two more chemo-pricks to go...

I know that sounds like the fun kind of prick, but not particularly....

My biggest fear are now those needles, which ends up being more mind over matter. It isn't that it hurts so much but knowing that they have very creative ways now (over and over and over) to get that infusion in my arm - even if it means putting the damn needle between my two fingers or on the back of my hand. Owww.

ha!

Lot's o' Laughter is my best med hands down

Ride Sally Ride

I'm doing great and am considering a date with the Stairmaster this morning (which could give me a heart attack) but my brain tells me I can do it.

I'm just a wee bit nauseous. I can do it. I am, after all...

Sally.

Well alright then...

Times are harder now
then they've ever been before
(Don't be discouraged)
So much hurt and pain
that it seems so hard to bare
(You gotta remember)

Faith is the only thing
that you can count on
Stand on His promises
that you may be strong

I'm here to let you know
there's always hope for you and me
In spite of what it feels like

Well alright,
Keepin' ya head up high no matter cause
It's Alright
Believing a change gon' come today or even tonight
And He's gonna answer every little prayer
Just hold on, wait and see
you know it's gonna be alright.

Crying all night long
feeling like you're so alone
(But don't you worry)
Cause season's have to change
It won't always be this way (so just remember)

Love is the only key
that opens every door
Releases everything
All that you need and more
I've got to let you know
there's always hope for you and me
In spite of what it seems like

There's so much life
to live for
Joy and happiness instore

There's so much more
you can be
Buy you gotta ask and you'll receive
Alright, Alright, Alright

CHEMO!

time for the poison to kill my poison...

WARNINGS (thrilling)
Rituxan can cause serious side effects that can lead to death, including:

• Infusion Reactions: Serious infusion reactions can happen during the infusion or within 24 hours of receiving Rituxan.Patients must tell their doctor or get medical help right away if they get any of these symptoms: hives (itchy red welts) or rash, itching, swelling of the lips, tongue, throat, or face, sudden cough, shortness of breath, difficulty breathing or wheezing, weakness, dizziness or feel faint, palpitations (feel like your heart is racing or fluttering) chest pain.
• Progressive Multifocal Leukoencephalopathy (PML): PML is a rare, serious brain infection caused by a virus. People with a weakened immune system can get PML. PML can result in death or severe disability. Patients must tell their doctor right away if they have any of the following symptoms: confusion or problems thinking, loss of balance, change in the way they walk or talk, decreased strength or weakness on one side of their body, blurred vision or loss of vision.
• Tumor Lysis Syndrome (TLS): TLS is caused by the fast breakdown of cancer cells and can occur after treatment with Rituxan. TLS can cause a person to have kidney failure and the need for dialysis treatment. TLS may also cause abnormal heart rhythm.
• Severe Skin and Mouth Reactions: Patients may get painful sores on the skin or in the mouth, ulcers, blisters, or peeling skin while receiving or after receiving Rituxan.

taken these sunkin eyes...

Chemo again tomorrow, and I can feel its effect, but I'm trying to let go of the emotion in it which makes it worse. The bad part of it now is the amount of times it takes the nurses to find a vein, which have been collapsing lately. I don't have a port, but sometimes I wish I did. My arms are all black and blue from the last time they tortured me on Friday.

The young nurse won't have a chance with me, and I tell her that I only like the older fat girls, but thank you anyway. They put me out with Benadryl so most of it ends up being a blur...

Such a lovely rainy day today... I love the rain, and I think I must be the only person in the world who just loves the house dark and the dog snuggled up next to me with a good book. Why do people need sunny days all the time? I'm thinking that there is a possibility that they just like complaining. Yin/Yang, black/white, high/low, good/bad, soft/hard, crunchy/creamy... I love it all.

a gift

I wish everyone who is down or depressed could have the fear of cancer for ten minutes. I think most people are far too unaware of how lucky they are to be walking through the day without fear, pain, anxiety or uncertainty.

We are all going to die, but if you knew when it was, would you be different? Would you act a bit nicer to people? Would you choose to do things that were more fun; more satisfying? We all have the end of life in the back of our mind, but we never stop to realize that we only get one shot here. It isn't a dress rehearsal, and if you treat it without honor and respect you are losing something in the mix.

I wonder as I wake up in the middle of the night (every night) whether this dread I feel over dying too young is somewhat of an advantage. I no longer hang around with people I don't like. If someone shows me that they are petty or negative, my life is too damn short to spend any time around them. I am easier-going when I've broken something, when I am running late, or if I can't find my keys. What is the worst thing that can happen? Recently, I've lost my wedding pictures. I thought I put them in a certain book, but when I went to grab them, they weren't there. I don't care. If the generation after my grandchildren gives a shit (at all) it will be an absolute miracle. What is this fear over not living forever? Face it. You aren't going to. So, the best you can do is to make the most of what you have while you are here. The only way to truly live on is to have people remember you. I would like to be remembered the good way, not "gee, the bitch died" so bye-bye way.

