In the Dark

So here I am spending the last two hours with my eyes clued to the ceiling trying to discern some unique kind of design embedded there.  I got nothing.  Can't go back to sleep.  I could count sheep but seriously? --  has that ever really helped anybody?  In the wee hours of the morning, when sleep is unattainable, a dilemma experienced by most, when the weight of the world is centered right there in the center of your chest like an elephant just decided to rest there, and no amount of tossing and turning will shake it, this is my moment right now.  What if the surgery doesn't work?  What if they go into the surgery and find the tumor is still laying against my major arteries?  Will they be able to proceed?  If they do what does it mean if they can't get it all? What if I get an infection before the surgery, after the surgery?  What if the breast cancer spreads while the focus is put on the pancreatic tumor?  Am I going to lose my job?  How will I take care of myself?

Is this my time? 

Am I going to die?

I am so scared.

Thanks for listening.

“If Christ spent an anguished night in prayer, if He burst out from the Cross, 'My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?' then surely we are also permitted doubt. But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation.”
― Yann Martel, Life of Pi

Just Me

It's funny how quickly things can change.  Last few weeks I've been feeling like superwoman.  Taking the chemo like a champ.  Then last night one day after chemo, kind of feeling it -- a tad on the crutty side.  This morning I woke up feeling a bit better but decided to forgo working out.  Tonight, not so good. Ran some errands earlier but was feeling a bit rough, stomach just a little upset, and running on empty with respect to energy.  Right now I'm just laying around.  Tomorrow will be a better day.  But here's me without my hat, or a scarf or a wig -- just showing off the peach fuzz that's still left of my hair.  Not much, but just me.

 

More to come later.  Ciao.

Cinderella Goes Gangsta

Saturday, March 16th was my sister's  61st birthday party at the Cabrellaro's club on Hill Top, and I got to be Cinderella for a night.  Well, kind of.  Instead of glass slippers I wore red slippers with about a three or four inch animal print wedge...yeah, I know...real funky cool.  I could just barely walk in them. 

Cinderella's slippers

My trimmer figure fit nicely in some black jeans with a cute black tuxedo blouse accessorized with a ruby red necklace and matching bracelet.  My now bald head was covered with a short and sassy Halle Berry wig. After a couple of very strong Tequila Sunrise I was Halle Berry.  Although I'm all scar tissue with Swish cheese on the inside -- my doctor's description of my tumor 2 1/2 months into chemo -- I looked damn good on the outside. Walking kind of took all of my focus when making trips up the stairs to the ladies room to check my wig on occasion to make sure it hadn't shuffled while I was shuffling on the dance floor, and my determination to not fall and land on my face was my motivator throughout the long night. To be honest, it actually kept my mind off the fact that my energy level waned quite early in the evening and walking in Hermann Munster's shoes kept me from not focusing on that as well.  I was even able to dance a few times and actually keep the beat and maintain my cool at the same time...yes...I did have a cool factor.  I hadn't been to the Cab in almost thirty years --at a time in my life when I was young enough to own the energy and sass that came with youth, and could even lay claim to some seriously funky dance moves to songs like Cool and the Gang, James Brown and Michael Jackson.  But that was then.  Now, was a completely different story. I didn't even recognize most of the songs they played that night.

I needed that silly night, to feel like everybody else; a fun kind of crazy that could carry me through the next few months to my surgery and beyond.  It was a nice evening out, spending time with my sister and friends, laughing and forgetting for a moment that there was anything more serious to focus on than relearning how to walk in cute fashionable shoes so high they were probably never intended for toes to be stuffed in.  But I did it, and at midnight I managed to walk out of the club with dignity and both my slippers, with nothing left behind for the over-50 Prince Charmings that were leaning against the walls checking out the ladies, while trying unsuccessfully to effect a similar gangsta cool they had almost 30 years ago, while...you guessed it, still checking out the ladies.

When life changes to lemons on you, sometimes you have to work even harder to find those things that make you get up in the morning, that make you smile.  And when you find them, or notice them again, because they're never far from us, it is so worth the effort it takes to find that special something(s).

My special somethings are pictures of my son's grown up and as little boys, my granddaughter -- who is often as silly as her Noni (that would be me), recalling silly conversations with my bro Kenny and how he'd make me laugh, or staying out late with people I care about, wearing ridiculously high shoes, having a good time, and not giving a damn about anything more serious than learning a dance called, The Wobble, and enjoying that moment, at that time.

