tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50548621047050850942024-03-19T20:55:01.494-07:00Knock Knock , it's cancer!Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.comBlogger68125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-72389651305889823812011-11-07T13:22:00.000-08:002011-11-07T13:22:15.825-08:00Nothin' to see here<div style="text-align: center;">
I think I'm ready to close this blog. </div>
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I have many things to say, but not lots to do with cancer. At least, not as much as other stuff. So I have moved blogs a few weeks ago, and started something new. </div>
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After all, this blog was always meant to be a transient blog. Of course, if I do have cancer updates, I will still post them here for you to see. Let's hope there are not many of those.</div>
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What I've realized with my new blog though, is that it's not nearly as much fun to write when no one is reading, which is why I'm spilling the beans here.</div>
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If you don't know me in 'real life' please <a href="mailto:michellefarrance@gmail.com">email me</a> and I'll re-direct you to the new blog.</div>
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Sounds funny, I know, but I want to write about my life (and sometimes the people in it, lol) so I don't feel comfortable sharing the blog with anyone but cyber friends. </div>
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That way, I don't have to censor what I'm <strike>bitching</strike> writing about.</div>
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If we part ways here, thank you for being part of my life for the past 11 months. I am truly thankful for your part in my 'journey'. Your comments and your thoughts lifted me up on bad days and have helped me get through this. And on good days, your comments and ideas made me laugh and hope.</div>
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Thank you for reading "Knock Knock, it's Cancer" - I will post a link here if my book is ever published.</div>
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Later Gator.</div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-81038475107384258012011-10-28T14:07:00.000-07:002011-10-28T15:12:31.425-07:00What do you DO everyday?<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXjjfYg0MrFYVwuv51d5u6cGixmKghyFHZXfZvX0rbBntjzRnw_P0p7y5wOdYaWsdx4JZdQv4g88-E_8FAXZ_2_2V_UNVQHYrCOe6clzGL2sIRCpJVR3R_6i-IuFuyKNgV-03mMo-FOsPw/s1600/DSC_0086.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: center;">I hear this question about once a week. Usually it's from well meaning people, who have no intention to be hurtful. Other times, it's from people who haven't seen me in a while and are just catching up with me now. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Either way, once they hear that I finished treatment, the question becomes "What do you do now?"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I understand the curiosity that comes with that, and I guess the time has come to internalize that and really figure out what it is that I DO everyday.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I suppose I should start with the obvious. </div><div style="text-align: center;">And when I say 'obvious' - I realize this part is only obvious to me, and not everyone else. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">But, the obvious answer is I am NOT finished treatment yet. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">As happy as I am that I survived this disease, I am not out of the woods quite yet. I am still on chemotherapy and will be for the next 5 years. FIVE YEARS I will be on chemo. This magic little chemo pill helps me keep the cancer from coming back (Hopefully) but in the process it makes me moody, tired, gives me headaches, makes me sick, hurts my joints and bones, keeps me awake at night with insomnia and puts me in menopause (and all the wonderful things that go with that) </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Honestly, some days, I just try to make it through the day.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;">I may <i>look </i>okay, but I am far from feeling okay.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The second thing I want to point out is that I still have a handful of medical appointments each week still - be it for the oncology ward, the physio therapist or the support meetings. I am constantly surrounded by medical personnel. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This makes it kind of hard to 'forget' about cancer. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I still take (many) pills/injections/immune boosters every day so that my body can function the way it's supposed to.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> At the appointed time my iPhone rings with my alarm.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Just the other day I was out looking at some jeans, and my 11 am alarm rang "Take Tamoxifen" it says (I just looked at the sales lady and said 'oh, it's just my chemo alarm - do you have these in size 4?') </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I am learning to live with it, but that doesn't make it normal.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Before I go to sleep every night, I pray that my cancer will not come back. The first thing I do when I wake up, I pray that my cancer will not come back. Even though to my oncologist I am 'in remission' - to me, it feels like I am always waiting for something bad to happen again. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It's a terrible way to live, and I hope that one day cancer will not be the first and last thing on my mind. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Time will heal that.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I nap during the day most days, because my body is tired. (And this is not the kind of tired that you can sleep and be rested) I feel fatigued, deep inside my bones. </div><div style="text-align: center;">My legs feel heavy, so do my arms. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So I nap.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Once or twice, when people hear this they say 'must be nice to nap during the day' - again, a simple comment, but such a slap in the face. Nothing about this entire experience is 'nice'. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Not even the napping.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I would rather be working and living how I was before than be off on disability. </div><div style="text-align: center;">But that is not my reality and I try to make the best of it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">On good days, I see my BFF who is also off work on maternity leave, we meet for lunch. Or I go have coffee with some other friends who are also 'lucky enough' to be off on disability because they too, have cancer. We meet and talk and understand each other.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The other day, I went to a breast cancer support group with my friend Shonna. She has cancer too. We were there about 2 hours, and as we left she whispered to me ' Are you coming back?' and I responded with a 'HELL NO'. You see, this group - as good as it was, was made up a bunch of older ladies (60s or so) and so their needs/concerns/fears didn't match mine. Breast cancer is supposed to happen to 'older' ladies, but everywhere I look I see women my age who are going through it. Women like me, faced with their own mortality and have babies to raise at home. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>It's not supposed to be this way.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So, that night Shonna and I decided that it was time to start our own breast cancer support group. For women who were diagnosed under the age of 40. Sadly, there are more than enough (in my small town) to fill a room. There are 3 of us that are meeting regularly and hopefully as the group takes off, there will be more. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This may seem so un-interesting to anyone else, but it's my entire life line. I may not have cancer anymore, but the 'relationship' I have with cancer is everlasting. It changed who I was. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I feel that I've been given another shot at life. A second chance. So I am bound and determined to make my life exactly what I've always wanted it to be. I want to make it count. I want to make a difference (sounds corny, right?) I want to write a book. I want to see my kids grow up.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So, the next time someone asks me ' What do you DO everyday?' I may just respond with:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I live.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0XbD0c1uQbATX6REHKUJwgWBjby0d9Yj-YjtEJ0xmLSL8qeSvl-V8Ra5qECGxmTNVVHpO84eBb1pbU7N-YNnHofL1OxsEvaJ6BrnuU7UfbrtdkxJTuQ5apuUO1sxLsCYRJ70t-CK55SQo/s320/DSC_0087.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668669270096431074" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-13861239308408164132011-10-05T22:52:00.000-07:002011-10-24T10:16:34.377-07:00My last 10 months in pictures<iframe width="480" height="270" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Op-qTaThxv0?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-67493520525566916172011-10-04T10:03:00.000-07:002011-10-04T10:13:16.032-07:00Breaking News<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The results are in and I DONT have the breast cancer gene!! Woohoo</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I am so excited. I was quite scared when they called me (as I was driving down the freeway at 100 km an hour) 'is this a good time to talk'? Ummm. YES IT IS. I even pulled over. Then I reached for my paper bag and realized it was in the other car. Darn it. "Okay, I'm ready!" </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">"Bla bla bla... you don't have the BRCA1 and BRCA 2 mutation... bla bla bla" That is all I heard.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Since I have a little girl, this is especially good news for me. And her.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> That means, genetically at least, I am not defective. </div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-64326335286723824752011-09-23T17:30:00.000-07:002011-09-23T17:48:34.457-07:00I have awesome blog friends<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSFJeDr1j2RldsNVU3NQ5tRyq-PTobEOQ6RlPng5Aq-sKLLjNybOFGxr54BN3l8OzhtSIv48_p2cPbNVNy1cHNPAQBwl5dp1WDam23OHhWUpQc2cjhZLbPYStSTtUgOz42daAKOlEH_v0R/s1600/DSC_0365.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: center;">Well, here's yet another silver lining to this whole cancer thing.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I got to know some amazing people through this blog - random strangers I met by accident because we are all fighting this life threatening disease.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Through the last 9 months they have shared their stories with me, their lives, pictures, and their fears. And I did the same with them. We have gotten to know each other intimately.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">In the middle of the night if I couldn't sleep, I could send off a quick email to my 'cancer buddy' and know that when I woke the next morning, there would be an understanding reply. When I was unsure of treatment side effects, I could rely on the experience of my new found friends to guide me through it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Just last week, my friend at <a href="http://www.darngoodlemonade.com/">Darn Good Lemonade</a> finished her treatment!!! Yeay Mandi! So excited for you - and in her post she mentioned she got a 'diploma' from her cancer facility for 'successfully completing the treatment.'</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I was overjoyed for her.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Then I sent her a whiny email about how '<i>my cancer facility didn't give me a diploma</i>'. She must have felt bad for my sob story, because not even a week later this awesome package arrived in the mail.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Brad thought I ordered something online, but NOPE, it was a care package from my friend.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">She ordered this for me and then went to the trouble of UPS-ing it!!!