Unruly Is Definitely The Name Of The Game

For the better part of my adult life, I have envied my cousin's beautiful curly hair. (Although, I'm sure she's reading this post and saying, "WHAT?") I can't explain it other than to say we always want what we don't have. Pre-cancer, my hair was poker straight, with intermittent bursts of waves that were never strategic. Frankly, I never had to fight with it to get the poker straight hair; it was just straight. Ironically, when I did try to curl it, the curl fell right out.

I remember sitting in the chair at the salon with my hairdresser commenting over and over again about how curly my hair was. Could I dare to hope? Was it possible that cancer was going to give me the curly hair that I have always desired?  The answer is yes; that's exactly how this was going to go down.

I fought it, although I don't know why. Never mind, I do know why. Part of me just wanted to be as close to the "old me" as possible. The other part of me wanted to give my husband back the glamour girl straight hair that I have always had.

So for months, I struggled not only with the unruly curls on my head, but the voice in my head saying "You're not going to win this one!". Finally, I couldn't take it anymore, and when it was time for new extensions, I made the jump to curly, and I couldn't be happier. My husband is withholding his commentary, do I dare to hope that he'll fall in love with the wild curls that now cover my entire head? I will say that not spending 2 hours fighting with the curl every time I wash my hair is a lot easier.

Of course, I have to ponder the WHY? Why is my hair coming back curly? What is the motivation here? For me, curls give me spunk and spirit, not that I totally lacked either, but this is just like a turbo boost of spunk and spirit. When you're dealing with an unruly body, you might as well have the hair to match, right? And I have got it.

I won't bother to beat around the bush, I have an unruly body, once you've dumped toxins and radiation into yourself, why would you expect anything different? It makes sense now, but it's taken me a while to come to terms with this concept.

Two weeks ago I got a headache that made me positive that I was dying. I was seconds away from calling everyone I know and saying "This is it..., I'm off to join my grandparents and my basset hound among the clouds." I probably would have done that save for the problem of not being able to focus at all. Everything was blurry, thank God I was at home and not driving, because I would have been in big trouble (although the way people here drive, I would have fit right in). Since I haven't completely mastered "Siri" calling anyone and alarming them unnecessarily was out of the question.

Tests confirmed that I am not in fact in dying (some of you will breathe a sigh of relief, and some of you will probably say "Damn"). I have developed ocular migraines. So in addition to my good old run of the mill, boring migraines now I have blinding migraines. Seriously? Can I just say that I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy? I try not to focus on the fact that my body is different than the one that I had before. Most days I am pretty successful, but there are just some things that frankly make life extremely challenging.

As long as I don't get into pressurized situations, I do all right for myself, but more often than not, my brain does not function on command anymore. You know it's bad when someone asks you "How can I help you" and you have no answer for them because you honestly cannot remember why you're there, or why you called in the first place.

I have had a lot of concerns about my post-cancer career. I have had issues finding something that was a good fit for who I am now. I continue doing many of the things in our business that I did prior to and during treatment, but I really wanted something more. Thankfully, I've found a job that makes me extremely happy; I'm writing! The pay could be a whole lot better. However I can honestly say that I am writing, which is one of my true passions and earning money doing it. Furthermore, I am developing my writing skills.

I won't do it forever, and once I've completely mastered this, I do not mind telling you that I will probably start my own thing. I seem to have a knack for writing effective copy for websites, and since I have an unlimited amount of time to construct my thought, it's working out very well with my wonky brain. Some days, it takes longer than others to get the job done, but it does get done!

So, I'm Not Okay With "New Normal"

Today marks 5 months since my chemotherapy ended.  It's a little hard to believe it's been that many months especially since the effects of those wonderful life saving toxins are still present, and boy do they remind me on daily basis.  It's almost as if my body is angry with me for letting them pump that horrific stuff through my veins.  Thank goodness it can't talk to me, because I'm sure it would have the mouth of drunken sailor combined with the mouth of a seriously angry truck driver.  Funny, but I remember last month right around this time looking at my fingers and thinking that the weirdness in my fingernails would probably be gone by the time I hit the 4 month mark.... It was shortly after that that my big toenail decided it was going to fall off.  (Just so you know, toenails grow back seriously quickly... it's incredible, so have faith if you find yourself in the same situation.) Boy, was I wrong.  Today, I'm looking at my fingernails and thinking that if grabbed the clippers and trimmed them, with the exception of 1 nail, my fingernails would look normal.  My eyebrows and eyelashes have also decided to return.  Score 1, or maybe 3 for normalcy, right?

...And then there is my brain, or lack thereof.  This is my biggest concern.  Is it ever going to function on a normal level again?  Will I ever be able to recall my date of birth without reaching for my drivers license and wondering, "Hey, who is that long haired blonde?"  Last night, I found myself standing in the middle of the garage with no clue, and I mean "ZILCH" why I was there. I asked Lucy and Duke both, but they weren't talking.  I think they might be starting to get a little concerned.  I still start doing things and forget what I'm doing.  I guess that's why at any given point in time, there are always at least 10 windows open in my browsers.  For 3 days now, I've been trying to order that miracle cream from Clinique that's going to make those lines around my eyes disappear.  I still haven't done it, so yes, the lines are still there.  I can't believe that on top of everything else that I'm adjusting to, I have deal with aging too.  Cripes, I'm only 40.

Friday, I saw the oncologist.  I've graduated to the point where I only see her every 9 weeks... hey, it's progress.  I'm just not sure my lack of patience would tolerate me seeing her every 3 weeks, my appointment was at 9:30 and supposed to be the 1st appointment of the day.  It was almost 11 by the time I saw her... I was getting ready to stick my head out of door and yell "Hey, anybody out there?".  I can't help but think that being that they are a cancer office, they should be able to appreciate just how precious time really is....  I seriously had to pee (yes, this is an ongoing problem with me...) and I was out of coffee.  I should just take a whole carafe of it when I have to see her, and maybe lacing it with something a little stronger is not such a bad idea either.  I had a long discussion with her about my brain, and it's refusal to cooperate on a normal level.  She laughed at me and said that I'm being too hard on myself, it's only been 5 months since chemo ended... I certainly hope that we're not still having these conversations 5 years from now.  On a very positive note, she mentioned that she spent a lot of time reviewing my pathology report (slow, and boring weekend at the lake, maybe?) and I am definitely not ER positive.  So, there will be NO TAMOXIFEN for this gal.  Woopie.  I was prepared to do battle on that one.

So, all along I have told myself that I have to accept the "new normal".  Then the other day, I was reading a post by another breast cancer survivor.  She raised a very valid point about new normal.  Does saying that I am okay with the new normal mean that I am settling, and accepting things the way they are?  So, I've been thinking about this in the way that someone who is mentally impaired thinks about something...  And the more I think, the more I realize that I AM NOT OKAY WITH NEW NORMAL.  While I have no desire to live so much in the future that I miss what's going on now, I realize that I am not okay with certain things the way that they are now, and rather than saying I'm okay with it, I need to take action and make plans to change the things that I cannot live with.  There are things that I know that I cannot change- I can't change the fact that I had cancer, and that I will always be at risk for an occurrence. Pet scans, and blood work will be a part of my life, for the rest of my life.  But, I am not willing to accept this fuzzy, uncooperative brain, and I'm not willing to accept the side effects of the cancer treatment that are bothering me.  It's time to take action and fix this situation.  I am a take charge kind of person, and I've never "settled" for things, why should I start at 40?  I mean come on, I kicked cancer's ass... I can kick the side effects of cancer treatment, right?

Almost a Cancer Milestone

I got a little choked up driving to radiation this morning.  I am probably way too sentimental.

Today was my next to last radiation treatment.  Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled that I am almost done, but at the same time, I've really enjoyed my radiation team.  I actually look forward to seeing my radiation "angels".   32 times I've walked into that hallway, and said "Morning, Miss Mel" (yes, ya all remember Miss Mel of the "I've never seen anything like that" fiasco) as I was either coming or going.  I am most certainly going to miss my chats with that gang, and will probably find myself stopping in to see them every once in a blue moon.  (I hope that by entering the hallowed halls of the radiation department, I'm not tempting fate...)

So what's next for this feisty little blonde?  Well, I've been studying to take the Florida Real Estate Licensing exam.   I had a goal.  The goal was to be ready to take the exam by the time that radiation was over.  But, as usual, I didn't really factor in the fact that somewhere along the way in this caner journey, I suffered a brain injury or a loss of my mind.  I've been working on this since June, and I was skipping along at a pretty good pace. I was really pretty proud of myself, acing chapter exams like a true scholar! But, then I started to notice that my brain was holding the information, but only for a week after I had studied it, and when I would go back and do those chapter exams, I was flunking them.  It's like it's all new information.   Shit!  Now what?  I don't have that answer, but I'm getting frustrated that my brain isn't ready to play ball.  I'm going to have to figure out a new way to study the information and see if that helps.  

