Penultimate

Today, I had the next to the last chemo. Yay! I'm tired. Boo! But I can see the good end is near. Hopefully.

Last night, I was updating My Poetry Blog, and I started crying when I read some of the poems I had written over the past couple of weeks. I try not to be so gloomy, but it really comes out of my poetry. I read H one of the poems, entitled "Time-Lapse," and I couldn't stop sobbing. It's a pretty cheesy ass poem, but I guess it comes from the depths of my soul. So be it.

Anyhoo, here are some pictorial reflections of what's been going on during the last week and a bit:


{Comfort food for when I feel like crap...}




{...a true Asian Canadian remedy: Chinese chicken buns from a Chinese-Filipino bakery and donuts from Tim Hortons!}




{me and my Paul Schaeffer (from Late Night w/David Letterman} look.}



I also just put up new kiddins pics on my main blog if you want to check that out. It doesn't get any cuter than that!

Trips

I've been told to stop taking my chemo pills for the next few days. My mouth broke out in painful sores, and my hands are swollen, red, and cracking. And my nose is all bloody and scabby inside. I feel like a mutant. Can't imagine what my liver looks like. Don't want to know.

I went with Chloe and Mylo on a preschool field trip to Burnaby Village Museum yesterday. I'm sure they had a blast, but I thought it was really lame, and cold. My feet were burning. I could feel my soles cracking.

H is away in Washington, DC. Am I happy about this? No. Am I understanding about this? No. Am I forgiving? Maybe someday. When I was reading Her Baldness, the author would talk about how she felt when her partner had to go on business trips, and all the mixed emotions she felt, and it really mirrored my feelings. Part of me does want to feel independent and be okay with him going on a trip, and be rational and understanding. The litle girl inside who's sick is screaming, "Hey, you're supposed to be taking care of me, and instead you go some place more important?" And I know he feels bad for going. Plus he's not well himself, as he's had a really bad cold the past week. Anyway, I'm sure we'll work it out. I think perhaps a trip by myself would be fair, don't you? I've been thinking of going on one of those meditation retreats.

Date with Lucifer, Part 6

Chemo today. Had my oncologist check-up yesterday, and she gave me some more drugs for the excruciating joint pain that I get with this chemo. I told her I'd been eating some magic brownies, and she was fine with that. She said that we live in BC, after all. Hey, whatever works. Last time I had chemo, I had an immediate allergic reaction to the Docetaxel drip--I got really hot right away and had chest pains. So they stopped the drip and pumped me full of steroids and Benedryl via IV. Then they started the drip again. So this time, I'll get premedicated with the stuff to prevent the same reaction.

I gather from my nurse and doc that what I experienced with the last chemo is only going to get worse, as the effects are cumulative. But the good news is that after this chemo, I only have 2 more! I should be finished with chemo in the second week of January.

Then comes the radiation. We met with the radiation oncologist on Monday, and it was explained to us that the benefits of radiation are good and proven, that the chances of secondary cancer is less than 1%. So starting at the end of January, I will go in every day for five and a half weeks to get my radiation. I was told that it's like going out in the sun, that I will tan on the radiated area. Folks, I don't tan--I burn, like within ten minutes of being in the sun--with 50 SPF sunscreen. But if I get bad skin irritations, they will, of course, give me yet another prescription.

This morning, before I go in for my chemo this afternoon, I'm going to do the whole home spa thing. Long hot bath, good reading (I'm reading Inventing Victor, which is a collection of short stories by my friend Lisa's friend, Jennifer--and it's great!), sitting in my new massage cushion (Henry bought me a new wonderful massage cushion yesterday at Costco, which has a rolling function, a shiatsu function, and a heat option!). I'm hoping that after chemo, I won't be too wiped out to go to the end of the term Creative Writing party on campus. I haven't seen a lot of my creative writing cohort in a while.

I want to write about all the fun stuff that's been happening in the past two weeks and try to forget all the crappiness (since that will be soon revisited anyway). Lisa and Vicki's visit was a godsend, if only a little too short for my taste! It was so wonderful to hang out with my best friend from home and her mom, and take them to all my favorite restaurants and places in Vancouver. Luckily, the weather wasn't shitty the entire time, as we were blessed with some wonderful sun. I think they really enjoyed it, and I hope they come back soon. When I'm not a lazy ass, I will download some of the pictures and post them.