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSFJeDr1j2RldsNVU3NQ5tRyq-PTobEOQ6RlPng5Aq-sKLLjNybOFGxr54BN3l8OzhtSIv48_p2cPbNVNy1cHNPAQBwl5dp1WDam23OHhWUpQc2cjhZLbPYStSTtUgOz42daAKOlEH_v0R/s320/DSC_0365.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5655720629746169074" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">In case you can't read the engraving, it says: </div><div style="text-align: center;">"Michelle (my last name) you are a cancer fighting ninja" </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I know you're jealous. I think it's the most thoughtful and funny gift ever. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Now, I need to find a special podium for my trophy.</div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-25975113302463649542011-09-17T05:59:00.000-07:002011-09-17T07:32:05.892-07:002011 - the best year?<div style="text-align: center;">I'm not talking about wine. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I am talking about my life. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I've been meaning to write about this for a while, but I always wonder how to start it. Most people will think I've gone crazy. They'll probably phone my doctor. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I am going to go on a limb here and say it out loud: </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">'2011 may have been one of the best years I've had so far'</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">'BUT YOU HAD CANCER!' - I hear you shouting at your computer.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And that is true. I did. </div><div style="text-align: center;">(Notice I wrote 'Had' and not 'Have'? That was intentional)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I had one of the worst possible things that could have happened to me, happen. </div><div style="text-align: center;">A life threatening illness.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I had fear, anxiety, pain - oh, so much pain, stiffness of joints, amputation of 2 body parts, weight gain from steroids and chemo, hair loss, lung punctures and scars, and burns.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Not to mention the sickness that comes with chemo.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">YUCK.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This pretty much sums up my last 9 months. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">BUT </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">it happened early in 2011 - only 2 weeks in, so there was still time for this year to save itself.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And it did.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Along with the above mentioned things I've also had more kindness shown to me in this year, than I had ever had before, people came out of the woodwork to visit, to call and to send flowers. I have never felt so loved, by strangers, and by my family.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I've gained tremendous insight into this disease, more than I could have ever known from standing on the sidelines, and therefor have become a more compassionate person. Because of my experience, I now 'know the right thing to say' when I hear someone else is going through it. In fact, twice this year I have received phone calls from 2 different gals who found a lump in their breast. Because of my experience, they chose me as their contact person.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And because of my experience, I could be there. Really listen. Cry with them.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This type of understanding was foreign to me before.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And even though their journeys ended before they really began, (lump turned out benign) - I felt that for a brief moment, I was helpful to them.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I now understand first hand how it feels to walk down the street and have people look at you with that 'look'. (you know, the 'oh, you poor thing, you have cancer' - look) I've given out that look a few times myself in the past. It's a very humbling experience to be on the other side.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">My family has grown so much closer together this year. It's hard to pinpoint exactly when it happened, but over the course of 2011 - I can honestly say we are a tighter bunch.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I was home with my children for the last 9 months. I saw them off to school (almost) every day - except when I was too sick- and I picked them up from school (almost) every day. I went on field trips, I went to school plays and every single concert/rehearsal/award ceremony/assembly.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I felt like the luckiest person in the world - simply because I was given the gift of 'being there'. Just present.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I am also present in the moment. That is a new concept. I used to be 10 steps ahead All.The.Time.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I would be on vacation, and planning the next one in my head. I would be receiving a paycheck and immediately putting in a percentage in my RRSP for <i>later</i>. I would say 'later' when my children would ask me to 'come see this' because I was busy cleaning or making supper.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">NOW - I am here. Fully.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I live now.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I listen to my kids now. Not later. I play now. I enjoy the moment I have with whoever I have it with - now.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I still (secretly) plan for 'later' but certainly not with the same intensity. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Later will come, well... later.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Having had my breasts removed was a huge opportunity for talking to the kids about how we view (and judge) others. It provided hours upon hours of discussions, that lead to interesting and meaningful conversations. Conversations that would not have occurred naturally if I didn't have to make the choices that I did. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">My hairloss was also bittersweet. I didn't wear wigs often. I didn't wear scarfs that much. I often went bald. Sometimes that brought on looks. Most times it softened people. Strangers would walk up to me and share their stories, their pain. It was amazing. Like I had been given some special powers to attract people to me, only they were no powers. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Just a bald head.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Brad and I have been together a little over a year and a half, and cancer has been our companion for 9 months of that. At our 'honeymoon' phase of our relationship, we were dealing with things that can put strain on the most solid of marriages. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We 'survived' together.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">He has been my ongoing support system, day and night. When I needed a cry, he held me. When I needed a laugh, he made me smile. He allowed me to be exactly who I was at any given moment and for that I am so grateful.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I felt beautiful the entire time. Granted, I was on some heavy medication, but I think mostly it's because I have a fantastic partner.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I used to be organized - almost anally so. I called it 'efficient'. Some people thought it was extreme. I was wound real tight. Short fuse. I'm happy to report that the fuse has loosened somewhat, and maybe even lengthened by a foot or two.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm still TYPE A - of course, I mean come on now, I can't totally change. But I am more relaxed.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I distinctly remember about 3 situations that happened and me saying 'wow' - 'i would have handled that so differently before'... this type of growth could never have happened in such a profound way - had I not had cancer.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The people I've met in the last 9 months, in the hospitals, in the chemo rooms ... I've made friendships to last a very long time. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">One of my closest friends is an employee from the cancer centre. She and I hit it off immediately and managed to evolve into a friendship outside of the 'worker/patient' structure. Another gal I absolutely love is someone I sat beside in the chemo chair. Now, we talk or text every single day. My life has been enriched by people like this.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The last thing that I noticed has improved is my diet. My lifestyle. Because of the research that I had to do - based on my type of cancer - I am now vegan. (Well, the meat part just happened 2 days ago, but the dairy and eggs has been gone for months) I am learning how to use plant based foods to keep my body fed. I am speaking with a dietician, reading books and making a plan that I can stick to so that I can achieve optimal health. I have never been much of a 'granola eating' gal before, but I am now. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I have the opportunity to change my lifestyle and I am grateful.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I know this post is a little hoky, but it's from the bottom of my heart.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I really feel that God/Universe has touched me on the shoulder this year and said:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b><i>'Excuse me, I think you may be on the wrong path - you may want to consider taking a new one'</i></b> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> and in every way, I am.</div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-66616610898309654722011-08-31T17:34:00.000-07:002011-08-31T17:49:21.079-07:00Good News Bad News<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">What do you want first?</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The Good News or the Bad News?</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Bad News is that my radiation burn is getting worse by the minute. Literally. Half an hour ago, it hurt less than it does right now.</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Here is an updated picture of the skin around there</div><div style="text-align: center;"> (compared to a few days ago in the post below) </div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUs5OubgSFeO59BEZsxIzECvpz5A4Bakrch51agurAtj9618rS6JszSUv0zuuAaAIwp3Kwu-zGGJxBpETcUyfwAlD7pS73iU_HBk2vlQ7lgtAxwkPqznVmfQtL9WqluqkUv63Q3N1Zw4qW/s320/DSC_0152.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647185527874570738" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Point made, right?</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Now on to the good news:</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">My hair is growing like a weed. </div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I remember about 4 weeks after chemo finished, I was still bald as ever. Everyone was asking me when my hair was gonna come back (As if I'd know!) </div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Then finally, around week 7 after chemo (took it's time didn't it!) Brad said he could start seeing somewhat of an outline of possible hair growth. </div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Then a week later, there was definite hair, and now, even more so!</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Check it out:</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Last week:</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvuchYgZB1yJBMje-PTwoE8B030J_vM6IAxtA0YClOeyaTlGRujIRnNobuvSbICw_RZBNgbtNaabA5y3CNMaiyqFEA-qCenNuFfXBgAoTicGng0Z9tib99kb0OcKxcuGF0al8ymkQtSpAW/s320/DSC_0135.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647185534205023762" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihX6SnT3a1iVnhK28yFjAzKycnzA0nODZ-VMnuSSgS-8Bxs4JkM5FTXBzHKg5mPnyGQ3VbI1FcEhbLnoI2JnLYUyM4lKt_6MbAuj8lpYe_pcAl78NyKUKMVUmMgE8t0zFdmRd_2zi1m4VD/s320/DSC_0134.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647185537749978274" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">This week:</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpxYycD_HEwyB29kADOM7amohcu2G3GUqcFDy9rKPcz2yCZ0Wnz0-X6glIc0bKilhheuIa_5VDeC4v7xJxm3GEy2Y-7VCCkWkOulxwRcxSr8ZA7iAVf3nNXynpclN0nXJ49DxjR0ujYlbV/s320/DSC_0144.