I have noticed that while I'm okay doing things that I already knew how to do, that sometimes I have serious challenges learning new things.  For example, the other day, I found an instructional yoga move that is supposed to be good for breast cancer patients.  I printed it out, and bribed the dogs with bully sticks so that I could lie down on the floor without becoming a jungle gym for boxers.  I grabbed my glasses and the instructions and hit the floor.  That's where it got messy.  I read, reread, and looked at the picture 10 times and I couldn't for the life of me figure out how I was going to accomplish what the person in the pictures was doing.  After about 20 minutes, and several words that I won't repeat here, I gave up.  I mean seriously, shouldn't a yoga pose designed for cancer patients take chemo brain into consideration?  2 days later, I was cleaning up the bedroom and picked up the paper again, intending to toss it in the trash.  Frustrated that something had gotten the better of me, I read it again.  I swear to you, balloons and streamers fell from my kitchen ceiling.  Bells rang!  Lights flashed!  You have got to be kidding me.  How is it that 2 days ago, I read that over and over, and couldn't make it happen?  But, now it's seems simpler that coloring in a circle with a crayon.  

And I know I've blogged about my attention span, but I'll tell you again about what's going on with that just because I like making people laugh, and this story had my physical therapist in tears.  Earlier this week, I decided that I should probably do some laundry.  So, I grabbed the clothes that were laying on the bathroom floor and walked them to the washer.  On my way back to the bedroom to get the rest of the dirty clothes, I noticed that there were dirty dishes in the sink.  Crap, let me just stick them in the dishwasher.  It's that very moment that washing machine dings to remind me that the door is open.  So, I stop with the dishes, and go back into the bedroom for the dirty clothes.  On my way back through the kitchen, I notice that something has been spilled on the floor, so I go for the mop.  Again, the bell chimes on the washer. I abandon the mop.  I walk back into the laundry room, throw the clothes into the washer, and remember about the dirty dishes in the sink.  Walk back into the kitchen, open the dishwasher and start to put the clean dishes away.  And there's the bell on the washer again.  Did I really not turn that on?  Back into the laundry room, but why is the mop out?  Oh, I remember.  Start mopping up the floor and remember that I need to turn the washing machine on.   Finally get the washing machine turned on, and wonder if I remembered to throw the little soap thing in?  Pick up the mop, and start cleaning up the floor when I notice that the dishwasher is open.  Why is the dishwasher open?  And crap there are dirty dishes still in the sink.  And mys husband wonders what I do all day?  Seriously?  When I look at moments like these, I wonder if I am being haunted by the great Erma Bombeck?

I seriously hope that this is going to get better....

I am off to plant the plants that are sitting next to my driveway.  Apparently, I bought them several weeks ago (according to the receipt from Lowe's) but have neglected to plant them.

Take It Back... Or Else

WARNING: THIS POST IS NOT LIKE THE USUAL, FUNNY, WITTY BLOG POSTS THAT I HAVE PREVIOUSLY POSTED.  I'M A LITTLE ANGRY, NOT AT CANCER, BUT AT THE SERIOUS AMOUNTS OF INSENSITIVITY THAT WERE EXPRESSED TO ME THE OTHER DAY, AND I HAVE TO VENT, BECAUSE THE DOCTORS SAY THAT I SHOULD AVOID STRESS AND THAT I SHOULD'T  HOLD THINGS IN, BECAUSE IT ISN'T GOOD FOR ME...  I HAVE COOLED DOWN FOR A FEW DAYS.... HOWEVER, I AM STILL A TAD MAD.

Maybe I'm being too sensitive, but I don't think I am.  Granted, I will admit that I am probably a tad more sensitive than what I was pre-cancer.  I am also probably a hormonal mess (thank you cancer drugs) however, I think it is very insensitive to be critical of the way that other people deal with challenging situations.

In case you've missed any of the saga that has been my life for the last 10 months let me sum it up for you:  I went for what I thought was going to a completely unnecessary mammogram a year ago December 16.  It turned into something completely different.  I was informed by a pimply faced, Doogie Houser type that I definitely had cancer before I could even plant my body in a chair.  All of this was followed by blood work, multiple biopsies, an MRI (that I was sure I wasn't going to live through), another biopsy (that I almost didn't live through), a Pet Scan, Chest x-rays, an echo cardiogram, surgery to install a port... and all of this was before chemo even started.  I had 6 rounds of chemo and spent the next 4 months of my life feeling like I had the flu, A REALLY HORRIFIC FLU.  I lost my hair, my mind, 2 toe nails, and nearly lost 10 fingernails.  My bones hurt so bad that I feared that by the time chemo was over that they would have completely disintegrated.  My hands and feet were swollen and the feeling in them was starting to disappear.  On top of all of this, I couldn't sleep, and food that was good for me tasted like crap.

Just when I was starting to feel like a normal human being again for the 1st time in almost 6 months, it was time for surgery.... Here we go again, right?  We all remember how much fun I had with that.  Can I tell you that I haven't had a decent nights sleep since all of this started (in December of last year, mind you).  Then came the fills and the fun... elephants on your chest, oh yes please!  The elephants had just started to go away when radiation started.  (I'm starting to see a pattern here.  Every time I start to feel normal, the torture starts all over again.)    Almost 6 weeks later, the elephants are back along with sharp, pulling sensations that scream across my chest at least a hundred times a day.  And I know I haven't mentioned it, but I'm so tired!  I am pretty sure that I could sleep for 3 or 4 days without ever waking up.  (I was driving home from somewhere today at noon, and almost fell asleep at a red light- I never know when it's going to hit,!  Not good.)

I've handled all of this pretty well, or at least I think I have, that's what they tell me anyway!  I stared death in the face, yes, I could have died.  I didn't.... and I'm not going to, well at least not any time in the near future.  I've managed to face chemo, surgery, and radiation  with a smile on my face, and a sense of humor that has kept all of my service providers, my family, and my friends entertained for the last 10 months.  I've stayed positive (even though at times it was challenging as hell), and believe me, looked forward to the day when all of this cancer business was over.  I have longed for my "normal" life for the last 10 months, and have done everything "normal" that I have physically been able to do.  The laundry has always been done, the house has always been cleaned, there has always been food in the refrigerator, and I have continued to do all of the purchasing, logistics, payroll and taxes for the business (which I can assure you was not without it's challenges)!

So, when someone tells me 3 days ago that it's time to move on, not "dwell" on it, that everything is back to normal, just because the cancer is gone, I wanted to jump on an airplane and personally choke that "someone".   (Can you seriously be that insensitive?)  Oh, but wait, I can't because I still have radiation, physical therapy, and Herceptin infusions to go to, and I probably won't make it through airport security because I have magnets in my chest.... and I have not yet been cleared to fly, yeah, there's that.  I am so glad that everything is back to normal.

OH
MY
GOSH!

I wish it were that simple.  In a lot of ways, I wish that everything could return to normal, I would probably kill for most everything to be just the way that it was on this day a year ago. Believe me, I never would have chosen this for myself had I been given a choice.  I had hair on my head, I didn't have raging headaches 24/7, and my whole chest didn't scream every time I moved.  I could sleep without waking up every 30 minutes to try to get comfortable. I could go out in the sun without feeling like I was going to pass out. I had toenails.  And most importantly, I wasn't constantly exhausted, out of breath, and trying to figure out what the heck I was doing; I could start a sentence and finish it.  I could snuggle up next to my husband, or my dogs without being in serious amounts of pain. I didn't have to consult with a physician to get approval before jumping on a plane. So while all of that sounds wonderful, instead I will be be finishing radiation, going for yet another PET scan, going back to see the plastic surgeon, finishing physical therapy, having another echo cardiogram, seeing the oncologist, and having another Herceptin infusion.  Just for the record, it's not really what I "want" to be doing, but I don't really have much of a choice.  So, if by finishing out the recommended, and prescribed course of treatment, I am "DWELLING" on cancer, so be it.

 I have accepted that my life will never be like it was before cancer, (and I've grown enough spiritually to accept that), cancer will always be a part of me, of who I am.  I will always have to return to oncologists offices, I will always be getting blood work done, and having pet scans.  While I can't wave a magic wand and make everything "normal" again, I am taking the necessary steps to move towards a "new normal" at the earliest possible moment.

Oh, and one more thing.  Believe me when I say, there is nothing "FREE" about my boob job.  Trust me.

It Was Such A "NON" Thing...

Despite my very best efforts to be tough going through radiation treatment, I have my moments where it's just a tad too much.  My brain, which only picks select moments to work, sometimes doesn't pick the right moments to work.  Yesterday was the perfect example of this.

Let me start at the beginning of this story so you know what I'm talking about.  4 weeks ago, in the early days of my radiation saga (hmmm.... calling it the radiation saga kind of makes it seem glamorous!)  a bright purple vein appeared on my chest (which was not very glamorous!).  It started on the left side, directly above my heart and ran across my breastbone to my right breast where it looked like a balloon full of purple ink had exploded.  It caused no discomfort, but just didn't look quite right.  So, I mentioned it to the doctor who did not brush it off, but said that he was "okay" with it and "not concerned".  Hey, who am I to question, while being a feisty cancer warrior, I am no doctor?  Just because I've spent countless hours gazing at this monstrosity in the mirror does not mean that it is anything to be worried about.