Then we had two wonderful events for the book I edited that came out of the workshop that I taught back in February and March. The book is called Eating Stories: A Chinese and Aboriginal Potluck. I went on CBC on Friday morning to talk about it, then three of the authors went on CBC on Sunday morning for an interview, and other authors and folks are going to appear on radio, tv, and in print about it. People seem really excited about it! So I celebrated my birthday at our launch on Sunday, with song and cake and flowers (thanks, everyone!). And then we had dinner with Henry's folks and sister and her family (before the launch we went out to brunch with Henry's parents at Cafe Pacifica in the Pan Pacific Hotel). Then Henry and I went to see Beowulf on 3D Imax (which would have totally blown chunks if not for the impressive 3D effects). It was a great day!

Last night, our pals Michael, Anne, Debora, and Lynda brought over a fantastic dinner (sushi from Hiroshi's, noodles that Michael made, and salted cod that Debora made), and frozen soups. We had great conversations, enjoyed the food, and it was just so great to see my pals.

But the best thing that happened in the last few weeks was when we were at our family doctor last week, getting our flu shots. While we were waiting for her to come into the exam room, Chloe grabbed my head and pulled it to her ear and said, "Mama, I can hear the ocean. I can hear whales." Granted, it's like she's saying I'm empty-headed, but it was wonderfully poetic to me.

Smiley Faces

This sucks. I told Henry that I'm feeling so much pain that I feel like I'm paying for all my sins. My throat is swollen inside so I can hardly swallow, every joint in my body hurts (Tylenol doesn't do shit for me), and well, the weather sucks. Can't blame chemo for the weather though.

Chloe is drawing in the "Time for Me" activity book for kids with parents with cancer. She drew a smiley face and arms and legs on the cartoon of the tumor and asked me if that made me happy, if it made me felt better. Yes, Chloe, it does. So now she's filling every single page with smiley faces with arms and legs. Some of them have hair too.

Speaking of hair, Chloe asked me when I'm going to fix mine. Kids are awesome. I love their perspective on things.

The other night, when the kids came home from being at their grandparents' house, they burst in the door and shouted, "Mama! Mama!" Mylo ran by all his birthday toys, ran up the stairs, and hopped into bed with me and started snuggling. Then Chloe followed. That made me feel both happy and sad.

How It's Looking

I had round 5 of chemo yesterday--a new chemo cocktail. Docetaxel (aka Taxotere) and Capecitabine. Docetaxel is administered through an IV, and Capecitabine is a pill dosage I have to take twice a day. Here's picture of my bruise from my IV yesterday. I didn't put enough pressure on the vein when the nurse took out the IV, so I got a nasty swollen bruise:





So far, I've been feeling okay, though there was a woman in the chemo room with me who was getting her own dose of Docetaxel, which she started a few cycles ago. She was telling me about all the problems she's had since starting it, which wasn't that reassuring. But the nurse said that everyone's different, so we'll see. The new fun side effects I can expect are peripheral neuropathy, which is numbness and tingling in the hands and feet, and body aches and pains. The nausea should be less or even non-existent, which is good. But my taste buds are already back to flat and metallic, which sucks.

H and I are very concerned and have our doubts and fears about radiation. We're supposed to meet the radiation oncologist soon. We have lots of questions, mainly which point to how necessary this is, especially given that if I were to get radiation, I would be doing it before surgery, so how do we even know that it's necessary assuming that the surgery would take care of getting rid of the cancer. Anyway, we're eagerly waiting the appointment. It's an odd thing because the nurse and the oncologist were reassuring us that with the radiation, we were getting the "deluxe package," as if this were some sort of resort vacation deal.

The nurse also mentioned that I'm "lucky" to be getting in on the reconstruction list, because there's such a wait list for those wanting reconstruction. But my group--I guess that would be women who have the hardcore yet operable breast cancer--is the only one that's being accepted onto the list without waiting. I told the nurse that I felt so special. She laughed.

And here's the news from the ultrasound I had last week: "There has been a moderate decrease in the size of the multifocal carcinoma in the superior right breast. Significant residual disease persists." So mostly good news, some sucky news. Specifically: "One lesion measures 1.1 x 0.4 cm. . .this was measured 1.3 x 1 cm in August. A second lesion measures 0.9 x 0.5 cm. This was previously measured at 1.3 x 1.4 cm. A third lesion measures 0.7 x 0.6 cm, and this has not changed."

