cards, soap, and an icy walk

I think I should make cookies. I put a turkey breast in the oven for dinner (and left-overs) and a small sweet thing would be nice at the end of the meal. Can a guy make cookies without dirtying any dishes? That's the part I hate.

I think my interest in Christmas baking peaked a few years ago and then went into a steep decline. I just looked at my Christmas binder (another story) but there isn't one thing there that interests me. Maybe we'll just make the old standard chocolate chip cookies. Or truffles. Truffles do interest me.

I had Regis drop me off downtown this morning so I could buy Christmas cards. I did a search and rescue in the basement yesterday, thinking I must have cards that I bought in some previous post-Christmas sale. No such luck. I did find, however, the mother of all stashes of holiday napkins. I love holiday napkins...obviously as I have eight packages ready for use.

I bought cards and this lovely box of soap at the Swedish Kontur. It's sitting on my desk in front of me and I pick it up from time to time and sniff it. Actually, I inhale deeply. It's so nice I may never use it.

Cards. I realize this is a multi-step process of which I may be incapable. I have the cards and that is the easy part. Additional steps: Stamp. Address. Write on card. Take to PO. Well, now that I wrote it down, it doesn't seem so daunting.

The hard part is that my fancy list of addresses that I had put on a spreadsheet disappeared in my last computer upgrade. I have managed to scavenge what I hope is most addresses and I might be able to scrounge some more from the web and FB. Uh oh...back to feeling like a daunting task.

The sidewalks downtown were an icy bitch. I walked like a penguin from one store to the next. It's the one thing I hate about Minnesota winters...walking like a damn penguin. For all my warm climate friends, this is it:



You walk like this so you don't fall down and crack your head. One winter a few years ago, I fell three times and Regis fell once. Most of those were on the same day.

I liked the comments on the last post from new cancer friends. Caroline suggested that the germ thing is a worthless battle and Karen suggested that she did the same thing and it was more about control than germs. I've never been overly concerned about germs as you can attest if you have been to my house. I am not a cleaner and if it weren't for Jan, we would live in a hovel. That could be an exaggeration for effect, a literary device of which I am fond.

I'd like to point out that I am not ending my sentences with prepositions today either.

Onward and upward.

sunday snowfall

I feel that nervous agitated energy I always feel before a trip. I feel like I have to get everything done today and tomorrow, forgetting that there will be stores and restaurants and Christmas cards after Tuesday. I cleaned up my office and threw out a ton of paper and magazine and catalogs...needing order and calm. I wiped everything down with antiseptic wipes. Not sure what that last part is about.

I'm listening to BB King's Christmas album and watching the snow fall. We're going out to the winery with some friends later to toast the first snowfall of the season.

bidding adieu to my hair

I decided to get rid of my hair in one fell swoop. As Ella says, "Who wants your hair falling out in chunks? That would be gross."  She is a philosophical one, that girl. Besides, her principal, Mr. Doherty, is bald and she thinks he looks good.

It was not traumatic. Regis studied up on how to do it and he cut it in three stages going from one attachment to the other as it got shorter. Emily wrote a poem called Hair? Who Cares? and read it before the clipping commenced.

The two ladies who were here, Emily and Ella, took me into the bathroom to have the first real look. It's startling at first but what the hell. It's only hair, and as the poem says, there are far more important things in life.

I was a bit disconcerted that after my head is shaved, we could only pick up a half a sandwich bag full of hair. That's all I had?

I told my cousin, Deb, today that I was nervous about getting my port installed and then having to travel through the halls from one medical facility to another through a public hallway and right past an entrance...in a blue gown She said: Wait. You are the person who posted a picture of herself on Facebook in a blue gown. Hilarious and true.

Since my company went home this morning, I have spent some time in my nest...in the bedroom with the drapes closed, the laptop playing the 1970 version of Scrooge with Albert Finney and a pile of detective novels on the bed. It's very serene and comforting. Regis is taking me to Dino's for pizza so I will have to get out of my pajamas. Next week, I'll go out. I promise.

Actually, I am only half in pajamas. My top half is hot because of the blankety-blank Ace bandage and my bottom half is cold. So I have leggings and socks on the bottom half. If the Ace wrap keeps the alien baby from returning, it's worth it.

If I had any gumption, I'd go do the dishes. But I don't.

all clothes must fit in bag

In my typical fashion, I am perseverating on the minutia of my cancer treatment. I have several lists and the one regarding what to wear and bring on Tuesday, starts with: All clothes must fit in bag.

