Ok- back in February when I was still "experimenting" with the whole dating scene, I stumbled across a very interesting gentleman who introduced me to the notion of "hamster brain." He stated it was the mental state he would find himself in when he wasn't able to ride his stationary bike for hours on end...(And to think THAT relationship didn't work out. Such a loss....)
What did work out though was that term. I like it. I'll use it freely and refuse to credit him by name. Ha! That's what he gets for not calling me back...
And today this is what I'm going to write about. This weekend, I experienced non-other than my own hamster brain. Folks, it wasn't pretty. Nope. Not at all. I fell from grace and I have a witness to prove it.
So, here I am- peeing the equivalent of liquid fire, right? And I'm thinking: how much worse can it get? Well, let's see- on Saturday, after four blessed menstruation free years, guess who came a-calling? That's right. I emailed the very good Dr. K about it today. The gist of my email stated: "I can have cancer OR I can have my period. I cannot do both." I closed with an elegant: "Do you think you can fix it?" And don't even GET ME STARTED on the face full of acne I'm sporting. WTF? Really? Haven't I been inconvenienced enough?
Then- I really fell apart Sunday night/Monday morning. I won't go into too much detail, as I'm not quite ready to laugh about it all yet. However, West Coast Director of Operations, Paul is. And, that's a good thing. Because someone must take control of the situation STAT.
After some discussion, I agreed that his experience with my hamster brain is WAY funnier than anything I can write about. So, he's going to be my guest blogger and share the story with you. While I won't go into too much more, I will tell you this: his story will include leg cramps, bed wetting, my impressive and creative use of four-letter words and an ill-timed page to Dr. K at around 3:00 AM.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen- my mind is officially blown. Is it November yet?
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Sunday, May 27, 2012
CANCER: The Beautiful Ones
You know, I'm not really a cynical person.....Truly. But, when it comes to doctors, I'll be honest....I do NOT trust the really hot ones.....Now, for any MD reading this, don't get me wrong, I'm sure you're not a dog or anything like that. And, I think the looks of MDs probably reflect that of the general population. Most of us are just perfectly fine looking. And to our parents, we're the most beautiful things ever...right? But, then again most of us aren't strutting the runways of Paris and Milan....And how many of us could really handle the pressure of being both smart and beautiful?
Let me get to my story: On Thursday I popped over to my chiropractor, Dr. Shelley Cathrea and her great husband/massage therapist Tucker Roy. I got a great massage and even better lower back adjustment. Thanks for that you guys! But...I probably need to take a break from our relationship until I become a little less radioactive....just sayin'.
Now, with cancer and chemo, I have truly surrendered. I have no expectation of what the one day to the next day will hold for me; let alone the next hour. And I'm pretty cool with it. Honest to God. If I woke up tomorrow with a damn horn in the middle of my forehead, I really don't think I'd panic. I'd probably just chalk it up to the chemo and take nap. My Rainier Valley Black Ops Director, Patty Mate, would eventually phone in for a report. I'd tell her about my horn situation and she'd show up 20 minutes later, broken out in a sweat talking about: "Girl...this is serious. You need to go to the ER." I'd reply: "Sure. But, let's wait till I finish up this load of laundry first."
So, back to Thursday: By 2:00 PM, my back was hurting to the point that I had double vision. I even bitched to the cashier at Trader Joe's about it. (Because isn't that what you do when you're hurting? Grocery shop?) He thanked me for my honesty. He said it was "refreshing." I picked the boys up from school at 3:00 and was doing some serious labor pain breathing. I used the yellow line in the road for my focal point. Yep, I probably shoulda triaged that gig to someone else. Oh well....We got home safely....
Around 6:00 PM. the pain was so intense, that I actually forgot how bad it hurt to pee. That's right...that started at around 8:00 am. I just figured it was normal to pee acid. Chalked it up to the chemo and just drank a bunch of water- thus increasing my need to pee....I'm so dumb sometimes!
So, I did the next smart thing: I called my doctor's office.
What a clusterf*ck that was.....Since it was after hours, I was transferred to the Swedish general operators. Truly, I'm not sure they know they work in the medical field. I got hung up on. Then during a call back, I was told that a nurse would call me back within 15 minutes. I was instructed to: "Just answer the phone regardless of where the call comes from." Seriously, at that point, I woulda taken medical advice from the UPS man.
Upon answering the phone from this random nurse, I discovered she wasn't even in the Seattle area. Judging from her accent, I guessed Alabama or India. Hell, who could remember??? After 15 minutes of Q/A, I was told that I needed to head over to the hospital within 3-4 hours. I was then subjected to a post interview survey. Questions included: "If you hadn't reached me, what would you have done?" and "How would you rate your experience with me?" Honestly, I felt like I was talking to a really passive aggressive prostitute.
So, I called my Black Ops Director, Patty. I figured she didn't have shit else to do, what with her husband and two kids....I called in Warren to care for his kids- because well, they ARE his, too, right? And after much debate, Patty and I agreed to head over to the Swedish Issaquah ER...because....as you know...everything is better on the east side....
Upon arrival, after it was confirmed that I could, in fact, afford to be there, I was whisked into a private room where FOUR eggplant (the color) scrub attired, highly trained medical staff jumped on me like flies on poo. One held up a gown and instructed me to disrobe to the waist. Another- let's call him "Badass Bob" was pulling up every one of my medical records dating from my birth. The other was on central line call. And I think the fourth was giving me a foot massage.
Central line inserted, I hobbled down to the poorly designed bathroom, (I mean, really Issaquah. I expected better from you...) to put my acidic urine in a cup. I returned to my suite and Patty and I flipped on the flat screen and tucked in for the evening. Now this is when things get interesting.
Patty and I were already pretty giggly from the whole four people attending to my medical needs, and the private suite with the flat screen TV, right. Nope it gets even better! In walks the most gorgeous doctor/human, I have ever laid eyes on. Dr. Stephen Bretz- Google his ass. You won't be disappointed.
This caused Patty and I to just erupt in laughter. Dr. B was caught off-guard. And Patty swears he told us to calm down. I don't remember that. What I do remember is saying: "You have GOT to be kidding me. You are GORGEOUS!"
I have cancer. I figured I have nothing at all to lose.
But, see...it's always the pretty ones that cause the most problems in our lives. And, this one was no exception.