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647186347543309858" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPVKcH4kS2LvbDgdk4p3phwoBHAP5mD1aEdqdv1BYfVlThi0A3I3ilzLY6vkAw5VtZCWyCpMpX75hDaFotehdLjNe7mqbNYFkLRJNTOnTMMxEgDmk7JtfhIG_A1_tDM4jI6oBgz1EC_MXm/s320/DSC_0145.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647186345178536514" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">By this time next week, I'll be braiding it for sure.</div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-91409916316001932312011-08-26T20:37:00.000-07:002011-08-30T15:53:12.549-07:00Officially done radiation - plus pics<div style="text-align: center;">Alright peeps - I'm back and I'm done with radiation!</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Can you believe it? </div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">All D.O.N.E. with radiation!</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I am burnt, but not too bad, not itchy or uncomfortable yet so I guess I did okay. It will remain in my body for the next 2 weeks though, so I expect it to continue to get redder. And sorer.</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I even have pictures for you!</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil5M5crldlTP4OWP_FO450bVqe2EE0BVt49xIFS6MfeuPGBmrYgjPRWer-4E0zdYgLmfqS-Oi-9N0w-zHcJ2Me8clDS41NdumrC1ZU1PgWPhQalWW30QB7FpBWdRxYGKTglxwYHvBdPsrm/s320/DSC_0064.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645379604680906066" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;"><i>Awww... they are getting the machine ready for me. I get my own mold to lay in. (As you can see there are plenty of molds hanging - our name is on each one)</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbxh-96mYLh3AiK70APM3YXv3lnccfJDxsIaepOM4a97OObOImoeaRRiR1zpMHi1kRTAXwwZiSxNO7bqkhFAytYU8G1nBET0ReEc7STG_6MqdtxkOZxTVk82DZzZkv9N3GtlJXZo2-yyM9/s320/DSC_0073.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645379601308005122" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:85%;">As I lay there I mostly have my eyes closed. But if I didn't, I could look up and see their version of a palm tree decorated on a fake skylight in the room.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I know you've wanted to see the inside of the radiation room, while I'm lying in the machine. I have my arms above my head (and my ipod in my hands so I can listen to my favorite music instead of their yucky elevator music).</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNudnkz1sEPmShrHI1Hw-8qnBb6K4kKQEPZ8Z8vaUxHoOIWZyokDDPQ9wnRM843yxPvEDooii6W9v_PZYcqzYkU-VQszHNn2Jmth6TGcHLif9F8lk18Mar4bncFSCk5KBBDwE6Zcg5fvha/s320/DSC_0074.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645379613090709810" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-size:85%;"><i>The nurses are pushing buttons and from this angle I look pretty comfortable, but in fact my arms have the 'pins and needles' felling fairly quickly. I lay like that with my arms above my head for 12 minutes every day.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">I've got two nurses fussing over me but it's not all luxury. They are also making sure they are lining me up right (by drawing on me with black felt pens!!) so that the laser beams go in the right spots.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfGd8XNf7xhhXTJfwkoP4OKRQpPbmS8QF0PUOeLJ6D-eYQgMaXqJH4LWYyp6QKHBsyPfiskECh-gfxHzXqu9Uy8GGkDeIUeFWx5j18mOcOqSuaElpbbJr1rn9iDHEp4H6TNb5XSX_Q_AeK/s320/DSC_0116.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645382712507544114" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-size:85%;"><i>Talk about being monitored. </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">When they're confident that I'm all lined up, they leave the room and start watching me through their TV. They also press a bunch of buttons on the computer to make sure the machine buzzes and spins around me. You can't see them in the photos but there are green lasers pointed at me from different angles, suggesting I better lay still or else...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivG6vf5GM5r3ZTG-N-UeAyD2QitVlPAZMHAu62Mm7Lbp6mAlmhvv5Vsu1kvChNRgy2qAZp8AQ5Js0AZDBeXgXjky_-GXkfUeFHyiOQCFn64amU87dIJZYyuJp41IjdVve9xSIvDR7MtM5q/s320/DSC_0109.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645382702941377522" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-size:85%;"><i>It's far too small to see from here, but on the second computer, in the top left corner, you can see my body and my organs inside... cool eh? They need to make sure they avoid the other organs as much as they can when they do the radiation. </i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; ">
<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI9tz8ECYYKYhJr9xXNB3DsknQmQg8avkt0YgyY_MQFuuor4GT4O5ZeSLsXalb_tVvGY7VTYZOPeOUJsgHQOfcS2663bn1Nles9NR3tXtQ51cyRu1X0mMbnuE9DVankrtmGF4f1KbCTV2b/s320/DSC_0136.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5645384581081156722" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><i>And this is what my chest looks like now - red, bumpy and scarred. </i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-size:85%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><i>
<br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;">My hair is also starting to grow, it started a couple of weeks ago and I feel a little like a chia pet. It sticks straight up and is soo soft, I love it. I am constantly rubbing it. My eyebrows are also growing in, and I even had them threaded the other day (well, the 9 of them that are there)</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;">In September I move on to Tamoxifen (oral chemo) and my injections of choice, Lupron and Zometa... (trying to stop my ovaries from producing estrogen) I have decided to go this route for now instead of the hysterectomy. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;">
<br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;">We'll see if I change my mind...</span></div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-3487969856359180112011-08-12T19:56:00.001-07:002011-08-12T22:41:55.138-07:00Radiation<div style="text-align: center;">I've been going for a week and a half. And I keep meaning to tell you about it, but I think "I have to get pictures next time" and always forget. </div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So, instead of waiting to remember to take pictures 'next time' I will let you know what I think of radiation now. </div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I may never remember my camera.</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">There are 2 rooms they use - unit 1 and unit 2 - the machines are loud and mega loud respectively. </div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">But I don't discriminate -I hate both units. </div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The ladies working there are quite nice. Their whole job is to line me up 'just right'. They have calculators, lasers and my mold to help them. They are constantly calling out numbers at each other across the way. Kind of like at the Seattle fish market. </div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">But less stinky.</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I sometimes wonder what will happen if one of them calls out a number and the other one mishears her - will they radiate the wrong body part? That would suck.</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">After about 5 minutes of rearranging me, all the healthy people leave the room and I am left with the machine. It moves all around me, sometimes coming quite close to me then other times backing away. It makes a buzzing noise while it radiates me. </div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I have 7 buzzing noises in 12 minutes.</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I don't know if that is a little or a lot. </div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">But it's irritating. </div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I sometimes have a small panic attack in there since I get claustrophobic and the noises don't help. They make it worse. I count the times til I am done - 13 more!</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So far the skin has darkened a bit, and has a light pink shade to it, but nothing too much. I've heard horror stories about people's skin falling off during radiation so I am expecting the worst, but so far, it's not bad. </div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Of course, it may just be too early to count my chickens.</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Brad will come with me on monday and promises to take pictures! When he does, I will post them so you can see what I'm talking about.</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">In other news - my hair is a 'darker shade of bald' (as one other blogger put it). Brad keeps telling me he thinks it's growing back, but so far, I don't see it. In fact, the little small amount of fluff that remained is now falling out. It seems backwards doesn't it? I'll keep you posted and as soon as I see a reasonable amount of hair, I'll share a picture for you to see too!</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We will then have officially hit all the milestones.</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Which brings us to my next thought: I have a feeling this blog may soon have run it's course... there is very little 'new' information left to share. </div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I haven't figured out how I feel about that yet. </div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Don't worry, I will say a proper goodbye when the time comes.</div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-19283913921496996032011-07-31T08:02:00.000-07:002011-07-31T08:13:45.237-07:00Fear<div style="text-align: center;">I wish I could go back to the life I had before January 8 2011. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It was the morning after my daughter's birthday party and Brad and I had just woken up and were still laying in bed lingering. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I was happy. Truly happy, no care in the world.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And then, the lump.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Since then, there have been so many emotions, but fear has been a constant companion through all. And now, that I'm almost at the end of the treatment road, I am expected to be joyful and excited and to start picking up where I left off.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">But I can't. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I am joyful and grateful and excited that it's done, but since nobody can really tell you whether the treatment worked or not, I am also fearful.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">In my oncologists' words: 'when you die of something else, we know you'll have beaten cancer'. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Comforting, isn't it?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">My 9 year old asked me the other day if I'll be teaching her to drive when she's 16, and I broke down into tears. Not that I want to teach her, mind you, but I'd like to be the one who writes the check to the 'Young Driver's' program' for her.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It is my new 'normal' I suppose, living each moment with equal parts gratitude, for experiencing it and really soaking it in now, and fear, that it may be over too soon.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It's been 6 months and fear is my constant companion. It accompanies me in my private moments too, when I sleep, when I dream, when I'm alone, even when I shower. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It is always with me.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I'd like to say that I got used to it, and I guess I have, but it sucks. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I wish I could go to that 'carefree' feeling of before. I've talked to other gals who've gone through it, and it's unanimous. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">You cannot go back to 'carefree' once you've had cancer.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Damn.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-2282983937176538732011-07-22T19:58:00.000-07:002011-07-26T19:54:01.020-07:00Bikerchick gets lucky at the hospital<div style="text-align: center;">Bikerchick is me! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Who'd you think it was?