A lettter to Chemo....

Dear Chemo aka poison shit (I just had to and you all know who is shaking her head and it is not Aunt Sue!),

             On January 30 at 8:45am you came crashing into my life.  That was 130 days or 3120 hours or 187200 minutes and if you really want to get technical; 11232000 seconds ago.  Tomorrow, again at 8:45am, you will begin the 3.5 hours of drip and then finally, you will be done and over with and God willing will never have to be part of my life again. 

            Okay, I know I should be more thankful to you, but I am still stuck on the leg aches and making my desires for donuts disappear.  Yes, I understand you killed the cancer (better have or Dr K is going to be a wee bit ticked off), but you did put a damper on my life for a bit.  And what the heck is up with the fatigue??!! Just when I thought it could not get worse… you kicked me again.  Who knew taking a shower took so much energy a nap would be required to recover.  Speaking of showers, I know you are secretly responsible for Portia jumping ship and I think you did it to just torture me with Pedro the pic line.  He hurts and showers are out of the question as getting all stuck and tangle up in Press and Seal was a mess.  Nothing like having to have your mom cut you out of Press and Seal… talk about humiliating—especially as she was laughing her head off and kept Ann on the phone to listen to it as well.  So I am back to baths—just like a child—with only a piece of Press and Seal to deal with and trying to figure out how to shampoo my head.  And yes, I still have to shampoo the cha cha chia as it keeps it nice and soft and does not dry out the scalp—if you don’t believe me, ask Aunt Sue—she kept petting my head like  it was one of the dogs. 

            And I know you are singlehandedly responsible for the 10^th floor.  Dr K tried to fight you, but he lost and let me tell you, he was not a happy camper the last time.  You stumped him big time—I am impressed.  However, I would like to point out that although the ER trips were not the best, I had the BEST nurses around.  Shawna, my night nurse was just awesome (I had her 3 out of the 4 times).   If, for some reason you decide to crash me again and send me to the ER—have pity on me and make sure I am on her side and also make the ER wait better.  I know we are talking Memorial Day weekend which means I am asking a lot but at least have pity on Mom. .  Forget I asked you—that is a major favor—better ask God for this one.

            Back to Pedro the pic line—who I still blame you for—this flushing stuff is for the birds!  Every day?!  Are you kidding me?  At first I had them put those really long lines so I could flush myself and I while  I did a great job , they were just in the way and I have enough trouble sleeping without worrying about rolling over on them.  I had second thoughts and decided they were such a pain I would let Mom and (Nurse Ladd when Mom was not around) flush them.  Mom is getting the hang of it and I have not screamed since the first time (it really did hurt, but not as much as the scream indicated… I figured after the drain I had her in my pocket!). 

            Speaking of Mom, I do owe you.  I owe her much, much more, but because of you, she became —Mae Ling—my Chinese laundress (and her cancer alter ego --I would like to add she named herself).  She does my laundry and makes sure I have clean sheets.  She is awesome.  I have had to share her with Billy once in a while when he was down, but I  did make it clear she was mine. I will miss her when she retires.   I figure I have her until mid August, and then I will have to consider payment. 

            You have given me a few more things you might not be aware of and I am not talking about all those other nasty side effects I will not talk mention.  First of all, thank you from the bottom of my heart as I have never felt more loved and cared about.  Family is one thing, but friends, patrons, church family and just others surrounding me are completely another.  You might have sent them my way, but God has surely blessed me.   I only hope I can pay it forward the way he wants me to.  You have also shown me I am stronger than I have ever thought I could be.  You were one of my biggest fears and I have mastered you.

            I am still annoyed about the hair, but thank you for letting me keep my eyebrows.  Because I have my eyebrows, I don’t look or feel like a cancer patient when I am sporting Scarlett or Lizzie (although Scarlett is the wig of choice).  I hope it starts to grow back soon as Kim misses her hair and I know you have caused a dent in her profits.  Luckily she loves me and she is already plotting what to do when it comes in.  Yes, I am scared, but after all it is her hair, I just wear it. 