After a round of chest x-rays and urine sampling- Dr. B declared I had a UTI- and not cancer of, say, the back....He ordered what I thought were antibiotics and some pain meds and sent me on my way. In the meantime, I had texted Paul who was landing at Sea-Tac. Paul, with his Superman-like tendencies showed up at my private suite 45 minutes later- in a suit. Say what you want about Dr. B...when I saw Paul, I wanted to rip out that central line and, well...do what the animals do.....if you catch my drift.....Relax. I managed to reign all that in (I AM Catholic, after all).
Paul, good naturedly teased Patty and I about our incessant giggles with Dr. B. I mean, we cut him A LOT of slack. For example, he was trying to explain the way the lung works to me....and I couldn't understand what the HELL he was saying. I just busted out laughing, because I realized that maybe he wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer but didn't really care, cuz he was sooo HOT!
And on Friday afternoon, my phone rang and showed a 415 area code. Thinking it was one of my family members, I answered. It was none other than Dr. B. Calling me, from his private cell number, to check on my well-being. SHUT THE FRONT DOOR. I was feeling just fine after that call. FINE, indeed!
However, things took a turn for the worse Saturday night. Turns out those antibiotics Dr. B ordered were the equivalent of Skittles....I called my regular, albeit, decent looking oncologist, Dr. K at around 8:00 AM today. He groggily stated: "Um, those aren't the right antibiotics for treating a UTI. Gimme the name of your pharmacy and I'll call something else in for you."
Thank YOU Dr. K and your normal-range doctor looking self. I swallowed down my first new drug and within an hour, I felt better. I predict that my PTSD associated with peeing will recede by the end of the day....
So I close with this: Oh Dr. Bretz, I will always cherish what we had together.....But, this relationship was doomed from the start....what with you not being so, well smart. Remember, I will always, always, always pick brains over beauty....And I'm just NOT that in to you, after all.....
Happy Sunday, gentle readers.
Let me get to my story: On Thursday I popped over to my chiropractor, Dr. Shelley Cathrea and her great husband/massage therapist Tucker Roy. I got a great massage and even better lower back adjustment. Thanks for that you guys! But...I probably need to take a break from our relationship until I become a little less radioactive....just sayin'.
Now, with cancer and chemo, I have truly surrendered. I have no expectation of what the one day to the next day will hold for me; let alone the next hour. And I'm pretty cool with it. Honest to God. If I woke up tomorrow with a damn horn in the middle of my forehead, I really don't think I'd panic. I'd probably just chalk it up to the chemo and take nap. My Rainier Valley Black Ops Director, Patty Mate, would eventually phone in for a report. I'd tell her about my horn situation and she'd show up 20 minutes later, broken out in a sweat talking about: "Girl...this is serious. You need to go to the ER." I'd reply: "Sure. But, let's wait till I finish up this load of laundry first."
So, back to Thursday: By 2:00 PM, my back was hurting to the point that I had double vision. I even bitched to the cashier at Trader Joe's about it. (Because isn't that what you do when you're hurting? Grocery shop?) He thanked me for my honesty. He said it was "refreshing." I picked the boys up from school at 3:00 and was doing some serious labor pain breathing. I used the yellow line in the road for my focal point. Yep, I probably shoulda triaged that gig to someone else. Oh well....We got home safely....
Around 6:00 PM. the pain was so intense, that I actually forgot how bad it hurt to pee. That's right...that started at around 8:00 am. I just figured it was normal to pee acid. Chalked it up to the chemo and just drank a bunch of water- thus increasing my need to pee....I'm so dumb sometimes!
So, I did the next smart thing: I called my doctor's office.
What a clusterf*ck that was.....Since it was after hours, I was transferred to the Swedish general operators. Truly, I'm not sure they know they work in the medical field. I got hung up on. Then during a call back, I was told that a nurse would call me back within 15 minutes. I was instructed to: "Just answer the phone regardless of where the call comes from." Seriously, at that point, I woulda taken medical advice from the UPS man.
Upon answering the phone from this random nurse, I discovered she wasn't even in the Seattle area. Judging from her accent, I guessed Alabama or India. Hell, who could remember??? After 15 minutes of Q/A, I was told that I needed to head over to the hospital within 3-4 hours. I was then subjected to a post interview survey. Questions included: "If you hadn't reached me, what would you have done?" and "How would you rate your experience with me?" Honestly, I felt like I was talking to a really passive aggressive prostitute.
So, I called my Black Ops Director, Patty. I figured she didn't have shit else to do, what with her husband and two kids....I called in Warren to care for his kids- because well, they ARE his, too, right? And after much debate, Patty and I agreed to head over to the Swedish Issaquah ER...because....as you know...everything is better on the east side....
Upon arrival, after it was confirmed that I could, in fact, afford to be there, I was whisked into a private room where FOUR eggplant (the color) scrub attired, highly trained medical staff jumped on me like flies on poo. One held up a gown and instructed me to disrobe to the waist. Another- let's call him "Badass Bob" was pulling up every one of my medical records dating from my birth. The other was on central line call. And I think the fourth was giving me a foot massage.
Central line inserted, I hobbled down to the poorly designed bathroom, (I mean, really Issaquah. I expected better from you...) to put my acidic urine in a cup. I returned to my suite and Patty and I flipped on the flat screen and tucked in for the evening. Now this is when things get interesting.
Patty and I were already pretty giggly from the whole four people attending to my medical needs, and the private suite with the flat screen TV, right. Nope it gets even better! In walks the most gorgeous doctor/human, I have ever laid eyes on. Dr. Stephen Bretz- Google his ass. You won't be disappointed.
This caused Patty and I to just erupt in laughter. Dr. B was caught off-guard. And Patty swears he told us to calm down. I don't remember that. What I do remember is saying: "You have GOT to be kidding me. You are GORGEOUS!"
I have cancer. I figured I have nothing at all to lose.
But, see...it's always the pretty ones that cause the most problems in our lives. And, this one was no exception.
After a round of chest x-rays and urine sampling- Dr. B declared I had a UTI- and not cancer of, say, the back....He ordered what I thought were antibiotics and some pain meds and sent me on my way. In the meantime, I had texted Paul who was landing at Sea-Tac. Paul, with his Superman-like tendencies showed up at my private suite 45 minutes later- in a suit. Say what you want about Dr. B...when I saw Paul, I wanted to rip out that central line and, well...do what the animals do.....if you catch my drift.....Relax. I managed to reign all that in (I AM Catholic, after all).
Paul, good naturedly teased Patty and I about our incessant giggles with Dr. B. I mean, we cut him A LOT of slack. For example, he was trying to explain the way the lung works to me....and I couldn't understand what the HELL he was saying. I just busted out laughing, because I realized that maybe he wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer but didn't really care, cuz he was sooo HOT!