I am not sure that my lovely team of radiation angels (They are angels, each and every one of them are as sweet and lovely as can be.  Can you tell I love them?) agreed with the doctor, because we've had many conversations about this lovely purple splash across my chest.  Just about everyone, except for the guy that changes the light bulbs at Florida Hospital Cancer Center has had a chance to glance at this phenomenon.  And over and over again, I was told that it was nothing to worry about.  I've gotta admit, I had a hard time accepting that, there is no way that something so freaky looking could be nothing to worry about, right?  

Fast forward to yesterday.  Monday, September 15, 2014.  I report for my normal radiation appointment, and zip right through it despite the fact that I am starting to resemble a seriously overcooked egg- let's just say I am no longer "over easy".  Again, the radiation angels stand over me looking at the purple phenomenon and before I know it, I find myself sporting one of those lovely blue hospital gowns, you know the ones that are "air conditioned" in the back.  At least it was blue.

Enter Nurse Mel and Dr. Dill (who has finally decided to return from what I will just say was way too long of a vacation.), and guess what?  They wanna check out the purple phenomenon.  My heart sinks to my feet, and squeezes itself out of my toes as Dr. Dill tells Nurse Mel to get my plastic surgeon on the phone, and Nurse Mel exclaims "I've never seen anything like that before!".  (Oh yeah, I feel so much better!)  Suddenly my stomach is doing back flips and I've got a headache capable of shutting down an entire city.  OH NO!  SERIOUSLY, THIS CANNOT BE GOOD!

There are some things that should be approached delicately with a cancer patient, and some things that just should never be said.  One of the things that should never be said is "I need you to go now."!  The last time I was told that I needed to "go now", I spent half a day with my boobs in a vice only to be told before I could sit down that I definitely had cancer.  So, I'm a little sensitive about this phrase.  It most certainly does not evoke warm and fuzzy feelings in this cancer patient.

It's important to mention that I seriously had to pee.  The 3 cups of coffee that I had consumed before leaving the house were catching up with me.  But, I was so upset, and needed to find out what was wrong with me before I could take the time to pee- some things just have to wait. So, I jumped in the car, and attempted to back out of my parking space.  It would have been a lot more successful if I had turned the car on and put it into gear, but I was so upset that it took me a few minutes to figure out what was wrong.

The 35 minute drive made my brain kick in and the anxiety got seriously intolerable. Where the heck is the wine when ya need it?

Brain: You know this isn't good.

Me: No shit, Einstein.  Thanks a lot for mentioning that to me.  I hadn't really thought about it.

Brain: This could be really bad.  I mean, really bad.

Me: Yep, already know that. 

Brain: They might have to remove that expander.  Maybe it's infected.

Me: Oh, really?  I never thought of that.  Thanks for mentioning it, I feel a lot better now.

Brain: I'm just trying to help.

Me: And you picked this moment, why?  Funny, when I needed help backing out of a parking space under duress you were nowhere to be found.

Brain: You should be able to back out of a parking space on your own by now.  You're like 40 years old.  Maybe there is something wrong with your heart.

Me: Oh gosh, why didn't I think of that?  Seriously?  Have I told you lately that I hate you?

I decide that maybe if I jump in the fast lane and attempt to drive 90 MPH, my brain will shut off.  I was bound and determined to turn the voices in my head off, or at least turn them down a notch or two.  Weaving in and out of Orlando traffic takes tons of concentration and leaves little room for an over-active imagination.

I arrive at the parking garage in record time, leaving a lot of Orlando drivers dazed and confused as they are not used to seeing vehicles moving over 40 MPH, even on the highway.  It would figure that the parking garage is bursting at the seems,  the only spaces left aren't large enough for a golf cart, and in case you haven't figured it out yet, I do not drive a golf cart.  I zip around corners, tires screeching praying that there isn't anyone coming the other way.  (For some reason, when they built this shiny new parking garage, they forgot to include enough room for 2 way traffic.)  5 floors later, I spot a parking place, or what I thought was a parking space, but no, it was a dead end.  No wonder there's no one parked there.  Seriously?  God intervened at this point, and I spotted a Corolla vacating a parking spot- at the speed of frozen molasses, but vacating none the less.   Breath... GOOSEFRABBA! GOOSEFRABBA! GOOSEFRABBA!

I don't know why I was in hurry.  And I really don't know why I didn't take the time to pee.  I paid for this dearly.  I spent the next 45 minutes wearing a paper shirt that didn't fit quite right and dancing around like a 3 year old while trying to calm myself down.  Enter Dr. Peters just as I was contemplating making a run down the hallway for the bathroom.  "Let's see!"  He didn't have to ask me twice.  He cocks his head to check out the purple phenomenon, and pokes at my right exapander, twice.  He finally says "It's okay, I thought it was going to be much worse!".  I am guessing that the expander responded properly.  I am relieved to hear that this is more than likely caused by tissue and blood vessel regeneration, as the tissue and blood vessels that had been there for the first 39 years of my life had found there way into a hazardous waste pile back in June.

There has been a slight change in plan due to this recent development.  I have 4 more regular radiation treatments left, and then I am scheduled for 5 "BOOST" treatments which were to be aimed at my scars on both breasts.  Seeing as how the right breast is somewhat delicate, we are going to forgo the boost treatments on the right breast so that we don't risk damaging it.  

I spent the evening last night attempting to return my heart to a healthy rate and smothering my upper body with coconut oil which made me irresistible to the boxers....  I cannot stand feeling like me skin is about to crack right in half.

My body just doesn't handle stress well anymore, unfortunately.  I was very thankful last night for my sweet, adoring little boxers who refused to leave my side and my good friend M who most certainly always makes pulling me down off the ladder look very easy!

Thank God yesterday is over with! I hope I never have another Monday like that one ever again!

It's A Lot Like Groundhog Day, The Movie

Well, here I am.  Over 1/2 way through radiation.  I have now had 20 treatments, just 13 more to go.  It feels a lot like the movie, "Groundhog Day".   I just keep doing the same thing over and over, day after day.  Every day for 33 days (with a break on the weekends) at 10:45, strip down, jump up on the table, and try not to pay attention to the burning smell... After all, the smell is in your head and not real.  (Don't ask, I can't explain it!)

But seriously, I'm faring somewhat well with this part of my cancer journey.  My skin, other than a terribly itchy rash covered mess, is holding up quite nicely.  I have adapted a very interesting routine to keep it mending after they hit me every day: aloe, itch relief, aloe, itch relief, aloe, itch relief, and finally a nice paste of salt and baking soda to end out the day.  I get extremely tired every day around 6:00, it's a crazy kind of tired really, sometimes it's all I can do to hold my eyes open any longer.  Other than the tired thing, and the rash thing, the only other problem is that I can't really stand the sun and the heat right now.  I'm assuming that will go away once treatment ends.

I'm having an issue with my brain.  I'm not sure really why I am having these issues.  I can't concentrate on anything, and I don't seem to be accomplishing any of the items on my "to do" list.  It's making me crazy, I am a goal oriented person.  Or at least I was a goal oriented person.  I read something, and 5 minutes later have absolutely no recollection of any of it.   (If you need a partner in crime, I would probably be a good candidate, I'm not gonna remember anything!)  I start doing things, and can't remember what I'm doing.  I really thought chemo brain was gone, obviously it hadn't gone away, it just took a short vacation, and that sucker has returned.

I meant to blog yesterday (but forgot... see what I mean?) because it was my 4 month anniversary of my last mega dose of chemo.  Woo hoo... 4 months!  My body is starting to return to normal- my hair is growing in nicely (although not yet long enough for those extensions that I'm dying for), and my fingernails are almost completely grown out.  I'm having some issues with my eyelashes and eyebrows.  Both hung on the whole way through chemo, I thought I was going to be spared.  Then about a month after chemo ended, I noticed that my usually sparse eyebrows were even more sparse.  They didn't fall out completely, just in places.  Go figure.  I thought that was the end of the hair loss trials, but I was wrong.  2 months ago, I notice that no matter how much mascara I applied, my eyelashes just weren't "popping".... then it dawned on me, they must have decided to fall out too.  Again, I wasn't eyelash-less, they were just really thin.  (That's a funny story, I figured if I couldn't plump up my eyelashes with mascara, I would try applying the fake ones.  After gluing my eye shut about 10 times, and ending up with an eyelash on my nose, I called in the dogs and peed on the fire!)

And this folks, we call progress...

Blonde Moment, Or Chemo Brain?

This is complicated really. Probably too complicated for a brain that belonged to a blonde to begin with.  And definitely too complicated for a chemo brain, but then almost everything is too complicated for a chemo brain!...I've been doing some really bizarre things lately.  I'll never be able to figure out if these somewhat comical moments are caused by lingering chemo brain, or if I should be welcoming the return of my "blonde moments".  Frankly, I had thought the worst of the "chemo brain" was behind me.  I was pretty confident that the hair on my head would hold some of the brain cells in... I seem to be remembering much more (I haven't had to look at my drivers license to remember how to spell my last name in several weeks), and I am relying less and less on the post it notes (thank goodness for that, because I was contributing to a huge growth in sales at 3M all by myself!).