</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Haven't you heard, I got three tattoos last night in one sitting on my chest area.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> If I still had boobs, it'd be soo hot. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Nothing screams 'class' like boob tattoos.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I went to my radiation apt yesterday, they were all very friendly, until they asked me to strip from the waist up and lay on their cold table. It got a bit friendlier once the gentleman brought me a blanket. Yes, they assigned a gentleman to this procedure for me. Perhaps because they knew it'd be less comfortable for me, or perhaps they knew that he hadn't been on the job that long and having one look at my non-boobs would freak him right out. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Or at least teach him not to look.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> I'm fine with both.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So we get in to the waiting are where we have to watch a 15 minute video about radiation. We've heard it all before, but it's interesting and we're nice so we watch all the way til the end.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Then it starts over again, and we decide one time is enough for us. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We look for a way out, where the nurse if waiting for us. She brings us into a special room where we can talk about radiation that specifically relates to my cancer.</div><div style="text-align: center;">She draws pictures on an approved 'breast cancer handout' that shows a woman topless. She proceeds to circle the boob and starts shadowing it. "this is where the radiation will go" . </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">She takes a look at me and pauses. I am not sure what face I made, but she didn't like it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">'Honey what's wrong?' she cares enough to ask.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">"Well, you said we were gonna discuss the specifics of me and I don't have breasts so I'm a bit bummed that the cancer handout you're working with shows a woman with breasts." </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">O ya, I totally said that.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Poor woman proceeds to erase the breasts on this handout but after a while gives up and says 'we need to pretend that they're not there' - at which point I look down and say 'don't worry, I know I'm a misfit' in my best Eyore voice. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It was fantastic. Should'a seen the nice girl turn red. I almost felt bad, but not entirely. I figure the longer we take here, with her, the later I'll get to the part where they will do the CT scan and tattoo me.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Nice girl talked a mile a minute after that, (i bet she wanted us , well me, to leave) and escorted us into the SIMULATOR. (that's what it was called)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I wanted to make a wisecrack about that too but it seemed in poor taste after I had already embarrassed her. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So Brad and I walked in. They asked me if he could wait outside, at which point I replied that I may just faint if you make me do this without him. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Guess what? He got to stay.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">He watched them remove my top, stare and i mean REALLY stare at my chest for a long time. I almost felt bad that there was nothing there for them to feast their eyes on. Finally the gentleman asks if he can touch my chest (he needs to position me in a thousand different positions first and then place the laserbeams around me just right so he knows where the tattoos will go.) I say yes, but I think I should've had some more fun with him and told him to ask Brad, who's sitting there in the chair beside me. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">(But I don't because I'm not like that. Pffft!)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">After they ask me to put my hands up in the most uncomfortable position behind my neck they proceed to inflate some kind of a pillow thing that takes a mold of my back and body and I need to sit like this until I cry out in pain. For me, that takes about 5 minutes, because I feel pins and needles already. The nurse tells me that it's too soon to cry (wolf) and she ignores me. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">She sticks me in the CT scan and then all the important people leave the room. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Just me is left. In a dark room with a spinning machine and my own thoughts that are interrupted by the pins and needles feeling every few minutes.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I was in there only about 5 minutes, but it felt like 20. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">As they walk up to the CT scan I plead with them to let me move my arms. </div><div style="text-align: center;">They are benevolent and so they allow me that comfort. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Gratitude washes upon me.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Doesn't last long because gentleman comes over with tattoo ink. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This won't hurt you - he lies. I know he's lying because I have 2 tattoos that I've actually gone and paid for and they hurt like hell. So I know when someone tells you that it doesn't hurt, they are lying.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">He starts with the first one, incidentally that goes into the lumpy fatty tissue that we've discovered that I have on my chest and he's right. </div><div style="text-align: center;">That one almost didn't hurt.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The next one is on top of my breast bone. I would have braced myself for this one had I known that is where he was aiming. *my head is facing up and my eyes are closed at this time*</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Let me tell you that I screamed for this one. And not just a short 2 second scream. It lasted a good 6 seconds. And then I look at him. "Sorry, this one is always more painful, it's on the breast bone' - looks apologetic. Then he says "we need to go over it another time though it's too small" - I swear I want to leave this room and find out where he parks and slash his tires. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I am annoyed. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Breathe Michelle Breathe.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Last tattoo was not bad as well, just annoying again. So all in all I escaped without having to ask for demrol after all. It was hit or miss on that for a while. But I did it naturally! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Aren't y'all proud?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So, having 3 tattoos on my chest (coupled with my tattoo on my back and the one at the back of my neck) definitely bumped me up to biker chick status.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sooo, now about the part about how this bikerchick got lucky at the hospital.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I went in for my 10 minute procedure. </div><div style="text-align: center;">The surgeon told me I could take 2 ativan since I was very nervous about the whole thing. </div><div style="text-align: center;">This morning, just for good measure I took 3. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Brad was driving, so what did it matter?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We arrived at 11:15am like our appointment card said and we found out we were not due to see the dr til noon. I should've been pissed, but I felt oddly calm about it. And I had started to slur a little so I thought it best I don't speak to much.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We wait. I feel (you guessed it) somewhat calm. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The procedure begins, they get Brad a stool (same thing - he has to stay doctor, otherwise I can't do it without his support) and the surgeon brings the needle out. I ask if it's gonna sting.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">She says it will sting AND burn.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Super.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> I love dual action.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Ready? Here comes the sting. (needle going in)</div><div style="text-align: center;">And now you'll feel a slight burn. (HOLY F*CK - my actual words followed by whimpering and screaming and a bunch of 'i don't like this' in a row)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I trust that she got the hint because finally she backs off with the needle. Pheew.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Then the rest of is is pretty fast, there is a ton of tugging and pulling and then there is stitching back up. I am grateful that we are finished and feel like I should pay her a compliment after screaming her ear off a few minutes ago.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">'You must be really good at sewing buttons ' I say. (What? I thought that was appropriate)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">She laughs and then we're all done. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">She said the clot came out with it. Which is good. I took a picture of the port but it's still got my skin and guts attached to it from when it got removed and so it just doesnt seem right to put it up. But it was a lot bigger than I thought, it's the size of Brad's thum and quite tall too.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Good riddance.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Then I proceeded to escort myself out and immediatly fell flat on my face. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The 3 ativan pills may have caught up to me. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Blame the Ativan manufacturer for any and all spelling mistakes and possible errors in judgement for all the things I say and do for this evening.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh and the lucky part?? </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It really only took ten minutes, and absolutely nothing went wrong with it!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-91875895499407146172011-07-19T08:24:00.000-07:002011-07-19T09:12:57.555-07:00It's been too long<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF48JoytiOHE3Xqjk8bN6EUjrYp69yH8TPTe5ovpFYQ36hQRrVrZN8cUEXTKQcOPpdWPSHl8K6NJKjxtZCADv-cahDdpcpv8oxYTOe1rt7FPGarj3Q16t4KqyY3GrwKIcV_peM3xDcWmqe/s1600/DSC_0379.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I can't believe it's been 19 days since I posted. OMG - WHAT have I been doing?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Well, I went to the New Kids/Backstreet Boys concert the day before my birthday - </div><div style="text-align: center;">that was awesome. </div><div style="text-align: center;">It was full of dolled up 30 somethings so I fit right in. </div><div style="text-align: center;">We were in a box (my BFF's company has one and we were allowed to use it) so we watched in comfort. I took my daughter and Brad's daughter - first concert for them both. </div><div style="text-align: center;">They loved it. Fantastic.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I also had my CT scan.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> It was my first one, so I was completely unprepared when the 'warm feeling' came ... those who've had them know what I'm talking about, but for the rest of you... when you get the dye injected in you during a CT scan, you start feeling really warm in the back of your throat and in your pelvic area, in fact it feels like you are peeing your pants! </div><div style="text-align: center;">Thank God the technician warned me about that just before it happened, but yowser, that was a weird feeling.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I got my results back a week later, the lump thingy is fatty tissue as they thought (YEAY!!) but they found the reason my port hadn't been working.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> I have a 2.7 cm clot attached to the end of my port-a-cath apparently. </div><div style="text-align: center;">They told me to come back in the hospital for a 'small 2 hour procedure' the next day in which they would try to dissolve the clot. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Well, I was there for almost 4 hours, and the clot didn't budge.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> It's still with me. </div><div style="text-align: center;">We are hopeful that it will come out with the port removal which is scheduled for this Friday and yes, I will blog about that experience for sure! I'm sure you all remember the ordeal it was to get it in, so I am a bit nervous to take it out. Especially since I'll be awake!! </div><div style="text-align: center;">(I'll have to take a few adavan's before I go in, methinks.)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Our pig roast came and went over the weekend, it was an amazing time. </div><div style="text-align: center;">It rained the whole week before so our dreams of a pool party slowly faded, but we bought tents and tarps and everyone stayed dry. </div><div style="text-align: center;">In fact, during the evening we even had a few sunny breaks, the kids ended up swimming anyway, while the adults watched in disbelief. I cannot believe we had 70 adults and 18 of their children at our place and it turned out so great. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I have to say, we throw a mean party!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVfhQP73IsGR7Zrh7KMAwVEoRg4-_Bq60a4_8hqs2ebmB15GFq7-Fr-y5TH-O4Fx_l-pAYQXHk_rytTG9aHRevXgclIv_996uzUhpoTIsIELoJujcthHySu9-OiPr1NCMXRl_kjtM6s2U/s320/DSC_0369.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631089231643100530" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">This little piggy went to the pig roast.</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLnW6CfgEwi4ZY0QAgN0qgWl0ucPMP269tquyNjsxZPngBHxTJKiLo1_dKa4-wtdktE47pq21FeAER4fxJTzcTufnMoW-aDlTBIXGIr3JpXSigtG7GoxWrgXeNKRseS0vZ-1t8bzPOIbzi/s1600/DSC_0381.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLnW6CfgEwi4ZY0QAgN0qgWl0ucPMP269tquyNjsxZPngBHxTJKiLo1_dKa4-wtdktE47pq21FeAER4fxJTzcTufnMoW-aDlTBIXGIr3JpXSigtG7GoxWrgXeNKRseS0vZ-1t8bzPOIbzi/s320/DSC_0381.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631089245576281602" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 318px; height: 320px; " /></a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Brad and I during the pig roast. (I had my long wig on and I made 'pig' tails)</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihLwjmQa_hPzW_AEJa7PbJaweLvY0gkM_IEV87Q-3Jbm_nWIyh9bv8FL5qgZjJeHIekznmxWIP4_pVYG9w9b3q_CBUX0u41oLhpUwooO-ouxk62GmZnSHNbgbfRPOG7uXjaq9X6KSoKr7P/s1600/DSC_0375.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihLwjmQa_hPzW_AEJa7PbJaweLvY0gkM_IEV87Q-3Jbm_nWIyh9bv8FL5qgZjJeHIekznmxWIP4_pVYG9w9b3q_CBUX0u41oLhpUwooO-ouxk62GmZnSHNbgbfRPOG7uXjaq9X6KSoKr7P/s320/DSC_0375.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631089239706855634" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Mmmm...pulled pork.</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7rLAJRCes7g_8RGBHksKx9Q92FQD7YDF-i5mK_yI88t2hLW4qTbHybY3-TDIj_Uxq4HIiuC9IyWaHzKQzhyv5SojY3PRHGo_jJJIFgu6nuznCD6b4X1BUV9YMPSjFzJSB4gYuwfe5iYp3/s1600/DSC_0384.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7rLAJRCes7g_8RGBHksKx9Q92FQD7YDF-i5mK_yI88t2hLW4qTbHybY3-TDIj_Uxq4HIiuC9IyWaHzKQzhyv5SojY3PRHGo_jJJIFgu6nuznCD6b4X1BUV9YMPSjFzJSB4gYuwfe5iYp3/s320/DSC_0384.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631093692625744658" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Finished product. The kids loved the apple in the pig's mouth. So did I actually.</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF48JoytiOHE3Xqjk8bN6EUjrYp69yH8TPTe5ovpFYQ36hQRrVrZN8cUEXTKQcOPpdWPSHl8K6NJKjxtZCADv-cahDdpcpv8oxYTOe1rt7FPGarj3Q16t4KqyY3GrwKIcV_peM3xDcWmqe/s1600/DSC_0379.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgF48JoytiOHE3Xqjk8bN6EUjrYp69yH8TPTe5ovpFYQ36hQRrVrZN8cUEXTKQcOPpdWPSHl8K6NJKjxtZCADv-cahDdpcpv8oxYTOe1rt7FPGarj3Q16t4KqyY3GrwKIcV_peM3xDcWmqe/s320/DSC_0379.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631094392991177186" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">As guests arrived, they stayed dry under the tents.</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcMEjvYQ0K2MhSOgjyK36zj-KKFAFtiomddpr2KSbS2rtH7LZUYsQv4bSI3TObIVQBLwRdpdU2ct8gQa0DXfQKEt_oLYJQQIHCxlJi33OGIVqK7ZfjB_Uz_F3fyFUdYmIDIStOnBVWny2u/s1600/DSC_0399.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcMEjvYQ0K2MhSOgjyK36zj-KKFAFtiomddpr2KSbS2rtH7LZUYsQv4bSI3TObIVQBLwRdpdU2ct8gQa0DXfQKEt_oLYJQQIHCxlJi33OGIVqK7ZfjB_Uz_F3fyFUdYmIDIStOnBVWny2u/s320/DSC_0399.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631092993094118786" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The kids didn't care as much, and still went in the pool. Brave children.</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Tomorrow I go in to the radiology clinic for my 'mold' and 'tattoos' - I have to lay still for an hour and they position me the way they want me and I will have to get 3 tattoos - they are small dots, but with tattoo ink - so that they'll always be able to match up the lasers in the same spots for radiation. I wonder if they'll hurt as badly as my 2 other tattoos? Probably not. But you bet I'll be telling everyone I have '5 tattoos' from now on just to scare them!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sorry for the cliff notes, things have been so busy and I feel so guilty for not having blogged, you guys are always on my mind. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Wish me luck for my port surgery on Friday, I"ll be back to write about it then :)</div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-14435149710883806802011-06-30T07:34:00.000-07:002011-06-30T10:04:46.075-07:00Catch up<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Someone suggested in the previous comments that perhaps I was taking a hiatus at the beach. I wish it were so. As I'm typing, my raincoat is nearby, as we're still waiting for the sun to make an appearance this 'summer' in our neck of the woods. So, no, sadly I have not been spending my time at the beach. I will try to recap my last 2 weeks for you. Let's start with the fun parts:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm having some severe night sweats, hot flashes and (obviously) insomnia (who could sleep through the night sweats and hot flashes?) that are leaving me tired, soaked, grumpy in the morning, and just generally pissy that I have to go through them. This is because of course chemo has shut down my ovaries and now I am experiencing the joys of menopause. There are many more side effects to menopause, and I'm experiencing those too, and I am not liking them. For those of you that have gone through it, you know what I'm talking about, for those of you who haven't - I don't want to scare you. 'Nuff said. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I've had a bladder infection 3 times this month. Yup, THREE times. Each time I finish one round of antibiotics, it comes back, and I go on another antibiotic. I am currently half way through my third antibiotic, and the lab called me (they finally cultured my sample) and they say that that can't find any micro-organisms in the sample. Which leaves me puzzled, but I wonder if that's because I've been on constant antibiotics and they can't see it because of it? Or, perhaps it's not a bladder infection at all and I need a referral to a urologist now? Hmmm... either way, doctor apt is at 1:30pm today.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I found a lump on my chest wall - it's been there a few weeks, but it's getting bigger. I went to my doctor, my surgeon and my oncologist. At first nobody was concerned, they said it could be 'fatty tissue' so we should watch it. Now it's grown, it's getting more painful and I'm half way crazy with worry. So now we're doing a CT scan on it - it looks like they're trying to get one for July 11, which happens to be my birthday. It's ok, I'm having another procedure done at the hospital that day so I guess it's as good time as any. I just want to know what it is. Let the scanxiety begin.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Yesterday was the last of my chemo sessions. It was a bit of a crap shoot, as I went in there high as a kite (i even borrowed a graduation cap from a local highschool to mark my 'graduation' from chemo) and left there quite in a different mood. Turns out my port wasn't working right (Brad had put his head on my shoulder for an impromptu snuggle a few weeks ago, and by accident somehow must have moved the port or the line from it. I felt pain immediately and of course he lifted his head right away but the 'damage' had been done. I was in pain for a couple of weeks after that, the line in the port felt kinked and it hurt when I lifted up my left arm and I could no longer sleep on my left side due to the pain. Of course the doctors said it'd be fine) Anyway, it was fine after a while, at least the pain went away... but yesterday when they tried to access the port and stick the chemo in it, guess what? It wasn't working. Ugh. So, for my very last chemo they ended up having to stick it in my veins (which I've been trying to avoid, which is why I got the port in the first place, and all the nuisance that came with that surgery). Anyway, it was ok in the end, but it did sting going in and I didn't like it. At least, we're done with chemo.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8UoTX1DZeu-dq9HW5olim1gKUeWr07BcFMrm3TYh3Ww2ay3n9dniDAd83yvfpQ7iWh_MKFTPQ7H9GYZ9Jz723iiA_MrQZsBIruNv2zxKoTob5NWfgkWBpG4aIR0zXeNHI83Ops-6KTjS0/s320/DSC_0213.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624041628380264418" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Yesterday at my last chemo session</span>.</i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">On July 29th I'll have a small 'procedure' to remove this darn port out of my body and I can't wait. Good riddance. I have agreed to be awake during it, and I hope things will be less complicated than when they put it in.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Radiation begins beginning of August. Turns out 3 weeks ago, a major international study came out and based on this study, women with my stage of cancer not only are recommended to get radiation, but it should now include radiating the lymphnodes by the collar bone too (Earlier I was perceived as 'aggressive' for pursuing radiation, now it's recommended and more of it. So, of course this will discolor my skin like crazy (and now above the collar bone too, which I will not be able to hide in clothing) One more point for cancer ruining what is left of my body. Ugh. But I'm glad the study came out because apparently it is changing the standard of care in radiology and I'm lucky to be getting in at the right time to take advantage of it. 3 weeks ago it would not have been the case. And that is why they do studies I guess.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It's the end of the school year. My last week has been spent at school, as my son received an 'Academic Honors Award' one day, my daughter was in the 'school talent show' the next day, doing a dance, the day after that was the school play, in which my son had one of the lead roles, and yesterday, was the musical performance in which my son played the recorder. What can I say, I have multi talented kids. Needless to say, I spent my days at the school clapping and cheering and taking pictures. I really appreciated the chance to be there, as normally, in June I would never be able to take time off work (property tax season and all) so I'd have missed it all, like in previous years. Yeay for silver linings.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqr5xMfTzqfOW9lpQWq-WH2O1r6_Jj8jw8ddhS__JPJQ3YXQrVMsmZ7rCCHHdPfz0xrAFmLqsvnoXvxIeB7kZ_3LlsMcVrScZ7LVJiXO5_FdfycyhIiRKAgUkqzhukNwufENRz88OfB7NS/s320/DSC_0204.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624042700979909234" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i>He is in the front row, last one on the right.</i></span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwT-esE4f74noUB0w-Ffj_KC4c0Y3yABEL8CmsLl8WPqszgrqVl9-ripnqwSt19JdDdQexfdhUUit-MuItrNyFeOPJCDGgn2VzjbA009rh_MXS8-kOyyKC_5aeVJyH0TyeoYFvd0AzCbAm/s320/DSC_0186.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624043960880169906" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i>During the school play... It was "the world of OG"</i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMLS111BwIcHsA1p44ukTcMighdQM7MxxTA-rMvVbQwZpnxECp5pJmSEIlyHcz1vI-vCSrZIHCPFtRXufxJpaKDTo6iqC4mWsnoQzxDJPuMUdKI85hSIJ0s6Ym4-W5Lwb_xvuMf8yQczUt/s320/DSC_0197.