And on Friday afternoon, my phone rang and showed a 415 area code. Thinking it was one of my family members, I answered. It was none other than Dr. B. Calling me, from his private cell number, to check on my well-being. SHUT THE FRONT DOOR. I was feeling just fine after that call. FINE, indeed!
However, things took a turn for the worse Saturday night. Turns out those antibiotics Dr. B ordered were the equivalent of Skittles....I called my regular, albeit, decent looking oncologist, Dr. K at around 8:00 AM today. He groggily stated: "Um, those aren't the right antibiotics for treating a UTI. Gimme the name of your pharmacy and I'll call something else in for you."
Thank YOU Dr. K and your normal-range doctor looking self. I swallowed down my first new drug and within an hour, I felt better. I predict that my PTSD associated with peeing will recede by the end of the day....
So I close with this: Oh Dr. Bretz, I will always cherish what we had together.....But, this relationship was doomed from the start....what with you not being so, well smart. Remember, I will always, always, always pick brains over beauty....And I'm just NOT that in to you, after all.....
Happy Sunday, gentle readers.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
CANCER: Side FX
Well, here it is- day five post chemo. Still feeling relatively good, I must say...I've experienced a few side effects which I think I shared with you earlier. Today I woke up kinda on my ass due to fatigue, so I did what any rational cancer-ridden gal would do: I called in the reinforcements and then took a nap. Duh!
Ok, so doing well, right? Right. But wait. There's more....
On Monday morning when I awoke I noticed something very, very um....interesting about my body. Not wanting to draw any further attention to myself, given the fainting and what-have-you...I decided to act like I'm British and keep my thoughts to my simple-minded self. But when I woke up on Tuesday and saw the same thing, well I realized this is for real.
Ok, you're probably wondering just what in the Hell I'm talking about. Well, lemme tell ya: Christmas came early in the Moy household. Momma got a new set of boobs!
Swear to Allah or any other religious deity....my boobs are glorious! I'm talking like back before I had two vampire, breast feeding kids, glorious! Yes, my middle aged breasts, that truly had the consistency of soup, are going through what can only be described as a reformation.....and I'm thrilled! Seriously! I can't go into any further specifics, as really that would then turn this blog into something else....but let's just say things are now facing the right direction. And...National Geographic won't want use me as a cover model....
Now wait....my mom, the great skeptic, credited the steroids. Well, she is WRONG! I emailed the amazing Dr. Karamlou with my new findings. He replied- and I quote: "As far as the other that can happen as there are hormonal changes with the chemo." So cute! Couldn't use the word boobs....
And of course my newly reformed friends needed new reinforcements. A big shout- out thanks goes to my gal pal Madeline Moy, who upon inspection declared: "You're right! They are perky!" who understood the urgency of my situation. That's right folks. She didn't bat one eyelash when I stated the need to head to our mutual happy place- Nordstrom to resolve the "fit" issue. After all, Madeline declared "Can you pick a better place to faint?"
The girl had a point.
West Coast Director of Operations, Paul, who unfortunately is out of town on bidness, gloomily predicted that all of this will be over by noon on Friday- as he'll be back around then. My gut tells me otherwise. And Patty, my Rainier Valley Ops Manager predicts future growth and recommended that I hang on to my receipts. She's so practical like that....
All I know is that much like my boobs, life is looking up! Chemo has its perks. Who knew?
Monday, May 21, 2012
CANCER: Back to Work
Well anyone out there who has been reading this blog who thought I would stop working during chemo clearly doesn't know me very well. Nope. I plan on working all the way through. But, I'll let you in on a little secret- I work from home- full-time! And, thanks to the network gods, I am able to work in my very important naps...
Now when I last wrote, I predicted I would be lying in fetal position. Well, nothing could be further from the truth. Don't get me wrong, I don't feel much like heading to Haiti....however I do feel relatively fine. No nausea, no headaches, just a little tired.
So today, after marinating all day Sunday in my pjs, I decided to well, shower. It was the least I could do, right? Following my typical routine, I hopped out of bed, yelled at the boys to get up, grabbed the paper, brushed my teeth, yelled at the kids some more, and then hopped into my warm, warm shower.
Well, I got clean. That's for certain....However upon stepping out of said shower, I got really, really light headed. In response, I calmly wrapped my soaking wet body in my towel and mentally prepared myself for a trip back to my bed. The plan was to lie down for a minute until the room stopped spinning. However, I'm 43...why do I bother making plans at all? I should know better, right? And here's what happened.
I fainted.
I awoke, lying on my back in my hallway- and get this: still wrapped up in my towel. Talk about grace! I couldn't for the life of me figure out how I got there though....and I couldn't figure out why my face hurt. (Apparently I ran into a wall on my way to faint city...)
Eventually my favorite 10 y.o. tripped over my prone legs. I finally found my voice and said: "Hey, I fainted. Can you grab nana? I think I need some help."
He stumbled into the kitchen and said: "Hey, my mom's on the floor. I don't know why." He really needs to work on his expository explanations. Man! Really?
Anywho, my mom handed me some much needed OJ. I drank it down and felt much, much better. And my lovely baby sister, Gail, whipped up some much appreciated oatmeal with loads of almonds and brown sugar.
Nurse Debbie phoned today to check in. She told me that hot showers and chemo are not a match. I also need to keep lots of electrolytes and crackers near my bed. Crackers in bed? UGH! What next??? Shoes in the house? Eating with our hands??? Civilization as I know it is eroding before my very eyes.
I guess that's cancer for you....
Now when I last wrote, I predicted I would be lying in fetal position. Well, nothing could be further from the truth. Don't get me wrong, I don't feel much like heading to Haiti....however I do feel relatively fine. No nausea, no headaches, just a little tired.
So today, after marinating all day Sunday in my pjs, I decided to well, shower. It was the least I could do, right? Following my typical routine, I hopped out of bed, yelled at the boys to get up, grabbed the paper, brushed my teeth, yelled at the kids some more, and then hopped into my warm, warm shower.
Well, I got clean. That's for certain....However upon stepping out of said shower, I got really, really light headed. In response, I calmly wrapped my soaking wet body in my towel and mentally prepared myself for a trip back to my bed. The plan was to lie down for a minute until the room stopped spinning. However, I'm 43...why do I bother making plans at all? I should know better, right? And here's what happened.
I fainted.
I awoke, lying on my back in my hallway- and get this: still wrapped up in my towel. Talk about grace! I couldn't for the life of me figure out how I got there though....and I couldn't figure out why my face hurt. (Apparently I ran into a wall on my way to faint city...)
