Just a Picture

I don't really have much to say about cancer, which is a really good thing. I tell some people, and don't tell others. I never hide it. If someone asks about something that leads me into it, I just say it. It's not exactly a secret. It's just weird.

I'm finally getting physical therapy. I worry about lymphoedema, because frankly, it's ugly and I like to wear short sleeves. And it's painful, but mostly, it's ugly. I don't want to wear that sleeve. Also, it seems I ought to do something about my absolute lack of any sort of abdominal muscles. My luck: I had just gotten them, and then I had to get them cut out of me. So I'm learning to strengthen my abs without getting a hernia. Hopefully.

And that's about it. The best news is that I got a round brush to work with my hair! I knew that would be the turning point. Once I could use a round brush I could actually attempt to have a style, and my hair looks so much better. I figured this out on Wednesday, when I took this picture. Enjoy!

I should have stuff to write about after next week, just related to life and fun stuff, but I will not divulge a word of it this week. So don't ask! GO LENAPE MARCHING BAND, NJ State Champs! Good luck tomorrow night in Allentown! (I love being a band mom.)

Maybe Next Time I'll Win the Lottery

As far as anyone can tell, I do not have cancer. I had some abnormal cells in the mole, oddly, so I'll head to a dermatologist in December, but otherwise I'm as good as new, I guess.

I realize I wasn't supposed to worry about those biopsies, but I was terrified about the lumpy thing on my breast that turned out to be scar tissue. Czerniecki always freaks me out, and when he came in to give the results he looked like a deer caught in headlights. Nancy, the NP, saw my eyes bug out and quickly announced she had good news. I later mentioned to her that I had been looking at Czerniecki's expression, and her response was, "How could you tell anything by that? Do his expressions change?" Well. No, not really. But Nancy wasn't the one on the verge of panic to start. They left the room so I could change, and I needed to do something dramatic. I knelt on the floor and raised my arms to the ceiling and thanked G-d, and then of course Czerniecki walked back in and I was completely embarrassed.

After I left the office, something remarkable happened. I had a good day. No, a great day! I felt so good, so light. Nice little things kept happening that whole day, I even made most of the traffic lights. I planned some interesting plans, visited Barb, made Allison happy, bought lottery tickets ... it was the nicest day I'd had since the Phillies parade last year. It was good, and it's lasting! My whole attitude feels different. For example, now I'm glad I'm subbing for the time being. I still work everyday that I don't have a doctor's appointment, but when each day is over I feel good, go home, rest and there's no residual stress from the day. I love meeting all of the different children and getting to know them a bit. I love asking them certain questions and hearing their interesting opinions. This lack of stress has to be good for me. Everyone insisted things happen for a reason, and it seems this is where I belong for right now.

Oh, appointments. I also had my follow-up with Dr. Komarnicky last week. It lasted 5 minutes, because all is well. All is well.

Continuing

Okay, I'm here. See? I actually went for a trim a few hours after I took this picture. It's now neater around my ears and in the back.

Medically, it seems that lately I just hop from one thing to another. I've been to four doctors this month, and by the end of September I'll have had two biopsies. I can't seem to get back to normal, and when I ask a professional, I hear, "That's normal." Nobody expects to find cancer with these biopsies, but because it's me, they have to check. And would you believe I managed to get diagnosed with a hypoactive thyroid, just as a fluke. This explains the previously inexplicable weight gain, but now I'm up to five pills a day. It's like I'm in my 60s, or at least like the many people I know in their 60s. Who are vibrant, active people, don't get me wrong, but they take a lot of pills.

My state of mind is like a roller coaster. Czerniecki always manages to freak me out, and he didn't disappoint when I saw him last week. I glanced over his shoulder at the computer, where it said I'm Stage III. I said I thought I was IIb, and he said no, the mass was too big to be classified that way, I'm IIIa. This is the difference between early detection and advanced stage. That's an adjustment for me. I think I'm getting there, though. I'll just let you know right now, it doesn't help if you point out that nothing has actually changed, I've actually been Stage III all along and my prognosis is still good. My mind simply doesn't work that way. Which is why I hid in my car at football practice last week and cried my eyes out, thinking I was alone until a mom whose children I've taught knocked on my window because she was worried about me. Humiliating.

In other news, I subbed yesterday, and I turned down an assignment today because I promised the rabbi I'd help him with some things. Sorry I'm late, Rabbi! I'll get there in about 20 minutes! The kids are off to a pretty good start with school. Allison is particularly busy. Marching band is so intense! Ken is traveling a bit, which means I run around like a crazy woman most of the time.

L'Shana Tova to those of you who know what that means. Have a healthy, sweet year. I'm hoping 5770 will be MUCH better than 5769, but considering the first week, I'm now pinning my hopes on the secular calendar.

Me Again!

August 5, I guess that was my last full day on the other side of the window, looking out at the healthy world. The final treatment was such a relief, followed by a fantastic lunch at my favorite restaurant (Buddakan!). The folks at Hahnemann were so wonderful, I posed for pictures with them. Here we are:

The top one is in the radiation room, with the techs. Boy, I wish I'd ever remembered their names. I think one is Kelly. The bottom picture is Dr. Komarnicky, me, and my mom. Don't ask why she's wearing a raincoat. I haven't taken a picture of my hair in a couple weeks, but it doesn't look much different. I'm guessing it's about 3/4 of an inch "long." It's getting thicker everyday, and hopefully I'll feel comfortable dyeing it soon.

Anyway, no depression issues as I walked back out into the world, as befalls so many. In some ways, it already feels like it all happened a long time ago. Sometimes I think it wasn't so bad, and other times it seems like it must've happened to someone else. I have my souvenirs, of course. Battle scars, whatever. And my paranoia about every little thing, which is one reason I have three doctors appointments in the next two weeks. I have two spots on my body I want looked at, and can you believe it's been almost 4 months since my last chemo? It's time to follow up with Dr. Fox. Then I have to head back to my primary, because apparently my thyroid is elevated. Probably meds.

I'm still fighting mild sleepiness. I was more tired on radiation than I am now, but I don't feel perfect. Jason and I are now running together, getting ready for our big 8K run in November (coincides with the Philly marathon, but we'll be very proud of our five miles!).

Tamoxifen = nothing. I guess I have a drop of achiness? Not sure. No hot flashes! Is that good? Or does that mean it's not working? I don't miss hot flashes, at any rate. Effexor instead of Zoloft has turned out to be a change for the better. Although I do have a bit of anxiety creeping into my days, and for the past few days I've been positively jumping out of my skin: I had a really good interview for a sixth grade teaching job on Monday, and now I'm waiting ... waiting ... waiting. This is kind of right where I started, right? Waiting stinks. This time I could get very good news. With cancer, there's really no such thing.

Anyway, here's the thing, the big thing: I'm pretty much completely me again. Not like me, but as a cancer patient. It doesn't feel like that. It's just me, going through yet another season hunting for the elusive tenure track teaching job, focusing on money problems, relationship issues, my kids, trying to get/keep fit. My life, only it turns out to be so much better than I would've thought last year. I guess it's not about stopping to smell the roses, but maybe stopping to notice that the laundry you do all day smells good when it's finished.

Where Was I?

Tomorrow is my last day of radiation. My last day of cancer treatment, hopefully ever. From now on it's just follow-ups, except for that last little breast surgery. My last day of treatment. After finishing the chemo and not being happy about it, I was afraid I'd feel odd about leaving radiation, too. But ... NO! I'm ready to go off on my own and take care of myself. I went to my new primary doctor today for a checkup, and I seem to be completely healthy. I'd always thought of myself as completely healthy, even when I had a sinus infection or something like that. I'd think of myself as a healthy person with a sinus infection. I'm not going to let a stupid little thing like cancer rob me of that feeling forever.

So what's next: Well, I have to train for that 8K race Jill is making me do in November. I have to figure out what to do with this blog. I have to get ready for Jason's bar mitzvah, and Lori and Dave's WEDDING! I still have to get a job. I have to get my emotions in check and keep my weight down while taking Tamoxifen. Most of all, I have to focus on my kids, all starting new educational journeys. Allison goes off to high school in a month, Jason to a new school, and Jonah to first grade. I don't know where I want to be when it comes to cancer.

I sort of want to forget this whole past year happened (last night was a year since my baseline mammogram showed a problem). All along I thought I'd want to embrace the whole survivor mentality, become involved and vigilant, etc. Now I realize I was just so immersed in breast cancer I couldn't envision a future that didn't involve it. And in some cases it's true. I'm physically scarred, and probably emotionally as well. I don't know if I want to remain involved in breast cancer other than doing a walk here and there. However, if you know someone who is diagnosed and is scared, this blog will be available to read, whether I continue to write in it or not. And you can give out my phone number or email address to anyone who needs guidance from a survivor.

On Monday I went out without anything covering my head but my baby soft, very short hair. What a freaking relief. So here is my picture, taken this morning (not yesterday), by Jason! A nice change to not have to do it myself. I didn't post last week's picture, because the week got away from me with the STEP shows and visits and other stuff. There's certainly a big difference in two weeks.

Wine, or is it Whine

There was plenty of both for me last week. I decided I'd better deal with my insurance copays, and it didn't go well. It's not like I owe $40K or something that horrible, but even the $3500 we do owe is a big stretch for us right now. We're refinancing the house, and we'll fold that into the new mortgage. I just want it to be gone. Even more, I want a job for fall. I hate this instability, and I have it on all sides. I look at children sometimes, and wonder if I could end up being their teacher. There are no jobs. Hopefully ads will pop up in August, but right now I'm just spinning my wheels and feeling incredibly restless. Exhausted, but restless.