I don't know if this means anything...but I just gave Chloe a book that my therapist said I should give to her called "Time for Me: An activity book for kids when someone in the family has cancer." She went right to the page called "What is radiation" and colored green all over it. Green, in aura therapy, means healing I think.

Anyway, I fallen into not caring about what I'm eating (I'm a Weight Watchers lifetime member, which is probably put into jeopardy since I stopped going after my diagnosis in July. I've become accustomed to what I was putting in my mouth in terms of calories, fat and all that). But now, I'm trying to get all belly fatalicious so I'll have bigger jugs when reconstruction time happens--but nothing is changing. My doctor beamed and said, "Weight is maintaining. Good job." I'm like--just fucking great. Now that I want massive girth, it's not happening. How cruel can this world possibly be, man???

As far as my appearance go, I've totally stopped putting on makeup or giving a crap. I pretty much go out bald; it comes in handy sometimes. Like when I'm on a crowded bus and want to sit down. I whip off my hat, and people get out of my way. The perks of looking seriously ill.

So that's the latest in Brandy's cancerland. Life goes on.

Today is Another Day

The day before yesterday, the low point was letting Martha Stewart blab about breast cancer from my tv. The high point was making a cheesy movie. Yesterday, I had all intentions to get out of the house before dark but did not. Still, the afternoon wasn't entirely unenjoyable as I iChatted with my niece and one of my bff's. Then I went to Rhizome with Henry and worked on some poetry while he had a meeting (and I had a Caesar). So all what not bad. And guess what? It's still raining. If you don't love the rain in Vancouver, you better be in love with something else about the city.

Today, I AM LEAVING THE HOUSE! Yay! I'm going to an Inspire seminar this morning, then to the gym to work out (I keep forgetting and then realizing with horror that months ago, I signed up for the Thanksgiving Day Turkey Trot 10K--and Thanksgiving is on Monday here!), then back home. The proof copies for the food book are coming today, and I can't wait to see what the book looks like!

I've noticed a small decrease in side effects, and I think it might be because I've taken one less pill of the Dexamethasone, which is the hard-core anti-nausea pill I'm suppose to take right after chemo. It has a bunch of nasty side effects, including depression and mood swings. So I'm on an anti-depressant to deal with the side effects of the anti-nausea. Crazy.

Speaking of crazy, I finished watching that documentary Crazy, Sexy, Cancer. For me, watching it was like getting chemo: had to be in doses. As I feared, the last half was the same as the first. I guess I just totally didn't relate to this woman, despite her being about the same age as I, for a number of reasons: 1) She didn't seek traditional cancer treatments, and instead, went to a bunch of alternative, and sometime wacky, treatment centers that must have cost a fortune, which said to me that she had lots of time and lots of money on her hands. And it seemed to me that she did it because she thought it would make a good film, not just because she wanted to find a cure. 2) While rare, her cancer is so slow-growing and nonthreatening that at one point, her doctor told her it was kind of like having a wart. But I think I must relate to the movie on some level for its spirit. And I enjoyed it when she focused on other women who were going through treatment or had cancer for a while, as they spoke with wisdom and experience that was helpful for me to hear--warriors who've been through the battle and are still surviving, though they are tired and about fed up. But I don't want to get get all down on the filmmaker--it's her film after all. And she does get kudos for me for making it, and making the experience her own and sharing it. But for me as an audience who has cancer, overall, it wasn't my cup of tea.


Okay, now time for some tea--Yogi Tea.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month...

...and I hate Martha Stewart. Yet I'm watching Martha Stewart. Because today, her whole show is about buying things supporting breast cancer research and awareness. I'm feeling a little sick. Not because I don't support the cause, but because still--I'm watching Martha Stewart. It just happened to be on after Days of Our Lives, which I was watching while falling asleep. Then I heard Martha Stewart come on and was about to shut it off, but....cannot. I'm stuck.

It's kind of weird to suddenly be immersed and so directly involved in a cause--an awareness month. It's not like Asian American heritage month in May, during which Canada and the U.S. encourage me to be an angry and proud Asian American/Canadian, celebrating my heritage and saying a big F-You to racist bastards, like racist (and imperialist) bastards give a crap about Asian American heritage month. It's just...different. A different type of validation, encouragement, and propaganda. [Omg, the woman on Martha is talking about how to fashion a natural looking nipple and areola after surgery.--Martha is clearly uncomfortable and changes the subject. Funny.]