If I go in full regalia, including hat, tall boots, socks, purse, pants and several sweaters...Regis ends up dragging all my crap everywhere he goes. If I am careful about what I wear and bring, it will all fit tidily into a bag and won't be such a nuisance. Someone suggested I get him a wheeled cart but that might be going too far.

I also have a list of food things to bring. I hate getting trapped places with no access to good food. They have coffee and other beverages there but I don't think much of their snack assortment which consists mostly of giant dry muffins that must be made in another state. I'm thinking small sandwiches, nuts, cheese, dark chocolate.

For those of you who might be interested in the scientific side to this, as opposed to the fashion and food side, I was randomly assigned to Arm 1 of the clinical trials. That means I will get:
Adriamycin every 14 days for 4 cycles
Cytoxan every 14 days for 4 cycles
Paclitaxel every 7 days for 12 weeks
Dexamethason before each Paclitaxel treatment. It's for nausea.

At the end of all of this, there will be radiation for some period of time. Then targeted hormone treatment that goes on for a long time. Maybe five years. Cross that bridge when we come to it.

I read back over my posts for the last few days and thought I must sound like I'm high on Zoloft or something. Believe me, it ain't all silver saddles and Sunday parades. Many days I am tired and bleary-eyed. I usually take a restorative interlude in the afternoon from noon to two o'clock. I don't always sleep but I do read and spend some time with my eyes closed. Some days, even after that, it doesn't take much to feel a kick in my sad pants, get my feelings hurt, or just succumb to ennui.

I will say that things are tipping in my favor for now. Far more good times than bad..far more. I am greatly humbled by the kindness of so many people, those I have known for a long time and some who I have only met through cancer. Maybe it's like most things in life, once you've been down the road, you recognize the signs and eagerly lend a hand or an ear.

Thanks to Mary for the morning coffee in her serene country home and the company of Handsome Bob. Thanks to Keith and Corrine for the chicken soup with homemade noodles and the ride to see the Christmas lights. Thanks to Joanne for the glass of wine and the hour in the sunny booth at Patrick's. Thanks to Jill for the quiet lunch in the shadows last week. We had our own little tucked away place to linger over chicken sandwiches and at that moment, it was just what I needed. Thanks to Laurie at Turban Diva for making me feel chic and cool instead of old and sick and for letting me tell my story. Thanks to Anders and Judie for the sweet dinner the other night. We know there is not a better way to spend a winter evening than with friends and Manhattans! Thanks to Karen who read my blog and wrote a note to tell me her own cancer journey and to share her mantra, believe.

Thanks to Regis, my sweet husband. He sits with me in clinic after clinic, he drives me to appointments, he makes me eggs when I'm hungry, he finds me books and music, he pastes my face on a Dancing with the Stars photo, and he takes care of me and Gus. He swears he will help me with this dragon.

That's a lot of nice things to happen in a few short weeks. I am lucky.

Here we are!

See? I could have been on Dancing with the Stars! What a hoot!

bidding adieu to the alien baby

I woke up yesterday feeling sad and agitated. Then my alien baby drain started to malfunction again. Every time I pressed on the drain site, I made a noise like a tire going flat. A high-pitched whistle under my arm. The bulb wouldn't maintain suction so I knew we were going to be making another trip to the clinic. Holy crap.

When I talked to the wound care nurse on the phone, I made the noise because I listen to Car Talk and it helps to diagnose the problem if you hear the noise. Callers are always imitating their car noises. Plus, it's entertaining.

Regis and Gus drove me over to the clinic. Gus always knows when you're feeling down and he stuck his big wet nose behind my head and gave my ear a lick.

I felt better the minute I got there. The people who take care of me in that clinic are so kind and caring. They took care of the drain in no time flat and I was on my way. Jan said when she heard the noise, she knew right away. See?

I took a nice nap in the early part of the afternoon. It's become my habit again to read and nap in the afternoon. It doesn't keep be from sleeping at night so I guess it's fine. Besides, what the hell.

Joanne picked me up about 4 and we went to sit in a sunny booth at Patrick's. Some days I like shadows but yesterday I needed sun. We lingered over a glass of wine, talking about our impending European vacations and Caribbean cruises. We both have the attitude that crap happens in life so you might as well expect it and try to have fun anyway.