On the other hand, I'm starting to look like me again. I took the picture of myself on Tuesday, as per usual, but even since then I've noticed I've really grown some eyebrows. Just today I woke up, and burst into tears when I saw I finally have some brows. It's still odd when that rush of emotion hits me like a brick. I don't know I feel victimized by something, but when it becomes part of the past, then I realize I endured and survived, and then I cry for the poor victim I didn't even realize I was. I've just stopped counting weeks since my last chemo treatment, I think it's been 11 or 12 weeks now. But I still marvel at the sensations of taste, and the radiation sleepiness I feel in the afternoons in no way rivals the chemo stupor.

On Monday I saw Dr. Wu, who is impressed with my radiated skin. I don't even have any redness! It really is something. The skin is just a bit tender to touch, and that's the only way I even know anything is even happening. I was hoping to get an appointment for nipple surgery, but she said I must wait six months after finishing radiation. So I made an appointment for January 25, which is one year and four days after my surgery. I tried to get in on the anniversary, but no such luck.

Shout outs to all my friends and family. I love you.

Reading

I've read four or five novels in the past week, which is a lot of reading even for the most passionate reader within me. Between novels I picked up Susan Love's Breast Book, and ended up in a chapter about statistical chances of recurrence. Shouldn't have done that. I don't really understand all of the information and now I'm worried my prognosis isn't as good as I think. I guess I'm just destined to freak out every now and then. So I'm trying to get it back together, continue to live and enjoy it. But I'm busy, and tired, and broke, which puts a damper on enjoyment at any time, anyway. And that's the end of my complaint.

Things at home hadn't been going well for awhile, but it all seems to be improving. Maybe we just needed summer to de-stress. Even with everyone going to camp or work and me going to the hospital everyday, it's an easier schedule than school. Even with Jonah going to football twice a week and Allison going to band practice and trombone lessons, and volunteering at the library. And now we have something amazing coming up: we're going back to Ridin-Hy Ranch with our friends/cousins! Thanks so much to Ken's parents for making it possible. We REALLY need a vacation, and their generosity is making a huge difference in our family's life. The kids will also go to the Poconos with Charlie and Libby, so lots of mountain air and relaxation next month.

Oh yeah, radiation. It's still going okay. Tomorrow is the halfway mark, and so far I don't notice any difference. I lie on an uncomfortable table with one arm raised over my head for 8 minutes at the most, with green beams stretched across the walls and ceiling, and then I'm done. I don't have any pain (anymore) or redness at the sight, and I think I'm mostly tired because I need to catch up on sleep after catching the midnight showing of Harry Potter. This is definitely the easiest phase of cancer treatment. It's mostly waiting around, which is partly how I'm reading so much.

Anyway, I started using shampoo instead of soap today! I just went out and bought a trial size bottle of baby shampoo, and with the tiny drop I need to use each day it could last for weeks. Here I am! Any difference since last week? It feels like it, but I don't know if you can see it.

Tuesday Again

I am so tired, but I don't know if it's strictly from radiation, or if it's because somehow this summer seems busier than every other summer. I could barely finish a two-mile walk last night, and usually I can walk at least three miles without giving it a second thought. I hope it's just the radiation. I'm also having intermittent throbbing pain in one area, enough that I asked to see Dr. Komarnicky yesterday. She said everything looks and feels right, and some people just get this. She recommended Advil. Okay.

Going there everyday is an adventure. I drive like a bitch. I finally got a "cancer sucks" ribbon for my back bumper. Fits my mood precisely. I have been in a foul mood. I've been trying not to bother anyone with it, but I lose it on Route 38. East, west, east west. Yesterday Ken took the day off and drove, and I thought that would help ... no, I just backseat drove the whole time. Today I wore my wig to my treatment (did an in-person resume drop later in the afternoon) and the parking guys didn't seem to recognize me. They were really busy, anyway, and their system stinks. I was late for my appointment because I couldn't get a ticket stub. The receptionists made a big fuss over me with hair, but I think people generally look at me differently when I wear the wig. I think something about me comes across as fake, even though the wig looks so much like hair. It's strange.

Anyway, I have to take Jonah to his first football practice in a minute (boy, is he excited!), so here are two pictures for this week. I think I could call myself a not-quite-bald person now!

Feeling so NEGATIVE

And it's a wonderful thing! Negative, as in I DON'T HAVE THE BRAC GENE MUTATIONS! Jill, Lori and Allison will always be at a slightly increased risk for breast cancer, but they can't have a 60-80% chance of getting it. No prophylactic mastectomies in their future, thank G-d.

Still leaves me with the question, why? What made me get this? What wrong thing happened in my body, and what made it happen? I'm a person whose cells get screwed up, and I want to know how to keep it from happening elsewhere. It can't just be diet, can it?

Enjoy the long weekend. Join us for fireworks in Medford tomorrow night! Freedom Park, lots of fun.

Radiation Begins

The first appointment went smoothly, and I learned two good things: 1) Reading Terminal Market is two blocks away from the hospital, and 2) they'll give me enough cream samples that I shouldn't have to buy any the whole six weeks. I thought I was good, but on Sunday night I couldn't sleep. I felt an unnamed anxiety creeping in and taking over, and yet I couldn't identify it. Ken asked, "Are you nervous about tomorrow?" Yes, that was it. So I didn't sleep most of the night, but I avoided Ambien or Xanax. Better to just wait it out sometimes. I'm so tired of meds.

The radiation itself is fine so far. I don't feel a thing. I might be starting to get a little red in one area of my breast, but I'm constantly itchy anyway and could be imagining it. The coming and going is more of an adventure than the radiation. I drive down 38, which is just a kind of obstacle course to me, and then I have been using the valet parking. Yesterday I remembered to tell the guy I'd only be 15 minutes, so he left my car in front of the building. Cool!

My Sister's Keeper was okay for a movie version of a book, but if you're expecting the book ending you'll be sorely disappointed. Sorely. The movie ending was completely different, and kind of terrible. And boring. And long. A few of my book club friends didn't weep at all. That's saying something! Later, though, I realized it had affected me, looking at the way they made up the girl playing Kate as she was dying of leukemia. It's etched in my mind. I've seen two family members during their last week of life, rotted away by cancer (my aunt -- by marriage -- had breast cancer). Actually, they were a mother and son, more than 20 years apart. I don't want to go there. I hope Aunt Bernie and Ben are resting in peace, because they didn't have it at the end of their lives. It's a terrible death. Gary Papa, Farrah Fawcett ... so terrible.

Tomorrow I finally get the results to my BRAC test. I'm nervous, and I imagine my mom and sisters are as well. I haven't really explained it to Allison, and she doesn't read this blog. There was an article in a local magazine last month. If you could find out if you were at extremely high risk of getting cancer, would you want to know. Many said no! How could you not want to know, to make changes to avoid it? But I guess it's tough to hear. Wish me luck tomorrow.

Oh, here's my hair picture of the week. Some (including Jonah) have asked why it's coming in white. Why? Because when you spend months freaking out about cancer and kids and money, I guess it turns your hair white! Seriously, I have heard it starts out that way, and should end up darker later.

Hair Today, More Hair Tomorrow

Yes, I'm still around. Sorry it's been nearly two weeks. Life is hectic, but really I haven't written because I've felt like I haven't had anything to say about cancer. Today I'm sad that it took the life of Farrah Faucett. It was good of her to document everything she endured. I'm not watching any of it! But of course, here I am, documenting.

I'm growing hair. On Tuesday I took a picture of its progress, and I've decided I will take and post a picture every Tuesday. We'll see how long it takes to return enough that I can call it hair rather than stubble or fuzz. Oh, here it is:

Today I meet with Komarnicky to finalize everything. I start radiation on Monday, not thrilling. Just get on with it. Get it over with. It's messing with my summer, what summer we have with rain everyday. Tonight I'm going with my book club to see My Sister's Keeper. Have you seen the trailers for it? In every one, Kate is completely bald. Can't they give the poor girl a hat or a wig, or do they think that would make her less cancery in the movie? They have to constantly rub it into the viewers' faces? Send her off to a prom with a gleaming head? I don't know. I loved the book, I'll let you know what I think after the movie. I can just say that I would not go to a prom, or even the market, with a gleaming head.

Oooh, here's another hot flash. Isn't there anything they can do? I'm trying to work out. I ran on Saturday, walked a couple days, and yesterday I swam. Still, hot flash, hot flash, hot flash!

While I have your attention, a brag! Allison graduated from 8th grade on Tuesday night, and earned two major awards (no, not a leg lamp). The first was the performing arts award, because really she is involved in all of the school's performing arts. Second was the Central Record Writing Award! Seeing her walk up for that award may have been the highlight of my year so far. She even got a $25 gift card with it. Of course, that went toward the care of the turtle. Oh well. On to Jason: last week I was invited to a poetry author's celebration in his language arts class. The kids each read poems they'd written. Jason's poems were amazing, and he topped off the event by performing with two classmates a rap he'd written about insects (he talked the teacher into letting them perform it). If you like Andy Samberg on SNL, you'd like Jason's rap. That's Jason's big influence lately. Anyway, he did a great job with the whole thing, and if I'd known it would be like that I would've brought my camcorder. Jonah starts camp on Monday! I am so excited for him!

I thought I had nothing to say

I don't have anything to say. Yes I do.

GET A FREAKING MAMMOGRAM. You know who you are.

I think I'm going to do a Relay for Life survivor lap today, but I'm not sure if I'll have time.

I'm dieting to get back into my clothes. Right now they hurt, and I can't afford new clothes! It's a shame, because I think I actually look a little better at this weight. I guess I only need to lose 4-5 pounds, at least.

Sugar doesn't taste right, still. Of all things to get screwed up. My legs hurt, and I can't figure that out at all. Why would my LEGS suddenly start to hurt? I'm afraid to find out.

I'm back on the Zoloft. I couldn't wean myself. I'll need medical assistance for it. In the meantime, I'm completely out of whack. If I see you and I burst into tears, just ignore me. Same if you're standing outside my house and you hear me shouting. And if I apologize for nothing ... same thing. I need a couple weeks to get it worked out, I guess.