So I am left to wonder, is it chemo brain, or a blonde moment?  Last night, I went to bed with the back door open.  I mean the whole way open.  I had apparently, at some point before retiring let the dogs out, and forgotten to close the door.  I didn't know anything about it until this morning when Lucy jumped out of bed and ran like a crazed boxer straight through the kitchen and out the back door.  I panicked at first, even went as far as to yell, "Lucy, STOP!".  She was running so fast, and I didn't know the door was open, so I was pretty stunned when I didn't hear the sound of a boxer crashing into glass.  Now I'm left to wonder when the "Florida Critters" will start rearing their little heads in my living room.  There is bound to be complete pandemonium, I will be shocked if I do not have at least one frog and one lizard in the house (it wouldn't be the first time!).

I have a real problem with remembering if I closed the garage door (in my defense, my brother also has this same issue, so it's entirely possible that this could be hereditary).  And I worry about it, probably excessively because the door between the house and the garage can open if the pressure shifts and  hits it the right way (I worry that the dogs could get out if the door would blow open!).  Monday, I left the house,  and got the whole way out to the round about when I had that "uh oh" moment.  "Did I, or did I not close the garage door?"  That is the perfect moment to have these nervous breakdowns because I'm already in the roundabout (I swear that roundabouts were invented for people just like me- people who couldn't remember if they turned off the coffee pot, unplugged the iron, or shut the garage door!).  I returned home, and found the door was indeed shut.  But, it mustn't have been very memorable, because I got a mile further than I had originally, when I turned around to check the door for the second time that morning.  I sure hope my neighbors aren't paying attention- they would probably think it's early dementia- frankly I have my concerns.

Yesterday, I drove right past the bank.  Yep, right past it.  Wouldn't have been too bad, except I did it twice.  3rd time's a charm, right?  And my husband wonders why I usually set the GPS no matter where I'm going, it's usually the 1st thing I do when I get in the car, after I figure out where I'm going.  (The only complication with this fix is, I had to shut the voice off because it drives me crazy- YES, YOU CRAZY BITCH, I KNOW I'M SUPPOSED TO TURN THERE.... STOP TELLING ME!  So, if I forget to watch the screen (probability of this is very high...), it's easy to miss the turn.

I searched and searched the other day for my handbag.  I usually put it right on the kitchen counter when I come in the door.  I went back out to the car in the garage at least 3 times- I was a little concerned that I had left it in the buggy at the grocery store.  But, since the car won't start unless the key fob is in the car somewhere, I figured I hadn't done this.  Lucy and Duke sat and watched me like I had gone criminally mad as I ran from room to room, and out to the garage.... I finally found it.... in the refrigerator (I suspect L &D knew it was there all along....).  My husband wonders what I do all day...  Uh, hello!

I put food in the crock pot several days ago.  2 hours later, I could not figure out why the meat did not seem to be defrosting. I thought the crock pot was broken, and transferred the food into crock pot number two.  Why did it not occur to me to check the nob and see if it was turned on?  Sometimes, and only sometimes, food cooks faster when you turn the appliance in charge of cooking the food "ON!".  I'm just sayin.... Take it for what it's worth.

There are definitely more of these kinds of moments, but I'm sure it won't surprise you much to know that even though I know there are more of them, I cannot remember what they are.  I wonder if there are known side effects on the brain from radiation?....

What was I talking about again?

Speaking of which.... today was a milestone radiation day!  I am 1/3 of the way done!  So far so good, my skin is holding up really well- (although I have a rash on my chest that I can't figure out what is causing it.  I suspect the Herceptin might be to blame, because there have been some other weird things going on too!)  It is a tiny bit on the pink side, but I am religious about the aloe and the extra moisturizing cream at night.  I really do not want anything to knock me off schedule!  I need to get this done!

Gotta run, I know there is something I'm supposed to be doing....

Nope, No Way, Ain't Happenin Here!

I realized yesterday as I was pouring my 4th cup of coffee that I am over 1/2 way done with my year of cancer treatment, yet still I am feeling very frustrated.  It's just taking too long!  I should be feeling as if I've accomplished something, right?  The cancer is gone- I no longer have cancer.  But, instead I'm stuck in place that's making me a little crazy.   I am so ready for all of this to be over and done with.  I'm not sure if it's the weird feeling in my chest (thank you little expanders) or the fact that I am on house arrest for another 3 weeks, but I'm experiencing some pretty high levels of attention deficit disorder and dare I say it "anxiety".  (Shh... don't tell the doctor- I'm sure there are pills for that, and I'm sure they would want me to take them!)

The ADD is why I haven't written a blog post in several days, I am completely unable to focus on anything for more than 5 minutes at a time. (And it takes me a heck of a lot longer than 5 minutes to do a blog post!)  The inability to focus on any one thing for any period of time is increasing my frustration because I am usually a very productive, goal oriented person and I can't seem to get anything done.

Nothing would make me happier than to wake up tomorrow morning and have everything be "normal"; with all of my hair back, normal boobs (the kind that don't move around or poke you when you move the wrong way), no tingling in my hands and feet, and well frankly, no more doctors appointments, tests, or infusions, and no restrictions when it comes to working out.  And, just for good measure, I would love it if I could reach the 3rd shelf of my kitchen cabinets without standing on my tippy toes and still wanting to scream!  Ooh, and wait, I'd love if I had my "normal" brain back. (I know, I want a lot right?)   But, I'm not quite there yet, and that is the source of my aggravation at this point.  Can't we speed up the process?  I am really going to have to work on having patience.

I've been told I'm being too hard on myself.  And I probably am.  I'm only 3 weeks post-op (Actually, it's exactly 3 weeks today!) and I've made great strides since surgery.  This is all going to sound funny, but I've had to really work on regaining my ability to do normal, every day activities.   For the 1st several days after surgery, I couldn't lift a cup to my mouth, straws became my best friend.  I couldn't put anything over my head,so all of my shirts had to be button-down.  (I'm not proud to admit this, but all I wanted was to sleep in one of my hubby's soft, comfy t-shirts.  So, I struggled to get it on, and nearly killed myself getting out of it the next morning.  Turns out that on was easier than off!  Thank God there were no video cameras around for that escapade.) I couldn't get dishes out of the cupboards, and I had a hard time putting on my tennis shoes.  All of this has changed- I am almost 100% back to normal in terms of mobility, I can do all of those things now.  My drains are gone, and my incisions are healing nicely.  And I get to go back for another "fill" this week.  (I never in my wildest dreams thought I would be spending my Thursday mornings having my boobs "filled".  Life is just funny like that!)

I'm struggling a bit with my left arm, I've got a ton of tightness down the back of my arm because my axillary nerve was cut to remove the lymph nodes from that arm.  The surgeon told my husband that she had a very hard time getting the nodes out of the left side, and her portion of the surgery actually took longer than expected because of it.  I was warned that my left arm might not ever be 100% and that the numbness might not ever go away. (You have got to be kidding me- are you sure you're looking at the right chart?) But, in the last several days, the tightness has eased, and some, but not all of the feeling has returned. (I still don't have full feeling in my elbow or my armpit, but I hit my elbow off of something this morning, and I definitely felt it.)  I will keep pushing that arm; stretching is the name of the game.  I am not willing to accept that my arm isn't 100%, and I know that I would never be okay with not having that arm be everything it was prior to this stupid cancer business.

So, at this point, there's no where for my frustration to go.  I can only keep myself so busy for so long when I can't really leave the house. I'm not allowed to work out, I can't lift, push, or pull anything over 10 pounds, and I've got a bad case of ADD.  I could cook and bake, but then I would have to eat it, right?   What's a girl to do? (I can tell you that there are 2 boxers that have gotten a ton of cuddles and treats in the last few days!)  If I can focus long enough, I am going to attempt to arm myself with a list of very short-term goals.  Things that I can do in 5 minutes or less, baby stepping it right though my to-do list.  Here's to baby-steps!

This is Temporary. This is Temporary. This is Temporary.

So, day 2 (Wednesday) goes off without a hitch.  I am pretty much blissfully ignorant to any kind of pain within my body, I am uncomfortable, but for the most part numb.  I can handle it.  Every 3 hours, I grab a Percocet and drift back off to sleep.  I hate pain meds, they make me dizzy and I don't feel very stable.  I've never liked taking them, but I've been lectured about this.  I have to take them, and it's better for me to take them before the pain gets too bad.  So, I take the pain pills.  Getting in and out of bed, or out of a chair is extremely challenging and sends waves of pain through my upper body.  If you've ever tried to get up off of a toilet seat without moving a single muscle in your upper body, you can imagine the challenge that I faced. Go ahead, give it a whirl... (I'm not necessarily sure that advising a recent mastectomy patient to guzzle as much water as possible is the best or most relative advice.  While I understand the merits of the advice, it presents huge challenges.  If it didn't hurt so much to laugh, I would most certainly be laughing at this predicament that I've gotten msyelf into!  So, for now, I will make a mental note, and I will definitely have a good chuckle out of this at a later date.)  There is a positive to all of this crazy mastectomy business, I got flowers!  And they're absolutely beautiful!  (But, no, I wouldn't do it all over again just for the flowers!)