Anyway, I don't know where I'm going with this. I just feel like I don't know what to do with myself. I feel crappy enough to stay in bed, yet I feel like if I don't get out of bed and out of the house, I'll never feel better. The sun is semi-out, it's raining on and off, I haven't given myself my bone marrow injection yet and have an irrational fear of doing so (even though I've already given myself the injection two times). No one is in the house except for me. Lame.

But here's a picture. It's another one from the Run for the Cure yesterday. It's from my pal Judy, who's been leaving comments promising me pitchers of Caesars. So thanks to Judy for her picture, and for her Caesar recipe experimentation (J--you can try out batches right here in my kitchen!).

Taste

Imagine sandpaper, cardboard, cotton, wood, and rust as replacing your taste buds, tongue, and throat, and you would know what my mouth feels like right now. Ever since the last chemo shot, I haven't been able to enjoy much of anything I eat, and when I'm not eating, my mouth feels like someone planted a muddy shoe inside it. I wake up thinking how awful my breath must be if the smell is an extension of the taste. A couple days ago, H and I went with Jenn to Rhizome, where I had a Caesar's (Clamato and vodka), and I smiled because it was the first taste I was able to enjoy in days. Alas, I'm not going to sit here and down Caesars all day. It's a nice thought, though.

Other remedies include: lifesavers (thanks, Sandra!), water with lemon, and...that's all I can think of now.

Oh, to eat and savour--big juicy marbled steaks, California rolls with real crab, turkey and provolone panini--anything with delicate, subtle tastes to deliciously pungent ones like some of my favourite cheeses. To drink sparkling water without it tasting like day-old flat soda.

Imagine.

Sick

Chloe's sick. So I should stay away from her. This is impossible--and not something I want to do anyway. At six this morning, I heard a little whimper downstairs, and it went straight to my gut. Even in the deepest sleep, I can feel my kids needing something, no matter how quiet they are. Of course, no one else heard little Chloe crying, so I went downstairs to see what was the matter. She had to go pee but was afraid in the dark. So I helped her, and she coughed all over me, and I didn't think to turn away. Then I put her back in bed and gave her a kiss.

Step 1: Remember that I have virtually no immune system.
Step 2: Stay away from crowds and sick people, including my own kids.

I think I'm fucked. I can't remember the first step, and I can't be bothered with the second one. This is too hard.

Last night, I had a bad moment. Actually, last night was good. People were dropping by to pick up their race shirts, and my friend Emilie came to hang out. But when everyone left, and I was in bed, I felt like crap. Not because of all the company, but just because of the chemo--and because of the horrific realization that I'm only on cycle 3 out of 8. Then I panicked: how the hell am I going to make it through EIGHT of these cycles? EIGHT???? I know people have done it, but it seems like a long-ass road ahead.

Sometimes, I really hate realizations.

Round 3

I fucking hate chemo. I'm trying to take it all in stride and be grateful for the treatment, but I've sort of developed a fear of chemo day and what happens later at night. The nausea, the full-head headaches, the uncontrollable sobbing, "dead arms" (that seem to perplex everyone), pain in my veins, insomnia. The day of chemo, I have a voice in the back of my head going, "Oh, god, why me?" I'm sick of popping pills, being poked, and now I gotta poke myself every other day! The whole length of the chemo treatment is not even half over. I've got 5 more cycles after this one. And holy christ, that shit ain't cheap--those self-injections to boost my WBC's, which by the way, will cause additional achiness in my body. Just for one cycle of chemo, I gotta pick up my $1700 prescription. Thank god Henry's got awesome extended medical healthcare and that Pharmacare kicks in a chunk too, so that in the end, we only end up having to pay $50 each time (without any of the hassle of trying to get approval for the drug that we probably would have had to go through in the U.S.)! So yeah, sitting next to our leftovers, soy milk, and almond butter are my little vials of joy.

It was kinda funny yesterday though. While I was getting my chemo, a nurse walked in and stared at me and Henry a little. Then she said, "You're Brandy, right? I heard you on the radio yesterday! I recognize you from your blog except you're wearing glasses!" So I guess she read this little blog here after listening to the CBC interview and saw that I was getting chemo, and came into the room to say hi! That was neat! (She also said that my kids were cute too--just in case you didn't know that for yourself.) The other nurse who was giving me my chemo said, "What's the website?" There were two other older people in there, so the nurse said, "Oh, I'll email it to you." And then she said to me that she agreed with the URL. So to the nurse who reads the blog--HELLO and thanks for reading!