Sweat-cold-sweat-cold-sweat-cold ... that could also have something to do with my mood. And applying for jobs and never hearing anything. Depressing.

I ran into one of my fifth grade students from the 07-08 school year last night at the market. I was so pleased to see her! I'd just been thinking about her a few days before. And she's just the same, so funny and sweet. She was dancing and chasing a ball near the deli section, and she and her mom stopped to chat with me. But after I walked away I realized what I must've looked like to her. I was just wearing a hat (I wear a hat to the market) and I happened to be wearing a pink ribbon shirt, plus the pink rubber bracelet I always wear. I was a walking breast cancer advertisement. I was so glad I'd seen her until I realized that.

On the flip side, a funny: last Sunday Ken put on his high school football jersey, and it looked ridiculous. So I pulled my majorette uniform out of the closet and put it on, and I was so pleased it still fit. So I went to the mirror to look at myself in it, and started cracking up ... I was BALD! I had completely forgotten. I couldn't stop laughing. I should do that again and have him take a picture. It is funny.

The Icing on the Cake

I don't care for that expression in this situation, can someone offer an alternative? The thought of icing on a cake makes me so happy when I have tastebuds. It is the most significant part of most cakes, especially cakes from Hesh's (on Castor Avenue in Northeast Philly, you have to go there). The icing on my figurative breast cancer cake (have to differentiate because Barb brought me a literal breast cancer cake after my surgery) is making me miserable.

You may have seen the new research showing that SSRI antidepressants such as Zoloft, which is my lifesaver, counteract the benefits of Tamoxifen, which is the necessary pill I'll take for five years once I finish radiation therapy. All four components of my treatment (surgery, chemo, radiation, Tamoxifen) are considered vitally important in ensuring my survival. Skipping Tamoxifen would be akin to skipping the chemo.

About three years ago I realized that anxiety was slowly but surely overtaking my life. I wasn't sleeping, I was socializing less and less, and I couldn't make a decision. Sometimes it felt like a physical pain. After reading on the Internet about which meds might make me gain weight or not (which of course had to be my primary concern), I decided to give Zoloft a shot. It's so easy to get a prescription. I just had to tell the doctor what I wanted. Zoloft turned out to be perfect, even with my low dosage. It didn't change anything about me, but it removed the irrational anxiety as if it had never been there. I have been so grateful for Zoloft. I couldn't imagine facing the cancer diagnosis without it, when I fell apart quite enough with it.

Now this study. How can I go off Zoloft? What's going to happen to me? After everything that's happened, and everything I've been through, now this? I have never once asked "why me?" but I do have to ask WHY THIS? It is, so rightly and wrongly, the icing on the cake. Perhaps because I'm already weaning myself, just writing this paragraph reduces me to tears.

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This is like a new post, so I'm using the dotted lines. Here in the middle of the night, I suddenly have lots to say. Actually, yesterday while subbing I wrote down three topics I needed to get off my chest (another cruel expression to use on this blog). This one is about my intro to radiation. What a week!

I had been putting off making an appointment with a radiation oncologist, and then suddenly realized that some on my chemo board who'd finished the same week I had were already starting their rads sessions. I was going to go to Penn, but it was more important to have a good recommendation from someone. I had lunch Tuesday with my friend who has been far too connected with breast cancer in the past few years, and she slipped me a paper with Dr. Lydia Komarnicky's name and phone number. Under that she wrote "top doc." My friend listed several reasons for recommending Dr. Komarnicky at Hahnemann, and I called her office on Wednesday. Susan, one of lord knows how many Susans in that office, found a cancellation and got me an appointment for Thursday! Getting there was a trip, glad I gave myself lots of time. You'd think, you pass Hahnemann every time you drive into Center City, how difficult could it be? Well, heh heh. Famous last thoughts. Finally I settled on valet parking. I hope I get back to THAT subject.

For now, I'll just write that Dr. Komarnicky and her staff are so incredibly, umm, nice! I need a better adjective, but the ones popping into my head don't work as well. Before long we were all sharing our most personal stories with each other. How does that happen? Also, I got friendly with a retired kindergarten teacher in the waiting room, a 5-year breast cancer survivor who loves coming to the office because Dr. Komarnicky is fantastic in every possible way. During my appointment on Thursday Dr. Komarnicky discussed why radiation is warranted in my case (mass greater than 5 cm.) and then explained the CAT scan, the tattoos, the treatment schedule. She suggested I could come the next day for the scan! Even after subbing! So yesterday afternoon I trekked back to Hahnemann in more rain. I didn't even consider valet parking, which is so completely disorganized, the attendants on Thursday were trying to deal with an irate couple whose car they'd lost. Yes, lost. Yesterday I got a space in the lot right next to the Feinstein Building, yay! And all of my parking is free at Hahnemann while I go through this.

The CAT scan was easy, the tattooing hurt. Why would anyone choose to inflict that pain upon himself or herself? I have three tiny dot tattoos under my bra line. I've never mentioned this here, but I was born with a third nipple, which was not removed during my surgery. I still have a nipple, ha ha. It's tiny, and now it's going to be radiated just in case there's breast tissue around it. I will have 28 treatments, starting June 29. I'll go every weekday, at a time that works for my schedule, and I'll meet with Dr. Komarnicky every Thursday. In early August I'll be finished. The treatment might make me tired, but probably not for the first couple weeks, and hopefully not nearly as thoroughly as the chemo. I brought my mom home (poor woman lost her job again, thanks to some incompetent reporter named Greg), and the traffic was terrible. In my effort to circumvent it, I went the wrong way and got stuck in more. Plain old Murphy's Law.

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More dotted lines. I did mention I wrote three topics on the post-it. The last one is that I think I've discovered what I need to do. Maybe this whole experience isn't about what I'm supposed to learn, but what action I'm supposed to take. So I'm going to start advocating for low-risk women to remember to get their mammograms. If I had gotten my baseline done when I turned 40 instead of waiting a year and a half, I most likely would've at least been able to skip this step in the process. The cancer would've been an earlier stage. I'm just lucky it wasn't aggressive cancer. I was completely taken in by my low risk factors: no family history, physically fit, breast fed three babies, young. There is no such thing as low risk. All women are at risk. I didn't even have a lump to feel. The breast cancer site (think it's thebreastcancersite.com) has a button you can click everyday. Each time that button is clicked, money is donated so women can have free mammograms. If you can't afford a mammogram, get in touch with the people at that site. But get a mammogram, every year. Or I'll bother you about it. Incessantly.

Don't go through more than is necessary. If you have breast cancer, you want to know as soon as possible. I know that rationally you all know this. Putting off a diagnosis does not make it go away. It just makes it worse. I'll have to figure out how to advocate better than just on this blog.

I wonder if I could fall back to sleep now. Or if I should take my half dose of Zoloft.

Not feeling well

I've felt sick much of today. Is it chemo? Am I coming down with something? How can I tell the difference? I woke up with a headache, and then nausea set in. I can't taste food again ... terrific. Complaint warning: I'm so tired of feeling sick and tired. That sounds familiar, I might've said it before or used it as a facebook status update. Or maybe I just think it all the time. I refuse to take a nausea pill on day 18 out of chemo. I have no reference for this. I'm guessing it's unrelated to chemo, but of course anything that happens ends up related to chemo. Any little cut on my hand that ends up red and inflamed, chemo. Any other sort of infection, chemo. Do I sound weary and annoyed?

Last night was Allison's band concert. She was at her friend Simona's, and 30 minutes before she had to be at school I called and asked if she wanted to go. Duh. I raced out of the house to get her, then stopped at the market, then ran into the house for just a second before driving her to school. Unfortunately, I didn't realize I was headed to the school when I initially went to get her, so I ended up at Harrington wearing a hat. Just a hat. I hate when that happens. Ken brought me a buff when he came (as requested, I didn't want him wandering around holding my wig), but I still wished I had my wig. I've developed my own little rules for what needs to be on my head and when, and to sit in the Harrington auditorium, that's a definite wig occasion. Subbing: wig. Market: any sort of head covering. A walk: a hat. I don't know, maybe it's silly, but it's how I've adapted. After the concert, a woman approached and said she used to wear her hair like mine. I was so confused for a moment, before realizing she is a cancer survivor. It turns out she is also the other trombonist's mom, so we ended up chatting for awhile. It made me feel a lot better about being there without my wig. I wouldn't have gotten into that conversation if I'd been wearing it. If you've had cancer, feel free to approach me in a store and start talking! Apparently I find it soothing. I guess it's just because you're still standing there, alive. Not that I spend all my time worrying about death these days. I don't. Honestly. The thought creeps in occasionally, but I think everyone has that thought now and then. My death fears are just more specific. I do fear ever having to go through chemo again. I'll do anything to avoid that (even eat shiitake mushrooms).

Allison had no idea her friend's mom had been through this. I hope she'll talk to him about it sometime. Also, I should add that my daughter plays a mean trombone. She's quite a musician. You should hear her piano playing. You probably won't (she's shy about it), but you should!

Jason was sitting here when I started this post, and he wants me to mention that it's really funny to do The Barber of Seville on my head.

Well ...

It's finally starting to hit me that I'm done chemo. Huh, that deserves more emphasis:

WOO HOO!!!!! I'M DONE CHEMO!!!!!

Still not enough, but I don't have the linguistic skills to describe it any better than that. Once the really bad days pass I can't quite remember how they feel. I just know there was exhaustion, and an irritation about feeling hungry but being able to tolerate nothing. Now I don't need to worry about it.

I owe some people thank you notes, some for a long time now. I have been so out of whack, half of those notes are actually written and are somewhere under my bed now. I apologize, and I want you to know it's my own damn fault you haven't gotten them, and I do sincerely, incredibly appreciate everything everyone's done. It's going to take me forever to get my life back on track. My house ... oh, my poor neglected house.