Day 3, is different.  It is easier to get out of bed, and a chair.   I'm not sure if this is progress or if I've just learned how to do it without making those horrific waves of pain shoot through my body.  My legs and my abs are definitely my friends in this situation, and the more I use them to do stuff, the easier my life is.  I still get stuck on the floor, because I forget that I am like a wounded bird without a wing and trying to fly just isn't an option.  But, I am used to being on the floor with my dogs and I forget...This situation, I cannot help but laugh at.  Mommy did an "oops" Lucy, and before I know it, she's wiggling all over the place, and I'm laughing even harder.  Huh, amazing, isn't laughter supposed to dull the pain?  Percocet is still my friend, and the numbing that they gave me at the hospital is starting to wear off, but I still know it's there. because I can't feel my armpits, talk about a weird sensation.  I had a long blissful shower on morning 3, after sleeping 2 nights on my back and straight up, this felt like heaven.  I didn't have a ton of bandages, but those are all gone now, and all that's left is this impossibly sexy sports bra.  As I was getting out of bed this morning, I had 2 hot pains, one left and one right.  These pains will revisit me every time I get out of bed, no matter how much much I use my leg and lower back muscles to pull me up, I am suspicious that these have something to do with the drains.

Day 4, I am a woman on a mission.  I must go to Orlando for my Herceptin treatment.  If I miss this treatment, I won't finish my Herceptin by the end of the year.  Besides, it's on the calender. Little do I know, there is great news waiting for me in the oncology department.  I definitely am feeling stronger today than I did yesterday.  Getting showered and dressed still isn't a barrel full of monkeys, but it's easier than it was yesterday, and every day, I get better and better at balancing like a circus act on one leg to put my pants on.  The ride to Orlando is torture, I am not a very good passenger, and my mother does not like driving in traffic.  Despite the fact that the GPS is programmed with step by step instructions, she still has no idea where she's going, it's like she is oblivious to the GPS.  I could have driven myself, I hadn't had any pain meds for at least 8 hours, but there's this nasty business of raising my arms too far before pains start shooting all over the place. (Just in case I've forgotten, however temporarily, that I've just had a double mastectomy and lymph node removal!)  I am pretty sure the steering wheel would have been just "too far".   

So, we make it to Florida Hospital.  Oh how I hate the site of this building.  Of course, I associate it with chemo therapy, and there isn't much about my memories of chemo that give me warm fuzzy feelings (except for my chemo friends of course).  On a mission to the bathroom, I run into my oncologist in the hallway who is shocked that I just had surgery on Tuesday and am standing in her office on Friday.  She asks if I've seen  my pathology report?  Pathology report?  Me?  No!  Bring it on!  My pathology report is 3 pages of great news, or at least that is what she tells me.  It's clean.  Everything is clean.  There is no cancer left in this body!  (I guess my Dear John letter really got to him!)  As I mentioned it's 3 pages long, and I'm not sure what most of it means, I will wait for the surgeon to go over all of that with me on Thursday, but for now, this news make the pain even more tolerable.  Actually, I managed a little dance, I just had to do it!  This is big!  (However, I probably won't be dancing again for a little while...)

On my way home from the oncologists office, my Cigna Case Manager calls.  I have a love/hate affair with this woman.  She never seems to call at a good time, I'm always in the middle of something, or there is always 15 things going on.  And I don't know for sure, but I suspect she is either a victim of dementia or chemo brain, because she always asks me the same question over and over until I just want to scream.  Friday was no different.  Oh, and did I mention, she's always on the hunt for complications.  She just asks over and over again if I have any complications. I view this as negativity and it makes my skin crawl.  Can't she just be happy that I haven't turned green?  I understand that she's just trying to help, but I've got a ton of doctors, and if I do have complications, rest assured I'll be calling them before I call someone sitting behind a desk 1000 miles away- that's why they're getting paid the big bucks!

Day 5, like an idiot, I decide that I am going to be brave today.  I decide that I am going to go pain med free, I just don't feel like I'm in the mood to be dizzy and disoriented all day long.  Where do I come up with these insane plans?  Must be residual effects of chemo brain that are making me take such idiotic courses of action.  Actually, it was not so bad.  I was highly functioning, but pretty damn uncomfortable, all day yesterday, which made me feel good (the highly functioning part).  I still have all of the same issues, but they're definitely getting better.  I do however notice that the back of my left arm is completely numb including my funny bone.....why do I suspect that the fun is just getting started?  My hardest time of day is changing out the drains.  For some reason, the suctioning hurts like hell, I can really feel it.  I am hopeful that these drains will be gone on Thursday at my post-op appointment.  Every day, there is less and less in the little bottles.  I have a feeling that I will feel a lot better once the drains are out.  There are 4 of them, constantly present and digging into me in weird places.  I made it until 8:00 last night without a Percocet.  Then it just couldn't be avoided, I knew I wasn't going to get a wink of sleep if I didn't take one...  

My cancer buddy asked me if the mastectomy was worse then chemo.  As painful as this has been, and will probably continue to be for several weeks, chemo was worse.  Chemo took over my whole body and just made me feel constantly crappy for 18 weeks, maybe even longer.  This is just pain, isolated pretty much to one spot in my body.  And while I can't do most of the things that I'm used to doing, I know that this is very short term, and that I can deal with it.  As long as I'm noticing even just a little bit of progress every day, I will be okay, I can do this.... I just keep getting closer and closer to the light at the end of the tunnel!

My Dear John Letter to Cancer...

I dedicate this post to my fellow cancer warriors, fight on ladies.  

We have definitely got this!  We are survivors!

Mary, Tricia, Christina and Katy:  

I love you guys and am truly honored to call you "friend".

Dear Cancer,

     I'm sorry to do this to you, but I just can't do this any longer...

     It's the eve of the day when my surgeons will remove the remnants of you from my body, and there are a few things that you need to hear straight from me.  You attempted to kill me, and  I'm sure you thought you could beat me.  You probably even looked at me and thought that I was going to be an easy target.  I'm sure you had no idea that I would attack you with all of the fervor and gusto that one little blonde could muster.  I have to give you credit, you gave it a good shot!  However,  you weren't welcome, and I was not the easy target you had me pegged for; turns out I was stronger and I wanted it more, imagine that.  I wasn't willing to let you ruin me, and I most certainly had no intention of letting you take the breath from my body.  I found resolve and strength that I didn't know I had in me.  You picked the wrong target, you would not beat me.  I need you to know that you have not won, and you are most certainly not welcome back here.

     Oh sure, you temporarily got  to me, I won't deny you that.  You started with my breast, and then raced to invade other parts of my body. But, as I'm sure you know, my spirit was untouchable and probably your worst enemy until the chemo started.  I know you happily would have gone further, you probably had your sight aimed on my liver or my kidneys.  However,  you became a challenge to me, and I had other plans.  I wasn't interested in your intentions or your stupid goals.  You had to be stopped.  You forced me to take the most aggressive action that my doctors could come up with.  I had to fight back with the same force that you invaded my body and life with.  With every day, my resolve to beat you became stronger, and my attitude more positive.  A positive attitude is your worst enemy!

     I always said that I would never put those toxic chemicals in my body.  But you left me with no choice but to do exactly that.  I'm only 39, I've still got a lot of life left to live, I've still got a lot left to do and tons to live for.  You had to be taken down, your evil intentions had to be stopped.  This was one battle that you were not going to be declared the victor of.  There was no way that I could do anything but fight back against you.
     
    The 18 weeks of chemo were no picnic... Chemo sucked.  I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.  I have never felt so awful or so tired in my life, and that's saying a lot.  It would have been so easy to throw in the towel.  It's not easy fighting back when you barely have the energy to stand up, and your body aches like it has never ached before, but I wasn't willing to concede.  I could feel the chemo working on you, breaking you down.  It hurt like hell, and many times the pain was so bad I thought I would pass out, but I didn't care.  Fight on chemo...  I'm sure it ticked you off every time I got back up, dusted myself off and went back for another round with even more fury than I had the time before.  And the smile on my face probably wasn't easy for you to see either.  My smile was my armor against you, and no matter how crappy you and the chemo made me feel, I smiled every day because it made me feel better and stronger and I knew you would hate it.  As crazy as it sounds, I even joked about your being in my world.  I made jokes at your expense as you gave killing me your best shot.  My sense of humor kept me sane.  

    I'm sure you know this, and probably take great delight in it, but your unwelcome presence in my body was so enormous that it could not be ignored, although I did try.  I laid in bed at night unable to sleep from the pain that you were causing me, both physically and mentally.  During the day, I had a hard time focusing because you were so strong.  And I refused pain meds as I wanted to be sharp enough to fight you.   I have never felt anything like it, at times I felt like I had been possessed by something more incredible than my wildest dreams.  You turned my entire world upside down,  you are pure evil.  I will never forgive you for choosing me and my body for your little game.  But, just for the record you have not broken me, actually you have made me stronger, although I know that was not your plan.  I will take my life back, and just as a little "gotcha", I promise you that it will be better than before you and your business.