"Cancer is not a death sentence, but rather it is a life sentence; it pushes one to live."

Marcia Smith

Fate

When I was seventeen I took a class in high school called Death, Dying & Bereavement. What 17-year old do you know purposely takes a class like that? Yeah I know...a bit odd -- seriously morose, but I also recognized a weakness in myself that I wanted to fix if I could.  I had major issues with the reality of dying, not me per se, but the very special people in my world. I understood the fact life and death were partners in this dance, but I literally could not imagine living my life without my people.  I thought taking the class would help.  It didn't. So I just put the thought of anybody I knew dying out of my head. But life moves forward, and death with it, regardless to whether I choose to acknowledge it or not. Bastard.  When my mom was dying it literally brought my world to a stand still.  When she closed her eyes that last time, I think I actually felt a break in my heart, that continues to ache to this day. I remember leaving the hospital and thinking how grey everything looked, even the air seemed to still.  Now Kenny's gone and Dad, and life has not resumed any acceptable resemblance of normalcy.  Sometimes I feel like I'm just moving through time in a fog always adapting to this new version of normalcy but not quite getting it. Nothing we do is a coincidence though, and everything is connected.  Once I actually started to accept that with understanding -- my soul received some peace in knowing with absolute faith, that I will see them again. Without that, I am nothing.  Me taking that strange class in high school, while everybody else was taking rock climbing or salsa dancing, was supposed to happen, and I know that now.  At seventeen, I knew more than I had a right to without understanding the whys of it all.

I've dieted for years with no results.  In May 2012, I took it on again, and I stayed true to my objective and to myself. I was obsessed -- in a good way, finally, about losing weight and along the way I remember questioning myself and wondering, why now?  Now, reflecting back, it wasn't just my neighbor's devil kids that motivated me to take action with their 'fat ole lady comment'. I was already making some positive changes before that little incident.  I believe a much higher power (and I personally call that power God), was preparing me for what was coming.  Losing the added stress of the weight on my body is a definite plus.  I'm more active, and my heart doesn't have to work so hard to keep pumping, which will improve the success rate of the upcoming  surgery.  Besides, I look damn good for a sick lady.  I'm hot!  I don't even allow myself to ask why me.  That's stupid and ignorant.  There are children carrying the enormous burden of cancer when they should not have to.  Why not me? is the question that should be surfacing. My mom and dad endured with so much grace and courage.  My brother, my very wonderful and courageous Kenny, never complained, and even after his cancer diagnosis, when he could, you would find him in the gym. No lie. These are my people. Very strong, proud and determined people.  And I'm proud to be a part of them.  Cancer took me by surprise, and I know this journey will be difficult sometimes, but I will deal with determination, and courage same as mom, dad and Kenny did. I'll give it that good ole girlscout effort anyways for sure.  Oh and for those of you around me, just a warning, I'll be pissed off sometimes just because I've always been ornery...but hey...I gotta do me!

“Learn to get in touch with the silence within yourself, and know that everything in life has purpose. There are no mistakes, no coincidences, all events are blessings given to us to learn from.” Elisabeth Kubler Ross.

Each Day is a Blessing!

I had a great day today, actually I've had a lot of really good days lately.  No nausea, no laying in bed all day as if weighed down by mud.  The fear and anxiety that has been a constant since my diagnosis -- both of them -- even kept its distance while I just enjoyed the day.  It was my sister Vickie's birthday and I just piggy backed off her good feelings.  She has been celebrating her birthday since March 1st and it's been pretty difficult not to get a good buzz off just being present.  Did I mention she came home with a beautiful ruby red 2001 corvette Monday? Pretty cool. She's wanted a corvette since she was about eighteen and has been talking about getting one for the last year. Well, she did it!

I did something too.  Yesterday I went on a short walk -- well, kind of short.  I got a little light headed on the way back because I'd gone a bit further than intended, which just tells me I need to respect there may be some limitations that warrant taking it slower.  Oh my gosh, thinking back, I was on such a rush when I was working out before.  Kept it going for months.  But once I heard about the cancers I hit a brick wall and just figured what the hell?  But I understand now that it's important for me to keep on living the way I do, and to keep on fighting back against this cancer and not let it get the best of me.  So today I got up and went to my gym and I made it 40 minutes on the exercise bike. It felt really good to be strong enough and fit enough to complete the full time.  By working out my body, and keeping it strong it's my way of sticking my middle up against cancer! Hell yeah!