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624043953363028866" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">Again, last one on the right. He did a great job and may have found his calling.</span></i></span></div></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><br /></span></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">I went to the Rihanna concert on Saturday, with my BFF Christine and her daughter. We had the good fortune of staying in a company box, (Christine's company owns a box in this building, and often they let their employees use it) Anyway, I'm not much of a Rihanna fan normally, but it was fun and I enjoyed it. A bit raunchy, and it was funny hearing her 12 year old daughter say 'mom, this is inappropriate' several times. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJOUQ_kYWzOv17qE7AqR0M_xRJLrYX4PNx_RWjL0z8pz-GOCvfV9-xqUYOtw3jkYx5C4j5Io7SFfzCAAkDBfFoQrhNV6KfR5Cb3ZMgH3eNc7sTMwq_FFwquuqr7UiAFI59HBRDrP2CgZUe/s320/DSC_0154.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624042093085983794" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i>All dressed up for the Rihanna concert.</i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Also, through Christine we got the box use again, for July 10 - for ... New Kids On the Block!! Now this concert, I am sooo excited about. I remember them in concert when I was 16. I loved loved loved Johnathan Knight... Hehe. I am taking my daughter this time, and Brad's oldest daughter. It's the day before my birthday, and I plan to have a great time and forget all about the scans the next day. Looking forward to it. The kids have no idea who they are so I have been going on YouTube and showing them videos and songs from the 'olden days' lol. They are just exited to be going.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So, folks, that's what I've been doing the last 2 weeks. Sorry I didn't post. I am now preparing for the chemo yuckies to start today - nausea, bone pain and joint pain is on the horizon for me, but I usually turn the corner by day 10, and knowing this is the last cycle of this may make it easier to bear this time.</div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-53342050811816175892011-06-24T18:41:00.000-07:002011-06-25T11:56:28.873-07:00Technical Difficulties<div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">UPDATE: I think I figured it out, I changed something in the comment settings, from 'embedded' to 'full page' and it seems to work. For those of you who had trouble commenting before, can you let me know if the glitch is now fixed? </span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;"><br /></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#CC0000;">Oh, I am back to private again, yes. Sorry for the technical difficulties.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I am going to 'open' the blog back up for a few days while I figure out what to do with the comment glitch. (I will delete the previous post for obvious reasons)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I know that many of you aren't able to comment on my post - since I've gone private... but you could on my first private post, which is weird.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">But when my blog is 'open' you are able to comment. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Any idea why?</div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-53195338597139702802011-06-20T17:00:00.000-07:002011-06-20T17:01:23.068-07:00And we're private...<div style="text-align: center;">Hey - you made it!! Yeay ...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Can you leave me a comment so that I know that it worked? Let me know you could log in, okay?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Thanks :)</div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-12793627869426457122011-06-14T07:37:00.000-07:002011-06-14T13:41:29.890-07:00A shoutout<div style="text-align: center;">I've mentioned that I got asked to write a story for <a href="http://hugsforstrength.com/">HugsforStrength.com</a> a while ago. Well, today, they informed me that my story is up.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Click <a href="http://hugsforstrength.com/?p=1295">HERE</a> to read it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://hugsforstrength.com/">Hugsforstrength.com </a>connects survivor through stories, experiences and pieces of fabric, that can represent a connection between ones who've walked this road, and others who are just beginning.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I am truly honored to have shared my experience with them, and be part of their wonderful network.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">If you are a new reader (or came here via <a href="http://hugsforstrength.com/">hugsforstrength.com)</a> and would like me to 'invite you' to read my blog once it goes private, please leave your email in the comments and I will be sure to add it to my 'ivitee list'</div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-5452488557811375292011-06-10T21:22:00.001-07:002011-06-10T21:51:16.147-07:00Head in the clouds<div style="text-align: center;">I am as tightly wound as they come. I am 10 minutes early for everything. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I remember appointments months ahead and my personal monthly schedule gets laminated.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Every month. </div><div style="text-align: center;">(ask anyone who knows me)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">That's because I feel the need to be in control at all times, if not of the world around me, then of my actions in it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I lived that way for 35 years and it suited me just fine.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Until chemo turned my brain to mush.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I have heard of 'chemobrain' - I've been warned by friends who've all had it while undergoing treatment, I've read it on the pamphlets at the hospital that they handed out as one of the side effects and I've ignored all warnings until... it happened to me.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">At first, I didn't think I would get it, I thought it was an excuse people made up for being forgetful.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Then, last month it really hit full force. I cannot do the smallest thing, simplest task, if I don't have it written down. There are a million little things I forget or simply misplace, but I will tell you about two recent ones so you see just how far off the deep end I've gone.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Today, I was home alone after dropping off the kids to school. </div><div style="text-align: center;">(I thank my lucky stars I still am able to get this task right -although I've sent them to school once without snacks because I simply forgot to pack them - I've never ever done that before cancer!) </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I proceeded to have some cereal for breakfast.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> I put the dog outside and I went and grabbed the cereal bowl and the milk. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I poured the milk into the cereal and went to close the cap. Which was nowhere to be found. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I looked on the floor, I looked on the table (which was empty - except for the milk and my bowl) I even looked through the garbage - couldn't find it for the life of me. I had to makeshift a lid out of aluminum foil and some rubber bands and put it back in the fridge. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I'm still puzzled about where it went.</div><div style="text-align: center;">(I can't even blame the dog because he was outside.)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">A few weeks ago, I took my dog Jet to the groomers. I dropped him off at 9am and I was supposed to pick him up at 3pm. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Like always. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">At 3:50pm the grooming lady calls the house "Jet's waiting for you". Oh crap. I totally forgot. "I'll be right there" I say, and get into the car right away. I drive directly to Save On Foods (which is a grocery store chain where I live) I get out, and go inside.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Inside Save on Foods I wander the aisles aimlessly. I try to remember what I need to buy. Why I'm there. About 10 minutes later I leave empty handed because I can't remember what I need.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I drive back home.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">About 20 minutes later, the groomer lady calls me again. "Are you coming to get Jet?" </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Oh my god! </div><div style="text-align: center;">THAT'S where I was supposed to go!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">"I'm on my way" - I yell into the phone. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I drive directly there and leave her a big tip. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I kiss my dog and apologize to him for forgetting him.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Then I wait two full weeks to tell Brad the story, because I'm just so darn embarrassed.</div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-38612238358296628272011-06-08T21:49:00.000-07:002011-06-08T22:14:26.349-07:00For non bloggers - a tutorial<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Yesterday I ran into a long lost friend, who happens to read the blog religiously. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So he says. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I drove away thinking about all the people that read this blog and don't comment. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Most don't know how to do it (My friend didn't either) and my very best friend in the world reads this blog, but still struggles with the comments.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I guess I don't get it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Having been a blogger for over 4 years now, it comes easily to me.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> But it must have been difficult at some point I imagine. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Someone must have shown me too.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So, here's a small tutorial for those non- bloggers who wish to leave a comment at some point.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Go to the bottom of the post. On the bottom, towards the right side there is the word 'comments' sometimes with a number in front of it. That just means that's how many people commented before you. If you click on it it will open another window. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It will show you everyone else's comments there. </div><div style="text-align: center;">You can take the time and read them or just scroll down. </div><div style="text-align: center;">When you get to the bottom of the page, you'll see a white box "Post comments here" </div><div style="text-align: center;">- i think it says. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Then you type your comment in the white box, and go to the drop down menu where it says 'post as' - and choose 'annonymous' - then click on 'post comment'. A small tip, because you are choosing annonymous (that is because you don't have a blog of your own, and it's the easiest way to comment) please be sure to leave your name at the bottom.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I"d love love love to see comments from people (who I know read this blog) but don't usually leave a message.</div><div style="text-align: center;">At first I thought it was 'cause you had nothing to say about what you are reading. Now, after having talked to my two friends, I am starting to think it's because you had no idea how.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I hope you enjoyed my short tutorial. </div><div style="text-align: center;"> And I'll bet you'll end up liking knowing how to leave comments, it really is like you're contributing to the conversation. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Besides, it lets me know you're reading! </div><div style="text-align: center;">(and let's face it, it's all about me in this case)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> And then, as a bonus, you could add your email to my growing list for when I go 'private' - otherwise I'd miss you and you'd miss me... and that's just sad.