Eventually my favorite 10 y.o. tripped over my prone legs. I finally found my voice and said: "Hey, I fainted. Can you grab nana? I think I need some help."
He stumbled into the kitchen and said: "Hey, my mom's on the floor. I don't know why." He really needs to work on his expository explanations. Man! Really?
Anywho, my mom handed me some much needed OJ. I drank it down and felt much, much better. And my lovely baby sister, Gail, whipped up some much appreciated oatmeal with loads of almonds and brown sugar.
Nurse Debbie phoned today to check in. She told me that hot showers and chemo are not a match. I also need to keep lots of electrolytes and crackers near my bed. Crackers in bed? UGH! What next??? Shoes in the house? Eating with our hands??? Civilization as I know it is eroding before my very eyes.
I guess that's cancer for you....
Saturday, May 19, 2012
CANCER: ABVD...LMNOP
Well, the long awaited day arrived...I attended my inaugural chemo session. One down- 11 more to go...don't hold me to that though.
So, here's the quick and dirty on the session itself: I was terrified out of my skull and my body proved it to be true. That's right: heart rate at 88 BPM and a blood pressure reading of 138 over 88 (compared to my normal 60 BPM and 106/60 BP)- WHAT??? Nurse Debbie- who is just getting to know me, mind you, stated: "Honey, you strike me as one of those people who appear calm on the outside but are really nervous inside." I replied: "Ha! What do you know? I'm pretty transparent about how I feel. And right now, I feel terrified." Nurse Debbie will soon learn just how much I appreciate armchair psycho-therapy....
I arrived relatively on time. I was staffed up with the best team a gal could ask for: my mom and my West Coast Director of Operations, Paul. I was well numbed up thanks to my lidocaine application. And, well, was as ready as ever. BUT WAIT...not really. I needed someone to hold my hand while the needle was inserted into my port. Paul very kindly sat next to me and horse-whispered my terrified ass right on through it. I watched my mother's face just to make sure everything was going fine. When she smiled I KNEW I made it through the woods. Thanks guys!
So, why the alphabet soup? Well, the first four letters represent the four drug therapy I am on. Now in cancer world, I learned that every drug has two names. So helpful when they're plying you with radioactive drugs.....
Let's start with A- which actually stands for Doxorubicin. Now, the only thing you need to know about this one is that well, it's radioactive and it makes your pee look like there's blood in it.
B- Bleomycin- another crazy ass drug that will make me set off alarms at the airport.
V-Vinblastine- I have no idea what this does. Though, I think it's one of the antibiotics??
D- Dacarbazine- Again, another antibiotic.
Ok, that's the boring stuff. Where things get interesting is with the 45 minutes of anti-nausea medication they start me off with. Now, I don't know all the drugs they used, but one is a steroid: Doxycyclene. Now, Nurse Debbie talked ALOT of shit about this drug. I was told: "It *may* make you jittery and anxious. You may need to take an additional drug to help manage your "anxiety." In short, I was kinda dreading it. But, that was a mistake!
I felt fine after my session. Even went to an 8:40 PM showing of the Avengers- which I highly recommend. I fell asleep about an hour into the movie. (Trust me, it was still good. I have cancer...) I must of dozed for about 15 minutes?? When I woke up the first thought I had was: "Man, that was a GREAT nap." And, then....well...this is when things got interesting....I developed incredibly amorous feelings for well, a man....And kept wishing that we were in a more, uhm...private venue....(And, my overtures we're flatly DE-NIED, citing "Honey, not while your mom's in town." What? Like we're in high school....)So, home to bed- alone I went. It's like I'm married all over again...sigh!
HOLY CRAP! At approximately 5:04 this morning, I awoke with several thoughts swirling through my head. I'll share them with you:
1) Where the Hell is Paul as I'm still in the mood for LOVE...dude, really....
2) I need to pressure wash the moss from the roof of my house...and while I'm at it
3) Why don't I nip down to Haiti and build a few houses?
4) And when done with that, let's run to a firing range where I can go catch bullets with my teeth...
In short, I LOVE steroids. And to all the professional athletes out there, I have ONE thing to say to you: I get it. To be able to feel both invincible and amorous at the same time? Are you kidding me? Oh, and did I also mention it suppresses my appetite? So, I'll be a skinny, horny, invincible bitch. Why aren't we all on these drugs?
In short, I have never felt better in my life. And in about 36 - 48 hours you will find me curled up in fetal position. That's cancer for you....
So, here's the quick and dirty on the session itself: I was terrified out of my skull and my body proved it to be true. That's right: heart rate at 88 BPM and a blood pressure reading of 138 over 88 (compared to my normal 60 BPM and 106/60 BP)- WHAT??? Nurse Debbie- who is just getting to know me, mind you, stated: "Honey, you strike me as one of those people who appear calm on the outside but are really nervous inside." I replied: "Ha! What do you know? I'm pretty transparent about how I feel. And right now, I feel terrified." Nurse Debbie will soon learn just how much I appreciate armchair psycho-therapy....
I arrived relatively on time. I was staffed up with the best team a gal could ask for: my mom and my West Coast Director of Operations, Paul. I was well numbed up thanks to my lidocaine application. And, well, was as ready as ever. BUT WAIT...not really. I needed someone to hold my hand while the needle was inserted into my port. Paul very kindly sat next to me and horse-whispered my terrified ass right on through it. I watched my mother's face just to make sure everything was going fine. When she smiled I KNEW I made it through the woods. Thanks guys!
So, why the alphabet soup? Well, the first four letters represent the four drug therapy I am on. Now in cancer world, I learned that every drug has two names. So helpful when they're plying you with radioactive drugs.....
Let's start with A- which actually stands for Doxorubicin. Now, the only thing you need to know about this one is that well, it's radioactive and it makes your pee look like there's blood in it.
B- Bleomycin- another crazy ass drug that will make me set off alarms at the airport.
V-Vinblastine- I have no idea what this does. Though, I think it's one of the antibiotics??
D- Dacarbazine- Again, another antibiotic.
Ok, that's the boring stuff. Where things get interesting is with the 45 minutes of anti-nausea medication they start me off with. Now, I don't know all the drugs they used, but one is a steroid: Doxycyclene. Now, Nurse Debbie talked ALOT of shit about this drug. I was told: "It *may* make you jittery and anxious. You may need to take an additional drug to help manage your "anxiety." In short, I was kinda dreading it. But, that was a mistake!