Anyway, don't get me wrong. The whole cycle doesn't suck for much of the time--just about the first week. After that, I try to build myself back up by doing things and getting outside and everything. But I just felt like whining a little bit just now. The blog is the Good, the Bad, and the Stupid (stupid in a good way sometimes, stupid in a bad way). Many things are worse than this, but right now, I'm wallowing in the suck.

Betrayal (Part I)

I was pretty sure I've used the word "betrayal" in a post title previously, but looking back, I guess I haven't. Given that this probably won't be the last time I use this word, I'm parenthetically labeling it.

It's been almost a week since round deux from the attack of el diablo chemo (bear with me as I code switch like a brook from Babel), and it's been a tough week. On Thursday, H and I made a run across the border for some goody goods, and I was doing alright then, with the help of a handful or two of pills. On Friday, the big Reconciliation fundraiser dinner in Chinatown took place--almost 700 people in attendance! I donned Jocelyn (if you recall, my curly red wig) and a cougar-like dress (even had a full-on boob slip when I took the camcorder bag off my shoulder! I felt soooo Paris Hilton, except that I probably blushed when it happened and not acted like it was just what I do every day). It was great seeing so many people and getting all the hugs, but truth be told, I was painfully pooped out after an hour. I was feeling kinda whoozy, and nothing tasted right. I was lucky that I was able to get home and in my PJ's by 10:30 pm.

On Saturday, the fun continued with H's conference at SFU downtown. I actually was okay for most the day, and spent the time working at the display table, content to hammer away at the food book that should have been done by now. But by the time 3 pm rolled around, I hit a big old wall of fatigue.....which has continued up until now. Yesterday, H, the kids, H's sister and her family and I went to a friend's brother's farm, where the kids had an absolute blast, the time of their lives. Me....again, the fatigue was nothing less than torture.

It's hard to describe this type of feeling to anyone who hasn't experienced it. The closest I can come to is probably something remotely similar to the fatigue a woman has when she's in the first trimester of her pregnancy. But it's not the type of tired that a nap can or will cure. Actually, I'm finding it very hard to sleep when I'm feeling like this. It's like there's no comfort to be had in the body whatsoever.

This is where the betrayal comes in. If it's true that the mind and body are one, or can be one, how can the body betray the mind so heavily to the point of it being a full-scale attack? Loads have people have advised me on visualization, that if I talk to the cancer or imagine it going away, it will. But when my body is like this--with my body betraying me in such a way--how am I to believe that? My body is doing things despite itself, and I know that's a product of the chemo. Even some of my moods are a product of the chemo. I have to say it again, even just to remind myself--I'm being poisoned. And right now, my body is not my own, that is, if my mind is still my own.

Very recently, I've become obsessed with the name Moxie. I read it somewhere in a magazine called Craft, which was a handy distraction during my chemo session last week. I like the name, and the word, Moxie. Moxie Yu. I keep telling Henry that when we have another kid, whether boy or girl, I want to name him or her Moxie. I keep telling Henry when. . .not if. I know that against the better judgment and advice of some people, I probably shouldn't wish for or desire something that there's a great chance I won't be able to have, which is a third child. But I just feel at this very moment, that perhaps that kind of desire is exactly what I need.

Without Mincing Words...

I feel like shit. This is not me complaining; this is me stating a fact. I've had a headache without interruption for a week now, with the only relief being taking a sleeping pill and passing out cold. I've tried extra strength Tylenol; I've tried other things. I'm not allowed to take ibuprofen or aspirin, so that's out. The only thing I haven't tried is a hammer to my head to at least justify the pain. This is definitely at the top of my list of things to bring up at my appointment with the oncologist on Tuesday.

And while I'm being honest, I have to say that I'm having a bit of a difficult time dealing with not having privacy as much as I would like. It's nice having my parents here to help out, but what that also means is that the kids are here in the house more, and most of the time, when I need to have some quiet time, I have to lock myself in my bathroom, as that's the only place in the house to achieve privacy. Today, H took my parents and the kids out to lunch with his parents, and it was the first time since my parents arrived that I've had the house to myself for a few hours. Basically, during that time, I was able to eat lunch and take a nap.