     I lost my hair, my finger and toe nails are a mess, my brain is cloudy and it's just not as sharp as it was before you chose me.  It drives me absolutely crazy that I struggle to finish sentences and find words.   My sight has gone from bad to worse, and I can't read a darn thing without a pair of glasses.  Driving at night is more challenging than I care to admit.  I am full of weird feelings that were not there before chemo therapy enveloped every last crevice of my weary body. My fingers and toes tingle and my muscles are just now beginning to feel normal 6 weeks after my final chemo treatment.  I have a plastic device implanted in my body above my right breast that is a constant reminder of your existence.   It makes many things very challenging, and some days, causes me a great deal of discomfort.   As if all of that isn't enough, I've got 2 surgeons sharpening their knives to remove my breasts from body, and cut the lymph nodes from both of my arm pits.   But, I'm alive, and at this point all that remains of you in my body is scar tissue, and after tomorrow, that will be gone too!  

     I am confident that my hair and my finger nails will grow back, and just as an added bonus, I'm sure they'll be even better than they were before you.  I can't wait for you to see them!  And just so you know, I don't mind the glasses, they make me look more intelligent.  Those glasses are just one more reminder that even though you've been a part of my life, I have not been defeated.  Where this is a will, there is a way. The tingling and the foggy brain are already getting better, and I'm sure that soon, just like you, they will be distant memories.  You will see, I will accomplish great things.  While the breasts that you found a home in will be gone, I have complete confidence that my new ones are going to be spectacular!  When I look at them, I will not think fondly of you, however, I will rejoice in the fact that I am alive, and I am stronger because of my scars.

     As long as I'm airing my grievances with you, you should also know that I did not appreciate one bit the way that your existence worried and stressed out my husband, my family and my friends.  I will never forget the look on my husbands face when the surgeon told him that you had invaded my body.  He never should have had to worry about me that way, he didn't deserve that and my family and friends didn't deserve it either.  But, I bet you weren't counting on them fighting back too.  They rallied around me and gave me the strength and encouragement that I needed to kick you right to the curb.  We don't quit....  I have never felt more loved than I have in the last 6 months.  I had no idea how many friends I had, everyone was rooting for me!  I'm not the only survivor in this great race, my family and friends are victors against you as well, you have broken none of us- we're stronger than you will ever be.  I'm sure you'll never forget this bunch.  Maybe you'll think twice before you pick your next victim.

     What I have to say to you next is going to sting you even worse than the fact that you didn't kill me.  This business with you has resulted in many beautiful things.  I know that wasn't your agenda, and frankly, it ticks me off to even give you credit for anything wonderful or even anything remotely resembling a blessing.   I can only say that the miracles and the blessings that I am uncovering were in spite of your intentions.  You had no intentions of doing anything wonderful for me.  Your plans were only aimed at destruction.  But, I guess I'm not your typical victim, am I?  You're probably not used to your victims looking for silver linings in your dark, evil clouds, are you?  But that is exactly what I did, and believe me when I say not only did I find them, but I cherish them.

     I am stronger mentally and emotionally than I have ever been.  And as soon as this business with cutting you out is over and done with, and my body has once again had a chance to heel itself,  I intend to be stronger physically than I have ever been.  My body will never again be a place where you or any of your cronies will feel comfortable or confident.  As a matter of fact, it will be damn uncomfortable for you.  Becoming a cancer survivor has been one of the greatest challenges that I have ever faced in my life, and you can bet your last dollar that it has made me tough as nails.  I am a survivor.  I've got some battle scars, and a few remaining scrapes and bruises, but you're not going to be a part of my body anymore.  And while your scars will always be a part of my life and my body, they will never get me down.  They will never make me feel angry, or sad, or bitter, of that you have my promise.   You have already been given way too much attention in my world.  I will bear those scars with great amounts of pride knowing that they made a better person.

     I'm pretty sure by now you've had your fill of me.  You should be tired and weary and thinking it's time to move on, and you couldn't be more right.  I know your influence on my life isn't quite over yet.  I've got several weeks of recovery after they take you out of me, and radiation to make sure that there are no tiny parts of you lingering.  But, that's okay, because I know in my heart that you are almost gone from me, and all of these things are just steps to recovery.  I'm sorry to say that I won't miss you, nor will I be sorry to see you go.   I celebrate you leaving my life and my body, and I hope that I gave you the fight of your life because I certainly put up the fight of mine.

  .  

     

My Brief Return To Old Normal

With the destruction of my little attempted murderers impending, I have been on an urgent mission to embrace anything and everything normal, because I know that my activity levels are going to be extremely impaired for what is going to seem like eternity.  I had to swear (although I don't think I convinced him, or that he trusted me) to my plastic surgeon that I would give him 6 weeks, that I would be a good girl and follow all of his orders for the 6 whole weeks. Actually, 2 weeks, until the drains are out, seems like a good compromise. (I did not agree to his request that I not leave the house during that whole time... can you believe he does not want me to even go to the grocery store? And I can't miss my 2 Herceptin treatments... and don't forgot about filling the new "girls" up.... I can't stay home for 2 weeks unless )

Thanks to my lemon, mint, cucumber detoxes, protein shakes and smoothies, and my intense workouts, the physical condition of my body has improved.  While I'm sure that there is still chemo lingering in the smallest crevices of my body, I'm thinking that I've managed to drink, walk, work a good portion of it out.  My legs feel much more like the legs that I started this whole cancer business with, actually thanks to Beach Body, even better.  I can now run up and down the stairs without thinking twice about it, and my energy levels are pretty fantastic for a woman who has just battled stage 4 cancer and 6 rounds of chemo.  I am constantly moving.  (Actually, I'm having a hard time sitting here to type this blog... I'm pretty wired!)  All of this has been very helpful in this whirlwind of activity that I have been embracing.  (I think the activity is keeping my mind off of my impending surgery!)

My cleaning mode has been activated.  In the last week, I have scrubbed and cleaned more than I have scrubbed and cleaned in the last 6 months.  I have basically been in maintenance mode for the last 6 months, running the vacuum and the steamer on the floors once a week, and just keeping up with the house, but it was time to get serious!  I was astonished by the amount of boxer fur that had gathered on the top of my baseboard... and drool.... I found myself saying at least 10 times, how the heck did that get there?  (Thank you Lucy & Duke for making your mama giggle even as she was removing drool from some very bizarre places!  God, how I love you guys!)  Removing boxer drool is not a challenge to be taken lightly, nor is it for the faint of heart, it usually requires insane amounts of muscle to get it removed from our textured walls!  I swear that stuff is part Gorilla Glue, and can always be found in a pinch when you need something to hold something together.

Last night, I met friends for dinner and celebrated my clean PET scan!  We talked for 3 hours about my cancer adventure, my plans for the future, and our boxers!  Last week, one of my girlfriends took the day off of work, and we spent the afternoon by her pool with her boxers.  I am so lucky to have friends that use a vacation day to hang by the pool with me!

And my big excitement for the week... I spent 2 days in the new Florida store.  Drum roll please.  This is no small undertaking.  Our single Florida store is 80 miles from our home (and requires a small amount of planning in order to make the journey: gas, food, water, coffee, laptop, printer, etc, etc, etc.).  The drive is so long that I had to stop twice for pee breaks.  Truth be told, I was a little nervous about the whole adventure.  But, I really wanted, and needed to do it.  It was very good for my spirit.... talking to customers, and just doing some of the things that were familiar to me felt great.... and the big sale I made this morning was the icing on the cake... I've still got it... the effects of that damn chemo brain are starting to fade.  My husband laughed at me when I said that I was excited to be going to work.  I told him that I feel blessed that I can go to work.... Seriously, I do!  I have loved that I have been able to maintain some of my roles in the business while I battled cancer, but I really missed the people.  Selling is really what I love to do...

So, now what do I do?  I've got 2 whole days left to occupy myself...  I feel a trip to Home Depot coming on.

Do Not Ignore Your Armpits...

I have very good reason to be very sensitive about odd feelings in my armpits.  Truth be told, I'm a little afraid of them.  It's very easy to go from never thinking about your armpits unless they need shaved or they stink to becoming obsessed with every little twinge, trust me on this.  All of this cancer nonsense started with pain in my armpits, pain that was quickly dismissed as being a pulled muscle.    So now, I pay attention when they start sending me messages, at the very least I put some thought into why they might be acting strange.  The problem with my armpits is that unlike my breasts, they know that no matter how badly they behave, I can't remove them.  Sure, they can take the lymph nodes, but they can't take the armpits.  My breast isn't giving me any of this grief.

I'm trying to be thankful for the positive silver lining in the armpit situation, I really am.  After all, I have not had to shave my armpits in 5 months, and I don't really sweat any more.  (And thanks to radiation, I may never have to shave my armpits ever again!  Talk about a positive!  Who gets this lucky?)  But, I could use a little break here, really I could!