I felt fine after my session. Even went to an 8:40 PM showing of the Avengers- which I highly recommend. I fell asleep about an hour into the movie. (Trust me, it was still good. I have cancer...) I must of dozed for about 15 minutes?? When I woke up the first thought I had was: "Man, that was a GREAT nap." And, then....well...this is when things got interesting....I developed incredibly amorous feelings for well, a man....And kept wishing that we were in a more, uhm...private venue....(And, my overtures we're flatly DE-NIED, citing "Honey, not while your mom's in town." What? Like we're in high school....)So, home to bed- alone I went. It's like I'm married all over again...sigh!
HOLY CRAP! At approximately 5:04 this morning, I awoke with several thoughts swirling through my head. I'll share them with you:
1) Where the Hell is Paul as I'm still in the mood for LOVE...dude, really....
2) I need to pressure wash the moss from the roof of my house...and while I'm at it
3) Why don't I nip down to Haiti and build a few houses?
4) And when done with that, let's run to a firing range where I can go catch bullets with my teeth...
In short, I LOVE steroids. And to all the professional athletes out there, I have ONE thing to say to you: I get it. To be able to feel both invincible and amorous at the same time? Are you kidding me? Oh, and did I also mention it suppresses my appetite? So, I'll be a skinny, horny, invincible bitch. Why aren't we all on these drugs?
In short, I have never felt better in my life. And in about 36 - 48 hours you will find me curled up in fetal position. That's cancer for you....
Thursday, May 17, 2012
CANCER: OOOOHHH, so close and yet so far....
If someone had told me that I could compare the service of the US medical care system with that say, of oh...an airport in a third world country, I woulda called you a big fat liar! Afterall, I see how much shit costs whenever I get say, an asprin from the doctor's office. Some of my medical bills rival the GDP of say, Tuvalu....But, guess what readers, the joke is on me!
Today started off fairly normal. Mom and I ran some errands. I bought a printer, ate some Krispy Kreme donuts- all in preparation for what was to be the BIG DAY. That's right, I was gonna start chemo.
After two weeks of bitching- and Paul can confirm this-about this blossoming infection in my right nostril, my genius oncologist Dr. Kasra Karamlou decided it was high time to finally look inside my nose to see what was up. Trust me, I was a little hurt last week when my offered up nostril was turned down by FOUR members of the medical establishment. Surprise! There was an infection. But trust me, dear reader, this didn't exist until the medical establishment said it did....(and they call US crazy?) So, that bought me a trip to an ENT. YUP! Why take a hammer to that nail when a sledgehammer works just as well? This pushed my 10:20 AM appointment back to 2:30 PM. So, what were two lovely ladies to do in the meantime? Well, we got lunch. Duh! Oh, and went to Costco. My mom and I are such a picture...her hobbling on her two new hips. Me trotting along, with, well...cancer???
To kill even more time, we also took FULL advantage of the KICK ASS stores in the "wellness center." Why, I managed to purchase a strapless bra for a dress I plan on wearing to a friend's wedding (swear to GOD!) and a really cute hat for my impending bald head.... It really is better on the east side....
The ENT decided the infection was minor enough to merit just a topical antibiotic. This sent us back to Oncology.
They welcomed my sick ass and hop along assistant with open arms. I was gently ushered into the "treatment" room that overlooks a lovely garden bed of hostas and euonymus. Pretty. I texted a few folks to begin the countdown. My nurse Debbie trots in with all of the paraphenalia....She then states, "Ok honey, I'm getting your lydacaine ready for your port." I asked "Topical, right?" She said: "No, subdermal." I wanted to go all Rainier Valley on her ass BECAUSE I AM ALLERGIC to lydacaine. And...it says so in my records- that NO ONE ever reads. She blanches- cuz that's what her kind does- recovers- and then says: "well, I guess we'll have to go in with no pain killers." Hold the PHONE! Was she kidding? Now look, I'm not that much of a wimp. However, the needle in this case is akin to something one would use to hold curtains up on a curtain rod- velvet curtains at that. F*CK THAT! I was out.
After much wrangling around about the details. Confirming that I didn't want any meat hooks placed into my chest, we all agreed it best to return in the morning at 10:00 AM. Dear Debbie ordered my topical pain killer. Beginning Friday at 9:00 AM I will smear that shit all over myself and try to put some lipstick on that cancer pig.
Today started off fairly normal. Mom and I ran some errands. I bought a printer, ate some Krispy Kreme donuts- all in preparation for what was to be the BIG DAY. That's right, I was gonna start chemo.
After two weeks of bitching- and Paul can confirm this-about this blossoming infection in my right nostril, my genius oncologist Dr. Kasra Karamlou decided it was high time to finally look inside my nose to see what was up. Trust me, I was a little hurt last week when my offered up nostril was turned down by FOUR members of the medical establishment. Surprise! There was an infection. But trust me, dear reader, this didn't exist until the medical establishment said it did....(and they call US crazy?) So, that bought me a trip to an ENT. YUP! Why take a hammer to that nail when a sledgehammer works just as well? This pushed my 10:20 AM appointment back to 2:30 PM. So, what were two lovely ladies to do in the meantime? Well, we got lunch. Duh! Oh, and went to Costco. My mom and I are such a picture...her hobbling on her two new hips. Me trotting along, with, well...cancer???
To kill even more time, we also took FULL advantage of the KICK ASS stores in the "wellness center." Why, I managed to purchase a strapless bra for a dress I plan on wearing to a friend's wedding (swear to GOD!) and a really cute hat for my impending bald head.... It really is better on the east side....
The ENT decided the infection was minor enough to merit just a topical antibiotic. This sent us back to Oncology.
They welcomed my sick ass and hop along assistant with open arms. I was gently ushered into the "treatment" room that overlooks a lovely garden bed of hostas and euonymus. Pretty. I texted a few folks to begin the countdown. My nurse Debbie trots in with all of the paraphenalia....She then states, "Ok honey, I'm getting your lydacaine ready for your port." I asked "Topical, right?" She said: "No, subdermal." I wanted to go all Rainier Valley on her ass BECAUSE I AM ALLERGIC to lydacaine. And...it says so in my records- that NO ONE ever reads. She blanches- cuz that's what her kind does- recovers- and then says: "well, I guess we'll have to go in with no pain killers." Hold the PHONE! Was she kidding? Now look, I'm not that much of a wimp. However, the needle in this case is akin to something one would use to hold curtains up on a curtain rod- velvet curtains at that. F*CK THAT! I was out.
