Monday, September 30, 2013

POP'N PILLS

Okay, this is my second week on heavy antibiotics to get rid of the infection in my liver, and seriously, these things are kicking my ass.  I didn't read the how-to manual as carefully as I should have -- you know, don't take it with this or don't take it with that -- and spent most of last week nauseous or in the bathroom with the runs or both (T.M.I.? I know).  Not fun.  Let's see, here's the play list...take one of them 1 time a day and the other one 3 times a day every 8 hours.  Then one of the pills you can’t take with dairy or milk and neither one can be taken with O.J. or the long list of other stuff mentioned.  Then of course, I have to coordinate them with my other meds, some that can’t be taken within two hours of anything else.  Really?  Sounds like a lot of math to me, which I’m bad at even on good days.  Anyways, next week I have another CT scan to see if the infection has cleared up and if so, radiology will get together with oncology and decide when to schedule me for the protocol. But dang, if I can't manage on the antibiotics, how the heck am I supposed to succeed on the Virginia Mason Protocol?  This warrior needs a plan. 

Here’s a good thing, my younger sister who lives in Seattle, has offered to take me in for the full 5 weeks during my next wave of treatment, and to be honest, I'd rather be tossing my cookies...and stuff, and looking real scary with family than subjecting my friends to my worst.  You see, although I can be very social, I’m very, very private.  If anyone can be both introvert and extrovert, that would be me. And, my sister has seen me ugly before and we still have to be sisters, but my friends…yeah, don’t have to be.  But, they have offered to be back-up in the event things get a little rough for me, and to give my sister a break. And in the meantime, they are also putting together a list of drivers to get me to and from my treatments.  My son, Tony, will have the honor of taking me on Wednesday's, which will be an all day affair.  Lucky him huh? I am so fortunate to have all these folks in my corner, for sure. 

On the protocol, I’ve been told that the people who end up in the hospital are those suffering from dehydration.  In the event this happens (and hopefully it won’t!), I get one week off in order for my body to recover, but that’s it, then I have to make it all the way to the finish line or nothing.  Keeping liquids down and eating will keep me out of the hospital.  Sounds so easy right? Not! The bad news is that most people are so physically depleted that getting up each day takes everything, and eating and drinking becomes a major chore because the body is under attack, trying to repair, and just not feeling well.  Yippy.  Sooo…I’m taking some light weights with me to make myself move, a lot of Gatorade for electrolytes, protein for shakes and prayer.  That’s all I got in my arsenal folks. 

I’m betting I will be physically jacked up for the Thanksgiving holiday and will not be partaking of the feast this year.  But the good news, and there is always good news, I will be done with the hard part of the journey for pancreatic cancer just in time to celebrate Christmas.  Yea! 

I wish you all the very best as you navigate through the emotional and physical of your own journeys.  Ciao baby!


If patience is worth anything, it must endure to the end of time. And a living faith will last in the midst of the blackest storm.

Saturday, September 28, 2013

Hello Sunshine!

I can’t sleep.  I woke up around 4:30am because of thoughts trying to write themselves a story in my head.  So I wrote them down on a pad I keep close by, for times such as these, then when sleep continued to evade me, I gave up and decided to blog.  Blogging is therapeutic for me, like having a psychologist on staff 24/7.  The only difference is I don’t have to keep reaching into my pocket book to pay the bill.  On Tuesday, after exploding in my post, I finished up, took a long breath and immediately felt better.  Oh I still sulked for about two more days and hid in my bed under a bunch of blankets, but hey…such is life. No excuses, it is what it is.  But someone in my Google circle sent me a warm faraway hug– and me not being a huggy-type person – welcomed what was so sincerely offered and needed on my part.  She reminded me to put all my frustrations into the fight against cancer.  Good advice on any day. Thanks Creative Mama. http://www.creativemamaonadime.com/