            One more item and I will let you go as I need to get some sleep so I can deal with you in the am--about this whole chemo brain thing.  It is a really great excuse, but rather annoying.  I hope some of it comes back when you end, as not only I like to be able to get the words out that I am trying to say, but I would really like to read a book soon—after all I deal in books and this not reading excuse is not going over well with those who walk in and say “got anything good to read?”  Then again, maybe I should just lift the wig off—bet that would quiet them! 

            Thanks for killing the cancer and not me.

            Love, Liza

Pedro, ER and the end is in sight....

     Hello world!  It’s been a while, hasn’t it?  I would have liked to report all has been well in chemo land, but alas, not so; nothing major, just typical me.  Let me explain…. As you might recall, Portia jumped ship during the ER visit and hospital stay associated with chemo #4.  So in order to make my life easier with needles, Dr K had me get a pic line on April 27—right before chemo #5.   Of course I had no clue what was going in my arm, but the light went on as they had me lay down on a narrow board and then they strapped my left arm in.  It should have been easier and done in the Outpatient Services, but since Portia had not been out long enough, I made the long walk to the Radiology appointment—luckily I was still clueless or I would have made a right towards the Kona Café.   I will say it was not as bad as I feared laying there and within 3 minutes, Pedro the pic line took over for Damn Portia and all was well again.  Well, for a moment anyway.

     Chemo #5 on April 30 went well and the end was in sight.  To try to avoid the 10^th floor, Dr K lowered my chemo dosage by 10%. (Actually ended up 8% as someone gained weight—really??!  I would like to point out no donuts were involved this time).   It was a good try.  However, when I took a nap on Sunday and actually slept, I knew I was in for it.  Took my temp around 530pm (100.3) called the office, talked to the on call doc and told Mom I had won the lottery yet again, we were on our way to the ER by 6pm.   Remember that Super Moon?  It was that weekend.  We got to the ER and signed in by 7pm.  And we waited and we waited and we waited.  With looneys and sick people---sick people who were going to make me sicker mind you.  Finally we got back to a stall around 11:30pm—neither of us very happy.  When we heard the doctor talking in the next stall we realized it was not that bad:

Doc: “You know why you are here, right?”

Lady: “ummm, yes” 

Doc: “you were running around outside with no clothes on.”

Lady: “okay—I want to go home”

Doc: “I am releasing you”
Lady’s fiancé: “she needs socks”
     Of course that was just the beginning; there was the man and his wife arguing over who beat who, the poor crying baby, and later, after Mom made her escape, the police with the gunshot wounds.  As my admitting ER doc said--- just another day in paradise!  Anyway, after my counts were in, the ER doc comes in and he is admitting me no matter what and Mom is thrilled there is a decision (it is now 1230am and she has a long drive home) so she is out the door within seconds—can’t blame her.  It still takes me until 3am to get to the 10^th floor and I get to meet some new nurses! Who knew what I had been missing.  Turns out I was pretty sick and Monday was one of those sleeping days.  Dr K comes in during the afternoon this time and shakes his head and wondering what to do.  I told him the first thing is to stop the fluids.  I promise to drink and drink, so he says okay but he is still wondering out loud if he should give the next chemo.  The thought of not having #6 was thrilling, but I knew he would still give it to me, just as he knew he would still give it to me.  I was released Tuesday and I knew we were a go with #6 as he told the nurse I was keeping all the appointments. 
     Chemo #6 is scheduled for Monday, May 21.  I figure a week of feeling like crap is ahead of me, then I should be back on the 10^th floor by Memorial Day to say goodbye to the staff; Pedro should be gone and I can reclaim by left arm; and should feel good by Thursday, May 31.   And I hopefully (fingers crossed) will never, ever have to endure chemo again.  The downside is I will now have to watch what I eat, but I am ready for raw fruits, veggies and salads again.  As for the chemo brain, there are studies that say it can stay with you for 18 years so I figure I have 5 years to use the excuse.  And best of all, my hair will start to come in. 

Revelation 14:12