This week is better than last week as far as extra crises, thank goodness. I have my new computer, and I think everything else will work out okay. Libby and Charlie were here for the weekend, and that's always nice. The weather was amazing (which made me miss the pool), so we had a great Sterbakov family barbecue on Sunday night. It's always fun to have the uncles around, and it's even better now that my mom joins us. And thanks to Libby, I didn't lift a finger.

I read about radiation, and now I'm kind of dreading it. I don't even want the tattoos. I didn't know it would make me tired. I didn't know it could damage my ribs. Ugh! Enough. Also, now I'm worried about the BRCA test. During the barbecue, my dad mentioned that colon cancer runs in his family. Uhhh ... gene! I never knew there was so much incidence of it there. I thought it was a weird fluke that I got cancer, and I even blamed Ben's mom's side of the family for his cancer. It couldn't have anything to do with the Sterbakovs, I've always thought. Colon cancer incidence is definitely raised with the gene. Women with the gene have a 60-80% chance of ending up with breast cancer, and a higher than normal risk of ovarian cancer. Colon cancer is right behind that. For men with the gene, the big risk is prostate cancer, followed by colon cancer. The gene is passed directly from parent to child. If my dad has the gene, Jill, Lori and I each have a 50% chance of having it. If I have the gene, one of my parents has it. I'd guess my dad, if I had to make a guess now. I still have to schedule an appointment to get my results.

Fun things coming up: tomorrow night, Allison's band concert (7 pm at Harrington), and Thursday afternoon, Jonah's kindergarten music concert (1:45 pm at Larchmont). I think Jason's band concert is June 4, but I haven't received anything about it.

What a week!

Whew, I can't even believe it's already Saturday again. Usually as the days pass I focus on how I'm feeling from the chemo, but I haven't had time to focus on that or much of anything. Or maybe I've had to focus on everything.

Last Saturday we got the letter from the JCC about Jonah's camp scholarship. They barely gave him one, and I had a fit, cried, put it on my facebook status update. You cannot believe the kind and informative offers of help that followed that! By Wednesday, we received a revised letter, offering Jonah the exact scholarship we originally requested. Jonah is going! The camp is absolutely amazing. He will have the best summer, and never have to go to radiation with me. That was my good news.

During the week I had another run-in with Jason's principal. He's a nice guy, really, but he's like a member of the renaissance cult and doesn't get how it can hurt kids. I give up trying. One more month.

Something else happened during the week that actually trumps cancer. I'm not talking about it. We're dealing with it, and I think/hope in the long run it will be better than okay.

Some school districts have finally posted jobs. That, and I subbed in the school where I worked in the fall and had a nice chat with the principal. He seems confident that I will get a job for fall. I feel cautiously optimistic. I spent quite a bit of time in the past three days working on cover letters and so forth. I'm never sure how to write those. Sometimes I want to say everything, and I end up needing to change font size to keep the letters to one page! Then I get smart and cut instead. So yesterday I worked on cover letters for about two hours, left them up on my screen, and then Ken sat on my computer. UGH! I could print the cover letters and my resume, but now I don't have Internet access on there, so I can't submit the online stuff. I'll have to get a new computer this morning. My dad and Libby are here, so Charlie already went to Best Buy with me last night.

Anyway, where we stand is ... almost two weeks out! This is what I longed for, the day when I would feel better and not have to go backward a week later. It's been a very slow recovery from this treatment. My tongue is still about half numb. I'm still sleeping weird. Otherwise, I feel and look like me. I'm me. I'm not basically comatose. And I'm going to be okay. Okay. Great! I'll be making lots of changes to keep it that way, removing toxins from my life, etc. I guess I won't be quite the same person I was before, but I see that as a huge positive. I hope you will, too, or that at least you'll understand.

Okay, my kids' computer stinks.

Amazing

It's amazing how perception can change so quickly. This afternoon I realized I WILL start growing hair again soon, and therefore I will actually have hair, and have to care for it. The thought made me weepy with joy, as I imagined having enough to pull through my big round brush, and to tuck behind my ears. It's only been two months since the day I cut and bagged it, and already it's hard to imagine it was ever there, like it was some long past dream. I know I'm in a transition now, and though it's obviously a good one, it's a slow-going adjustment for my state of mind.

The last three days have been hell, but I'm coming out of it now. I ate a whole dinner, and I've been awake since about noon. I'm still having significant body temperature problems (feet are ice cold, head and neck perpetually sweating), but I am getting relief from the cold wash cloth on the top of my head. I look ridiculous, which is saying something, but I'm just sitting upstairs in my room.

Anyway, it's not yet time to sum up anything. I still have more of the same freaky side effects to endure. Most of my tastebuds will return in a week or so, and then I'll have to consider my diet very carefully (between my nutritionist friend and the fact that I gained five pounds, there's much to consider). And then maybe I'll have some idea of how I feel. Right now it's all raw emotion, not making much sense.

A shout out to my boys, Jason and Jonah. Jason sits with me and tells me stories, and rubs my back. Just when it seems completely unbearable, he helps me bear it. Jonah brings me card after card with cut-out hearts and sentiments like "i hop you fill beter," and then plays a personalized rendition of "You Are My Sunshine" on his one-string guitar. You have to see the earnest emotion in Jonah's eyes, because there's no describing it. Two good boys!

Gosh, sorry!

I have been thinking I should get over here, but life gets so busy at this time of year! I can write about some of it:

Last week my big kids were in the Spring STEP Show. As far as middle school shows go, I don't see how anyone could beat what Jack and Christine Jeckot and company do with and for these kids. I try to volunteer as much as I can, but I normally end up just helping out during show week. Same with this year. I worked backstage when the 6th graders bussed over to see the show last Wednesday morning, and Thursday morning I held a door shut for two hours (ouch).

Jason had a fairly big lead in the show. Allison spent four months downplaying her part, but it was a terrific part (also a lead) and she made it even better. Knowing all this, my in-laws came up from Florida to watch, and Lori and Dave settled in South Jersey for a few days, starting with the show. I get so excited about the shows, I saw all four performances. Usually the auditorium is freezing, but of course now that I dress warm and have hot flashes, the air didn't work. So I did end up stuffing the wig in my purse and going with a buff for the second half of one show. Allison wasn't thrilled, but she didn't say a word. And poor Civia, who was trying to help me figure out what to do with it other than sticking it in my purse. For awhile the wig was hanging backstage on a paper towel roll with the Kiss costume wigs that were going to be used later in the show. But as expensive as my wig was (thanks as usual, Charlie and Libby), I couldn't take my mind off the idea that it could end up on teenage heads while they were wearing Kiss makeup! So that didn't last long. It was fine in my purse.

On Friday we just hung with family, but Saturday was the Mt. Laurel Baseball day at the Phillies game. Hot, but fun! I love seeing all the kids marching around the field. Last year I marched with them, so it was Ken's turn this year. We all went, 11 of us.

And Sunday, Mother's Day, was the Komen Walk. I'll attach a couple pictures (including one of me bald, thanks to the wind). It wasn't quite how I expected it, with lots of pink shirt camaradie and getting to know new people, but I was happy to have so many of my regular people, whom I already love, with me. And other than the wind, the weather was great! And thanks so much, Jill, for hosting that great brunch after the Walk. It was special to have Civia and her mom, and my in-laws, over for that.

So yesterday was my LAST TREATMENT! I didn't even feel the IV going in, it was the best one of all. Woohooo! I ran around all morning so I didn't get my pre-treatment good-tasting meal, but Barb (who took me to Penn) and I went out for dinner afterward. Weird, the beginning of my burrito tasted better than the end. I lose my taste buds that quickly now, I guess. Later, Barb, MJ, and I went for a nighttime walk (after I tried again to work out payment arrangements with Penn).

So far today I've had 2.2 bottles of water, and I've vacuumed, and I've emailed two teachers, and finished the last of the laundry (ungodly amount of laundry). I've taken Claritin (supposed to stave off bone pain that could be caused by the neulasta) and my last morning steroids. I have to take Zofran next (with breakfast, still waiting for Jonah to wake up), and a little later I'll take the Emend (the good nausea stuff). While Jonah's in school this afternoon I have to return stuff, and then tonight will be crazy: I have to take Jonah, in baseball gear, with me to Penn by 4:30. Get my neulasta shot and head back, so I can pick up the Hebrew school boys. Drop off Jonah at t-ball (the other parents agreed to keep an eye on him for me), then take the Hebrew boys to synagogue, then get back to the game. Then back to the hebrew school. Crazy! I'll definitely be ready to sleep all day tomorrow. And the returns are all at Centerton Square, so I should still end up with time for a nap this afternoon.

Anyway, even knowing what's coming over the next few days, I just feel so good, so thrilled. It's just a few more days! I can't believe the two months went that fast. Four treatments never seemed all that hard to handle until I had the first one. Then for awhile it seemed insurmountable. I'm so blessed to have found a medical staff that cares so much about not only my health, but my comfort. Everything I've needed has immediately ended up at my disposal.

After talking to Dr. Fox yesterday, I'm leaning toward having radiation at Penn. So I'll meet with the radiation oncologist there as soon as they call to give me the appointment. Fox said they'll give me parking passes, so that's what makes the difference. I do feel so comfortable at Penn, anyway. Oh, and I did not have my gene test yesterday, they screwed up. So I have to go back Monday afternoon for that, and they'll pay for that parking, too, since it was their mistake. Parking down there is at least $6 a visit, so it adds up quickly! Bad enough that the toll is $4 each trip.

I won't see Dr. Fox for four months.

Love you all!

I Owe at Least One Chemo Post

I'm just getting sick of talking about chemo! The women on my message board are starting to make up words like chemocentric and chemolicious, and I occasionally find myself doing the same thing. But of course, the point to the blog is that I can write down what I'm going through and not have to repeat the information. If I don't write it, I have to talk about it ... again and again and again. That's starting to happen.