I am the official Turban Diva of the Month. I have let Regis know that he can address me as Oh, Turban Diva for now. Maybe for the whole month. The picture at the top is one she used for the article. She ran it through some kind of process to eliminate a few wrinkles so if I look younger than you remember, that's why.

We met our old friend, Anders, and a new friend Judie at Whiskey River for dinner. It was a very sweet evening talking about our lovely Jan, books we love, good times in the past, and adventures to come. Interesting when you meet someone new, it doesn't take very long to discover common ground. Judy's dad taught at UND and she was born in Grand Forks. She loves detective stories so she and Anders are going to send a list of good books they recommend, even one by a Norwegian. Ha!

Regis had a dream last night that I was on Dancing with the Stars with Donny Osmond. Donny made disparaging remarks about my dancing so Regis had to kick his ass. That would have been something to see.

Note: It wasn't Donny who made the disparaging remarks, it was Simon. Donny was my dancing partner and Regis said we rocked.

alien baby runs amok and psycho light show

We had to make an unexpected run to the clinic today because my alien baby drain was malfunctioning. I thought they would have to pull it but bless Jan's heart, she saved the day. She told me she was in the Navy and had her own ship so I was not surprised that she could deal with a small drainage issue.

I forgot to post the photos of the lights. I'm not a fan of lights on large deciduous trees because you end with something that looks like this. I think this would have been better had we been on foot but alas, too lazy. We had a very nice with our hosts, however, and a delicious dinner at Neighbors.

Today I received an email from the lady who made my most recent scarf and turban purchases. She wondered if I would like to be the Turban Diva for December. Would I? Of course I would! She is using some of the photos and I had to send her my long tale of woe. What a hoot. I will post the link when it becomes available.

I've decided I like reading mysteries so if you have any to recommend, leave the title in a comment. I'm somewhere in the compendium of Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes stories which are very good...and which only cost four dollars on Amazon.

I made cookies today to take to a friend's mom who is in a swing bed in the local hospital. She needs to gain weight and the food in that place is not going to cut the mustard. We know this having fallen victim to it a time or two in the past months.

I think that's it from Crazy Town. We're tired and ready to go to bed. Regis with his sciatica and me with my alien baby. Ah, life is an adventure.

a weekend full of goodness

We have had the sweetest weekend. Lots of friends and little kids and a parade and a style show. How could it be any better than that?

In the mail Friday, I got two hat/scarf combos that I bought on Etsy. Ella and Emily came over for a wig and hat style show. I dragged out all my head costumery and we had a blast. Ella is quite the fashionista. The conversation over dinner was about a party we may throw next weekend to say good-bye to my hair. Ella is not the least bit concerned and knows it will grow back. Emily is bringing poems. Regis will supply the appropriate sound track. My friend, Deb, is coming to get her own head shaved. Haha! It will be a hoot.

Ella looks like a silent film star.

Gus had to be in the pictures, too.

Ella loves color!

The fedora look is good for her, too.

Ah, well. It's bound to be an adventure.

Ella and I decided that we wanted to be in the Fish House Parade this year. We didn't want to only watch it, we wanted to be in it. Too late to arrange a float or get a truck, we just wandered up to Third Street and joined the parade. You can do that in St. Peter. I picked up stray candy and Ella handed it back out to little kids in wagons and strollers who were too small to run for it. It was very sweet.

Tonight some friends are coming to take us to Sibley Park to see the holiday lights then out for some grab and a glass of wine. Nice way to end such a nice weekend.

today

Regis put on our first and favorite Christmas CD this morning. Christmas on the Moors which we always refer to as Christmas on the Moops.

I had coffee with Shannon and Gretchen at River Rock. I was running off at the mouth due to the alien baby related Percoset. They didn't seem to mind.

I went to the Pulse and walked on the treadmill and talked to Rachel about my exercise plan. Good to get that back in my routine.

I got a call from Judy. I will be in Arm 1 of the clinical trial, the one I was hoping to win. What the hell. If you can't win the Powerball why not win the chemo lottery. More drugs more often. What they call dose dense. We're good to go for the 11th.

Jill is picking me up at noon for lunch. We always have a lot to talk about and we're going to a favorite spot...low lights, friendly service, good food, only two televisions.

Ella is coming over tonight for our head gear style show.