I've seen Valerie Harper on multiple interviews about her recent terminal diagnosis for brain cancer.  What she and her family are experiencing right now is heartbreaking.  But the woman inspires the hell out of me and I wish I could tell her that. With her world crashing in around her she's on television, speaking out and sharing her story with all of us. Her fear is almost tangible, yet she pushes back so that she can inspire complete strangers not to give up on life.  Because you frickin' fight back until the last hour, the last minute to the very last second.   I love her comment, "Don't attend the funeral a day before the funeral."  Now that's a superwoman right there!

One of my most favorite quotes is from Elisabeth Kubler-Ross:
“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.”
― Elisabeth Kübler-Ross

Now here's some really good news.  I had a cat scan and X-ray on Monday to see if the chemo was doing its job, and my doctor was very pleased with the results.  My cancer is stable and I am right on track for the surgery in July.  I'm serious, Dr. Percozzi had a smile on his face, and he doesn't smile a lot.  I asked, 'Are you happy with these results?' and he said, "I am very happy".  So I'm happy.

On the breast cancer, my apologies as I seem to have flown by this one and ignored it competely.  Here's what's happening.  The mass is in my right breast and it is about 1 centimeter in size, very small.  I met with a breast cancer team and it is their opinion, and Dr. Percozzi agrees, that the cancer in the breast is very slow growing and if we have to wait a year to address it they do not feel it will change much.  Please God -- please let this be the case.  Since the pancreatic cancer is the most threatening to my life, my doctors have determined that this is where the focus should be at this time.

More updates to come.

Rewind

I want to back up again and fill in some of the relevant details of this tale of mine.  After being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer Dr. Garner referred me to a doctor, whose name I can't recall right now, at the University of Washington. I met with the UW doctor and he explained the complexities of my particular situation and went over my options.  The preferred option: 6 months of chemo with the least favorite option being having the surgery right away, which the doctor informed me could be scheduled for January 4th of 2013.  Although the UW is well known for being very good at what they do, I didn't connect well with the doctor so I decided to get a second opinion from a doctor that treated my colleague who also had pancreatic cancer, had surgery to remove the tumor then went through 6 months of chemo and another aggressive treatment called Virginia Mason protocol.  She is now two years cancer free and looking absolutely amazing.  She actually been my angel on earth guiding me through this journey.  Fifteen minutes into my meeting with Dr. Percozzi, my second opinion, and I knew he was the doctor I wanted taking care of me.  He explained the differences between his treatment and the UW and also went into their similarities.  Both hospitals agreed that six months of chemo was the preferred option however Dr. Percozzi didn't present the option of having the surgery as an early option.  It was too dangerous until the chemo could do its thing by shrinking the tumor as it was laying up against some major blood vessels.  The doc also indicated that with my jaundice and severe itching in his opinion I should have been admitted to have a stint put in immediately.  In my opinion, if this stint, which appeared to be a miracle cure for helping me not scratch the rest of my skin off my body, then he was right and I wanted to be admitted.  And so I was.  My rather unique cancer was blocking my bile duct which was preventing necessary waste from passing through and making my body a toxic waste dump.  One of the test I'd taken showed that behind the tumor was sludge.  Yuk. The stint would be inserted into  the liver to open the blockage so the bile could pass through. Wala! Itching relieved = happy Angie = bilirubins back to normal range.

Web MD explains Bulirubin as:
"...a brownish yellow substance found in bile. It is produced when the liver breaks down...A bilirubin test measures the amount of bilirubin in a blood sample.

WebMD Medical Reference from Healthwise."

My bilirubin count was around 27 at the time of our meeting and needed to be a one.  So, I was admitted into the hospital and ended up staying for about two weeks.  I was in longer than expected because my doctor wanted to make sure the stint was working. I was released from the hospital the day before Christmas Eve.  It took about two weeks later for the tormented itching to cease completely.  I can't even begin to describe more in depth how traumatizing that stretch was for me.  It was so all-consuming I couldn't even focus on the big picture.  Like the fact I had a cancer with a low mortality rate.  And the fact my life was changed forever. 

At the time, I didn't even know about the breast cancer.  All I knew is that my annual was coming up and I felt a strong forboding that almost had me not scheduling the appointment at all. But because they'd had some issues the year before with my mamogram, it needed to be done.  I mean come on, surely, what are the odds of being hit by two cancers at the same time. It was just too much.  Couldn't happen.

Wrong.