Lately, my mother has been heavy on my mind.  It saddens me to think of what she must have felt during her illness, the isolation and fear, even with having family around. I had a hard time getting that at the time.  A fully grown woman and I was so scared of living in a space that did not include my mother, I couldn’t think straight.  Two days before she passed, I was on the phone with hospice at 2:00 – 3:00 a.m. in the morning.  Because we were not properly prepared by the hospice nurse we’d been assigned, we couldn’t understand why they were delivering morphine to my mom and dad’s home, and we needed answers.  In my ignorance, I explained to the person on the phone that we didn’t want her to become an addict.  The acidic reply was, “Your mom is not going to become an addict.  The morphine will make her more comfortable. She has a week, maybe two, to live at the most.”  What?  We didn’t know that.  Sorrow can blind you to what's ahead, especially if what's coming will cause extreme pain.  
I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep after that because I couldn’t stop crying, so like a zombie, I got in my car and headed to Seattle to work.  I’ll never forget that day.  The office was completely empty at that time of the morning.  My body went through the motions of a normal day, pulling files, opening them up, trying to see through the waterfall from my eyes.  I was on auto-pilot, moving along with the ebb and flow of life, weeping so hard and heavy I could barely stand straight, trying to come to terms with the fact my mom was dying and not knowing how to navigate through.  I wish I could have known more, been more for mom at a time when she needed understanding the most.  But once a story is lived it can’t be changed no matter how badly I want it to and continuing to mourn that reality will destroy; more subtle than cancer, but destructive all the same. The only thing I can change is how I respond to situations going forward.  So here I am, doing just that.
Damn, I have so much more clarity now than I ever have before.  Here's what I know. Hindsight is a butt kicker.  And cancer is the loneliest place to be.  It’s like being in a box.  I can see everyone else on the outside looking in, with love in their eyes and pain and heartbreak etched in worry on their weary faces, but they can’t get in and I wouldn’t want them to. But looking outside this box, it’s comforting to know family and friends are close by, doing what they can, when they can.

For all of you out there going through it, whatever it may be, hold tight, and accept from me this faraway hug from a friend.


I believe in pink. I believe that laughing is the best calorie burner. I believe in kissing, kissing a lot. I believe in being strong when everything seems to be going wrong. I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls. I believe that tomorrow is another day and I believe in miracles.


 

 

 

 

Tuesday, September 24, 2013

REDO TUESDAY PLEASE

I'm mad as hell, and need a redo for today because this day really sucked. I had to meet with the radiology nurse to get mapped for my radiation.  Unfortunately, many of you out there know what I mean by mapping.  They added tiny permanent tattoos to my stomach that already looks like a road map to nowhere with all the scars I've collected to date.  This is part of the process they use to make sure the radiation hits targeted areas.  But as the nurse was taking me through, again, all the bad things that can happen during my next round of therapy, my mood sunk like the Titanic.  By the time I left Virginia Mason I was mad at the world.  Some warrior huh?  Mad I have to go through this, cancer sucks!  Mad that I have to impose on my friends and family by staying in their homes.  During the Virginia Mason Protocol I'll be split between a couple of friends that get two weeks of me, and possibly my younger sister for a couple of days.  Please don't get me wrong, I am very lucky that they care enough to help because it definitely won't be a play date for them.  I will be sick as a dog and weak as a kitten as the therapy takes its toll over the 5 1/2 weeks.  I'm mad about that and the fact I'm in a position of such vulnerability that I even need the help. I'm mad there are people going through this stuff and worse, that their world has been turned upside down and inside out.  I'm mad that young adults are afflicted with this insidious disease in the midst of planning their lives, and worse, beautiful children who shouldn't even know what cancer is are having to go through something that is difficult beyond words for grown folks.  I'm furious! As I was walking down the hill from the hospital toward downtown all this stuff was fierce on my mind.  And here's another thing, I feel guilty to be putting my family through this hell.  I've heard of survivor's guilt but I can't help but wonder if it's normal for someone who's sick to feel the amount of guilt that I do. 

Like many families, mine has had their share of loss by cancer, my dear mom in 2003, my brother in 2007, my dad in 2011, and one of my older sisters suffered a stroke just a couple of months ago.  My family has been emotionally ambushed by life with their hearts pulled from their chests and literally stomped on.  Life does what it does sometimes, and you don't always get the time you need to heal those open wounds before finding yourself in a position of having to take care of, or saying goodbye to, a loved one all over again.  It just is what it is.  But this can deplete emotionally, and sadly, leave a soul completely empty with nothing left to give.   And now, here I am needing them.  W.T.F.