It will be a fine day.

and the alien baby is delivered

I saw a couple of my doctors today and they examined my armpit alien baby and deemed it ready for delivery. I have never been so glad to have a doctor come at me with a couple big needles and a knife. They drained 100 ml out of that sucker in the first five minutes. The downside is that I'm back to dragging a drain around and I'm back to wearing the Ace bandage but it's still better than that alien baby.

I also signed the informed consent for the chemotherapy clinical trial. I bet that sucker kept a team of lawyers busy for a good long time. I only had to sign my name one time, eleven times less than I had to sign it to get an acupuncture treatment yesterday.

I'll get randomized tomorrow which is not nearly as interesting as it sounds. It means that they will put my number into the computer and I will be randomly assigned to Arm 1 or Arm 2 of the study. The arm determines the kind of drugs and the cycle, 14-day or 21-day.

Chemotherapy starts Tuesday, December 11th after the port installation. This involves Versed which is my favorite drug if I have to be sedated. My biggest worry about it is this: Will they dress me to transport me from one part of the hospital to the other or will I have to stumble down the hall in a blue gown dragging an IV pole?

Regis told me I need to travel light from now on so no boots. They get a little heavy to tote around a big hospital. I always worry about footwear it seems. I also worry about food and drink so I'll pack a little cooler. I hate to count on cafeteria food.

At first one of my fears was hair loss, but baldness lost its hold on me. (Sound like a bad country song?) I asked Regis today what he would think about shaving my head before my hair got a chance to fall out on its own.

I'm thinking of this as another fashion opportunity. Ella is coming over tomorrow to do the Head Gear Style Show. I dug out all my wigs, hats, scarves, and other sundry head coverings. We're going to try on a variety of things, Regis will take our pictures, and we can peruse the pictures and decide which look we like the best.

Well, that's enough about cancer. Sometimes it's hard to segue from that to another topic so I am going to sign off then start another post.

dreams of the weird

I had a dream last night that, in a six block run, involved an evil event, a houseful of guests for whom I had forgotten to prepare, uninvited guests in the attic, bowls full of wet cookies in the yard, a lost cellphone, and a lane on 169 full of drunk people with their lights off as I tried to navigate my way to the SPPD. This is about as much of a plot as my dreams get.

Regis had a dream the other night that I was wearing a Smearth Hat. When he first told me the dream, I thought he said Smurf Hat so I had quite a different impression. The Smearth Hat had an elastic strap under my chin and an opening in the top. Bubbles would fly out of the opening to land on surfaces around the house where they issued sarcastic comments and insults like, "Oh look, Uncle Alfred...if he had another brain it would be lonely." Eventually the bubbles would cease their insults and burst. I was the only one wearing the Smearth Hat. Of course.

alien baby

It was a long day, my friends, but much was accomplished. I am feeling much better this evening and hope that I am ready to go forward without holing up in the bedroom. At least for now.

I woke up this morning with a monster ugly swelling under my arm, right where the incision was made. It looked like an alien baby about to emerge so I called the clinic and told them to prepare for delivery. Then I had Regis wrap me up real tight so I didn't have to feel it.

On the way to the appointment, I told Emily the story. Alex says in this soft little voice from the back seat, "Nana, do you really have an alien baby at your house?"

No alien baby was delivered. No needles were used. No need to use the Ace bandage anymore, sweet relief. It will dissipate on its own says the doctor.

So, the upshot is that my treatments will probably start December 10th or thereabouts. I will be a part of the clinical study (no disadvantages and many advantages). I have a few appointments between now and then...port installation, blood work, and I can't remember what else. Very hard to keep track of all of this stuff. I wonder if my insurance company would pay for a secretary for me.

This is what the port looks like. It's called a Power Port, a title I like. The tube goes down into a vein near my heart so the medicine can be pumped in the right places. The purple part is about an inch across. I'll have a plastic card, a key chain tag, and a purple bracelet to identify that I belong to the Purple Power Port Club.

This is where it goes. The doctor makes a little incision in your skin and they tuck it underneath. The other part, the PowerLoc connects without making a hole. The medicine gets pumped in via the PowerLoc. This is a non-medical person describing a medical procedure. Ask to see my Purple Power Port!

It was quite disconcerting to listen to all the known and unknown side effects. It reminded me of a list I saw years ago of all the things aloe vera was supposed to cure... I wondered how it could cure diarrhea and constipation both. Same with this stuff. In the end...be careful of almost everything. Go in a zig-zag pattern when you trot down the sidewalk. Always look over your shoulder.