So, treatment #3 side effects are almost past. My mouth is starting to heal, which means I can taste food just a bit now, and my tongue isn't instantly turning even ice cream to lava. I'm writing this from a subbing assignment, my third day this week at the same school (and I'm having such a blast!). My head, my stomach, etc. Everything is fine. On Monday night MJ and I went for a fast-paced walk for 45 minutes, and I felt good when I returned.

Last week was so crazy. I had a day on Thursday that's like the kind of day people post about on eBay just before they make $10,000 selling an old baseball or an ugly, unlucky wedding gown. Grass, mud, toys, a trip to the ER (for Civia's husband, he's okay), the rabbi showing up, a houseful of extra kids, a freezing cold bath for Jonah, PMS (not mine), all while I was too sick to emerge from the bedroom. Gotta laugh in retrospect, but hopefully there won't be any repeats of such insanity! That's like the woman on my board who was at her child's softball game and managed to get conked on the head with the ball. Of all people, the ball had to land on the cancer patient's head! She got her "second ambulance ride" for that one, and after all that we had to laugh. Because she's okay, of course, otherwise it wouldn't be funny, obviously.

Today's lesson is titled What I've Learned about Chemo, Which Isn't Much. The cocktail I'm taking is a mix of taxotere and cytoxan (TC). Taxotere is pretty new, it's only been around for a few years. The side effects are weird and unreliable, which is why I almost never know what to expect. The hair loss is about the only definite, and even with that, I still have about 15% of bitty hair covering. Many people with "early stage" breast cancer (and I am considered to be early stage, thank goodness) take this combination. However, severe allergic reactions seem to prevent about 20% of women from being able to take it. We who can tolerate get 4 to 6 doses of it, one every three weeks. That's because it takes three weeks for the chemo to leave the system. As soon as it's out, put in more.

The other commonly used chemo drug combo for breast cancer patients is adriamycin and cytoxan (AC). This is tougher to handle than taxotere, or at least more nauseating. It also can cause or magnify heart trouble. Some women need both adriamycin and taxotere before they finish their regimens, usually four AC and four TC. Before I met with Dr. Fox, Dr. Czerniecki led me to believe that's how it would go for me. Women who have the AC first tend to be slightly relieved when they get to the TC. So I'm lucky to just have to take TC!

There are other chemo meds for breast cancer, including a brand new one (Avastin) which is still in the trial stages, and then other kinds of chemo used for other cancers. I just found out about a clinical trial for a med that's supposed to have tremendous success in keeping cancer from recurring in the bones, so I plan to ask about that next time I see Dr. Fox. Otherwise, I go for chemo on Monday, May 11 (last treatment) and then so on and so on.

Finally, I have to mention last Sunday night. My first boss out of college was a magazine editor with a strong penchant for superlatives. An endlessly energetic 30-year-old guy. I've kept in touch with him all these years, and now he's a pretty energetic 51-year-old guy who's become a superlative nutritionist. When I told him about my diagnosis, he jumped right into gear. He sent me the most restrictive diet I could possibly imagine, and told me if I didn't follow it I would die. Because I was still pretty much a child when I started working for him, I spent the next few weeks whining at him, how could he make me do that. I tried to get out of the two-hour Whole Foods tour he insisted I take on Sunday night, but the beautiful weather was not an adequate excuse for him, and my kvetching did nothing to dissuade him. So I went, and learned a lot! I promised I would add his foods to my diet, and along the way we made some compromises, and it turned out well. It's definitely worth it to look into better nutrition after all this, even if you think you're eating well enough already. Of course, I might not read the paper he gave me on the dangers of sugar. There's no way I'm entirely giving up chocolate chip cookies!

Well, that's enough. Or at the very least, I'm out of prep and lunch time.

The Big Question

I've been pondering this for so many weeks. It's what occurs to me on the nights I mistakenly predict I don't need an Ambien, and then pay the price at 3 am: What is the purpose of this journey?

What am I supposed to learn from this? If I don't learn it, will I be doomed to repeat the whole experience? There is a point. The "things happen for a reason" expression is like a scratched record -- err, what's the equivalent for this century -- in my mind. So I peek around corners, search deeply into the eyes of my friends and family, delve into my own mind, trying to pinpoint the one answer that will lead to lasting physical and metaphysical wellness. I guess I want to be Gandhi.

It's not working. Instead, what I'm learning is how some celebrities come to be so self-absorbed. Take someone who has always sought to be the center of attention and give them the opportunity, and what you get is someone who stands at a hostess desk at a crowded restaurant and wondrously bellows, "Don't you know who I am?" That's me. Well, obviously I'm not a celebrity, but this is the most attention I've ever gotten, and I like it. Next thing you know I'll be stomping my feet, with my bald head gleaming (it doesn't really gleam, I have some fuzzy hair), and I'll blare to some poor, unsuspecting anybody, "Don't you see what I HAVE?" Selfishness cannot possibly be the ideal!

Today at McDonalds (a treat for Jonah) I initially ordered a happy meal, before realizing the toy is no longer from Monsters Versus Aliens. At that point I said, "We don't need the happy meal, just the food." So she rang it all up separately and charged us more than she would have if we'd gotten the toy. I was annoyed it didn't occur to her that I might not want to pay MORE to get the food without the toy. Once I thought about it, it became clear that I should be annoyed at myself for being so intolerant. Here is a person, gainfully employed, maybe doing the best she can, at a fast food restaurant, and I expect possibly so much more than she can do. Why? All I proved is that I do not deserve a special education certificate in this frame of mind.

On Friday, a perfect 75-degree day when I felt chemo awful, Ken took me for a drive through the pretty rural areas. Last fall I subbed in one of the rural towns, and I never enjoyed the 15-mile drive through lush farmland. Instead, I drove just as rudely as usual, hoping to pass anyone, thinking the key to happiness would be to have the 50-mph roads to myself, so I could fly at 65. With Ken, though, I slipped into the mindset of the other drivers. Why rush? The cows aren't going anywhere. It was shocking at first, and I had to fight to let go of my backseat driving instincts, but once I relaxed it was mildly exhilarating just to ride along in the car. When we got home, I didn't feel nearly as awful. Although maybe that also had something to do with the Pringles.

So far I'm a horrible cancer student. I'm selfish, intolerant, and obnoxious. I need to re-read my study guide. Even though I'm not getting any of the answers right, I know they're smack dab in front of me. I'm getting to be more convinced they're in the eyes of my family and friends. I'm not meant to absorb the attention, I'm meant to see what it is you're actually giving and learn to do it as well. And then there's got to be lots of other stuff to learn. I hope I get to that part of the course before I stomp my feet in a restaurant.

Not Sure How I Feel

I'm lying in bed, trying to decide. Last night I mucked it up, went out to dinner (a school fundraiser, no less) with the boys and got publicly ill. I hope I didn't scare anyone's kids. Mine are unfortunately used to seeing me slouched over like that.

So today I haven't gotten out of bed. I am supposed to move every so often, but it's been nice and cozy to spend 90% of the time sound asleep! I could, like, take a shower, something like that, maybe even go to my book club meeting. I missed Jonah's baseball practice, he's there now. I actually think I want to eat, but I have no idea what. Chocolate? I'm also now realizing, I guess because of the sound of girl voices in the front, that I haven't laid eyes on Allison today. Here she is. Running in and out with Simona. Oy.

I wonder what other people think: Does Jason deserve a bit of extra kindness at school because of what he puts up with at home? He doesn't get treated well at his school, in my opinion. His math teacher is nasty to him and refuses to speak to me about it. Jason had one stupid incident with a potato more than a month ago, for which he should not have gotten into any trouble, and for that his entire last quarter at this school is now ruined. Even though he made the honor roll and has been a really good kid. And you know how I champion him at home. He earns it. He is a good boy, and he honestly does have so much on his plate. You'd think they could possibly give a little, once in awhile. Allison's and Jonah's teachers have been absolutely fantastic. Their kindness has brought me to tears. Doesn't Jason deserve the same? This is just really eating at me. The principal can't even keep track of which kid Jason is, it's all so meaningless to him. Very sad.

Huh. Another thought. Is this chemo brain? I've been so afraid of losing mental strength through all this. I can feel that I'm rambly now, and not making much sense. And earlier today I thought the book was called Flowers for Alcatraz, even though that didn't sound quite right. Allison, it turns out, is right here in the house, she's in the kitchen with Simona. What if I end up with brain damage? I think that's the one thing I could not handle. I'll try a shower. And maybe some chocolate.

Treatment Day

This time my appointment was for the morning. Much more crowded there in the morning. Civia and I were in the office for more than two hours before the drip even got started! Well, to be fair, I extended my appointment with Sara with my many questions. I'm okay with the answers. First, not much to be done about the itch. Second, I may not ever have another menstrual cycle, but I may have it suddenly return in two or three years. No sign of it now, and I am having hot flashes ... who knows. Third, I found out that I can start radiation three weeks after I finish chemo ... which brings us to the beginning of June. I'll have it six days a week for six weeks. Perfect! My half season membership begins exactly when radiation ends. I will be allowed in the sun with a really good sunscreen. It won't kill me that my neck got a little burnt at the farm on Saturday. My genetic testing (for the BRAC genes) will be the day of my next chemo appointment, and then I'll return about four weeks later for those results. June 8, to be precise. Hopefully, my mom's birthday will bring luck to all of us. Sara had the social worker sent to my "suite," but because I was asleep Civia talked to her and took some information about financial assistance (for copays and such).

The drip was completely uneventful. I slept through much of it, bliss. Then a woman came in and asked if I'd be interested in some sort of relaxation technique (what was it called, Civia?). Much, much more bliss ... and sleep. Suddenly I was released, feeling just a bit groggy from the drugs and the sleep.

