a note from a place called hiatus

The kids started school last week, missing one day on account of Tropical Storm Faye. Schools closed in order to be used as a shelters, but then the storm, which was originally supposed to come straight for us, veered and missed us completely.

Monkey has been home for the past three days with an unknown virus which has left him with a high fever and blisters all throughout his mouth. I took him to the doctor ASAP, sure it was strep throat, but the test came back negative. He has been miserable. I hate to see him so uncomfortable and know that I can't do anything about it.

In the meantime, I have realized how paranoid this cancer thing has made me. Before his mouth developed blisters, he was complaining of abdominal pain and had a fever. My mind immediately started thinking appendicitis because he wasn't throwing up or having diarrhea, just constant abdominal pain. Then, when the strep test came back negative, I researched things on the internet--always a bad idea when the panic quotient is high and the knowledge quotient is low--and found all kinds of horrible diseases that it could be.

When something you think is nothing turns out to be something dangerous, it makes you a little crazy when confronted with other somethings which are probably nothings...y'know?

sigh

I have watched a little bit of the DNC meetings, but missed the speech by Obama. My husband's groaning and eye-rolling as soon as he saw it were enough to persuade me it wasn't worth watching with him in the room. Not that I really cared about it. Speeches are just scripted rhetoric. I don't put much stock in them.

Discovering that McCain's choice for VP is a woman, who is also a governor, is kind of heartening. I don't know much about her yet, but am intrigued. However, my cynic-o-meter is jumping off the charts as I wonder if his pick is merely an attempt to seem as history-making as Obama...or maybe draw more conservative Hillary supporters to him. Either way...this election will bring a first to the White House.

I've been amusing myself by gazing at cute cats and dogs from http://www.icanhascheezburger.com/ and http://www.ihashotdog.com/.


see more puppies

I also came across a blog that I find fascinating, though I can't tell you why...other than maybe my envy at not being as well-traveled, and not having as many neat experiences, as Callie's in Japan.

On Hiatus

I'm still alive and breathing!

The desire to blog can't be mustered from me lately. I've been busy trying to get the kids ready for school starting next week, recovering from my last treatment, and making arrangements for childcare for my next treatment, which is tomorrow.

I spent a couple of days in a mad cleaning frenzy--shampooing carpets, cleaning the upholstery of our dining set--never buy white cloth chairs...even if you don't have kids at the time--cleaning our screened porch, and reorganizing our kitchen cabinets. I think this was brought on by the fact that our home was a mess when we had the break-in. DH is great at taking care of the kids while I am recovering, not so great at the cleaning of the home. The violation of having someone in our home, combined with the fact that it was a disaster at the time, made me go spring-cleaning crazy.

Anyway...I've been busy and also feeling a general malaise toward blogging.

I appreciate everyone who stops by with kind words. I will still check on the blog every once in a while, but I won't be posting regularly until the end of September when I am finally done with treatment; maybe sooner if the kids are in school and I am feeling well.

Until then...take care.

Nasty Surprise

Yesterday was the first day I had been out of the house since my treatment. I was feeling good and decided to swing buy SuperTarget with the boys. School's only a couple of weeks away and we have done hardly any shopping. They each needed a new backpack, and I had to pick up something I could make for dinner that night.

We were gone for one hour.

When we got home, I wrestled several grocery bags to the front door and got my keys out while the boys checked the mail. Once the door was opened, I was busy keeping the dog from running out the door, moving the bags inside the house, and asking the boys for help. I was multi-tasking and not being very observant.

The Rationalist spoke out,"Hey, who put all those toys on the floor?"

"Toys on the floor? I'm sure those were from you guys playing earlier."

"No," said Monkey. "We didn't use those. And why are all the plugs on the stereo speaker?"

In the few seconds that had passed, I hadn't really put anything together in my mind. The Rationalist walked into the living room and shouted,"Our Wii is gone! WE'VE BEEN ROBBED!"

I dropped everything, rushed into the living room and looked at the bare space on the shelf of our entertainment center. I looked into my bedroom, noticing the mattress had been flipped over, a few drawers dumped out, and my jewelry box was gone.