Regis and I stopped at a new place in Mankato on our way home. They have 42 televisions. I won't be going back there soon.

Well, here is the day brightener of the day. This is my Aunt Jean who lives in Washington...all dressed up for Halloween. She is going to be 90 so I say, here's to that! Great spirit, Aunt Jean!

little by little...coming out from under the cloud

I wrote the other day about feeling immobilized. I felt that way yesterday, too, in spite of having coffee with a lovely friend of mine. Her home is in the woods and I felt calm and peaceful going there to see her, but I came home and crawled back into bed.

I stopped at the coop to buy something for dinner and came home with the weirdest assortment of things. I made a lot of trips around that store, too, picking up chicken breasts then putting them back, picking up ham slices then putting them back. I should have had a list.

Mary sent a message later saying that after she had a game plan, she felt much more able to manage her disease. I think she's right about that. Friday, I expected to leave the clinic knowing something. When I only left with a fistful of more appointments, it was disappointing so I holed up for a few more days. I am optimistic that today will be better.

We had planned that Regis would stay home today as there was no point in him sitting for 6 hours while I just did appointment after appointment. He told me last night as we went to bed that he plans to take Gus to the Paw for the afternoon so he can join me. He wants to know what's going on and he wants to help me through it. Bless his heart.

I have done a ton of reading lately because when you lay in bed that much, you have to do something. I read both of Will Thomas' books, The Hellfire Conspiracy and Black Hand. Both easy reads but very good. Yesterday I started Love is a Mixtape by Rob Sheffield. Amanda, if you haven't read this book, I think you would love it.

Just got off the phone with Nancy. She has the same kind of cancer, the same oncologist, the same number of lymph nodes involved, and she was also 60 when diagnosed. She is dropping off a book and she gave me the name of a chiropractor for some additional care. I have an appointment tomorrow. That's a good sign.

a very large cloud of ennui has descended on us

We are not unhappy or discontented. We are listless and languid. The back of my neck is sweaty and my hair is flat. I think I've had three naps today although the last two count as only one since I didn't get out of bed between them. I finally decided to get vertical so I walked out to the living room where Regis had just assumed the nap position. Sigh.

It's only one o'clock and I've had three naps. I could take another one which I may disguise as reading.

This has been my favorite meal this weekend. I call it the Thanksgiving Parfait. I put a spoonful of apple pie in the bottom of the glass, then dollops of potatoes, stuffing, yams, and green bean casserole. Top with cranberry sauce. No heating. Easy to eat while slumped over in a napping position. Toss glass and spoon into trash when finished. No dishes!

I've been wrapped in a giant Ace bandage for four days. It makes me hot and cranky and is probably going to cause a yeast infection the size of Rhode Island. Its purpose is to compress my chest so that my body rids itself of fluid and I don't swell up like a giant grape cluster. It's hard to get the right amount of compression so you don't wake up unable to breathe or digest your food. Thanks for listening to my complaint.

I also have nerve issues on the back of my arm, namely that I can't feel the back of my arm. I am going to take special care not to get my arm wiggles near a fan because I could get mauled before I knew what hit me.

I go back to the doctor on Tuesday for a fleet of things which I don't recall but have written down. The nice lady who scheduled this for me was kind enough to write the names and times but I grabbed the paper and started noting the place, as well. It's easy to get confused. If I didn't think it would make me depressed, I would add up all the hours we have spent at doctor's appointments in the last nine months. It's a lot.

I think I have time to take one more nap before we go to wish Tom and Betty bon voyage. The are wintering in Texas again this year.

qualifying for a clinical trial by wearing a crown

Yesterday, I had an appointment with an oncologist. An oncologist. Regis and I joked that we were going to see an oinkologist...a specialist for people who really like bacon.

I don't think I had thought through, in my head, where I was going and why so this was a day of reckoning.

We walked in and there are posters for cancer support groups, brochures about wigs and scarves, and chemo chairs. What the hell. I thought it odd that the nurse asked about my appetite. I ran into Bonnie, a woman I used to work with...who has cancer...and no hair. Baldness could be my future.

The oncologist asked if I would be interested in being part of a clinical trial. It's a Level 3 trial where they decide based on patient outcomes, if this protocol should be the standard of care. He made it sound like a very exclusive club so I asked about the criteria to qualify. He said this and that, this and that but in my mind, you qualify by wearing ass kickin' boots to appointments, by photoshopping crowns onto your pictures, and by using fuck three times or more in a single paragraph.