We went from there to my appointment with Dr. Wu. She is still pleased, but I have to go back in three months. I won't get my nips for six months after I finish radiation, she said. Oh well. The stitch that's nearly poking through? Nothing to do about it unless it does actually poke through. The stitches should absorb back into my body.

Oh, forgot to mention! Barbara, the one I keep seeing at Penn, the one who called and helped me so much, she was there today! When I first saw her I was worried she needed more chemo or something, but she was just having her 6-month follow-up. Thank goodness. I could've run into her at Wu's office again, but she had a morning appointment and I went after chemo.

I signed up my whole family for the Komen Walk in Philly on Mother's Day. I'm not officially collecting pledges, but if you would like to donate you can email me and I'll let you know how. I'm walking in honor of the chemo message board I joined on breastcancer.org. We all deserve a longer go at life. These are wonderful, beautiful women. And they are brave, too, posting their bald heads on our board and on facebook!

A mention: if anyone needs any fancy hair accessories, check out this company: franceluxe.com. They send free headgear, along with beautiful notes and thoughts, to all cancer patients who make the request. Most of my chemo board now owns these lovely head wraps. This site also sells combs, clips, etc. This is a small, wonderful company.

Thank yous. Thank you Barb for knowing exactly what to do, and for promising not to ever have anxiety about being there for me ever again. Thank you Civia for taking me today and for breakfast and for listening to me kvetch. Ken, thanks for taking care of everything with Jonah this morning. Thank you chemo nurses for hitting the veins on the first try every time, so I really didn't need a port. Thank you Dad and Libby for calling and for being there even when you're 1200 miles away. Thank you, Snezana, for making Jonah's morning so pleasant. Jonah had fun at your house and Zora is now one of only two or three girls esteemed enough to earn Jonah's friendship. Debbie, the hamburgers and fixins were delicious, thank you! Thank you, all of you who write kind notes. Finally, last but absolutely not least: Mom, you save me all the time. Thank you.

Flash Update!

No chemo until Monday!

My appointment for tomorrow had to be delayed because I have to have the Neulasta shot 24 hours later, and the office is not open on Saturdays to administer it. This is fantastic! I could practically kiss Aetna.

So tomorrow, which is supposed to be a beautiful day (not to mention the last weekday of spring break), I'm free! Ken can go to his reenactment without worrying about me, and I can take the kids somewhere fun, enjoy the weekend. The new gym I joined is opening tomorrow, so I can check that out, too.

Oh yeah: my dad's advocate friend got me answers in about ten minutes. She found out that as long as the shot is administered in the doctor's office it's covered 100%, no copay. You probably figured that out during the first paragraph, but I figured I'd throw it in there just in case.

I already took my steroid pills today, but I'll have another steroid day on Sunday. Maybe I'll put off the cleaning for now, and go for a run instead. By the way, I was planning to delay my 4th and final treatment to the following Monday or Tuesday because of Mother's Day and the Komen Walk, so this just puts me on a clearer track to do that. It doesn't interfere with my end date at all, still slated to be May 11 or 12.

Yay!

Not Much to Say

It's spring break, and though I didn't plan for spring break to be during my third week, I'm thrilled that it is! Other than itching, I feel completely like me. The itching, well, I'm practically tearing off my skin. My head is much better. The oncologist prescribed a topical antibiotic. However, as my head has been healing I haven't wanted to wear my wig. I've gone out a lot wearing a buff, which is what contestants wear on the show Survivor. The buffs are easy to wear, wouldn't fall off in the strongest wind, and are so comfortable. I was self-conscious going out like that at first, but now I don't even think about it. At home I've given up and started going bald. I warned the kids that when I was in the bedroom I had to air out my head so it could heal, and it turned out they thought nothing of it. So now I just go around the house with naked head. One of these days I'll forget and walk out of the house like this. Could you imagine?

So it's spring break, and I'm hoping to do lots of fun things with the kids. We went bowling and to dinner with the Glasses on Saturday, which of course was a blast. Yesterday I took the kids to Atlantic City. It was fine when we were shopping at the outlets, but the boardwalk was like a tremendous wind tunnel. Coming back from Johnny Rocket's to Caesars, we made a run for it. Well, Allison was too cool to run with us. Today it's raining and we haven't done much of anything. I'm getting laundry done. Tomorrow it's supposed to rain again. Thursday I want to go up to NYC, but Allison wants to hang out with friends. We'll have to see if we can manage both. It is my good steroid day, after all. And then Friday morning I'm hoping to walk around Center City with the three of them, then have Ken take them home before I have to head to Penn. Ken will be gone for the weekend. Anyone who wants to entertain any of my kids while I hopefully sleep, they're all yours. Especially Jonah.

Oh, forgot to mention: I'm having my first problem with Aetna. Last treatment they paid 100% for my Neulasta shot, and this treatment, they've apparently "changed their procedure." They want me to pay $350 out of pocket! Crazy. So I don't know if I'm getting the shot. My dad has a friend who is an advocate, and she's willing to help me. I hope she can!

Why did I put this off?

I normally enjoy writing here. It feels therapeutic sometimes, and other times I just like knowing the information is going on a permanent record. But after my little cat eulogy, I stopped knowing what to say, I guess. It's not like I'm spending every waking moment mourning Brodi. The poor thing was so sick, she's better off, and it's not like my house is suddenly empty.

Enough about that. Let's see. I'm still not completely bald. I have these tiny hair blades scattered all over my head. Sometimes I go over my head with a lint roller. The hairs are loose in there, and they're so sharp. Should I tell this part? Oh, it's so gross. Okay, skip if you don't want to hear gross stuff. My whole head is covered with acne. Not my face. My face is fine. But my head is a disaster, completely red. I don't know what to do about it. It hurts, it itches, it even gives me a headache sometimes. Do I call the oncologist? A dermatologist? I don't know. This just seems completely, well ... me. I started off continuing to wash it with the same shampoo, but the shampoo is for color treated hair. Not only don't I have color, I barely have hair. So for the past few days I've switched to washing my head with my Dove soap. I don't know what to try next. ProActiv? Ha!

Yeah, enough about that, too. On Sunday we went to the JCC Camp, and sure enough, Jonah LOVED it. He wanted to start the next day. Please keep your fingers crossed, even though we won't hear until May 15 if he gets the scholarship. While we were there I ended up in a conversation with a nice dad, and it turned out that not only is he is a neurologist at Penn, he's a former patient of Dr. Fox's mentor (and he continues to see Dr. Fox). He had Hodgkins when he was a student at Penn, applying to med school. Did he say that was 17 years ago? That sounds right. Of course he loves Dr. Fox, and he made me feel really good about the whole thing, without even knowing my prognosis (which is good, anyway). He made me think about AFTER, which I hardly ever do. Not even just AFTER as in after treatment, after my hair grows back, etc. AFTER, like years from now, when this is a distant memory. It was wonderful. Of course, the other kind of after sounds good, too. It just seems like an indulgence now to think of that. The only way I can get through this is day to day to day. I compare this day to last week, or to how I might feel next week, but that's the best I can/will do. I think if I compare myself to normal I just won't be able to manage. This way, I can tell myself that I'm doing better than Saturday, and feel optimistic. And on the worst days, I can remind myself that the next days will be better. That's it.

And these days are good. I'm comparing to three weeks ago, when my blood count had dropped and I missed Allison's birthday dinner. I'm fine now, knock wood, other than making trips to three different ShopRites yesterday and still forgetting an ingredient for the seder. I'm comparing to Saturday, when I still had the sour taste in my mouth and felt completely frustrated. I looked in the mirror this morning right before getting into the shower, and even with my nearly bald, red head and my blank breasts, I recognized myself. I was smiling at the mirror, and I didn't know why, and I couldn't make myself stop. Isn't that weird? But I recognized myself, even like this.

What a week

The good news is, this treatment is still easier than the first. I guess just because I'm better able to anticipate the side effects, and also because I've been taking walks everyday. The general fact that April is easier than March might be affecting how I feel. I made it through the work day on Wednesday with no trouble just because it was my easiest subbing day ever (3 very sweet, self-contained 6th graders with two aides), but I still felt tired. When I left my stomach was upset, so I was glad to get home.

Yesterday. Not a good day. First, I had no appetite (still don't), and then after I got my kids home from the dentist we found that our cat, Brodi, had passed away on the laundry room floor, right next to her litter box. Ken and I adopted Brodi after returning to LA from our honeymoon, almost 16 years ago. He had gone to Petco to pick up food for our dog, and a cat rescue group was sponsoring an event. Ken fell instantly in love with Brodi, made me follow him back to the store to see her. She just looked like a cute little tabby kitten to me, but he was so enthusiastic I couldn't refuse. She was 10 weeks old at the time. She went through the Northridge Earthquake (not very well, but she went through it), moved to the East Coast with us, watched all three kids grow from nothing, suffered the indignities of living with not one, but two puppies who were larger than she, and in the end she just loved her sun spots in the dining room. She hadn't been doing well lately, we knew this was coming. Yesterday she was so wobbly, I wanted to do something for her, to give her peace. She took care of it herself, but I wish it had happened while we were home. Allison is particularly sad. We're going to have a funeral later today and bury her on the side of our house (where she always reappeared after her annual April walkabouts).

After that it doesn't make sense to write about much else. Let's hope for good baseball weather for this weekend, and let's hope Jonah likes the JCC Camp in Medford, where I'm hoping he'll go this summer.

NOW it's two down and two to go

The treatment itself is no big deal, but making it through the ensuing days is like, oh, the Middle Passage? The Hebrew slaves crossing the Egyptian desert? Maybe that's an exaggeration, but you get the idea. This one was just exhausting, and possibly as much for my mother as for me. Yesterday I pretty much slept the entire day while she did my "job." Man, am I impressed that she could find her way from the school to the synagogue to the library, etc., all on her own. I think Jonah had a nice day with her, too.

