Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Radiation Aliens

15 completed out of 30
50%
These will be my radiation statistics starting this Friday. I'm half done. Radiation destroys any wandering "C Bomb Cells" that may be lurking in my breast tissue.
Monday through Friday I drive or bike to the cancer center, scan my 'radiation card', undress, robe up (sometimes I shed a tear in the dressing room) and sit in the waiting room until I am called. Usually there are other women there. We both know what the other's robe means and we sometimes have a short chat.
"Hello."
"How far are you?"
"Any side effects?"
One of us is called out and the short conversation is over...I always send a silent blessing to them.
I walk down a short hallway past monitors labeled "Linear Accelerator" that measure and align before approaching a large alien machine that looms over a metal table. I nestle into my custom headrest and raise my arms over my head...and breathe. On the ceiling is a scene that looks like Holland....an attempt at peacefulness with a myriad of tulips surrounding a quiet pond. Above that is a cross, (or perhaps a plus sign), with 2 green lights that come out of it. I am gently moved by the technician so the radiation beams will line up with my 4 tattoos (one on each of my sides, one at my incision and one in the middle of my sternum). The radiation tech leaves the room and the "alien arm" sends out a buzz for perhaps 30 seconds. The "alien" then moves around my body in order to zap the other side. I watch the reflection in the moving alien as sharp edged green lines move across my body. There is another buzz accompanied by a sound that is stronger and more intense like waves are being shoved out of the "alien". There is no physical pain, although I usually shed another tear during my stillness.
The tech returns from the safety of her room , lowers the table and I am able to leave...having been 'zapped' one more time.

Thursday, December 18, 2008

Flying Time

I often tell my students, "Time flies, whether you're having fun or not". Today I realized it is my 3 month "C Bomb" anniversary.

These past 3 months have involved:
Unbelievability
Blurriness
Navigation
Almost losing my hair
Keeping my hair
Dealing with "The Randomizers"
Connecting with some amazing women
Reconnecting with old amazing friends
Realizing a great relationship is even BETTER!
Head spinning life decisions. Sleeping on them. Listening.
Navigating through unknown alleyways
Fear
Hope
Learning more sciencey stuff
Rediscovering Richard Bach
Even deeper appreciation for gifts of love and kindness
Taking trips down Memory Lane
Sweaty spinning classes
Shedding lots of tears
Learning WAY more than I ever wanted about cancer, chemo, radiation and hormone therapy
Amazing support from colleagues
Surgeries and scars
Lots of purple!
Giving up one of my favorite foods...tofu!
Appreciating....life, friends, feeling healthy, and gifts of love (I can't say this one enough!)

Three month BLUR is an understatement!

My greatest hope is that this 3 month blur quickly fades into a fuzzy memory.....with lots of learning and wisdom attached.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Another 'Richard Bachism' to Sleep On

There's no disaster that can't become a blessing,
and no blessing that can't become a disaster.


This one has come up a few times.

Falling Back in Love

I have never colored my hair. Over the years, I have acquired some grey hair (this process may have sped up over the past couple months). Before school started this year, I considered giving myself a henna. I vacillated with this decision and didn't end up doing it. Of course the idea totally left my brain after the "C Bomb" was dropped...I had MANY more important things to worry about!

Almost losing my hair due to almost going through chemo was a huge deal for me. When I told my students, that was the moment I choked up. When I saw Sue after losing her hair, we had a very warm embrace and several tears. When I went to Zeezo's (the local magic shop), and tried on wigs, I shed some tears at that point as well.

When I recently got my hair trimmed and the stylist wanted to color it, my response to her was, "I'm just happy I get to keep my hair!"

I have fallen back in love with my hair. The grey doesn't bother me anymore. I love that it is several colors. It feels really good to KEEP it!

I am still noticing eyebrows. More on that later!

Quick Update

The grey has cleared. The doctor said I could try a different chemo drug. One of the potential, though not probable side effects of this drug is congestive heart failure. Sure....it only happens in 5% of patients. Usually they are older. Often they have diabetes. They are sometimes overweight. After several days of thought, tears, sleepless nights and support, I decided that I have been in the minority with ENOUGH of this whole ordeal. I don't want to chance it. I'm not going to do the chemotherapy.
I think my body was telling me something when it rejected the chemo drug....that is what I have to believe, anyway.
I will be getting radiation starting tomorrow.
I get to keep my hair!!!!!!!!

Monday, December 8, 2008

Tonight's Reminder for the Advanced Soul

To bring anything into your life, Imagine that it's already there.

This is what appeared when I opened up Richard Bach's Messiah's Handbook tonight.
Sounds like a good thought for falling asleep.....and dreaming.....

Saturday, December 6, 2008

comment on comments

I have had several comments about comments and the difficulty posting them on this site. I agree! I try to comment on Sue's site and often end up being a bit frustrated. Just a little tidbit if you're interested. If you would like to comment, you can go to comments, click on the third dot which says name/URL....just type in your name and post. It actually works.....if you're interested.

grEy? Or is it grAy?

Grey-A balance of black and white representing magnitudes of good and bad.

The color of an approaching storm.
Mourning doves with their ghostlike "coo".
Pigeons flocked in the park-strutting for bread then retreating en masse as a toddler stumbles her way into the flock.
Strands of my hair.
The cold steel of building innards.
The mingled trusses of an intricately built bridge.
The grey of granite.....edging on sharp crystals.
The cold hard steel of an operating table in a cold room.
Dolphins that race just ahead of the ship as we ply grey Antarctic waters.....strength, speed and power as they surface and lead the way.
Inlaid mirrors surrounded by sequins, brilliant reds, oranges and yellows in Rajasthani clothing.
Concrete.
Mortar.
My cute house with the maroon trim.
The intermediate risk of the Oncotype test. The "grey" area. The questions doctors can't answer. The "I don't knows." The "Do what your gut tells you." The "Whatever you decide will be the right decision." The "Listen to your heart."

Not black. Not white. Or is it shades of black? Shades of white?

Is silver just a sparkley grey? The lining of a cloud?

El Cuarto de Cancer


Moments after the "C Bomb" was dropped, I received a white notebook filled with information about the "Unplanned Adventure" on which I was about to embark.
I carried this notebook in a large woven bag I bought in Kenya. It came to every appointment and I threw in multiple "Treatment and Consent" forms, brochures, booklets, business cards and my notebook in which many friends have taken copious notes during the countless Dr. appointments that this journey entails (I can't thank people ENOUGH for this!)
The "General Cancer Notebook" was then replaced with the "Chemo 101 Notebook" and more of the same found its way into the bag.
I remember using that bag as a carry on when I returned from Africa. It fit all my breakables....soapstone bookends with a 3 dimensional elephant, a couple of soapstone soapdishes with a line of several elephants on the back border, a soapstone plate (again with an elephant). I'm sure they were all wrapped in beautiful cloth and I remember the thing weighing a TON!
All of my cancer paraphernalia used to fit in that bag but my "Cancer Bag" has reached it's capacity. I had to tiptoe through my second bedroom yesterday so that I wouldn't step on any of these 'valuable sortables'. I realized my "Cancer Bag" is becoming a "Cancer Room" (Cuarto de Cancer in Spanish).
I wanted to share this room with you......of course I need to walk through it, but I spread it all out for you to see!
(If you double click on the picture, you will see more detail)