“But that was life: Nobody got a guided tour to their own theme park. You had to hop on the rides as they presented themselves, never knowing whether you would like the one you were in line for...or if the bastard was going to make you throw up your corn dog and your cotton candy all over the place.”
J.R. Ward, Crave    


Sunday, September 22, 2013

Can We Talk...?

I feel as if I’ve spent my entire adult life struggling not to be fat.  Well, not entirely, I believe the battle was lost early thirties…but not the war.  Forgive me for repeating myself but for those of you who haven’t read my story from the beginning, in May 2012 I had a couple of life altering experiences.  Thing 1, while I was unloading some stuff from my car, some bad-ass kids hanging out the window of the house next door yelled, “Hey, fat old lady!”  Remember Bebe's kids from that 1992 animated comedy series on T.V.?  Look it up.  Bebe had some baaad kids.  Well, next door to me, meet Bebe's kids if you dare.  Took only a horrified second for me to realize holy crap! they’re talking about me?  Long story short, I joined a gym, started working out, seriously adjusted my way of consuming calories, and ended up losing almost 60 pounds over a period of 6 months. 

Thing 2, my gym hosted a Biggest Loser Contest, and giving in to my competitive nature, I was just getting ready to enter the contest for the third time to drop my last 25 to 30 pounds when my life completely bottomed out.  One day I woke up in the early morning hours with a serious case of heebie jeebies; insane, ridiculous, mind-numbing itching all over my body.  Within a week, my eyes and skin were yellow and I was at my doctor’s office peeing brown into a plastic cup.   Hello cancer.
I love sweet treats and my profile will attest to that.  But the truth is I’ve struggled with hypertension, diabetes, thyroid disease and high cholesterol and now…well, you know.  Bottom line, I can’t consume that deliciously toxic crap anymore.  Bye bye my friends at Hostess Cupcakes, I love you too, but it’s over.  Cancer gorges itself on sugar, and I’m determined not to give it one more bite.  So here’s me now, finally getting it; counting carbs, watching my sugar intake and exercising my ass off.  Literally and figuratively.  And as weird as it is, even with the cancer (plural if including breast cancer), through 6 months of chemo and some serious surgery that removed a nasty tumor and realigned my plumbing, I feel better than I’ve ever felt.  Ridiculous, right?  I know.  I attribute that to not carrying around excess poundage, improved nutrition and dragging my butt to the park for laps.  The latter is not always easy to do, but is especially important on days when all seems hopeless. I am a warrior in this war against cancer; and I'm building my body and mind up for a battle that is as much emotional as it is physical.
Something pivotal touched my soul the day those juvies were hanging out the window conversing with me, and I personally believe that something was serious intervention from my pal upstairs.  I got that vibe early on, a really powerful feeling that something greater than me was at work.  And still I'd ask, what is different from the million times before when I’d set out to do this thing?  I know now.  What happened in May was supposed to happen to prepare me for the Tsunami ahead.  I truly believe that, and I thank God every day. 
 Below is an article I really liked.  Hope it is informative to you as well.
 
 "Cancer may have started the fight, but I will finish it." -gotCancer.org.

 

 

 

Friday, September 20, 2013

HERE WE GO...

Okay so here's the deal.  I never received a call from my doctor and I was too much of a chicken to call him.  So after almost a week of relentless butt kicking by my own imagination I learned yesterday during a doctor's visit at Virginia Mason, that my liver did not show more cancer but instead an infection.  You should have seen my face when Dr. Picozzi stopped talking.  I turned to my friend, Deborah, and squealed (yes, literally), at the same time she did, It's an infection!  Yes, a happy, jubilant infection!!  My doctor called in a prescription for a couple of antibiotics to be taken over the next 14 days and then sent us on to radiology in the basement to get the 411 on the next step.  I was so happy to be moving on to a next step.  Although my doctor assured me my elation would be short-lived once embarking on the next phase of my journey.

In the elevator, Deborah and I were smiling like teenagers on a first date.  I wanted to yell out with glee, I HAVE AN INFECTION! but I didn't know how that would go over with the other folks in the elevator, so I just kept it in my head and smiled.  It didn't take long for my smile to turn.  The radiologist was not shy about delivering the gloom and doom associated with this obviously grueling treatment called Virginia Mason Protocol, which I mentioned in another post.  Apparently it involves 3 not 2 chemo poisons: one of them three times a week delivered by a needle in the arm, another delivered via my port by automatic hourly injection and another on Wednesday -- an all day affair with hydration first and then infusion.  On top of all that radiation 5 days a week.  This par-tay will commence over a 5 1/2 week period after I finish off the antibiotics.