Taking a nap is a challenge with the kids around too, because Chloe wants to be with me all the time, but she doesn't really lie still in the bed. She's humming with energy, so she likes to squeeze my arm and sing songs while I'm trying to sleep.

Yeah, so, taking it all in stride is not my forte. I guess it never was.

Speaking of taking it in stride, does anyone in the Vancouver area want to take some strides and form a Friends and Family team for the CIBC Run for the Cure in Vancouver on September 30th? The bummer is that I can't run right now with my busted leg, but I'd still like to walk, if you'd like to join me and Henry for the 5K! To get more info, click here: Vancouver CIBC Run for the Cure and leave a comment or email me if you're interested! Registration deadline is in a couple weeks. We have a team if we have 10 or more people.

Okay, thanks for your attention to my head.

Pubes. . .

Yes, they fall out! And don't even get all embarrassed from reading that cuz some of you have asked me that question, so I know that even more of you are probably asking it in your heads.

My moustache--hasn't come out. So I guess not all hair is victim to chemo. Damn!

My armpit and leg hairs--I haven't noticed that they are falling out, but they've remained stubbly since I last shaved over a week ago. And I darenot shave now, because if I get cut, the chances of infection are pretty high.

Eyebrows and lashes--should fall out but haven't thus far.

I still have thin patches of hair on my head, mostly where my brain stem is right above my neck. But mostly, my head is just one big old white itchy noggin. I've been putting tea tree oil and gel on it to relieve the itchiness.

And the hairs on my arms, fingers and toes look unfazed. So much for me being like one of those creepy hairless cats, which I swear are the work of the devil.

Poor little Chloe is trying to understand the whole "Mama is sick" thing, and keeps telling me that her hair is falling out too. I'm not sure how to talk to a four-year-old about this stuff. It's a tough age. The programs at the cancer agency for kids with parents with cancer start at age 6, nothing for littler ones. But I'm just trying to keep her involved in whatever I can, to expose it rather than hide it and make her feel a part of the treatment and recovery, but I'm not sure if that's the right thing to do.

As for Mylo, he just keeps saying this and that hurts. And he repeats it, over and over and over again. It's even tougher to talk to him, and I have absolutely no clue about how to get him involved, as his primary interest is destroying things and beating the crap out of them. At least with Chloe, she's into the whole girly make-up, dress-up type thing.

This week, I've been feeling okay, even though my WBC is at its lowest, from what I was told. It's kinda a deceptive, dangerous state to be in. Cuz I feel alright, but I know that if I get the smallest injury, I have to be really careful. A couple days ago, my finger accidentally pushed lightly on the vein where they took blood from last week. I have this routine blood work done every 3-6 months, and it always heals right up. But when my finger touched the spot--a week after the test--it hurt! I could feel the bruising from something done a week ago. Then yesterday, as I was lighting some candles, my finger touched the hot metal on the lighter for less than a second, and what normally would have been a practically non-existent burn hurt like hell and swelled up a little. So I had to put Neosporin and a bandaid on it, even though I could barely see where it was burned.

It's difficult for my mind to understand that my body kinda sucks right now cuz I'm used to being so active and running around all over the place, not giving a rat's ass if I trip or fall or be clumsy and all that. Anyway, I should rest up because my next treatment is on Wednesday.

Chemo Rollercoaster--WARNING--GROSS-OUT POST

I have to change the way I think about this. When a human being grows up, s/he is raised to think that when sickness occurs, s/he will eventually get better, and life will be back to normal. With chemo, I'm finding this truth to be absolutely false. I find myself being constantly deceived. What I mean is that once a side effect has passed--or so I believe--I think I'm in the clear. So at the end of last week (about Sunday-ish), I thought, "Okay, so the nausea is gone, fatigue is not there, heartburn still there but whatever, I'm okay." Yesterday was fine, except that I began to get a little tired in the afternoon and had a headache--and oh yeah, got my period, which I don't think is actually my period, but me just bleeding nearly black blood from the vagina as a side effect of the chemo (sorry to gross the guys out, but whatever...), especially since I'm not supposed to get my period until next week. And I also have a bad case of acne and sores, inside and out (I got sores in my mouth), which is another side effect from one of the chemo drugs. So I'm not feeling entirely okay, but yesterday, I thought I was over most of the side effects.