I'm trying to find a balance between attention to all the details that this seems to require and a healthy sense of life goes on in spite of all this shit. I don't want breast cancer to be all I talk about or think about and I don't want pink to be the only color I wear!

Enough about that.

Regis and I are making a plan for the day. Make yours a good one!

the peace of morning

I love retirement because mornings are so peaceful. No rushing to get ready for work and planning the whole day before the sun even comes up. We sit in our chairs, dog at our feet, fireplace pumping out some heat, cups of coffee at hand. So much nicer to move gently into the day.

One of the things I gave up in the medical madness of the last few weeks is Thanksgiving dinner. We're still having it here but it's much modified from the affairs of the past. Regis has planned the whole meal with a little help from the binder. Tom, I even allowed Reddi-Whip on the grocery list. I don't care about the damn Reddi-Whip anyway. What I like is lots of people and lots of good food.

We'll have lots of help. Ella and Peter are coming Wednesday to help with cooking. Peter loves the cornbread and sausage dressing and said he would make it. Tiffany and Amber are coming early Thursday to help. We have paper plates and plastic forks. Side dishes will be cooked in aluminum throw-away containers. I plan to sit on the couch wearing my crown, holding a long-stemmed wine glass and dispensing advice.

You may have read that I have a lazy tumor. This did not surprise me at all. Any other kind of energetic tumor would have quickly been shunned by the rest of my cells and forced out through the nearest orifice. A lazy tumor could probably be tolerated. Easier to track down and decimate, too, which is a good thing.

I probably will have a host of scans to make sure we know about any cancer encampments outside the perimeter. PET scan, bone scan, CT scan...it will be like Star Trek. Pretty soon, I'll have as many medical reports as our old dog, Bert. He had every medical complication known to science. They would unroll the blood work report for me and I would start to laugh. I told the vet I raised two kids and never got that much information about their inner workings.

I haven't worked much in the past two weeks but I feel now like I can reboot my brain and possibly do a few things.I'm not sure if it's the meds, but I have had some difficulty thinking. Any more than a two-step process and I'm in trouble. I still seem able to put forth my daily does of drivel here, though, huh?

Ok. Getting my lazy butt up and finding some purpose.

i wrote this in my head but now it's gone...

Regis and I went over to meet with the surgeon this afternoon. He said the margins, between tumor and healthy tissue, are fine and there is no need for more surgery. The tumor is negative for HER2 and postivie for both hormone receptors. That means basically, I have a lazy tumor. I would expect as much. He said the oncologist will likely recommend (he may have said "offer") chemotherapy as well as radiation but it sounds much more positive than the picture I was getting on Friday when the PA made it sound horrible. He said no, it does not look horrible. He likes the oncologist I'll be seeing, he gave me his email address, and said I should come in anytime there is something I need to know or don't understand. He also cautioned me about reading things on the internet, something I have discovered on my own. I still have the drain but that should come out Wednesday.

Fireworks! Champagne! Celebrate!

waiting...for what I'm not sure

It's Monday and today we'll go meet with a surgeon and maybe with an oncologist. Maybe today this will turn into one of Regis' dreams, with a plot and characters, instead of being like one of my dreams, an amorphous blob that scares the shit out of me for unknown reasons.

I've gotten used to saying the word cancer although if I am caught off-guard, I say something else. Someone at the Pulse yesterday asked me if I was hurt because I was snoozing on the couch instead of exercising. No, I said, just lazy.

If we had implemented my idea where people have a small virtual projection over their heads telling you the information you need to know, then my problem would be solved. I thought of this once at the Mayo Clinic. I like to think of it as curiosity and not nosiness but it could be nosiness.

So, if people were curious...or nosy...they could read it in blue lights over my head. I have breast cancer. (It would probably also say I am a drama queen.)

Ella came over yesterday. She went to the Pulse together and we exercised for 30 seconds at a time on each and every machine they have there. When we came home, I took a nap and she played with Poppop. Later, she gave me a shoulder massage, a scalp massage, and then a hand and foot massage with lotion. She is an angel.

Emily came over later and we did our usual dinner and a movie. This week, we watched Dancing Outlaw for which there are not words to describe. You have to look it up for yourself.