My Cancer and Me

I have cancer.  Well, actually, it's plural.  I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer on December 6, 2012, and breast cancer on January 24, 2013. So I have cancers. Boy, what a colossal statement.  It is absolutely ludicrous and insane how three words can literally alter a person's vision or rather version of the future.  Mine is so grey now, muddied by the uncertainty of every single thing I don't know.  When someone talks about plans for June, or August -- all I can think is will I be here? Also, my post title implies there is some cohesion between me and this cancer.  No frickin' way.  I hate this mass cohabitating inside my body.  However, until my doctor feels we can safely be separated without the anxiety and angst that separation can cause in normal situations, we've got to just get along.  In my case, the anxiety and angst revolves around the scary possibility of not making it through whatever is coming.  So a family member and even some close friends have suggested that I work my way through this new phase in my life by returning to my first love. Writing.

So here I am again trying to write like the writer I was supposed to be when I grew up.  Well, I'm grown up now, and nothing is as it should be.  But who am I to say?  I have a story tell but to tell you the truth, I have absolutely no idea where to begin.  So, as trite as it may seem I think I will start in the middle and then follow whatever direction moves me.  Here we go...

Once upon a time there was a girl.  And this girl spent most of her adult life trying to get back to the beginning.  A beginning where she was shapely, popular and googled at by the dudes.  I wasn't necessarily, always comfortable, with the latter attention from the guys, but who am I fooling? -- I'm a gal and like any gal the attention puffed up my esteem a bit.  As an adult I let my insecurities dictate my weight and spent my late 30's, 40's and early 50's really, really fat.  I got diabetes.  I got high cholesterol.  I got the high blood pressure.  I tried a million and one diets and nothing stuck.  I'd make it a month or two on the popular fad diet at the time and then completely crash.  Then in May of 2012 Divine intervention stepped in and took over. I was taking some stuff out of the back of my car and I heard, "Hey you fat old lady!"  Seriously?  The devil kids next door were hanging out of the window like monkeys in a zoo, and the object of their affection? -- yeah me.  Little bastards.  Anyway, I'm not even exaggerating, I finished unloading my car, then got back into it and headed to Vision Quest, a new gym over in University Place.  I couldn't do anything about being old, but I didn't have to look like it.  So I joined.  Club number three or four.  I've lost count.  But this time it was different for me.  The gym advertised a contest patterned after the show "Biggest Loser" that ran for 3 months most of year and two months beginning in October that finished right before Christmas.  I joined the contest.  My competitive nature took over and I actually stayed on path.  I got a trainer for a cheap deal, and I showed up for the 30 minutes of torture two times a week and sometimes three with the trainer.  When I wasn't meeting with her I had a private workout with moi doing either cardio or weights or both.  And the weight came off.  By the end of my second contest I'd lost about 60 pounds.  I was just getting ready to join my third contest and preparing myself mentally and physically for losing the rest of my weight and achieving my goal. You know...I don't recall feeling that good about an accomplishment in a long, long time. 

My knees gave me a lot of trouble during my work outs so my trainer suggested I try a supplement called JointFlex.  I tried it and within four days I developed chronic, manic, insane itching all over my body.  It was relentless.  I stopped taking the supplement and the itching subsided a bit, then returned like a mofo.  I had welts all over my body.  My sleep was spotty throughout the night and in the morning I'd have blood spots on my night clothes from unconsciously scratching at my legs, arms and stomach all night long. It was hell!  My doctor prescribed a lot of different drugs over the counter and prescription for allergies but nothing worked.  About two weeks into purgatory, I saw my doctor again for an annual physical. I knew something was wrong when brown urine filled the container the nurse asked me to pee in.  Oh my.  When Dr. Garner, my primary doctor, came in to the room the concerned look she didn't even try to hide were my red flags.  I think the fact that my eyes and skin were yellowish had something to do with that as well.  Doc immediately scheduled me for an ultrasound that Wednesday and an Endoscopy that Thursday.  When I woke up fom the Endoscopic procedure a  doctor informed me that I had pancreatic cancer.  All hell broke loose inside my body and I think I could have flooded the room with my tears.  To this day I will be grateful to my nephew, Verdell, for going with me that day.  He held my hand while I cried, and I held his while he cried. 

My annual mamogram was on January 16, 2013.  Due to something showing up in the film (of course), they scheduled me for an ultrasound on January 17th and a biopsy January 18th.  I was informed I had breast cancer by Dr. Garner on January 24th. I started chemo therapy for the pancreatic cancer on January 14th.  2013 started off being pretty F'd up!

I guess that is more than enough of this tale for one day.