After much wrangling around about the details. Confirming that I didn't want any meat hooks placed into my chest, we all agreed it best to return in the morning at 10:00 AM. Dear Debbie ordered my topical pain killer. Beginning Friday at 9:00 AM I will smear that shit all over myself and try to put some lipstick on that cancer pig.
Monday, May 14, 2012
CANCER: How will I KNOW???
Ok- I am dedicating this blog to all of my lovely hypochondriac followers. And let me be totally honeset when I tell you this- I understand those of you who ask me: "How did you figure this out?" I know you are asking this for two reasons: 1) you are concerned- really and 2) you're trying to figure out if you too could be called up for the big dance...So this is for you:
The symptoms: This is an easy one- about a year ago I noticed I big old swollen lymph node in my neck. Thinking it was just a residual node from a recent sinus infection, I thought nothing of it. Plus, it didn't hurt. And, my dear friend Mickelle Rodriguez recommended that I just "stick a heating pad on it...." Oh, and Mickelle didn't go to medical school, just so you know....
In January after starting awesome POWER YOGA, I noticed that my right armpit was swollen. Though I chalked that up to my bad ass, right side dominance from POWER YOGA (you really need to type that in all caps...just makes sense...) I also noticed a second swollen lymph node. Again, didn't hurt. Didn't think much about it. Oh, and one more thing- that space on my chest between my boobs was really, really itchy. My dear friend Melanie Fix told me: "That's just itchy winter skin." And surprise! Melanie didn't go to medical school either.
Finally in April I rolled over in bed and lo and behold, I found a massive lymph node (think the size of a whopper candy) in my right arm pit. While casually lying on my sofa, I made mention of this new finding to my sister-in-law, Madeline Moy. Now, bear in mind, I decided at this point it was time to haul my well-insured ass over to the doctor- cuz, in my mind, three really is the magic number. Madeline's response: "Girl that sounds like some Terms of Endearment shit. You better take your ass to the doctor cuz I'll be really mad at you if you die." And, say it with me: SURPRISE! Madeline didn't go to medical school either.
Well, it was enough for me to make the call. And whenever I'm faced with some scary medical shit, I always, ALWAYS call Dedra Buchwald, MD, PhD- because well, she DID go to medical school. Dedra did a great job preparing me for the upcoming appointment. She was her usual direct, unapologetic self when she said: "Listen, whenever you get swollen lymph nodes and they don't hurt, it's usually bad news." She qualified with: "But over the years, I have seen some surprises." She sent me some really great links about why lymph nodes are swollen- and yes, she scared the poo out of me. But, being a huge fan of the Girls Scout motto, I was prepared.
Normal symptoms of this stupid disease include things like: night sweats, significant weight loss, and oddly enough, lymph node pain when drinking alcohol. I experienced NONE of those symptoms- especially the drinking one, cuz, well, I don't drink alcohol- ever....figures the one freaking time when being an alcoholic would have come in handy.....
Now this might sound really dumb, but I was actually relieved when the dianosis arrived. No, I never ever wanted cancer. However, cancer runs in my biological family. And it takes us out around the age of 43-44. My birth mother died six weeks after her diagnois. She was 44. And her only complaint was "My hip hurts when I eat Chinese food." Turns out she didn't drag her ass to the doctor when the first symptoms appeared and the cancer had metastasized into her bone marrow. Never figured out how the Chinese were involved. Relief for me comes because we caught this bitch EARLY. And, I get a real fighting chance to save my life.
So, I had been watching and waiting....and now the wait is over. Chemo starts Thursday.
The symptoms: This is an easy one- about a year ago I noticed I big old swollen lymph node in my neck. Thinking it was just a residual node from a recent sinus infection, I thought nothing of it. Plus, it didn't hurt. And, my dear friend Mickelle Rodriguez recommended that I just "stick a heating pad on it...." Oh, and Mickelle didn't go to medical school, just so you know....
In January after starting awesome POWER YOGA, I noticed that my right armpit was swollen. Though I chalked that up to my bad ass, right side dominance from POWER YOGA (you really need to type that in all caps...just makes sense...) I also noticed a second swollen lymph node. Again, didn't hurt. Didn't think much about it. Oh, and one more thing- that space on my chest between my boobs was really, really itchy. My dear friend Melanie Fix told me: "That's just itchy winter skin." And surprise! Melanie didn't go to medical school either.
Finally in April I rolled over in bed and lo and behold, I found a massive lymph node (think the size of a whopper candy) in my right arm pit. While casually lying on my sofa, I made mention of this new finding to my sister-in-law, Madeline Moy. Now, bear in mind, I decided at this point it was time to haul my well-insured ass over to the doctor- cuz, in my mind, three really is the magic number. Madeline's response: "Girl that sounds like some Terms of Endearment shit. You better take your ass to the doctor cuz I'll be really mad at you if you die." And, say it with me: SURPRISE! Madeline didn't go to medical school either.
Well, it was enough for me to make the call. And whenever I'm faced with some scary medical shit, I always, ALWAYS call Dedra Buchwald, MD, PhD- because well, she DID go to medical school. Dedra did a great job preparing me for the upcoming appointment. She was her usual direct, unapologetic self when she said: "Listen, whenever you get swollen lymph nodes and they don't hurt, it's usually bad news." She qualified with: "But over the years, I have seen some surprises." She sent me some really great links about why lymph nodes are swollen- and yes, she scared the poo out of me. But, being a huge fan of the Girls Scout motto, I was prepared.
Normal symptoms of this stupid disease include things like: night sweats, significant weight loss, and oddly enough, lymph node pain when drinking alcohol. I experienced NONE of those symptoms- especially the drinking one, cuz, well, I don't drink alcohol- ever....figures the one freaking time when being an alcoholic would have come in handy.....
Now this might sound really dumb, but I was actually relieved when the dianosis arrived. No, I never ever wanted cancer. However, cancer runs in my biological family. And it takes us out around the age of 43-44. My birth mother died six weeks after her diagnois. She was 44. And her only complaint was "My hip hurts when I eat Chinese food." Turns out she didn't drag her ass to the doctor when the first symptoms appeared and the cancer had metastasized into her bone marrow. Never figured out how the Chinese were involved. Relief for me comes because we caught this bitch EARLY. And, I get a real fighting chance to save my life.
So, I had been watching and waiting....and now the wait is over. Chemo starts Thursday.
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
CANCER: It Takes TWO, Baby....