I hope to have accomplished that, and continue to live for others which, when it is all said and done, is the only thing there really is. If you can make yourself happy in the process, good for you. Funny thing is, doing for others does make you happy. At least it's works for me.

It's a sparse life living only for yourself. Each to his own, but it's not for me.

Boo.

I slept for the last 15 hours so the drugs are kickin' in. I have the usual neck/head ache, but this time my belly is behaving.

Why is it that this holiday is now the "let's-dress-up-like-a-slut day?" Also, I am not a big fan of dead people hanging from trees or people dressing up like Casey Anthony holding replicas of her dead baby. Huh? I don't answer my door if a ghoul is are over 4 ft high. I mean reeeeally.

Our annual Halloween party is tonight. My kids live on a busy street so they come here to our quiet neighborhood to Trick or Treat. Yesterday, I was feeling far more tired than the day before, but it will be a pleasure having everyone here tonight, which now includes their friends and their extended families. Comfort food of Mac n' cheese, Sloppy Joes, salads, hot spiked apple cider and iced pumpkin bread will do the trick. The love I feel for these girls is indescribable. I miss Charlie and Will but they will be staying in Chicago. :(

Happy Halloween!

fun continued in Chi...

musica

the weirdness of blogging...

I have flu symptoms and feel like I got hit by the tired-truck, but other than that I am making my pumpkin bread today and doing some chores. I feel like I'm on a desert with the thirst, which is good because this powerful poison apple is kinda wicked.

There is something narcissistic about blogging. Who really cares about what I think or what I feel, and most of my peeps email me and ask me how I'm doing anyway, so who is reading this? Then, I've come to the realization that for me, it is about the writing. What is it about the ka-zillions of ways you can put words together along with thoughts that have an endless flow of creation? I never particularly liked school. Having ADHD makes it hard to care about a square root or dangling participle. I was also social yet extremely shy, which is the contradiction that I live with today. I find humor in everything and yet find the seriousness of life gripping to me. It is difficult finding others who understand those opposing traits.

My mother was frustrated continuously by my inability to concentrate and so I ended up in art classes. Not a bad fit, but I think she may have underestimated my love to learn. I read philosophy blogs daily and have gotten to know some pretty heady people. I listen mostly, but if they enter my mommy-bailiwick, watch out. There are many philosophers who have taken their headiest ideas from a mom changing diapers. You learn patience, unconditional love, and you get to go to school several more times... not too shabby. I've never really gotten the math thing, which is embarrassing even to this day. I was the Home Ec teacher's drop-out. As a child I didn't even want to tell time because (gasp) there were numbers on the damn thing. Half-past? Quarter-to? Or is that Haf-passed and Quarta-til? I didn't have the nerve to ask and so I spent much of high school not knowing what time it was.

It was hard being little complicated me. Hell, it is hard still being little complicated me.

So, I sit here today with poison in my veins wondering about the rest of my life. One thing my mother did give to my brother and me were unrealistic illusions of grandeur and so, unlike many suburban philosophers I feel like I could be anything I want to be. That is quite a big task considering I only have so much time to fit it all in. At one point in this writing process I thought, I will NEVER do this again. I am such a perfectionist that I make myself kind of nuts. I lost my first editor because he thinks I'm annoying and crazy. Fortunately, I found a brilliant English teacher in Turkey who helps me when I'm feeling stupid. (Thank you, Jon, John, Tabula Rasa) I haven't figured out whether he is that hot Renaissance guy in his photo or a 300 lb. terrorist with acne. I just know that he has helped with me in this witching-hour of publishing this book with no decent editor on my radar.

My brother doesn't care so much about grammar, which unnerves me. My first editor was a grammar-Nazi, which was a sheer joy to me. I have so much to learn, but I am better on-the-job than in a classroom, which is why his red pen was like an orgasm.

*orgasm*

Even now, my head wanders into the sublime and the ridiculous while trying to learn. I've mastered all the keys and their inversions on the piano, and now I'm going for jazz scales. B&D, but that's just me. There is something called a chemo-brain, but I'm going with the blood-brain barrier theory of it having no ill-effects. Many women complain of this brain-fog, but most women around here don't pick up a book, or torture themselves trying to publish a book when they aren't a writer. That takes concentration. I appreciate my eccentricities now more than humiliated by them. My mother would have appreciated this latest accomplishment of mine in her own way. Who knows?

I am just quite sure that there are things in life far more fascinating to learn than what's going down at Nordstrom's Rack.

Lata.