Then today happened. I woke up, did stuff on the computer, drank a bunch of water like I'm supposed to. Every day, I have to wait one hour before I can eat (this is from a condition that was diagnosed six years ago), because I take a thyroid medication. So I'm drinking water and all that, and then I get a massive wave of nausea. I don't mean that I feel a little urpy--I mean that I want to puke my brains out. Real bad. So I take my anti-puke pill, and try to fight it off for about ten minutes. But I really need to vomit, big time. So I go in the bathroom and start heaving. Problem is, the only thing in my stomach is water. So I'm gushing water and mucous, and I'm involuntarily crying because it's hard work to do this, but it also makes me feel so empty and frustrated because there's nothing to puke but I keep having to feel like I gotta puke up something--anything--maybe my stomach itself, I don't know.

Ah, me. So I'm done puking--for now. I need to stop saying that I'm done feeling or experiencing anything as far as how my body reacts to the chemo that continues to make its rounds. I'm just hoping that the chemo is doing what the doctors mean for it to do, which is to attack the cancer more than it's attacking me.

Foghorn

{Henry wanted me to post a picture of my fauxhawk before I shaved my head entirely, which I plan to do today. I'm sure he'll want to get more shots later. He mentioned something about me donning camo and shitkickers.}


The fog still has not lifted. If you want to know what I'm feeling like, imagine yourself going about your business somewhat stoned, all the time. For some of you, you might think this is a good thing--a bonus! But truth be told, I'm getting pretty sick of the feeling, of moving really slowly, floating, taking forever to think or do things, being disoriented. I'll have a serious thought in my head, and then all of a sudden, I'll say out loud, "What was I thinking?" And then it'll be gone. And then there's the heartburn that never dies. I called to get another prescription to take care of it, but I guess the on-call doctor was too busy to give my pharmacy a ring. So the fire continues unabated. I FEEL OLD!!!! Help!

Yesterday, Henry and I drove down to Seattle so I could hold a poetry workshop at the Wing Luke Museum. I was expecting kids and their families, but two twentysomethings showed up from Tacoma, really nice people. The dude was actually half-Vietnamese, so we chatted a bit about language and "going home"--something neither of us has ever done. I hope that he and his partner contact me so we can keep up the exchange, because they both were nice folks. We didn't actually write any poetry, but made booklets, an act that was nice and meditative. Even Henry made one! And of course, it was good to see Jamie. But it was nice art therapy all around.



{Henry's booklet is the one with the red gate on it. He coined a new term, which I love but won't repeat here because I don't want no one stealing my man's new coinage! You'll just have to be intrigued. But his booklet kinda represents his neologism. My booklet is the one that looks like it has a green hat on the cover. I taught the people at the Seattle workshop, including Henry, how to stitch together a booklet rather than stapling! So that what these suckers are.}


{another shot of the booklets. We all used some paper that I bought in Chinatown. This type of very thin paper is typically used at offerings and New Year's, when you burn things so your ancestors can have them in the spirit world. On the back of my booklet, I used one of those foam rings that come with stacks of DVD-R's and coloured it green so that it looks like a jade pendant.}


{inside my booklet}

Soooo Weird

I'm feeling really weird today. I don't know if this is what's called "chemo brain" but I feel like I'm moving in slow-space/time. When I got off the bus today and started the walk home, it felt like I was walking through decades. I felt so weird that I wondered if I was already dead and walking around in some deadspace. This is really effed up, and the only drugs I've taken today have been for nausea and heartburn!

I don't like this feeling. I wish I could turn my head without the room moving faster than I. What kind of crap did they put in my veins???

Anyway, I have a number of things to get through today--with or without this weirdness. So I better get moooooving.

Cool Hair!

I was walking back from my therapeautic touch appointment (which I missed--long stupid story), and this woman was coming at me from an intersection and shouted, "Cool hair!" with her thumbs pointed up. I honestly had no idea what she was talking about, so I looked around. She pointed at me and smiled. I thought she was insane. But then I realized that she was talking about my hair, and then I felt bad. I hate it when those things happen. I just wasn't feeling like, "Oh, yeah, she must be talking about how cool I am!"