We HAD been robbed.

I was in shock.

I immediately grabbed the phone and told the boys to leave the house. We stood in the front yard while I called DH and the police, all the while looking at everyone in the neighborhood with veiled suspicion. Was it that guy working on his car? What about the cable guy across the street? Oh, look here, our next-door neighbor's thug son is visiting today.

A deputy came, fingerprinted our sliding glass doors and made a report. She was here for about 25 minutes and then left.

I'm not sure what to think about all of it. I feel horribly for the kids. They saved all of their money for a year and half to buy their Wii and some jerk took it in five minutes. I lost all of my jewelry, which I don't care too much about, other than my engagement ring; the only piece that meant anything to me.

I was grateful that the dog was unharmed and still here. The thief could have left the door open and she could have wandered off, or they could have hurt her. Doubtless, she posed no threat to them. She probably tried to lick them to death, or barked at them to play fetch with her.

Sigh.

I had a hard time sleeping last night as I pondered the fact that either it was an amazing coincidence that the only time the house has been empty in over a week, we were robbed, or someone in our neighborhood actively watched us leave, and got into our house soon afterward. The latter option is more uncomfortable. It's unpleasant to be victimized by someone who lives near you, can watch your house, and take a chance to do it again.

We think that the thief was in and out very quickly. They didn't get much and missed several things, like our digital camera, that were in plain sight. The dog gets very excited by visitors, barking and jumping. They probably didn't want to prolong her loudness.

I have to go out again today, and I already feel anxiety about who might be watching us leave.

mmmmm....Cake.

On the Positive Side

The last post was all whining.

This one is to say that my husband is a wonderful man.

I couldn't get through this without him. If I were rich and feeling well, I would buy him an extravagant gift. I would spend the whole day trying to make him feel appreciated for all he does and has done to help me, and our family, through this. I would buy him every i-gadget that money could buy.

I love you, DH!!

Me:0, Chemo:2

So....have I mentioned how much I hate volunteering for torture chemo?

I mean HATE!....with a capital H.

My husband keeps having to listen to me enumerate the many reasons why I am not ever letting them do this to me again. I won't. I'll run off to Hawaii, or buy some kooky "natural" cure online, or surround myself with crystals and incense and chocolate....anything other than purposely letting someone poison my body and making me suffer for a week.

This past week was difficult, not just because I felt so awful, but because the seriousness of my body's reaction reminds me that I am dealing with a monster. There's a reason the treatment is so drastic.

I actually forget, sometimes, that I had cancer in me. It's not so much forgetting, as possessing a combination of denial, faith, and optimism.....although the line between faith and denial can be hard to discern.

In my mind, I don't really believe that I am going to have to deal with cancer again. I've tried to "get through" everything that has been thrown at me, looking forward to sometime in September when I will be "done" with treatment/cancer. Of course, I won't be done. I'll be monitored and tested and watched closely for at least a couple of years. I'll have to always be vigilant.

It brings up memories of a woman I knew many years ago who had to go through treatment three different times, for three different cancers--a mother of three children. I brought her meals and visited her, but I know that I probably had no concept of what she was dealing with, emotionally. She recovered and is hopefully doing well, having moved away some time ago. Still, I wonder how useful I was to a woman who has battled such a monster.

Anyway, the realization that I may never be "done" with cancer, in the way that I want to be, washed over me during the worst of my days this week.

It is frustrating to feel powerless; to know there is only so much control that I have over my body, what it does, how it responds to treatment and the permanent effects of the treatments I have had, surgical or otherwise.

It sucks.

I could use many four-letter words to elaborate, but I don't want to offend all of you gentle readers, who are probably as sick of hearing about chemo as I am of experiencing it

Day Before 2nd Chemo

I measure everything by my treatment dates now.

"Oh, that's the week before chemo. I'll be feeling fine let's make plans for that week."

"Oh, that's the week after chemo. I'll be feeling like crap and having to stay out of public places...no can do!"