Last night I started to come out of it a little. I woke up to another degree. Not fully alert and awake, but not desperately overwhelming. It ended up being fine that Jill had to work today. I took Jonah to Barb's in the morning, and while Jonah was in school I napped, then went for a 1.5 mile walk. I'm still scheduled to work tomorrow, and I think I'll make it. It's middle school, early day, I think it will be fine. If it is, what a difference that could make! I need to get back to work.

While I was typing this, Jason came into the room. Apparently my buff had fallen off, and I hadn't even noticed. He did not react to my funky looking head at all, but I realized it as soon as he saw me. I apologized and grabbed for the buff, but he was so sweet, saying it was okay, and then he gave me a hug. Jason rocks. Jonah rocks, too, even though he has told me I should wear hair everywhere we go because I look freaky if I just wear a hat or a buff. And Allison ... I don't know. That'd be a whole nother blog.

Well, I'll update tomorrow about work.

So tired

This one has knocked me out. At least I can sleep! That's a big improvement over the last treatment. I hosted Jason's book club meeting today, and it turned out to be the shortest book club meeting in history. I must not have looked up to the task. Was I? I have no idea. I love those boys, though. They can hang out here whenever.

Besides that, I made it through a trip to Best Buy, and strugggled through a one-mile walk with Ken. I've slept every other moment. Sigh. Trying to get in all the water. Four bottles a day doesn't seem like much, but my body seems to think it doesn't want it. Even with the Emend and Zofran, I have a tiny drop of nausea.

Thanks and kudos to Civia for administering the neulasta shot last night. I didn't even feel it! And I don't know whether it's because of the Claritin or just because, but I have no bone pain at all. Now to make sure the shot works, and my white blood count doesn't drop again. I really don't expect that same trouble. Being able to sleep should make a huge difference.

I'm more than half bald now, which is, comparatively, a good thing. That buzz with all the loose hair was so itchy, especially under the wig. I'm a fidgety person on any given day, and I couldn't stop picking at the loose hair. It's much better now.

Wish me luck. Ken is leaving for Vegas early tomorrow morning, and I'll have to manage. My mom is coming tomorrow for the day, and Jill is coming Tuesday. This might just be crazy, but I've accepted a subbing assignment for Wednesday! The doctors want me to get out there and continue to be part of the world. I'll give it a shot! Ken will be home late Thursday night.

Well, time to go see if I can eat something.

Alright, I'll write!

Whew! Number two is over! Jill and I did get our shamrock shakes, with fries. Jill you're a baaad influence. But what the hey, I never eat like that. That shake was totally worth it, and so were the fries.

The hospital visit was long. I waited 20 minutes to get my labs, then it took 25 minutes, at least to check them. Don't know why it was running so slow. I didn't see Dr. Fox because poor guy is at Megan's Bay or Coki Point at St. Thomas. Those gorgeous beaches might hurt his eyes, poor thing. I spent time with Sara the NP, and that was fine. She agreed to add Attivan to my IV, which was nice. Benedryl and Attivan ... obviously I would not have been able to drive home!

The nurse who came to give me the IV started off by noticing all the places I'd already been poked and thought my veins must be bad. Then she inspected closer and saw all the previous mistakes. The veins are good, she insisted after that. I got all the drips, and I must've drifted in and out of sleep or something, because time passed quickly. However, during that 10-minute time period when I'm in danger of an allergic reaction to the taxotere, it happened. I didn't have the serious stop-breathing-turning-red reaction. Instead I had horrible hip and lower back pain. Nothing like I've ever experienced. Different (and not as bad) as the kidney stone or labor, but my pain level shot straight up to 7. That earned me an extra half hour of drip. They took off the taxotere and pumped me with more steroids before trying again. That time it went well, and the whole rest of the treatment went smoothly.

It's nice that up in the chemo suite there is always a basket of items donated by organizations for us to take. My first visit, I took a hat, and yesterday I chose two scarves. I'm about half bald now, very splotchy and weird looking. But I actually enjoy being home alone and able to wander around the house with nothing on my head.

Last night when we got back, Jill, Ken and I went for a 2-mile walk, I think that's the main reason I feel good now. With the ambien, I slept okay.

Okay, back to chemo. I have a whole bunch of meds to take this morning, though I feel fine (well, my tongue is starting to get numb), and then later Civia is coming to give me my neulasta shot. So far this is already better than last time. Let's hope for the best! I want to go back to subbing.

A Shamrock Shake

If McDonald's doesn't have them anymore, then Jill and I will treat ourselves to the even better mint chocolate chip milkshakes at Friendly's. Can't wait!

I think so far I am doing much better preparing for this treatment. Probably because this time I know what I'm doing. I realized that if I'm on steroids, I might as well make the most of it. So yesterday I got everything done. Hopefully there will be no bad smells here this time. Every drop of laundry is done, including the pajamas we wore last night. If I can't do laundry for a week, we're set! Also, I knew from experience that I wouldn't sleep without Ambien, so I got more than 6 hours last night.

Hopefully, if I'm able to prepare so much better, then Dr. Fox is as well. I take the Emend right before the milkshake, and then tomorrow is the neulasta shot. This will give me horrible bone pain, apparently, but I read that if I take Claritin I can circumvent some of that. Worth a try!

So I'm off to the hospital in a few hours, and my week of feeling good is just about done. Nerves haven't fully kicked in, I guess I'm keeping myself busy enough. But when it hits me, probably in the car, I'll worry about an allergic reaction, making sure the IV goes in right the first time, the results of the finger prick ... yeah, I'll enjoy the morning, first!

Oh, something to address: if you are one of the wonderful people bringing us food, and you read Jodi Picoult's new book, please pay no attention to her character's rant about "well-meaning people with casseroles" or whatever she says (I haven't read it yet). That mom might be beyond appreciation, but I am not. Please don't feel like you did the wrong thing. I know you want to help, and I wouldn't be able to come up with ideas on my own. The dinners mean a lot to us. That said, we have a lot in the freezer for next week and probably don't need anything. I sit online, though, when I can't do anything else. If you have any fun games you'd like to share, or if you'd like to email to say hi, that would be awesome!

I'll write as much as possible again during this treatment. Hopefully there will be less adventure. Enjoy your day and your weekend!

Love,
Michelle

I ran!

I love the third week.

Yesterday we all went to David Glass's bar mitzvah. I went late, in a separate car, in case I wouldn't be able to make it the whole day. But I did, and it was so wonderful. David did a fantastic job and the party was so much fun. Even though I felt okay, I rested when I got home just to be safe.

Today I've alternated resting and activity. Ken, Jonah and I went for a walk this afternoon to a neighborhood playground. After dinner we went to Allison's friend's house to pick her up. The friend lives less than half mile away, but Ken walks at such a fast pace I had to jog to keep up. I ran all the way to the friend's house and wasn't at all winded. This was my first time running since my diagnosis, and I really didn't expect to get farther than 15 yards. Okay, well I'm impressed with myself. If you want to read about serious running, try Jill's new blog. I don't have the link. Jill, can you post it in comments?

While trying to keep up with Ken on the way back, he pointed out that I rarely mention him here. Why is that? I guess I spend so much time in this bed, suffering the symptoms alone while Ken takes care of the kids and the house and his job, and even a sick, cranky me, and I have taken him for granted a bit. He's consistently there, and we've only seriously annoyed each other once in the past couple difficult weeks. I feel like he's lost sometimes, and he only tells me he's sad for me (especially about my hair). I wonder how it's affecting HIM. There are parts of even your wife you're not supposed to see, and this part of my head is a biggie. I tried to send him to a spouse support group, but the meeting was canceled. I tried to buy the book "The Breast Cancer Husband," but Border's was out of it. I'll order it for him tonight.

Speaking of my head, I'm starting to fall into routines with it. I don't expose my head, even in the house. I treat it like it's part of my naked body. Unless I'm changing or showering, I wear a hat most of the time. I wore a hat for my walks today. To go anywhere else I wear the wig, but then I end up leaving it on in the house for awhile. The kids seem to have adjusted well to the changes. I guess I've adjusted well enough, too. Your compliments help, because I actually believe you! I don't think I look so bad.

Now I just wait until Friday. Jill is taking me to Penn. It's a good thing she has a dog, because she might have to stick a leash on me to drag me out of the house. Starting all over with another treatment ... shudder.

Half Asleep

I'm barely awake, and hoping to fall back to sleep once Jason leaves for school in a few minutes (and you wouldn't believe the big, wet snowflakes sticking to the ground on this first day of spring!).

Yesterday afternoon I pulled a bit at the newly cropped hair at the back of my neck, and a clump came out. I went to the bathroom, and as I ran my hands through my hair I layered the bottom of the sink with it. It was next to impossible not to become sickly fascinated, and yet it was one of the most frightening moments of my life. I decided to take a shower, to see what might come of it, but I didn't lose too much more in there. Combing it afterward, another story.

So my appointment last night was just in time. Joe gave me the option of waiting a couple days. He said it would probably take until Sunday before it would look obvious. No. Last night was the time. When his daughter came at me with the clippers, though, I shrunk, unable to handle that first touch against my head. She offered to try to cut it down, and I thought that might soften the blow. But when she scissor-cut it short, I learned I will NEVER wear my hair that way. Ewww! By then I was ready for the buzz. A buzz cut actually looks better on me than short hair.

Joe returned with the wig, which I couldn't believe. It was the right color, but it was long and wavy, not at all what I wanted. Duh. He and his daughter style it ON my head. They shampooed it, then put it on me. Joe's daughter did all the styling, and when it was done ... wow. It was perfect. It's still weird, but it's perfect. After I left I had this odd feeling like I was looking out of someone else's eyes, but it passed after a glass of wine!