So, Monday was another day filled with MD appointments. Jeeez-US! I now understand why so many old people spend their time talking about doctor's appointments. That's all there is for them to do.....And it takes ALL DAMN DAY!
Ok, so the purpose of this appointment was to get the coveted SECOND OPINION. Truly, this is the Holy Grail of the US medical system. And, in this case was a good use of my time. Here's why:
Details- always need to start with these, right?
Location: Seattle Cancer Care Alliance
Time: 9:30 AM check-in, 10:00 AM appointment with the MD (who showed up at 10:40...just sayin'...)
The Players: ME- duh; Michelle Nitz- objective listener; Dr. Andrei Shustov- MD Assistant Professor of Medicine, Division of Hematology, University of Washington (AKA, Lymphoma BAD ASS) and Karen Schiavo- ARNP, Nurse Practitioner, Hematology Malignancy
Yes, it was quite a cast...and Karen complimented me on my shoes.
So, I get there, right....And let me tell you this place is nothing like my serene and idyllic Swedish Issaquah. For starters, the place is FILLED with sick people. Gross. And they only have ONE very lame gift shop and no concert pianist. WTF?
Ok- but on to the serious stuff: Dr. S introduced himself and very, very clinically confirmed that I do, in fact have Stage II Hodgkin's lymphoma. He further classified it as Stage II A, as I have none of the symptoms associated with this stupid disease. (I'll blog about symptoms later, you freakin' hypochondriacs!)
He then explained in full detail just what the treatment plan will look like. He basically confirmed what the good Dr. K told me. However, he also told me what the four drugs will do to my body and more importantly, to my cancer. I won't go into that. It's boring and I can barely remember it. The take-away is this: This treatment has been around for 40 years. More importantly, it was an Italian MD who came up with this plan. Oh, and it works! I feel better already....
He also corrected a few things:
1) A round of chemo is actually TWO sessions. I have four sessions ahead of me, and will complete treatment in September. Dr. K failed to mention that minor detail. He'll hear from me when I see him again...
2) I will be bald. He was pretty certain about that. He said there's a few of his patients who keep their hair. But, they are not the norm. Oh well. I'm thinking baldness will set in around July???
3) I cannot, under any circumstances play in soil. Totally busted Dr. K's statement of: "of course you can garden." He's gonna hear it from me when I see him again....
4) He confirmed the whole national study he wanted me to participate in. It works like this: I do my first two rounds of chemo. Then I undergo another PET scan. If the results come back PET Positive, they will consider my cancer defeated. I will continue on with the remaining two rounds, but will have successfully kicked cancer's ass. If the results come back PET Negative, they will change the course of my chemo to some way stronger stuff that will, in his words: "knock me on my butt." The reason for the PET scan is that it is a predicter of success. Kinda cool...
Dr. K told me if I got a PET Positive, I wouldn't need to do the remaining rounds. Oops! The plus side is that this is a national test with national standards set by the NIH. So, it's pretty prescriptive. Just the same, he's gonna hear it from me.....
5) SCCA, unfortunately was kicked out of the study due to a backlog of paperwork. (Thanks to the crappy funding public research institutions get from our state, they had to lay off the person who's job was to manage the paperwork...)This means if I am to participate in the study, I will need to stick with Swedish. Dr. S confirmed what I already knew: "the drugs are the same no matter where you get them. So, stick with Swedish." And, well there IS the piano player....He stated if I wanted I could come back to him- especially if I get a PET Negative result.
But, even if I went to SCCA he would treat me as if I were in the study. Just wouldn't be able to share my health data into the study.
In short, I fell in love with this lovely Eastern European scholar. He was direct, funny, and has deep respect for the Italians- when it comes to medicine- and, well shoes....
I closed our meeting with the following: "not for nothin' but I hope I don't need to see you ever again...." So much for love.....
UP NEXT:
Dr. I. Edward Freimanis- L'enfant terrible of the surgical world, and my biggest cancer groupie...He's putting in my sexy chemo port this Thursday. He's also gonna do my bone marrow biopsy, while allowing me to sleep through the whole thing. BLESS THIS MAN!
Friday April 11- ECHO cardiogram and CT Scan
More fasting and ingesting of radioactive stuff. So much fun!
Ok, so the purpose of this appointment was to get the coveted SECOND OPINION. Truly, this is the Holy Grail of the US medical system. And, in this case was a good use of my time. Here's why:
Details- always need to start with these, right?
Location: Seattle Cancer Care Alliance
Time: 9:30 AM check-in, 10:00 AM appointment with the MD (who showed up at 10:40...just sayin'...)
The Players: ME- duh; Michelle Nitz- objective listener; Dr. Andrei Shustov- MD Assistant Professor of Medicine, Division of Hematology, University of Washington (AKA, Lymphoma BAD ASS) and Karen Schiavo- ARNP, Nurse Practitioner, Hematology Malignancy
Yes, it was quite a cast...and Karen complimented me on my shoes.
So, I get there, right....And let me tell you this place is nothing like my serene and idyllic Swedish Issaquah. For starters, the place is FILLED with sick people. Gross. And they only have ONE very lame gift shop and no concert pianist. WTF?
Ok- but on to the serious stuff: Dr. S introduced himself and very, very clinically confirmed that I do, in fact have Stage II Hodgkin's lymphoma. He further classified it as Stage II A, as I have none of the symptoms associated with this stupid disease. (I'll blog about symptoms later, you freakin' hypochondriacs!)
He then explained in full detail just what the treatment plan will look like. He basically confirmed what the good Dr. K told me. However, he also told me what the four drugs will do to my body and more importantly, to my cancer. I won't go into that. It's boring and I can barely remember it. The take-away is this: This treatment has been around for 40 years. More importantly, it was an Italian MD who came up with this plan. Oh, and it works! I feel better already....
He also corrected a few things:
1) A round of chemo is actually TWO sessions. I have four sessions ahead of me, and will complete treatment in September. Dr. K failed to mention that minor detail. He'll hear from me when I see him again...
2) I will be bald. He was pretty certain about that. He said there's a few of his patients who keep their hair. But, they are not the norm. Oh well. I'm thinking baldness will set in around July???
3) I cannot, under any circumstances play in soil. Totally busted Dr. K's statement of: "of course you can garden." He's gonna hear it from me when I see him again....
4) He confirmed the whole national study he wanted me to participate in. It works like this: I do my first two rounds of chemo. Then I undergo another PET scan. If the results come back PET Positive, they will consider my cancer defeated. I will continue on with the remaining two rounds, but will have successfully kicked cancer's ass. If the results come back PET Negative, they will change the course of my chemo to some way stronger stuff that will, in his words: "knock me on my butt." The reason for the PET scan is that it is a predicter of success. Kinda cool...