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Tomorrow is also my second to last chemo, and I'll be feeling crappy after it. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Even more reason to post a comment for the very first time, and cheer me up ~ right?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-71756385461399756542011-05-31T19:22:00.000-07:002011-05-31T20:38:09.241-07:00Renovations<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZL-J_SS1r66RfR8knGlcBidUVKL-5Tnk3CfdLLZ0sE3S7Otufgm40jqU6GxHrVQGQkPhZpvSqo1gQ7ttpo8GVmUMT8cheMwfJSkRp44MAufommiU7ehl7255HrDREbS1Q2NY9iQ4umIEL/s1600/DSC_0231.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8k2m7WMofpIpZvLVjuI2gGaGRI7hBND2n1UWc7yrbdnBNwJOLRjDKGZjlI-0f07TpER9FwpTmPPEFpwXfuXwMePd3tttY_e5m8DF8CncNrM1PhFJWhhSInpt_tG_ox0j9UxgCi5UNvzgg/s1600/001.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: center;">We have waited 2 months for dry weather. It has been the wettest April and May on record. (Sorry, <a href="http://sayresmiles.blogspot.com/">Sayre</a> - I know you're jealous!)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Finally, 3 days ago the sun came out. So did our painters.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><div></div></span></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We had an awesome company come and paint our home and we are sooo excited. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">It looks 1000 times better.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> And since they were painting and making the outside look so good, we decided it was a good time to landscape the front yard too.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">We did that part ourselves. (and when I say 'we' I mean 'Brad')</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8k2m7WMofpIpZvLVjuI2gGaGRI7hBND2n1UWc7yrbdnBNwJOLRjDKGZjlI-0f07TpER9FwpTmPPEFpwXfuXwMePd3tttY_e5m8DF8CncNrM1PhFJWhhSInpt_tG_ox0j9UxgCi5UNvzgg/s320/001.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613073254708646258" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span><div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This is the house BEFORE anything got done to it.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2ZySZGXBDLX-VDKq6KcYgeeAH3Yi-YvLJI5c8m4kA1nYOc91rBDnP2esLXqhWoddzT2JQDmC7Gviv7P-Iq883M17rRDz1nAUY85cPHDNgVaNxevr28VMjbj_MNNARzJCbfC9W75x4xCUP/s320/DSC_0123.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613074137720076594" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The plants are being delivered.</span></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">So we got to work. First we had to decide WHAT we wanted the yard to look like, and then, get the plants delivered. Brad worked his butt off planting them, putting the bark mulch in and getting the rocks accents around the trim. By the time he finished, it looked fantastic.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Li7Jf-ectFPemWR5NTKx4QXT84_R54WqM-emL8al7hhuyRsOW6dupjLZyhGO84D23BqDhnyrYsNGHk1Buhy0DQj1lW0JEV2M5RhRjexDodBQ_YSYR07i5vlCZ-Zs-wy6B-R6zb47qsVo/s320/DSC_0153.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613083675595456946" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i>Brad is working hard to get it all done.</i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i><br /></i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZL-J_SS1r66RfR8knGlcBidUVKL-5Tnk3CfdLLZ0sE3S7Otufgm40jqU6GxHrVQGQkPhZpvSqo1gQ7ttpo8GVmUMT8cheMwfJSkRp44MAufommiU7ehl7255HrDREbS1Q2NY9iQ4umIEL/s320/DSC_0231.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613090156394138370" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 147px; " /></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">And here is the front yard once he finished it.</span></span></i></span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; ">The painters worked just as hard for the three days, sometimes 10 hour days. </span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; ">There was a lot of prep work to be done.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre; "><br /></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGa5d3aWnqDVH2gO8JssmTPzd-BPYHG6WDZroTwLRnCEdm3uhRRkjU6GTdOh0mizVsl1IbcN-qHrV50G3GwyR6R1mm9FZW0v-NlOPlvXv4kN5G2FUSl-IxXqy6vunfraw-cBjGCJx_bxmx/s320/DSC_0135.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613074874174441922" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span></i></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Painters are working hard on the house.</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCFunkywrRblLsDj2GuZYpoxzuen0KBGnIyW7ElX4NHQRbKg3ktasaEMUHJQNdEn2FGGNWGD3dcN8897RLr16P_V2nZX7MrBzWVDT5Is0-eoJz_UmCHFL9_xUXyvgnLeZlz6V_3JvM9Rtc/s320/DSC_0164.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613076798012001666" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The crane is bringing the boulders we need. There were three we ordered.</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibI_Rece0Ju1ix1URwxvEBJU7n7JfYLMXdzTnWcDS7Xh179R7EzwHBppTvxq7QHQRyXLj3gqwSS6H6BWkDXR8RvWZ91phDVg1pr73lj6Rl3Zgg7pLQ6GndpjhMMWd6qVSuUztmnj8clgD0/s320/DSC_0159.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613076744928273794" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i>Br</i></span></span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">ad tells the crane operator where to strategically place the boulders. </span></span></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGRGkS4ehbzYdiGPcEpa0UYrBbRRPreMQJVpIWDxviJ9-axIUqMSANv97FBxgYs0KOuHrcXbcJ6zpsNW72xVWYrZtwuIho8ASOTNZ-c-eKwN6aKj2qh8nswP0b6GmT-wMjLkj42_p73fd3/s320/DSC_0197.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613078549126219202" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><i>Brad after he finished planting the entire front yard.</i></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4jS0MaFA2S8hKcclHOMA-2cLPiOg6P_-qk0Vfua9u9mkGttUKtuRoXdc8_qJ2jogkbCUFzyX01DPfbDHYxyWp2Gs7tBo_monZ1WBw7E592nFg6s345zRFR-TJMIr15v_P4MOc0gXxzGMo/s320/DSC_0227.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5613080299311182866" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 182px; " /></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Finished product! The AFTER shot.</span></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; font-size:16px;"><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We are so excited about the results.</span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">PS - I was asked to write 'my story' for</span><a href="http://www.hugsforstrength.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> hugsforstrength.com</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> and was asked to keep the blog 'visible' for a bit when I submit the story (so readers can link back to it) - I will resume with the going private idea after that.</span></div><div><br /></div></span></span></span></i></span></div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-80220358572526111792011-05-27T21:01:00.000-07:002011-05-28T09:41:47.057-07:00Bald pics<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidtCxZjNB5kgROrUsp2XnxSoKoZ0AyHuHb2tZEqvu9vviyWCojsshh2SrYz2sUUDB8LEdOsGTGLApdpjQBLxPFEjUgfPF_f2B4VjA04qSd1mS0HmBNo4aV2uABxyBNZOjy3VXIF-J1Ty6Q/s1600/DSC_0222.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">As promised, here are some pictures of me bald. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Now no laughing!</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I am told it'll come back...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidtCxZjNB5kgROrUsp2XnxSoKoZ0AyHuHb2tZEqvu9vviyWCojsshh2SrYz2sUUDB8LEdOsGTGLApdpjQBLxPFEjUgfPF_f2B4VjA04qSd1mS0HmBNo4aV2uABxyBNZOjy3VXIF-J1Ty6Q/s320/DSC_0222.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611807938318678418" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><i>Very purple!</i></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz6y773mseXO8N4bEhCHoug_zpM5el75all6bSy_VOUsUzqYvJEXyuSEkkJcvFdyXS1Bw2i_BDliAf8PqcK3Ksbw4zU2-L617dn-Ggv3htcREac6dkl9eM9dKHzWm_B1ly9H1uCY2NQppm/s320/My+Shelly+take+2+010.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611613288978990914" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i>This is my dog Jet, he is playing shy in front of the camera</i>.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNArs4oo3R-Dq9j4UdyK0W4nQZhut7vCIVp6_2qBSDxvEXH2hHto9ARzym0bcKK22NQ6eK5CEDU6njFMOa-n31TmzanqHZA_XZdnVCp2JvAiJMyHEnhOCZcDRfzA3tiiWN8EDTYHLS3JjG/s320/My+Shelly+take+2+011.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5611613290256939506" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#000000;">There we go, say "hello" Jet.</span></span></i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh, and keep the email addresses coming (in the comments) if you'd like me to include you when I go private on the blog. So far, each of you who've already left their emails, I got. Thanks.</div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-1269774503520644032011-05-24T18:33:00.000-07:002011-05-24T18:53:38.748-07:00Going private soon - JUNE 1st<div style="text-align: center;">Hey y'all</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">As you know, my chemo is more than half way over and I've pretty much 'aired' as much as a person can air about their cancer journey. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">For the past 5 months I felt like I've moved into a glass house. I chose to share every detail of a very private and sometimes painful experience. I did that because writing about it helped me heal. And in some cases, reading about it, helped you understand my situation better.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The purpose to this 'glass house' has been well fullfilled.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> You, the reader, has been kept abreast (haha, pun intended, couldn't resist) on my situation and I got to vent.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">But, after some time I realized I do not wish to live in a glass house. First, it freaks out the neighbours whenever they look in. Second, there's too much light being let in. The time has come to get some curtains, close the doors and shut the gate. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">No more lookie-loo's from a distance. No sireee. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">From now on, at Casa Knock Knock, you'll have to be invited in. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">In fact, you should call first, and if we're up for a visit, we'll set a date. </div><div style="text-align: center;">You know, like 'normal folks' do it.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And while the voyeur in me may have some adjusting to do, I think in the end I'll be just fine. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I will learn to live with not having everyone know my business. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I may even flourish.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Thanks for coming along for the ride, the journey or whatever we want to call this time. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I appreciate your thoughts, your prayers, your comments and most of all your friendship. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I know (because I can see it in my stats) that you've been reading and that you care. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And it means the world to me.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Please leave your email address in the comments if you wish to continue reading this blog and would like me to add your email to my limited list of readers. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">(There is absolutely no guarantees that I'll add it to my very short list, but if you'd like to try, by all means leave it for me please) and an automatic email will follow should your email be used. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh and if you're not on the list? </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">You may just have to pick up the phone and <i>call</i> to see how I'm doing! </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">GASP!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-54557601240810092022011-05-21T10:51:00.000-07:002011-05-21T11:20:44.464-07:00More changes<div style="text-align: center;">Having just completed chemo #4 on wednesday, I am now more than half way through. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">New observations that I've noticed this round: </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Age spots. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Yup.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> At 35. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I have 2 so far on my cheeks - that I've just discovered. I look like I'm 60. I guess I'll have to figure out what to do about that, I hear make up covers them well... maybe I'll turn into a 'hair and make up' girl after all (ahem... minus the hair for now)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I also have started having hot flashes. This started last week. Every few hours I get completely overwhelmed by them and I have to immediately stick my head in the freezer or take off all my clothes. Then, 5 minutes later, it passes and I put my clothes back on and pretend not to notice Brad's funny looks that he gives me. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">He is entirely amused by this whole process. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Me, not so much.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I guess I am officially in chemical induced menopause. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Sweet.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I am so amazed by my body.</div><div style="text-align: center;"> It is changing before my eyes and I am in awe of how little power I have over it. This poison that is in my veins is the only thing in control of it. It's crippled it, it's aged it, it's killing it little by little. I take comfort only in the fact that it is doing the same thing to any random cancer cells that may be lurking around. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Speaking of lurking cancer cells... I've decided that I would do radiation after all, once chemo is done. For 3 weeks. Which is a bummer since I didn't expect to have to do it (but since they had found 'isolated tumor cells' in one of my nodes, we've decided to err on the side of caution and just go for it. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So, in the heat of August, I'll be doing radiation... being cooked from the inside out.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Not my favorite way to spend my summer.</div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-17057689090133201472011-05-14T08:05:00.001-07:002011-05-14T08:29:05.585-07:00Not profitable to cure cancer?<div style="text-align: center;">I am not sure why I'm into news articles lately, but there you have it. I am. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Here's <a href="http://hubpages.com/hub/Scientists_cure_cancer__but_no_one_takes_notice">another article</a>. </div><div style="text-align: center;">In this one, scientists in Alberta, Canada, have accidentally found 'a cure' for most cancers - but pharmaceutical companies won't fork up the money to do human trials. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Why? Because the chemical compound that they found by accident, is DCA, something that is already used to treat other illnesses. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Meaning it can't be patented. If they can't put a patent on it, they can't make money. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Which means they are not going to pay for human trials. </div><div style="text-align: center;">These scientists have completed Phase I and Phase II of their human trials (with donations from the public, and a small govt grant) but cannot continue to Phase III - too expensive. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">What kind of world do we live in if we don't fund this important research? </div><div style="text-align: center;">The kind that looks at cancer as a money making business, that's what.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">After some obsessive googling last night, I found <a href="http://www.medicorcancer.com/">the only clinic in the world</a> (well, the first one anyway) that will treat cancer patients with this new DCA compound, along with chemotherapy. Their results seem to be optimistic, though, they have to prescribe this as an 'off-label' therapy since there are no completed human trials. Meaning it's not endorsed by Health Canada (other than in the illnesses that it was already approved for, but not cancer)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> This clinic is located in Toronto, Canada, but of course, this is a private clinic so the government is not paying for this treatment </div><div style="text-align: center;">(But, in other countries most clinics are private anyway, aren't they? So I guess this is not such a shock. The treatment ranges between $160 - $190 per week)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Their patients are mostly Stage IV cancer patients whose doctors have told them that there is nothing more they can do for them... so as a desperate measure, they go there. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I find it incredibly sad that these promising steps in research are being ignored. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Finding a cure for cancer shouldn't be dependent on the pharmaceutical companies making money, but sadly, it seems to be that way.</div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-31107826458027715992011-05-12T10:13:00.000-07:002011-05-13T13:26:25.691-07:00Mad as Hell<div style="text-align: center;">I am shaking mad over an <a href="http://healthland.time.com/2011/05/12/should-a-mom-with-stage-4-breast-cancer-lose-custody-of-her-kids/">article</a> I just read. <a href="http://healthland.time.com/2011/05/12/should-a-mom-with-stage-4-breast-cancer-lose-custody-of-her-kids/">This woman</a> has stage IV breast cancer, but is otherwise strong and healthy. She has two children who live with her. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And for the last 18 months she has been in and out of courts because her ex husband is suing her for the custody of the kids. She lives in North Carolina I believe and he's in Chicago. Now, a female judge no less, has ordered her to give up custody of the kids and place them in his care by June 17. This decision is solely based on the fact that she is ill. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The reasoning behind it is that it gives the kids a chance to get to know that 'non-ill' parent, which they ultimately would end up living with anyway.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><b>Are you kidding me?</b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">They are robbing both the mother and kids from precious time. Are you telling me this is in the best interest of the children? How do they sleep at night wondering if their mom will pass away before the next time they'll see her? </div><div style="text-align: center;">How does she keep up a good fight when so emotionally drained? </div><div style="text-align: center;">And what kind of deadbeat asshole dad would ever take the kids away at a time like this? Doesn't he think that the kids will grow up to hate him one day for keeping them away from their mom.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is her <a href="http://beautyintruth-alaina.blogspot.com/">blog</a>. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Please go and add your name to <a href="http://www.change.org/petitions/do-not-allow-nc-judge-to-take-alaina-giordanos-children-just-because-she-has-cancer">this list</a>. She is trying to over-rule this incredible unfair ruling and this is a petition for it. And then, just for kicks,<a href="http://www.change.org/petitions/throw-north-carolina-judge-nancy-gordon-off-the-bench"> go to this petition</a>, which is demanding for the judge to be removed from her position for violating human rights.</div><div><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center; ">Ugh. I am too mad to type.</div><div style="text-align: center; ">I am slamming down on the keys too hard and I may actually be harming my computer.</div></div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5054862104705085094.post-79257296273413722802011-05-11T11:52:00.000-07:002011-05-13T13:26:25.737-07:00Small World<div style="text-align: center;">I was sitting at Tim Horton's having coffee with a new friend of mine. She is also going through chemo, for breast cancer too, and sometimes we meet and compare notes.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">That's how I meet my friends these days by the way. It used to be at the bar. Then, as I got older, it was at the kids' school. Now, it's in the chemo room. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Funny how life is.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Today she was talking about someone new that she met at chemo. She went on and on about her new acquaintance named Shonna. She wanted to know if I'd seen her yet at chemo, but since I go on different days than her, I had not. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">After coffee we decided to stop by the hospital and go to the oncology unit and check out the wigs. My friend said there were free wigs there that I could look at. I don't know how I've missed that, but I'm not one to pass on the free stuff - so we went. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">As I try them on, I noticed my friend saying hi to someone. I didn't pay close attention, I was concentrating on the wigs. There was the usual assortment of 'old lady' wigs, and a few others. There was a long blonde curly hair one that I tried on for kicks, and almost died laughing. It was very 'va va voom' and not at all a natural look on me. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Instead I picked a short hair brown wig, and I feel very much like June Cleaver with it on. </div><div style="text-align: center;">It's very proper. I like it. </div><div style="text-align: center;">I may even wear this one, who knows?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Back to Shonna. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">When I finished trying on the wigs, I came out and met Shonna. She is a Stage IV breast cancer patient, and she was there having her Herceptin treatment. She goes every 3 weeks, and will do that for the rest of her life. We started talking and I have to say I have never met someone that was so positive and upbeat, funny and approachable all while battling this terrible disease. I inquired about her hair that just started coming back, and looks wickedly awesome! I hope mine looks as good when it comes back as hers does.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> As we were chatting I made myself comfortable and moved her stuff over so I could sit next to her. It was pretty crowded, and I hoped she didn't mind that I was basically almost sitting on her lap. I just felt super comfortable with her.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Then, I introduce myself. (Yes, I realize I should have done that first)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I said "I'm Michelle". "YOU'RE Michelle?" was her comeback. Hmmm... that doesn't sound right. "Yes, why?" I asked. Her next sentence, no word of a lie was: " Do you have a blog?" </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is where it gets weird.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"> Turns out she is Shonna from <a href="http://stayinghealthyevenwithcancer.blogspot.com/">Conquering Cancer by Living Well </a></div><div style="text-align: center;">(she's on my sidebar as one of the blogs I read and if you head over to her blog you'll see her version of our chance meeting today). </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I love her blog!! </div><div style="text-align: center;">She is upbeat and has great info on foods to eat/avoid while battling cancer. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">She said when I first walked into the chemo room today she thought she recognized me, but wasn't sure if it was me. How awesome is that? (No, not that I'm recognized, although... I will start carrying a pen with me from now on) but that I met her in real life. I have only had that happen to me once before to meet someone from the 'blogworld', years ago - but we had worked and planned on making that happen. In this case, it was just a happy accident. I had no idea we lived in the same town.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I still think it's shitty that I have cancer. I've just learned to appreciate the other stuff around it. Befriending people like Shonna from <a href="http://stayinghealthyevenwithcancer.blogspot.com/">Conquering Cancer by Living Well</a> is just another positive thing that would never have happened without cancer. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">So here's to silver linings!</div>Knock knock - it's cancer!http://www.blogger.com/profile/14095866646708456032noreply@blogger.com12