"Oh, the first day of school is 5 days after my treatment. I might not be well enough to take the boys that first day."

I have all my dates circled on the calendar and am working the entire family's schedule around it. It's kind of a bummer. I'm just glad that after the first week of misery that I seem to rebound and start to feel normal. Let's hope that pattern continues.

Today I called up some friends of the boys, and their mom, and we hung out at the park and watched them run solidly for an hour, chasing each other, hiding from each other, and climbing the enormous oak trees. We came back to our house so that the boys could show the Wii to their friends and let them play with it.

I talked and visited with their mom, who is the sweetest.

It was a good time, and a great way to spend my last day before I go in for treatment tomorrow.

I'm hoping that I will do better this time around, now that I have more of a sense of what to expect. I have all my necessary meds and preparations all stocked up and ready to go. Maybe I can manage my symptoms better this time around.

Here's hoping.

My New Hairdo

When I took a shower today, 1/3 of my hair came out in my hands. I couldn't deny that it was all going to come out eventually. My sister-in-law came up and helped shave it off so that I wouldn't have handfuls of long hair constantly coming out.

Here's my new look.

I'm ready for Boot Camp, Master Sergeant, Sir!

Here's an unflattering photo of me with my gorgeous, size 2, sister-in-law.

She was so sweet to do this for me. She even brought me three beautiful scarves to cover my head...so as not to frighten the public. :-)

Me and my hair.

Parenting in the Bizzaro Universe

This morning I punished my son. He was angry, crying, and completely frustrated.

The punishment? I made him eat something he really wanted for breakfast.

Yes....giving him what he wanted made him furious.

It all started over a packet of Cinnamon Swirl Cream of Wheat. It was the last one in a house of two children; both who love Cinnamon Swirl Cream of Wheat. Let the conflict begin.

The Rationalist got to the box of cereal first, claiming the packet for himself. Intuitive Monkey proceeded to cry, wail, and bemoan the fact that he wanted it, and it wasn't fair for his brother to have it, and the world is a cruel, cold place that doesn't care about him...etc.

Their solution was that nobody should get the Cream of Wheat. The Rationalist, pressured by his brother's temper tantrum, was willing to forgo eating the cinnamon bowl of goodness. I appreciated his willingness to sacrifice, but was unwilling to let Monkey manipulate the situation. He has a bad habit of whining for what he wants, causing his brother to cave in and give him what he desires.

I declared their solution as unacceptable.

I was bumping up against the childhood version of "fairness" which is nothing more than a thinly veiled version of selfishness: You have something I don't, or can't, have...so that means you can't have it either. It's a principle based in miserly jealousy rather than being based in a desire to be equitable.

I took my stand and explained that someone has to eat the last packet. Instead of being angry that one of them doesn't have it, they should be willing to let the other person have something good.

Oh the howls that assailed my ears! This was too much for them to comprehend. The Rationalist admitted that he had teased Monkey about having the last packet. His guilt about his attitude when he snatched it out of the box was eating away at him.

"Just let Monkey have it!" he pleaded.

"No. You're right that you shouldn't have teased him about it. That was mean and you should apologize, but it isn't wrong for you to eat the last bowl of Cream of Wheat."

"But...but...that's not fair to him! I won't eat it! I won't! You can't make me!"

"You will eat it, or you won't have anything else for breakfast. If you feel bad about the way you treated your brother then I suggest that next time you should be kind in the way that you speak to him. Your punishment will be having to eat something, knowing you weren't very nice about having it."

He threw himself onto the couch and began to sob.....over Cream of Wheat guilt.

I made the Cream of Wheat; one Cinnamon Swirl for The Rationalist, one Maple and Brown Sugar for Monkey. They came to the table, The Rationalist wiping his tears away and swearing that he wouldn't eat it.

A minute later, Monkey leaned over and whispered to him,"It's OK to eat it, I don't want it now anyway."

Thud...thud...thud...that's the sound of me hitting my head against the wall.

Just for Laughs

This is the sign right outside my mother's house.




Apparently, all the children in her small town dress like elves.

The Beginning of Baldness?