The last few days, my armpits have been screaming- tons of grief from these bad boys.    Not just one side or the other, but both sides.  Yes, they've hurt before through this whole process, but not like this.  (Is it possible that they've gotten word about what's about to happen to them?  Or are they just really mad at me for killing the lymph nodes off with chemo?)  I'm trying to figure out if it's something I should be paying attention to, or ignoring.  I'm thinking it might just have something to do with all of the working out that I've been doing, and nothing to do with this cancer business.  (Imagine that... an event going on in my life and my body that has nothing to do with cancer!  I swear I've reached a new milestone!)  It could have to do with the mad cleaning frenzy that I'm on.... or even the fact that I cut the grass last night (yeah, probably shouldn't have done that, but when the dogs stand on the edge of the porch refusing to move until they just can't hold it any longer because the grass is too high, it's time to act.).

I think the weird, achy, discomfort in my arm pits started after my 2nd or 3rd chemo treatment.  It was a completely different beast than the initial pain (that was dismissed as a pulled muscle).   It wasn't anything super bothersome, but I did ask the oncologist's assistant about it.  She said that it was completely normal to have some tenderness with chemo when the lymph nodes had cancer in them.  (I discovered that when dealing with her, no matter what I told her, she was going to tell me that it was completely normal.  I could have told her that instead of growing back hair on my head, the top of my head was covered in broccoli spears, and she would have said it was normal.)  So, in true superwoman form, I grabbed my cape and put the bothersome tenderness out of my mind.  I can't fly and pay attention to the pain in my stupid armpits at the same time anyway!

Moving forward a few weeks, I have another chemo treatment,  and now the mildly bothersome, tenderness (that I'm still trying to ignore) starts to move down my arm a little bit and I'm having a hard time getting comfortable at night to sleep.  At this point, I decide it's probably a good idea to have a discussion with the oncologist about it, not her assistant.  So, I tackle the wonky feeling in my armpit situation with her.  I wonder as she's talking to me if she really knows why my armpits hurt, because it sounds a lot like she's making it up as she goes.   I can't help but be shocked that no one has ever asked her this question before, surely I am not the 1st cancer patient to experience wonky feelings in her armpits during chemo treatments.  She does get points, however, because she didn't try to tell me that it's normal.  I guess we just have to face the fact that even though we've given these doctors permission to play around with our bodies, that sometimes they just don't know the answers- I'm not sure if this scares me or not...  I really think it does scare me big time.

I was so unconvinced by her response to my question about the armpits, that I don't even remember how she explained it.  She did tell me it was going to be okay, although she didn't mention when, which oddly, made me stop thinking about it once again.  You can thank your chemo brain for that, I've got the attention span of a 3 week old, or someone who's had 16 shots of whiskey.

At my post chemo consultation with my awesome surgeon, the topic of my lymph nodes came up once again.  For some reason, I had become obsessed with knowing how many of my lymph nodes had cancer in them, and would we be able to determine that from the pathology reports after my mastectomy.  I was told that unfortunately, no, we aren't going to know how many lymph nodes had cancer in them because the chemo breaks them down and makes them unrecognizable.  That was not the clinical version of that, just my interpretation of the situation, trust me when I say, it sounded very believable when she said it.   Maybe this is why my armpits hurt?  I haven't a clue.  All I know is, I will not be sad to see this pain in my armpits go away!

Nor-mal

As cancer patients, we find ourselves holding our breaths very often.  The days and hours waiting for news are filled with anxiety and tons of emotions that range from panic to fear.  We hold our breath and wait to hear that white blood cell counts are "NORMAL".  We hold our breath and wait to hear that MRI's are "NORMAL" and we hold our breath and wait to hear that PET Scans are "NORMAL".  All we want is "NORMAL" even though our definition of "NORMAL" has been forever altered by a cancer diagnosis.

Thankfully, even in my altered mental state, I was not stupid enough to hold my breath waiting for the results of my PET Scan, because I most certainly would have passed out by now.  But, I finally got the call.  The call that I tried not to think about too much this week, because in my heart, I knew what the results were going to be.  Call it women's intuition.  Call it being smart enough to listen to what my body is telling me.  Or just call it being positive.

I knew when I saw the call come up on my phone, they weren't calling to remind me that I have an appointment tomorrow.  They were calling to tell me that the results of my PET Scan were "COMPLETELY NORMAL!".  I was just about rendered speechless, and could barely speak to the women through my tears.  Suddenly, everything came into focus.  It no longer matters that I'm retaining 20 pounds of water and my ankles look like they belong on an elephant.  It doesn't matter that all of my fingernails are falling off.  And it doesn't matter that my head is covered only in light blonde peach fuzz.  I'm just gonna put on a pair of long pants, paint my fingernails and put my wig on and celebrate this news.

I am cancer free!

My Handbag Has Been Taken Over By Sticky Notes...

Exactly when is that moment that you realize you have a problem?  Is it the moment when you reach into your handbag to get the list of things you are supposed to be buying at the grocery store, and instead of pulling out just one little note, you pull out your hand and there are 5 attached?  Or is it the moment when you try without success to figure out which note actually corresponds to that trip to the grocery store?

Exactly when do you start thinking to yourself, "This is ridiculous?"  Is it the moment when your husband says to you, "I know I told you that..." and you scan your brain unsuccessfully to try to figure out what it was he told you, all the while knowing damn well that you just had that conversation 15 minutes prior.

Do you start to wonder if you're loosing your mind when you see that 98% of your desk is covered in notes, and you can't figure out what goes with what, or what day you were supposed to be doing these tasks?  Do you start to think that Alzheimers might be a possibility when you pick up the phone, make a phone call, then search frantically to find the note that corresponds to the phone call you just made while trying to figure out who you called?

If it weren't for several (rather comical) discussions with previous chemo survivors, I would seriously be thinking of checking myself into some kind of nut ward to have my head checked.  But, the scary part of all of this is, I'm told it's completely normal- I am also assured that it is temporary!  I've always been pretty sharp.  I was the queen of multi-tasking.  I could have 2 phone conversations at the same time, all while sending a fax, writing something down and working on a text message all at the same time.  And I could do all of this while petting the dog-  so you can imagine how frightening all of this was to me.

I had so much worthless information in my brain it was ridiculous.  (Maybe that's the problem, maybe my "brain" cabinet imploded!  I knew it was no good to pay such close attention to everything.)  I have always had a photographic memory- at any given point in time, I could locate pretty much any object in the house or in the stores.  And it wasn't just with my stuff, I could tell my husband where all of his stuff was too.  I could remember customer names, and usually what they had purchased.  (Scary, hugh?)  My brain was a fine tuned machine that rarely let me down- unless I was extremely exhausted, and then it didn't quit entirely, it just ran a little slow- kind of like molasses.

So, this ditzy, diziness was all new to me.  And I fought the good fight- in the beginning.  Then things started getting rather hairy and chaotic.  (Making 2 trips in one day to the grocery store, no matter how close it is, is just ludicrous and completely unacceptable- as is walking up to the "office" in our home and having no idea why I was there!).  I had to do something...  And so the endless stream of post it notes began, and now at any given point, I usually have at least 1 if not 2, attached to me in some crazy way... Note to self, stuffing them in pockets is bad, especially when you forget to write yourself a note to take the the note out of your pocket before washing the pants.

I will survive this post-it note era...  I am told that exercising and challenging my brain is a great way to clear the fog.  Writing this blog is one form of reconditioning, as are the crossword puzzles that challenge me on a daily basis.  I can also say that  I'm thankful for the work that my husband thought it best to move into our home when the cancer business started.  Not only do I enjoy doing it, but it's important for me hang onto something familiar from my old life. And it keeps my brain active, and challenged.  But, I will say this, it was a lot easier to do that job with my pre-chemo brain.

Milestone... Crazy Chemo Done!

This is a very special post for me.  5 months ago, I started the journey down the road to being cancer free.  I was undeniably terrified and apprehensive  about what was going to happen to me, but I was determined to persevere, I was, and still am determined to be cancer free.   I hoped and prayed for the best, I hoped that after 6 treatments that the horrible cancer that had invaded my body, and upset my entire world, would be gone. I prayed that I wouldn't be too sick, that I would tolerate the chemo well, and of course that by some serious miracle, my hair wouldn't fall out... Okay, so 2 our of 3 ain't bad.  6 treatments later, here I am, a little worse for the wear (most definitely bald), and most certainly not feeling like myself, however, I can no longer feel the tumor in my breast, the horrific pain that kept me up most nights, and made me uncomfortable during my waking hours, is gone.  The signs of the cancer invading the skin, are gone!

Friday (05-09-14) was my 1st cancer milestone.  The 1st stage of my cancer treatment COMPLETE!  I'm sure it's hard to imagine, but I couldn't wait to get there on Friday morning.  I couldn't wait to be hooked up to those tubes, I just wanted to be done.

I was so thankful for a good nights sleep on Thursday night- the last 3 treatments I've undergone have been undertaken on -0- hours of sleep (which resulted in water-works in the doctors office prior to my chemo started- a tired baby is a cranky baby!).  It was great to make it through my consultation with the oncologist without bursting into tears over the fact that my ankles were swollen to 4 times their normal size, and the aching suspicion that I have that one of my finger nails may be getting ready to fall off (I've never hoped so much that I am wrong about something!).