The radiologist wanted to make sure I was adequately prepared and that my family life was in tact, in order to handle what would be required to get me to and from treatments.  She also wanted to make sure someone was with me at all times, as side affects from treatment could be severe, for instance, extreme fatigue, infection, diarrhea, dehydration, nausea...yada, yada.  I told her I was still working on a plan because I lived an hours drive from the hospital. Deborah, who lives only about 15 minutes from the hospital, told the doctor I'd be staying with her and her family in that firm this-is-how-it's-going-to-be tone.  Did I mention my dear friend is Italian, from Jersey, with a heart bigger than the universe, and very bossy when she cares about someone or something?  My problem is pride, and I don't want to be an imposition or burden on anybody, but it is a fact that my family at this time, is not in a position to get me through this without outside help.  I am blessed, no doubt, to have friends and family who through a combined effort, are willing to carry me through this terrible phase of my life.  I'm grateful, I really am.

To the best that I can, I will keep updates on my blog during the next round of therapy for my pancreas.  The next phase will be the breast cancer issue.  More on that much, much later.  One cancer at a time.  Right?  Right.



“However mean your life is, meet it and live it.”
Henry David Thoreau

Monday, September 16, 2013

Biopsy Friday

My liver biopsy day was last Friday and two good things happened to make me smile.  Thing No. 1 - The best part about any procedure is when they slip you that mickey.  The fog that comes in off the make-believe tide and sweeps over you is absolutely delicious.  Before drifting off I do recall asking the nurse if she was single and telling her my oldest son was also single and verrry handsome.  The last thing hitting my ears was her thanking me for considering her as a potential daughter-in-law.  And please, let me clarify, I am not a drug addict, but I do admit to enjoying the perfectly legal buzz before passing out, and waking up with everything over and out.

Thing No. 2 - My recovery took longer than anticipated so they gave me a room and I was allowed to order breakfast.  The nurse, I thought, accidentally gave me the "normal" persons menu.  You know, the one that doesn't have just low fat, no fat, no sugar this or that selections.  I thought it was by accident so I ordered tentatively expecting the voice on the other end of the phone to say 'nope not for you' with each of my choices.  Here's me.  "Yeah...so can I have the French Toast with lots of butter and syrup on the side?"  Pause.  Happy voice said, "Well, you surely can."  Ecstatic me.  "I can?" Happy voice said, "And would you like some meat with that?"  Another pause on my end as if it were a trick question. "Uh...yeah...how about some turkey bacon?"  Happy voice, "Well, we don't have turkey bacon, but would you like the real bacon?"  Oh Sweet Georgia Brown. As if you even have to ask!  By this point, I'm drooling.  I say yes really quick so they can bring me some of the real food she's teasin' me with.  When I hung up the phone, I expected it to ring again letting me know I'd ordered from the wrong menu.  Been there, done that.  But the phone in my room remained silent.  Yeah.  About twenty minutes later, a knock on my door and in walks a lady with a tray.  I literally inhaled everything right off the tray. So damn good. I guess since my doctor didn't anticipate my being in the hospital long, he didn't bother to leave orders about my diet.  Thank you, thank you!

And now, here I am waiting for the call with the results, more cancer or no.  Pray for me please.  I'm really scared.



“Worrying is carrying tomorrow's load with today's strength- carrying two days at once. It is moving into tomorrow ahead of time. Worrying doesn't empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength.”
Corrie ten Boom

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

A Little Prayer


Dear God,

I was thinking if you could just still the waters of pain, and disease and war and injustice, then I could breathe.

Please Lord of my soul and my heart; just hold everything still so I can catch my breath.

Do you hear me?

My heart is bleeding.  I’m scared. My mind is full of worry.  I’m weeping.

Please just hold this world still for a minute so I can catch up.

Are you listening?

And there you were.  In a whisper that is the wind.  And the sound of the ocean that is the sea.
 
Dear child,

You be still, and know that I’ve got you.

I’ve got you.