I feel so anti-cool. I've got perpetual heartburn, which totally sucks. I get heartburn if I drink water, if I swallow, if I sneeze. I wear fuzzy slippers with hard soles around the house so that I go clomp, clomp, clomp. Last night, some friends came over for a So You Think You Can Dance marathon extravaganza, and it sure pooped me out. And now, I'm using the word "poop" in a nonliteral sense! I've lost my damn mind.

Went to a naturopath yesterday. He's the brother of a friend, and they don't mess around. But to be honest, as much as everything costs, you have to wonder--is this really going to work? I'm sure that level of skepticism is present for many. But in explaining how chemo cashes in on the short-term effects for the long-term costs (or something like that, I was never good at economics), it seems like the naturopath thing is the thing to do. I mean, I like my head. I'd like to keep my head working like it has been working. So we'll give her a go and see what happens.

I'm seeing an art therapist today too! You know, with all these therapies and stuff--maybe cancer isn't so bad! I wouldn't be seeing all these different people otherwise.

But no, I'd rather not have cancer. Cuz this heartburn still sucks.

Who Needs Hair?

I did it...we did it. My whole family, even the wee little lad, had a hand in chopping off my locks tonight. I will post a more detailed play-by-play when my camera battery is recharged, but here is the result (taken with Chloe's camera...yes, our 4-year-old has her own digital camera--so what?).



You can't really tell from this shot how awesome the haircut is, but like I said, that will come tomorrow sometime. The shortness really brings out the array of colors, so it actually looks better than when it was longer.

As far as the chemo goes, I felt fine until about 5pm, when I guess it started kicking in and a big ball of nausea sat in my stomach and I got the worst headache. I took the pills they gave me, but it hasn't helped a whole lot. Plus, my forearms are strangely numb. This wasn't listed as a side effect, so I'm going to call the number they gave me. Maybe. Or just take more drugs.

Okay, time to try to pass out.

Toxic Avenger

{the view from the chemo ward at the cancer agency}

I got home from my first chemo appointment, and I feel okay. For the first hour, I was the only patient in the room, and then an older lady came in to get her treatment. She had a "port" in her chest, which the nurse told me gives easier access to administer the drugs rather than the iv. It looked a little weird to me though. So I'll stick with the veins for now.



I'm a walking block of poison. If I puke, whoever's cleaning it up has to wear gloves and not come into contact with it. I have to flush twice when I pee to make sure the poison doesn't linger. And Henry wants to chop my hair off now rather than wait for it to fall out so that he doesn't accidentally nick my head when my white blood cell count is low. That whole WBC thing is serious. The nurse told me I have to wear slippers around the house so I don't get cuts or scratches on my feet. Any little itty bitty cut or whatever could give me an infection. And sadly, she also told me that I can't go to LA in two weeks. But I'm going to double-check with the oncologist, even though Henry wants to agree with the nurse and say I can't go. Bah!

So I'm going to cut off my hair tonight, but we're going to do it in front of the kids. I'm afraid that if they don't see me cut my hair off, it would freak them out to just suddenly appear hairless in front of them.

I swapped my California driver's license for a BC one this morning, while I still have hair. So I'm almost a full-blown Canadian! I have yet to take my citizenship test, but how much do I really need to know beyond the fact that Canada has ten provinces? It is 10, right?

Other than having the taste of rusty nail in my mouth, I'm okay. And it's a sunny day!

This Sucks More Than I Thought

Just got back from my oncologist appointment, which lasted two and a half hours. They had lots to say. Apparently, most women going in for breast cancer have one lump requiring surgery and radiation or some such. Me, I have three--three confirmed, I should add, as the doctor said--which cover a large portion of my breast. When the docs said the word "mastectomy," it was kind of hard to hear. Sure, I've been joking about it, but to actually think of it as something that's become my reality, it was sort of like, oh shit.

So in the next few weeks, I'm going to have a bunch of blood tests, bone scan, chest x-ray, ultrasound and god knows what else done. Then start my first round of chemo. I'm going go through chemo for about six months. Then the mastectomy (hopefully, some miraculous shrinkage will occur so this won't have to happen), and then radiation. There goes about a year of my life.

This is really fucked up. Like, for real. Henry was good--taking notes and asking questions. I'm glad to see that those years at Princeton didn't go to waste. He even got to give the doc a quick lecture on the history of migration in the Pacific region. :)

Well....well. Okay, so like everything else, I must deal with this with the same gusto as ever!