Sigh! Where to begin??? So much has transpired since my last entry...I think I'll start with the most recent stuff and work my way backward...I trust that somehow this will all make sense in the end...
So today I saw the good Drs. Wahl and Spiegel, as it was my second 90 day post-treatment check-up. And honestly, I couldn't be more pleased. Blood work pending, things look free and clear and I'm good for the next 90 days...However, while waiting for my appointment, a woman stared at me- like that's so strange???- and told me she "loved" my skin color. Now, in the past when that has been said to me, it has been followed up with a lick to my upper forearm. I swear to GOD! (happened more than once- from different people, I might add....) Fortunately, this woman kept her wits about her, remained seated, and followed up with: "No seriously; how is it that your skin is so tan?" Well, the obvious answer is: "Ummm, DNA? My parents???" But since we were in the cancer office, I figured it best to throw her a bone. I replied: "I was at the beach in St. Martin." (That's right, I thought to myself, celebrating the very fact that my ass doesn't have cancer.) We started to chat a bit about vacation, the sun, etc....I threw in just how different my life and skin are now compared to what I was doing this time last summer....Her name was called. And that's when the realization sunk in....ugh! She's going back to the chemo room for treatment. She's where I was LAST summer. UGH! I was her. She is me. Fucking cancer.
I guess this cancer business does have some sort of silver lining though- as last week, on behalf of Gilda's Club, I got to prance my way down the runway decked out in nothing but the finest Seattle designer Elizabeth Roberts, had to offer. And, well let me just say a few things about the experience. I was taken aback by just how much fun I had. I mean, sure...it's fashion....I love clothes and looking great...but I tend to keep that kind of joy hidden away and private, as I live in Seattle. We take inordinate amounts of pride in wearing some of the ugliest shit known to human kind....(really, Target lady in the socky shoe things??? On what planet is that even remotely attractive?) I felt like I looked wonderful. And, more importantly, the other cancer survivors out on that runway felt beautiful, handsome, sexy, etc too!....Man was that nice to be around. Really! Also, I got to use a sentence that in no way I ever imagined ever using in my lifetime. I missed a call from my sick kid from school. Ugh! But, when I called him back, I had to tell him: "Man, I'm sorry I missed your call. I was on the catwalk and didn't have my phone on me..." Amazing...and it only took cancer to get me THERE.
Also, about ten days ago I was placed on the most extraordinary drug by none other than the very capable and truly loveable, Dr. George Peter Pappas. Now, I was there to see him for my lung follow-up. (Nailed it at 107% capacity! Suck it, bleomyicin toxicity!) Dr. Pappas takes what I call a "holistic" approach with me. Some others might call it "nosy." Instead of gabbing about my lungs, he starts in on the whole "So, how's exercising working out for you??" I really didn't want to reply, because truthfully, the answer was: N/A. And, more importantly a BIG part of why that was the reply had to do with my ongoing, unresolved and utterly frustrating and stupid arm/nerve pain.
Now, I spent my last Gilda's Club session BAWLING my eyes out over this shit. (Turns out, I'm not made outta steel after all...) And really, that was an effective use of tears. Because I mourned the pain, the frustration and then, magically just accepted it as all part of my new normal. Now, here I was two days later, being forced to dredge all this crap up again with Dr. P. I was annoyed- but not in a bad way....Finally, after trying to escape his probing questions, I finally just confessed: "Man...I'm not doing a damn thing because my arm hurts and the only pain remediation that has been offered so far are narcotics and I hate those things because I'm unable to solo parent my kids or take a crap." There. I said it.
Dr. P gave me that gentle look and said: "Well now...that's ridiculous as there's all kinds of great drugs out there to help you with the pain. And really maybe all you need is some time get this inflammation under control to allow you to get back in the game." And that's when he unlocked me from my torture chamber and ordered a drug called Gabapentin. Honestly, it's like freakin' Stockholm Syndrome, the love I have for this man....
The first day on this drug rendered me pain free...but high as a kite- and I have to say, I've remained pain free (sleeping like a stone!)- yet stoned out of my freakin' mind for the past ten days. Other people define the experience as feeling "loopy." Not me. I'm stoned- out-of-my-mind. And, I'm not even sure how I'm writing this blog. Jesus....I may look at this thing in a month and wonder just what in the HELL was going through my mind.
Well, today Dr. Wahl offered me a solution- by LOWERING the dosage. Phew!
So, there you have it. High as a kite- yet freer from pain- and more importantly, free from cancer- well, at least for the next 90 days or if the blood work says otherwise....
I fully acknowledge just what last summer held for me. Even with the love and support I received from so many, it still sucked. And, well THIS summer, I am going to kick back, keep laughing my ass off, and enjoy my reprieve from all that is CANCER!
Don't worry! I'll be back at it again....in 90 days....