Let your heart be healed, lead your soul to calm, be at peace.

I’ve got you.

Amen. Amen. 

written by A.Y.

Psalm 46:10

English Standard Version (ESV)

10 “Be still, and know that I am God.
    I will be exalted among the nations,
    I will be exalted in the earth!”


 

Monday, September 9, 2013

Good Times

So yes, I have been in a slump lately, but seriously, it would be remiss of me not to mention some of my better days.  And honestly, I've had more of them than not.  A week or so ago my twelve-year old niece, Desiree, stayed with me for two days.  She's a joy.  During her visit, we went to the movies and saw Despicable Me 2, and The Immortal Instruments.  I wanted to take her to a couple of scary R rated movies but couldn't reach her mom to get permission.  Shoot!  Anyway, we also went to PT. Defiance Park, and ate whatever we wanted to eat.  On the way home, we stopped at The Lobster Shop on the waterfront, and got two orders of clams in lots of butter, and my niece had some kind of taco thingy with a Shirley Temple, while I had the real deal in a sweet tea concoction.  Yum. Hey, it was happy hour, and I love my grown up drinks.

Oh and before starting out for the park we stopped for a short visit with an old friend of my mom's.  Below, on left is a picture of Sam, mom's friend's granddaughter, then me in the middle, and my Desiree.  Those two days were fun, I really had a good time, and I think my niece enjoyed herself too. Good times kick bad time's butt every time!



Let's just celebrate each day with good times!


 
“What day is it?"
It's today," squeaked Piglet.
My favorite day," said Pooh.”

A.A. Milne

Sunday, September 8, 2013

And So It Goes...

My biopsy has been scheduled for Friday, September 13th.  Yeah, I know, the nurse offered to schedule the appointment for the following Monday taking into account a possible superstitious nature, but I said no worries.  I mean seriously, I have two cancers.  I'm not worried about scary Friday the 13th.

I'll let you know the results as soon as I know.  Ciao baby.


"Sometimes I wish I could live in a drama free world but then I remember even the greatest warriors had to go through pain before making it to paradise."


 Ambri Bright quotes  | added by: brown_ambri

Saturday, September 7, 2013

"IF YOU WEAR OUT YOUR BODY WHERE WILL YOU LIVE?"

I pretty much know where I will or want to live when I wear out this body, I'm just not ready to go yet. So I guess I need to take better care of this old body of mine.

I couldn't help stopping and taking a picture of this sign though.  It's more than a message on a board.  It's literally shouting out the necessity and the urgency for all of us to put ourselves first!


And this is actually the title of a book by author Barb Schwarz.  The book deals with "...a renewal of the body, mind and soul through nutritional choices and a plan for empowering personal potential." A short little read worth checking out.





“The secret of health for both mind and body is not to mourn for the past, not to worry about the future, or not to anticipate troubles, but to live the present moment wisely and earnestly.”Siddartha Guatama Buddha


Friday, September 6, 2013

Mama Said There'll Be Days...


In case you haven’t already figured it out from my previous post my mood is in need of a serious overhaul.  For the last few days I’ve been in the dumps. Getting out of the bed in the morning takes extreme effort some days, and to be honest, there are days I don't even try.  It’s like that sometimes you know?  This cancer journey is emotionally a roller coaster ride that has to be taken all the way through to the end, and it’s a bumpy ride.  I’ve been worried because I found what felt like a lump in the puffy skin right under my right breast, same breast with the cancerous tumor, and I’ve been seriously hoping and praying it’s scar tissue from the surgery in July.  And I've been worrying about the additional chemo and radiation therapy needed.  Well, yesterday I had a CT-Scan and chest x-ray which was previously scheduled in preparation for my last line of therapy for the pancreas, called the Virginia Mason Protocol, which consists of me wearing a fanny pack with tubes attached to my port that injects a drug called 5-FU (a.k.a. Fluorouracil) automatically every hour, and radiation therapy 5 days a week with chemo on Wednesdays combined with hydration – an all day process.  The intent is to hit me hard for 5-6 weeks straight or until I drop, whichever comes first.  The objective: destroy any cancer cells that may be hiding without killing me in the process. Okay, I'm officially rambling now and need to back up.
So my sister Lisa and I are sitting in Dr. Picozzi’s office – and I’m so glad she’s with me by the way -- while he looks over my recent CT and x-ray and I’m nervous as hell because I’m anticipating him telling me the cancer has spread to the area beneath my breast.  He looks at me, his expression a little bit more serious than I’ve seen it, and my heart speeds up a few beats.  “Well,” he asks, “how have you been feeling since the surgery, better or worse than before?” I take in a deep breath of air and respond.  “I feel better than I did before.”  Still giving a whole lot of attention to what he’s viewing on the computer screen he says,  “Good.”  Okay, okay, okay, so I'm wondering what is going to come out of his mouth that will turn me inside out?  I didn’t have long to wait.  “So,” he starts again, “everything looks good except for something strange that showed up on the CT-Scan.” Something strange?  I’m holding my breath.  “Several spots have shown up in your liver and uh…they don’t look like cancer, however after showing them to Dr. Roca as well, we’re not sure what they are.  A biopsy should tell us if it's cancer.”  Wait.  What?  I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing.  Fear will do that to you, completely rob you of the ability to speak or think.  Funny, now the Virginia Mason protocol seems like a trip to the beach.
  
