent me.

So in all reality I HAVE been using my heart to help me walk. My strong heart loaded with conviction and faith. It's my heart that knows quite a bit how to handle adversity and it's my heart that's rooted in good thoughts about myself and others. And my mind. My steady focused mind that has helped me to not run screaming through halls saying awful non sensical things peppered with lots and lots of bad words. It's not like I haven't thought about it. The silly and outright irreverent thoughts that run through my mind as I go from doctor office to doctor office have kept me rooted in sanity. Mostly. I do say mostly because of my past blog entry about throwing baking products. That wasn't my most sane lucid moment. Wheeeeew aren't we glad that's not happening on the daily. It's not a question. It's a fact. We are glad.

It's the hearts of others that has carried me. The amazing and plentiful love of my family.  The love and spirit of kind friends. And strangers. People I didn't even know until now. It's their hearts and love that has carried me when I simply could not stand much less walk. Their uplifting spirit, jokes, cards, words and love has downright snapped me out of ---oooohhhhh I wanna go sit in the I'll feel sorry for myself constantly corner. 

You see I need to declare this now. It's a reminder to me and a powerful one. For the reason we have only begun to walk on the cancer is a cray cray punk azz that will weaken you till you are down on your knees road. It will if I let it. So I don't. And I won't.

I have my chemotherapy dates now. It's seems this last little skin burning more stitches procedure did the trick. EFF U some more cancer.  So after many months and procedures my skin has stayed closed, finally. We sure had some high fives up in my surgeons office the other day. This clears the road for chemotherapy. And going to the hospital to get my port placement done. After I smiled and did the high five I got a momentary look of confusion of my face. Like wait? what? Well, It's time. 

I know this because my oncologist promptly said when I visited him last-two weeks. He took at gander at the latest work and without hesitation said- two weeks. Eeeeeee. I almost had spontaneous diarrhea. Not actual diarrhea. Just some kind of pre diarrheal bubbly guts movement in my stomach upon hearing those words. I knew it was coming but somehow when he said that I got that feeling and made noises. Then I gave him an opportunity to think it over while my legs nervously swung under the examining table. Nothing doing. 

Two weeks it is. January 23rd. It's closed up he said and we are ready. We are??? Nurse muneca agreed. She came with me that day because he wanted to meet her. And she wanted to meet him. So they met and they both agreed.

Off we go to sit with the scheduler who looked at the order and started to punch a ton of things in the computer and there you have it. I'm booked for the next 3 months. There is more coming after that it's just they only go out so far. I get to have more chemo, a different drug, for 12 long weeks after these first ones. I'm gonna be pretty busy it seems. 

So while I said before I got 99 problems and chemo ain't one. I of course shall amend that previous statement. A take back if you will. I tell you now that I will without shame or hesitation rely on the hearts and love of others to carry me through. 

Love Covers a Multitude of Sins

First Peter 4:8  “Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins.”

Excuse me, excuse me----cancer lady coming through

Or that's what it feels like it must sound when you get deeper into this cancer treatment process. To ME anyway.

At first you might be able to maintain mystery. Just have people only just wonder upon seeing the slow stiff movements you make after surgery. Although it's clear as light of day you are in pain, which you are, but they can't really SEE cancer or confirm it unless they outright ask you. Or happen to be psychic mind readers. I sure hope I'm not hanging around physics mind readers and they can read "my mind". That would be bad. 

No, you can have people thinking you have a pulled muscle and get by fine. You don't actually wear the "hi-I have cancer" sign around your neck until you are bald, wearing wigs, cancer scarves and have 5th grade boobs.

There's a saying in Spanish:
                Cado uno sabe donde le aprieta el Zapato
Which basically means each person knows where his shoe hurts. It's only when the shoe might be filled with painful sharp annoying pebbles that causes you to limp and walk in funny ways it becomes obvious for all to witness that you might have to talk about it.

You see I know pain and discomfort can be covered up as there are lots of things that have happened in my life, not outright tragedy, but tough stuff. And people had no idea. I would walk around all normal like but really inside I was a straight up country song. I mean the really bad country song where the guy lost his wife, the house, his dog and truck. But I could pretty much go about my day with no one noticing at all or commenting. And that was fine with me most of the time. 

Previous to my cancer diagnosis I wasn't a fan of answering the phone while sick because even the mildest stuffed up nose causes immediate alarm and concern. Phone rings and there my hand would hover over it while clearing my throat so I sound better than I actually felt. It never worked. Of course I know my family loves me and wants to know how I am. But if you are really sick (you know the kind-the once every two years bohemian flu) the only real true answer is -weeellll..... I feel like absolute shit on a shingle. Except you can't say that, because people get confused. And they start to get weird images in their head. So you don't say that. Instead you make up big fat lies and say things like: oohh, I'm feeling better. Or please don't worry, the worst of it is gone, I'm sure. Or my favorite was: really I'm fine, I sound worse than I feel. It's not that I like lying, it's that I just want to skip over the I look and feel like crap, I have tissues stuffed up my nose to stop the constant leakage of mocos (boogers in Spanish) running outta my nose convo part and just get down to what you were going to talk about before you knew I was sick.

Except in cancer situations where your appearance will alter for all to see, you simply can't do the walk around like NOTHING has happened dance. You can't. It's too obvious. And as you start the walk fuuuurrtther down the "cancer is a punk azz and I'm gonna kung fu it's punk azz" road you have a lot more things happening. Like on your body, like that's real obvious.

To not talk about it or even tip your hat in that direction is to completely ignore the giant multi colored elephant taking a dump in the room. It's called awkwardness. And I'm not a fan of it. More important I haven't perfected that -lets ignore the straight up obvious what's going down right in front of both of our eyes and carry on as normal small talk-conversation. I must of missed that class in school. 

Anyone who is a women of curves (or any kind of body really) can tell you they know exactly when they have conversations with a person who doesn't make eye contact and the person conducts the conversation all the while looking down at their breasts, the entire time. Its happens to almost every women. And I'm here to tell you there is NEVER a time it happens when you don't know it's happening. I'm not saying it's bad, it's good or otherwise. Im just saying it's awwwkkkaarrrddd. 

Same exact thing when you are having a wild bad, and I mean bad hair day. Then you have run out of time to fix it and simply face facts you gotta leave the house like that. Then all day long you can see people looking "up" at your hair. Once I felt that my hair might have been a little too puffy up top like my old 80's jersey days but simply had to leave the house or risk being late. Lemme tell ya the last thing you want when you have really bad hair and don't want people looking at you is TO BE LATE and then-everyone looks at you. In the car I could see my sister was constantly looking "up" at my hair. I told her if she didn't stop that I was going turn around and go home to fix my hair. She said "well, I can't help it, it's just too big." There you have it. Someone pointed at the elephant instead of ignoring it.

And right now at this time in my life that's fine by me. While I'm not encouraging those "so what size will your new boobs be?" conversations or questions. Remember from my previous FAQ section of the blog---I ain't coming to the "lets talk about the size of our boobs party." I will say there's nothing wrong with allowing some kind of conversation around the obvious. Sorta like this:

You:   so I see you must have cancer and are bald and wearing wigs now
Me:   Yup
You:  well that sure sucks
Me:   Yup

And there we both go, carrying on with our lives as normal. No elephants around to be found. 

Salivdor Dali
There's nothing as surreal as reality 

Nada hay mas surreal que la realidad