My hair is starting to fall out.

It's a little early. Cytoxan, one of the chemo drugs I'm on, usually causes hair loss within 2-3 weeks. I'm a few days shy of the 2 week mark, but some of my hair is already committing hari kari by leaping from my scalp onto the deadly spikes of my brush, or the distant ground below. If I listen closely, I can hear their muffled screams as they plummet to their deaths,"Aaaiieee....!"

I have enough hair on my head for twenty people, so it's not noticeable at this point, but if the process begins to accelerate, I'm going to have to shave my head. I can't walk around spontaneously leaving clumps of hair in a trail behind me like a molting animal.

I may call my sister-in-law, a hair-dresser, and see if she wants to do the honor of shaving it for me. I'm not sure if that would be a good idea, or not. She can be emotional and I don't want her to freak out when it's done and my head is bare. I'll be doing enough freaking out for myself.

She's Alive!

I'm feeling pretty good, now.

Definitely manageable.

The only problem is my White Blood Counts were too low--1.5. 4 is the low end of normal. They have given me shots over the last two days to try and force my body manufacture more cells. Having my counts so low puts me at a high risk of infection.

I've been washing my hands...A LOT.

Overall, I am recovering. I can do things around the house and I'm not having the pain that I experienced that first week after treatment. I get tired out and feel a little weak sometimes, but I am in so much better shape than I was before.

Thank You God!

Reluctantly Attained Insight

I wrote this on Tuesday, July 8th.

This is the first day that I have felt was manageable since Thursday. Chemo hit me hard and still reaches out to sock me every once in a while. It was way worse than I had anticipated. I spent most of the time bed-ridden and in pain from my body's reaction to the treatment.

I realized a few things.

Prolonged physical suffering can reduce the average person to despair. I have had pain in my life. I have had several surgeries before, other times of not feeling well, but none of it can compare to how I felt this past week.

There is a certain level of constant nagging pain that blocks out thoughts of anything else. You can't watch TV. You can't read a book. You can't play a game. You can't even carry on a conversation. All that rings through your head is the sound of your own discomfort, and the ticking of the clock as time slowly records your suffering.

I had never experienced that before.

It made me realize how out of touch I was with what real "suffering" was like. The visceral, raw potential for your body to make you miserable is unlimited. I laid in bed wondering how people with advanced cancer do this for years. I wanted to quit after this first treatment, and I'm not just saying that. It took all my strength to keep from calling my oncologist and swearing that I would never consent to this legal torture again.

I felt that badly.

I'm sure I will have more compassion for people dealing with chronic pain/illness in the future.

Me: 0, Chemo: 1

Chemo is totally kicking my butt.

I wish I could say it was all in my head, but my achy bones, constant fatigue and the ever-present sensation that I might be sick at any moment counter that thought--that, and the fact that I have slept more than I thought humanly possible.

I'm having a hard time with it mentally. Localized pain and surgery, though drastic and no picnic, were much easier for me to deal with. Somehow the nagging flu-likeness seems worse to me than losing my breast. Trauma, emergencies, one-time events; I can deal with them pretty handily. Knowing I am going to have go through this another 3 times over the next three months somehow seems more depressing and overwhelming to me.

I just want to feel normal.

Time, please pass quickly.

Chemo Update--Cycle 1

I went in for my chemo around 9:00 am yesterday and was finished by 12:45 pm. I didn't feel any differently immediately afterwards and even went to Wal-Mart with DH to pick up my anti-nausea meds. I had to pop a Compazine tablet towards dinnertime yesterday because I could definitely feel the nausea coming on. It helped with the nausea, but I didn't feel up to eating.

Today, I have some prescribed anti-emetics that I take for today and tomorrow. The second and third day after chemo are usually the worst as all the chemicals start working through your system.

I don't feel completely floored. I am definitely functional and the meds seem to help, but I do feel kind of shaky and a little out of it--not 100%, but about 85%. My face and chest are flushed pink, a side effect of the Taxotere, I think.

Otherwise, right now I am doing OK and hope I continue to weather everything with minimal downtime.