As the poison (May I take this opportunity to add how ironic I think it is that "poison" would save my life?) trickled into my veins, I looked around that huge room, full of cancer warriors, the room where I have spent so many hours over the last 5 months.... almost 50.  I couldn't help but get a little nostalgic (I am a nostalgic, sentimental person by nature). There I sat, waiting to be finished with my treatment, surrounded by some of the kindest, caring, funniest, and feistiest people that I have ever met, people that I never would have met had it not been for cancer.  And then it hit me, I am a member of this of brave, feisty,  determined club.   I couldn't help but smile- I am in seriously good company.  CEO's of the worlds largest companies have nothing on a cancer warrior- only a real bad ass can take on cancer- this isn't for the faint of heart or weak of nature.  Believe it or not, over the last 18 weeks, I've had some pretty remarkable moments in the chemo room.  I've made a few friends, I've smiled, I've laughed, I've heard amazing stories, and I've celebrated a few "last chemo's".

Cancer survivors are a very elite group of people.  People of all ages, genders, and nationalities who can say that stared cancer in the eye, and won.  And as I'm finding out, there is a definite kinship for fellow warriors.  I have yet to meet a survivor who wasn't willing to offer words of encouragement, or share a funny story.  When you're in the throes of battle, those words are extremely crucial to survival.  They make you stop and think, "I can definitely do this!" and they make you feel like you're not alone.

There comes a certain peace in being surrounded by the words of others who are in the same place that you are, or who have been there.  I love reading the comments posted on my blog- part of it is knowing that someone is reading my blog, but it's also hearing that someone else is feeling just like I do right at that very point in time- that maybe the crazy chemo induced thoughts that race through my garbled mind on a daily basis aren't so strange.  While each of the cancer warriors are different, we're all alike in a lot of ways.  Most of us have the same thoughts, concerns, and fears, and we all strive for the same thing, to be healthy, and cancer-free.

Have a beautiful day fellow cancer warriors, and know that you've brightened my world....

Mambo No. 5... Oops, I Mean Chemo No. 5

That damn chemo brain got me again.  Actually, maybe thinking of the Mambo No. 5 is a good pick me up- it's so much more fun to chant "Mambo No. 5"!"

So, yes, Friday was chemo treatment number 5.  In a lot of ways, I can't believe that I'm finally here!  I only have 1 more to go! The road has been a tad on the long and windy side (especially when you're equipped with rubbery chemo legs), and mostly uphill,and I'm pretty sure my feet have been bare, and did I mention it's been a 101 degrees with zero clouds, or maybe those were just hot flashes.  Regardless, there I was bright and early on Friday morning, staring down one more mega chemo treatment in the eye. ...  Kinda feeling a little like John Wayne, without the cool gun and the cowboy boots, and minus the horse....  I will be so glad when this is behind me!  I won't miss these treatments one bit.  Sorry Charlie!

I have a standing date with my oncologist prior to each and every treatment, and this was the first time that there were things that I could check off on the "Complications" list they hand me every time I walk in there: mine is usually blank!   There have been very few snags along my chemo journey until the 4th treatment (Aka the Mack Truck Chemo Treatment), other than the pesky little cold and the rash from the Perjeta, and I feel very fortunate to have tolerated treatment so well.  (And hell, I'm very thankful that most of the issues on that sheet don't even come close to pertaining to me!  With everything else I have going on, I don't think I wanna worry about most of that stuff!) At any rate,  I think she was shocked that anything was actually awry- but my "issues" were really bothering me.  I guess that looking back on the situation, my extreme fatigue (I didn't sleep a wink on Thursday night thanks to the steroids) made everything seem just a bit worse than what it actually was, but shouldn't I be allowed to complain just a tad?   I was probably the equivalent of a tired, hungry, wet 3 month old baby at that point on Friday morning.  (The 1 hour and 30 minute wait did nothing to ease my cranky baby syndrome!  And when you add to it the small fact that we had to leave the house at 7:00 in the morning to get there for the appointment, well I am pretty sure I earned the right to be just a teensy, tiny little bit on the cranky side.)  I know that by the time I finished telling her through my sniffles about the last 3 weeks, that I needed a kleenex.

I was having a very persistent, unpleasant, and annoying tingling in my legs and fingers, it was the kind of thing that was keeping me awake at night, I couldn't get comfortable (and we all know that this breast cancer patient has more than enough issues with sleep at this point).  It's a known side effect, so truth be told, I had kind of anticipated it's arrival, however, that does not mean that I have to like it, nor do I have any intention of accepting it as the norm. I had actually thought that if it hadn't appeared by the 3rd treatment, that maybe it wasn't going to.  Boy, was I mistaken!  I suppose I could have lived with the prickling in my fingers in toes had they not been accompanied by extreme water retention (aka the jelly fish issue) in my ankles and fingers.   Those two things combined, were not a wonderfully warm and fuzzy combination.  Why is it that hearing that something is common only makes me want rid of it more?  I don't want to be "common".  And I want it gone... Vamoosh!  Where's my wand?  (Oh I forgot, I got a cape instead of a wand...)

The tingling and the jelly fish issue, coupled with some of my other teensy, tiny little complaints (sinus wonkiness, rubbery legs, aching finger nails....etc, etc, etc.)  made the doc think twice about our course of action on Friday.  She suggested giving me lasics with my treatment on Friday, decreasing my steroids, and cutting back my Taxotere.  I was very hesitant to cut back on the Taxotere,  and I came right out and told her so.  I was so afraid that cutting back would somehow compromise my ultimate goal. She assured me that this tiny little decrease probably  wasn't going to change anything....  So, that's what we did.

I slept most of the day as my sweet nurse kept filling my veins with the wonderful poison they call chemo.  It certainly makes the day go faster (my treatments are 6 hours!).  And sleep is mostly what I've done since Friday, heck, I had to catch up after that sleepless night on Thursday.  I'm not 20 any more, and even pre-cancer, sleep was extremely essential!  I definitely feel better today than I did yesterday, and tomorrow I will feel even better...

Chemo Has Taken My Tumor and My Brain...

And I want my brain back- it can keep the tumor.  I will admit to a certain amount of skepticism when I had several different people tell me about chemo brain, I probably even said to myself at some point along the way "It won't happen to me!".  Although they were people had been there, done that, it just sounded like there was no possible way that it could actually exist, or maybe only happened to people who went through this when they were older.... surely 39 is too young to be brain dead?  Truthfully, even the scientists are skeptical that it exists.  However, after 4 chemo therapy treatments, I am here to tell you that I am a victim of "CHEMO BRAIN".  It is real, it does exist, and I'm not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing.

The effects of chemo brain have been getting noticeably worse as I have progressed through treatments.  My 4th treatment on Friday was harder than any of the treatments that I've had to date, so I guess it would go without reason that the effect on my already disappearing brain function would be high, and it was.  Coupled with insane nausea, and exhaustion like nothing I've ever felt before, I just wasn't expecting brain function to be nil.  I made an attempt at calling about a telephone work order and couldn't remember the phone number that I was calling about.  I've been asking my telephone number, and I can't recall that either.  I sure hope that I don't wander away from home in the middle of the night with no ID, I may never find my way back home again.  I start doing things, and have no idea what I'm doing.  The smallest tasks are excruciatingly challenging, and not in a good way.

As someone who is mostly "sharp as a tack", with the occasional blonde moments only peaking out every once in a while, this has been a big challenge.  I feel like I'm in a fog, it's like my brain has taken a permanent vacation and left no forwarding address.  I start walking up the stairs, and forget why I'm going to the office.  I turn on water, and walk away forgetting that it's running.  And the worst part of all of this, the only time that my brain seems to function in a normal, every day way, is the middle of the night.  Why is that?  I can be wide awake at 2 AM having world changing thoughts raging through my brain, but I have difficulties making coffee at 7:00 in the morning.  I feel like I'm a 39 year old dementia victim.

Of course, there is a flip side to this coin.  As a highly functioning, OCD type, perhaps I would be going seriously crazy if my brain were functioning at the level that it usually does.  I mean that I had one of those brains that would go in 100 different directions at the same time, and usually come up with some pretty decent ideas.  (I wasn't ending world hunger, but my brain has had some good moments!) I can only imagine the kinds of things that I would be thinking about if my brain were normal.

The brain that I'm functioning with borders somewhere between a carefree 7 year old, completely fascinated by bubbles in the tub, and the shape of the clouds in the sky, and a 20 year old with some sense of responsibility in the world, but not enough to actually loose sleep over anything that they aren't taking responsibility for.  I guess this brain is doing it's part to keep me from focusing or dwelling on all of the stuff that I feel I should be doing (because I've always done it), and makes me focus on the fact that I should only be focusing on recovering from chemotherapy and cancer....

So, I guess I am stuck with this brain for a while.  I certainly hope that my old brain returns to me after this is over, or we may have big problems!  (I don't think my husband much appreciates this brain that I'm using now!)  For now, I guess I shall just enjoy being blissfully unaware of the fact that there is boxer slobber on the trim around my bedroom door... because well, my brain just doesn't see that as a big deal right now.