Dr. K told me if I got a PET Positive, I wouldn't need to do the remaining rounds. Oops! The plus side is that this is a national test with national standards set by the NIH. So, it's pretty prescriptive. Just the same, he's gonna hear it from me.....
5) SCCA, unfortunately was kicked out of the study due to a backlog of paperwork. (Thanks to the crappy funding public research institutions get from our state, they had to lay off the person who's job was to manage the paperwork...)This means if I am to participate in the study, I will need to stick with Swedish. Dr. S confirmed what I already knew: "the drugs are the same no matter where you get them. So, stick with Swedish." And, well there IS the piano player....He stated if I wanted I could come back to him- especially if I get a PET Negative result.
But, even if I went to SCCA he would treat me as if I were in the study. Just wouldn't be able to share my health data into the study.
In short, I fell in love with this lovely Eastern European scholar. He was direct, funny, and has deep respect for the Italians- when it comes to medicine- and, well shoes....
I closed our meeting with the following: "not for nothin' but I hope I don't need to see you ever again...." So much for love.....
UP NEXT:
Dr. I. Edward Freimanis- L'enfant terrible of the surgical world, and my biggest cancer groupie...He's putting in my sexy chemo port this Thursday. He's also gonna do my bone marrow biopsy, while allowing me to sleep through the whole thing. BLESS THIS MAN!
Friday April 11- ECHO cardiogram and CT Scan
More fasting and ingesting of radioactive stuff. So much fun!
Saturday, May 5, 2012
Cancer: Stage...RIGHT
Friday was surreal. I fasted. My reward? An injection of radioactive dye that "may cause loose stool." Well, what girl could refuse those terms? I bit.
Here's what I found out: my guest, Hodgkin's lymphoma, has a stage: TWO.
Good thing I didn't bet money on that, cuz I was expecting three.
The good Dr. Kasra Karamlou, MD Hematology Oncology of Swedish Cancer Institute explained it to me like this: the lymph nodes infected are all located above my diaphragm- specifically in my neck,lungs and armpits. Because they are only in the northern region of my body, I get awarded Stage Two. If they were found in my lower extremeties, I suspect his smile wouldn't have been as big.
Treatment will be the standard four rounds of chemo with a drug therapy called ABVD. Each spaced 14 days apart. No radiation. No puking. I agreed to participate in a big Hodgkin's trial that basically requires that I have a PET (positron emission topography) exam after the second round. If my guests respond positively to the drugs, I will not need to do the other two rounds of chemo. I may lose my hair. But what's hair if I get to kick cancer's ass? I'll just do what so many of my black sistas have done before me: go to the hair store and buy some more, dammit. The cure rate for this type of cancer under this type of treatment rates as high as 95%.
The lead-up to the first round on May 17 is: have a port surgically inserted in my chest to allow for easy admin of the drug cocktail. I need to surrender to a bone marrow biopsy, which magically I got Dr. K to agree to do while I'm still drugged up from the port surgery. I also need an ECHO- which will gauge the strength of my heart (yeah, like I got one of those...) and a CT Scan to gauge the shape of my guests. All of these events will be completed by Friday May 11.
I owe a big thank you to everyone of you who has taken the time to send me notes of encouragement. It means the world to me to hear from you. I also owe a HUGE thank you to my dear, and newest member of the tribe: Paul Tollefson. Wearing the title of: West Coast Director of Production, he has gotten all of this stuff over the finish line- and still manages to make me laugh and feel desired. Awesome!
Be sure to check back for more updates. Oh, and of course, I have a second opinion appointment scheduled for Monday. Don't worry! I'm doing my homework....unlike high school.....Michelle Nitz will be my back-up.
Talk to you soon!
Thursday, May 3, 2012
The Diagnosis
At high noon, Tuesday May 1, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin's lymphoma. The reaction to this news was not surprising: the good people of Seattle took to the streets and rioted. They even wore black. I feel honored.
Now, you're probably wondering how I'm doing. The short answer is: I'm fine. My armpit is still sore from the biopsy and I'm tired just from needing to process so much information.
And, your next question is probably: So, what do you need? Well, I don't know. This Friday I head back to the Swedish Issaquah "Lifestyle and Wellness Center" (no, I didn't make that up...yes, there's a baby grand piano in the lobby with a classically trained pianist) and have a PET scan. I'm supposed to eat some type of food or other in preparation for the scan. (Better check those files again....)Through the power of technology- or as my friend Paul says "magic" I will learn what stage this dumb disease is in. Cancer is just so rude like that....It just shows up all unannounced, and you are left figuring out how to deal with it. I will meet with an oncologist at Swedish at 3:30 PM to discuss plan of attack. I have a second opinion appointment scheduled for Monday at 9:30 AM at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance. My expectation is that I'll have a plan in place by noon on Monday.
I've created this blog as a means for all of my friends and family near and far to keep track of this process. While I know very little about my "guest" I do know that Hodgkin's is the best kind of cancer a gal could ask for. From what I've read, it has a 90%-98% cure rate. And the average treatment rate is about six months.
So, check back friends. I promise to name, names, assign tasks and bitch and moan. It's only fair. I have cancer.
Now, you're probably wondering how I'm doing. The short answer is: I'm fine. My armpit is still sore from the biopsy and I'm tired just from needing to process so much information.
And, your next question is probably: So, what do you need? Well, I don't know. This Friday I head back to the Swedish Issaquah "Lifestyle and Wellness Center" (no, I didn't make that up...yes, there's a baby grand piano in the lobby with a classically trained pianist) and have a PET scan. I'm supposed to eat some type of food or other in preparation for the scan. (Better check those files again....)Through the power of technology- or as my friend Paul says "magic" I will learn what stage this dumb disease is in. Cancer is just so rude like that....It just shows up all unannounced, and you are left figuring out how to deal with it. I will meet with an oncologist at Swedish at 3:30 PM to discuss plan of attack. I have a second opinion appointment scheduled for Monday at 9:30 AM at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance. My expectation is that I'll have a plan in place by noon on Monday.
I've created this blog as a means for all of my friends and family near and far to keep track of this process. While I know very little about my "guest" I do know that Hodgkin's is the best kind of cancer a gal could ask for. From what I've read, it has a 90%-98% cure rate. And the average treatment rate is about six months.
So, check back friends. I promise to name, names, assign tasks and bitch and moan. It's only fair. I have cancer.
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