The sink is full of dishes, I need a shower, and I have some other tasks to do this morning. One more cup of coffee, one more paragraph, one more minute of bliss.

the good, the bad, and the mundane

I was sitting at the table eating my lunch when I saw the pathology report. I had read through it with the PA on Friday but only about a tenth of it stuck with any meaning. Like a flock of little moths in the garden. Since it's three pages of mostly unintelligible medical lingo, I skimmed through it and tried to absorb some more of it today. The PA had highlighted a few things and written down a few notes but it only made sense in a general way. So, I started putting words into google. Words like metastatic. 

Words like metastatic crawl around the outside of my head if doesn't pertain to me. If it becomes personal, all of a sudden it's like a darning needle in my brain. Right in the ear.

Then I started looking up survival rates. Oh, holy shit. This is a concept of which I would rather not be aware.

I'm not reading anymore...at least until I see Dr. Deaconson and the med onc. That's what they call the oncologist...a med onc. I'm learning a whole new language and I think I would rather be learning Urdu. No, I know I would rather be learning Urdu. Whatever the hell Urdu is.

I took two naps today. Both right after my Percoset for pain and Benadryl for itching. It's like falling into a deep hole...I cannot keep my eyes open. Such a blissful sleep for such a shitty reason.

Friends came and took Gus for a two hour walk today. He came home filthy and exhausted so we call that walk a major success.

Last this afternoon, we met Nikki and Scott at the winery. We shared a couple pizzas, a bottle of wine, and some stories. It was a cozy evening by the fire and very good for my soul.

We stopped at River Rock for a couple cookies on the way home. The very sweet baristas hugged me and offered to do anything we needed done. Such nice people.

Regis and I are going to buy groceries in the morning. I usually am way over-prepared for Thanksgiving. I have a binder, I have to-do lists, I have the list of groceries, and I have the timeline. This year, Regis is in charge. We have a list on a piece of notebook paper and we have assigned our offspring to bring a variety of things. I am not worried about the food...I am only worried about the commotion. I may need a nap in the middle of it all.

So, there it is. The good, the bad, and the mundane. Your real life doesn't stop just because you're traveling through a shit storm of medical issues. The dog still needs a walk and a bath, you still need to buy groceries and do laundry, and somehow the dishes continue to accumulate in the sink. I guess the trick is to find things to make you laugh and friends to hug you. And once in a while, go bowling.

sigh

Regis and I met with the PA at my surgeon's office yesterday. I was irritated that they hadn't returned my phone call about the pathology results. Once she started talking, I could see why they hadn't. Poor Jan who talked to us must have drawn the short straw. There are three pages of medical lingo which the oncologist will explain but which means possibly more surgery, most likely chemotherapy, and for sure radiation.

They were not cells that escaped during the biopsy. They were cells that had deliberately gone there and set up camp. Angry cells, bent on destruction. About to send more troops out to distant locations. Scouts with orders to set up more camps. I could say something about catching them before that happened, but I have learned this about optimism: It only goes so far.

It was a stunning conversation. When the medical professional gets tears in her eyes and grips your hands, you know you're in for it even if you don't know what IT is yet.

I did wear my ass kickin' boots even when I wore the lovely blue gown. I'm staring at the ceiling. It would be a nice picture if I weren't posing like a damn corpse. The crown helps, of course. I had to take it off because it was hard to get the boots and the crown in the picture...not enough space in the exam room.

I'm trying to mold my attitude. Lots of people get this and lots of people are fine later. I feel lucky that they found it and I feel lucky that I have such competent folks taking care of me. I feel lucky that I have such good family and so many good friends to support me. Regis is a saint. He empties my drain, makes me eggs, and has offered to cook the Thanksgiving dinner.

I hope some day I'll look back on this and think, "God, what a drama queen!"

As we left the hospital yesterday, I told Regis I wanted to pretend like things are fine until next week. I wanted to dodge questions and avoid the subject and not write about it on my blog and on Facebook. By the time we sat down to lunch, I had changed my mind. Not realistic at all. I decided to just be honest about the uncertainty and about my fears. I think it was the best decision.

So, all in all, this sucks but not as bad as some things suck. Day by day, we have decided. Regis has two good knees that should stand him in good stead as he waits around for my appointments. We have good insurance. We live close to great medical care. We have kids and friends around to help us. We have good food, a cozy house, and a sweet dog. Today...my favorite day.