I tell him about my lump discovery and he examines me but doesn’t find anything concerning.  I should be happy about that but my feelings are in a tail spin because of the spots on the liver news.  Dr. Picozzi completes his examination, I sit up, and he gives me a hug which I'm sure is to comfort his patient whom he assumes (correctly) is quaking on the inside.  He’s such a rarity, an amazing doctor who still works with his heart first and combines that with a whole lot of skill and conviction. He tells me the nurse will call to schedule a biopsy.  I say ok.  But my stomach is sick when I walk out of his office, down the hall, into the elevator and to the street.  My sister is talking about something, buying a purse maybe, but all I want to do is get on the bus and head home, to my room and the comfort of my bed.  Lisa, never a blow-smoke-up-the-bum type of gal, doesn't even try to placate me by telling me everything will be okay because she knows me better than that.  I don't want to hear that this is going to be ok, because I know cancer can take on a life of its own when it does its thing, and sometimes it is not okay. Being positive is very important, darn near medicinal -- I truly believe that, but you can be positive while still being realistic about the possibilities.  I will wait for the results of the biopsy to see what's what.
In the meantime, I will lean heavily on faith, and pray, a lot. 
I will pray for my roomy and dear sister, that she is revitalized with good health, my best friend, Mary, for healing of M.S.,  for Shannon, who is going through so much and I pray that her cancer goes away and stays away.  I pray for Terrence, for a strong and healthy heart, and for Rip, that they find out what is making him ill so that he can be successfully treated and free of pain.  I pray for Lonella that she is free of pain with improved health, and Andrella, that she does what is needed for herself to maintain good health.  I pray for Josh's mom and dad, that they will find peace and healing from the pain of their terrible loss.  I pray for my friend Jennifer's Aunt Margaret, that her cancer goes into remission and stays in remission. I pray for Bobbe, Orpha and Kris, that they continue to be healthy and cancer free. I pray for continued good health and happiness for all of my friends, family and colleagues, and complete wellness for anyone out in the world suffering from a debilitating illness.  Amen.

Faith consists in believing when it is beyond the power of reason to believe.

 
 
 
 

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Yesterday's Life


I wish I had yesterday’s life,
to wake up to trivial frustrations like sibling rivalry, job snobs and tribulations, cussing at insane drivers and all kinds of this and that --  in hindsight, all of which now seem so easily repaired, without cancer looking over my shoulders and consuming my every thought.

I wish I had yesterday’s dreams,
a cruise across the Pacific or Atlantic, a trip to Hawaii to visit my son and his wife, where I can play on the beach with my Diamond, giggling and wiggling toes in the warm sand, then sitting in awe as the sun sets, caught up in a fierce display of color as the sun is pushed aside by the night.  A trip to Italy would be nice, where I can walk up the steps of the Vatican like mom did, and who knows?...perhaps a surprise meeting with the Pope.   All without fear breathing the same air as my hopes and my dreams.

I wish I had yesterday’s moments,

when I laughed with the innocence of a child – uninhibited and without caution, without wondering...no, without worrying, what would come for me first, tomorrow or no…
I just wish I had yesterday’s life.