Now my "hair" is on a styrofoam head (high up, out of animal reach), and I should've known I wouldn't be able to sleep well my first night in a little purple cap. I haven't taken it off yet this morning, but I can't stop imagining the tiny pieces of hair that will be imbedded in it when I do. I've heard the pieces will look like ants. Ugh. I wonder if I'll be able to fall asleep.

Allison wrote an essay for school about how life is hard, and the whole thing was about me going through this whole experience. I wish my kids wouldn't be going through this. Childhood is difficult enough.

As for me. Yes, of course it's hard. This is the hardest part emotionally, even harder than what I sacrificed during the surgery. I'm trying to just keep looking forward. It's the first day of spring, and even though it is snowing my tulip stems have appeared and the pretty blue birds are back. It was a horrible winter. I've just sat here for five minutes typing thoughts about spring and then deleting them. I don't know what to think about spring this year. I don't know how to end this post. I am okay. I just don't know.

Sort of did it

So I made a ponytail, cut it off, and voila ... my hair looks almost exactly how it looks when I wear it shorter! I went to Barb's to show her, and she couldn't stop laughing. Now we're wondering why I ever need to go to a hairdresser, when all I really need to do is snip through a ponytail (which isn't as easy as it looks in Sixteen Candles). Now my ponytail is in my nightstand drawer, and my cute little bob has about 4.5 hours to go. My appointment with Joe is at 7 tonight. I called, and the wig is ready.

No fever in the past 24 hours ... good news! This morning I had my ducts cleaned. I wore a mask, and spent most of my time outside on the front porch, and then when I paid I got some sort of mouth spurting problem and explained to the poor guy (whose hair is cut exactly like mine) that I have cancer. Why! Poor guy couldn't get out of the house fast enough after that.

At this point, I guess I just lie around and avoid germs. I'm thinking my white blood count (WBC) must be increasing by now. It just must be. Not that I can take any chances, but it must be.

No fever, less hair

Yesterday afternoon I checked and it was 99.3. So I took a couple Tylenol and a two-hour nap, and when I woke up it was down to 97.3, which is about normal for me. Good! But to be safe, I didn't go out to Allison's birthday dinner. We all had cake together later, and it was fine, I guess. Today I slept really late, and woke up when Jonah whispered that Barb was downstairs cleaning the kitchen. Thanks, Barb! I'm hoping I'll stay okay. I'm being careful and trying hard, and sometimes not breaking my stride and being a warrior, and whatever other applicable "bad" '80s tunes, might mean sitting on my ass typing on the computer.

Last night I flat ironed my hair for the last time for a long time. When I was finished, I was surrounded by hair. Uh oh! It's not coming out in clumps, but it's coming out. Jonah just left for school, and I'm sitting here trying to decide how brave I am. I always said I would cut it first myself. But will I? Will a glass of wine strengthen my resolve? Should I really just put it in a ponytail and cut the whole thing at once? Or should I try to make it nice? Or should I wait until the last moment (tomorrow at this time)? Or should I just make an appointment with my hairdresser for tonight and let her do it? Nah, that's no fun. Plus, she can always fix it later if I can't live with it for 24 hours. Sheesh. Twenty-four hours. I don't even know if I'll leave the house in that amount of time. What's the big deal? I should just go cut it. Chop it. Maybe if I cut one big clump, then I'll have to keep going. My head is itching. It's almost like my scalp is whispering a message. "Hello, Michelle. I don't want hair anymore. I want to be free." Poor scalp, getting a wig so soon. How much longer can I make this paragraph? When the paragraph is over, I have to make a decision. What do you think you would do? Obviously I won't be able to rely on your advice, but it could make for some interesting comments. I'm running out of reasons to extend this.

Maybe later I'll have a picture to post. I promise that if I really do hack it off, I will post the picture even if it looks horrible. Wish me luck!

Update

Well, my white blood count is dangerously low. On the plus side, I don't have to go to the hospital. Sara (NP) says it will start to rebound in a few days. In the meantime, I have to avoid germs. Maybe I should go check into a hotel? Germs there, too. I'll just wash my hands every 10 minutes, as Sara suggested.

For my next treatment, I've earned myself a script for Emend (the REALLY good anti-nausea stuff), and a neulasta shot (for my blood counts). Hopefully I'll be in better shape after that.

No Break

If you type that your fever can't get past 100.4, then the next time you take it it will be 100.7. Luckily Dr. Fox didn't feel compelled to hospitalize me. I'm just on an antibiotic, and we're keeping an eye on my temp. I do not want to go to the hospital on Allison's birthday! She deserves her celebration. Hopefully I won't get the CBC results until tomorrow, because I know my counts must be low. In the meantime, I guess I feel a bit feverish, which is certainly preferable to many of the side effects. I don't feel like writing anymore.

Sick of me, yet?

I'm so tired of being tired, and I'm tired of kvetching. Every time I take a step forward, something knocks me back.

I didn't sleep again on Saturday night, so I know I need to rely on the sleeping pills for now. On the other hand, it was just as well, with the nosebleed that started, and settled into a nasal drip that lasted the entire day yesterday and into the night. By last night my glands were swollen and I had a fever, but luckily not the 100.4 fever required before I have to drag my ass back to Penn.

Other symptoms are definitely/finally dissipating. I can feel my tongue a bit now, and my stomach feels settled. I didn't take a single nausea or stomach pill yesterday. I think if I didn't have this nasal issue I'd feel pretty normal (it feels like I have a cold that involves a constant burning feeling in my nose). I'm going to get my blood levels checked this morning. That will be a big step, and should lead to some answers. I bet my blood count is somewhat low. Let's just hope it's not too low, or I will end up in the hospital. Everything is about not ending up in the hospital.

The purple is almost entirely washed out of my hair. It's okay. I'm not yet feeling like I'm losing any hair, anywhere. I'm not even finding an increased number of hairs coming out during a shower. I don't have any of the pre-loss sensations (either tingling, or the feeling of a too-tight ponytail). I wonder if I would've lost it this week. It's still better to be proactive.

rough times

I'm starting to wonder if I'll never want to look at this blog again once it's done.

I wrote on Thursday, right? Thursday night sucked. I developed diarrhea, and horrible stomach cramps, so instead of taking the sleeping pill (would've been a bad idea under the circustances), I was up all night. Yesterday I felt so sick all day, but the evening was the worst. My friend brought this yummy dinner, and I just looked at it and cried. By last night I had a mini-pharmacy by my bedside. I've never needed many meds, and I'm making up for it now. Lots of OTC stuff: Immodium, Advil, Phazyme, plus the anxiety meds, the anti-nausea script and the sleeping pills. Crazy. And I don't know if one is offsetting the other, or what.

But today I awoke feeling a bit better. All I needed this morning was the anti-nausea. I was still unhappy, so I just sat in bed. And sat. And sat. And sat. (Have you ever read Once Upon a Potty? I was just like Josh/Prudence.) I tried to go to Target this morning while Jason was at services, but I couldn't fathom walking around the whole store. So I left without getting out of the car. Back at home, I sat again. Finally (hours later) it occurred to me that I could probably walk, and the air was really good today (about 50 degrees and calm). So I walked to Barb's house, where Ken and Jonah were celebrating Tommy's birthday at his party! It was nice to get there. As much as I need to write odes to my hair, Barb deserves them, too. And of course she put together a beautiful party. So I feel a bit better. I had my old walking music playing on my iPod, and I did something good for me (Barb lives just shy of a mile from here). If I walk everyday, maybe I can build myself up better before the next treatment and have a less hellish experience.

Sorry, no dog or driving adventures today. But: I've posting on this awesome message board for breast cancer patients starting chemo this month. The ones who started in the first days of the month are now losing/chopping off their hair, and they look so fantastic. One had really long blond hair, but not much of a style to it. The short short cut made her blue eyes twinkle and showed off her cheekbones. Another woman has sons, and she let them cut her hair. They gave her a mohawk, then put "piercings" through her nose and eyebrows. She's a 40something-year-old accountant! Unfortunately there are way too many women on that board, but they're from all over the world. Do you know that in Australia you can get a foot massage with your chemo treatments?

Thursday (I give up)

I called the doctor today. How am I supposed to know what to take for a headache. I don't even think it's a chemo headache, considering it's March and the weather has been crazy. Probably allergies. I also got a prescription for sleeping pills, which I've never needed before. But not sleeping at night is making me crazy (though I did get six straight hours last night).

Last night my tastebuds returned briefly, and I felt like celebrating. Today, cotton mouth again, buds have diminished gradually. Otherwise, I feel better. I went to Target. I bought myself new jeans, but they fit weird. My body is different, definitely. I guess I won't be able to wear that brand anymore. I also bought a few fitted tops, including one with a bit of cleavage. Do you think I'll wear it? Who knows. The iced cafe mocha from Starbucks was so disappointing. I might as well just live on broccoli or something. Sorry, I'm only miserable at this very moment, and I'm only writing right now because I don't feel like getting up.

I should start mentioning now that Allison's birthday is Tuesday. I've never known a person who absorbs attention the way she does, so feel free to contact her if you know how. She'll love it! I can't believe it's been a year since her bat mitzvah. Sometimes I look at my kids and feel so amazed. And why are they so big? Even Jason and I are now eye-to-eye! Speaking of Jason, he's told a few of his friends about me, and today I got a hand-made get well card from a girl he's been friends with since first grade. Isn't that sweet?

Oh, I have my appointment with Joe the wig guy: next Thursday at 7 pm. I hope my hair lasts that long. It's supposed to. I kind of want to cut it off myself before I even go there, just so I'm the one to do it. I still want to keep it in a ponytail holder and stroke it when I would normally run my hands through my hair. Ahhh ... I'm sure I'll have a lot to say about my hair in the next week. Gosh, it's just so thick and lovely. It deserves odes. If only I had any understanding of poetry. Shall I compare my hair to a summer day?