Plastic vs Cotton, Dial Responsibly, Office Chairs, Tiara’s...

April 1, 2011

The Good: The skin on my arm (PICC Line area) has broken down; it’s been smothered and just wants out, kind of like me. 

I decided to have the Line pulled and take my chances with a regular IV... sure, I could blow a vein, but I can’t continue to watch my skin disintegrate.  One nurse said to yank it; the other suggested I have them switch it to a “cotton dressing” rather than a “plastic dressing”. 

Ummm, what was that??? There are different dressings???  Jean screams a silent scream inside her head as she thinks that for almost 5 months she's suffered the itching, sweating, skin breakdown, etc... 

My arm is doing much better, one week of a cotton bandage and the skin has already started to heal.  Wahoooooooooooo to Cotton, and I didn’t have to sacrifice a Vein for the Victory!!!

Seriously, given a choice, who would choose plastic???

The Bad: “Don’t Drink and Dial” If you know what this means, you’ve probably fallen prey at one time or another whereas one too many alcoholic beverages caused you to dial the phone connecting you with someone you shouldn’t be calling. 

Here’s another one, “The Chemo Dial”...

Unlike the Drunk Dial, the Chemo Dial can hit at any time and does not require alcohol, it hits for no reason, day or night, and it hits hard... maybe while listening to music, perhaps it was a word, phrase, tune, whatever, it hits... and all of a sudden a BIG FAT TEAR comes out with more BIG FAT ONES that follow. 

They aren’t regular tears, for some reason their HUGE... and in no time there’s a pool of water that’s collected in my collarbone, and I need to escape at that exact moment... so I Chemo Dial. 

The difference between a “Drunk Dial” and a “Chemo Dial”, is the person on the end of the Chemo Call is exactly the person you’re supposed to be calling.

The What the ???: So I’m back in the basement... I’ve decided to try massage once more in combination with physio; they said they’d incorporate a chair to avoid the discomfort of lying on my stomach, Giddy Up!

When they said “chair”, I assumed that meant “massage chair” not “office chair”... yes, that’s what I said, office chair.  I’m sitting on an office chair with my head slumped over onto the massage table.  My face is pressed into 2 pillows stacked on top of each other, with a donut pillow on top of those to allow for SOME breathing room; my nostrils are pretty damn close to the pillow though.  It’s one of those moments where you think someone is going to pop out from behind a curtain and say “gotcha” but they don’t, it’s not a joke. 

Am I acting like a spoiled little Princess?  

Side Bar: place sucks, staff are excellent

Lessons Learned: I need to buy the biggest fucking TIARA I can find... I’ll be wearing it to my next appointment.

Scars, Window Treatments, TLT’s, Exotic Oranges...

March 25, 2011

The Good: I watched this video 3 or 4 times, maybe more and each time I saw something I’d missed before; at the end though I always thought the same thing... Cancer has changed me, but I’m here, and I can still see me. 

This video may not be suited for all audiences, viewer discretion is advised.

You’ll want sound for this video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GI5w6Bv5eZs

The Bad: Back in February I drew back the drapes on chemo, it was done and I was happy to see some light.  Walking back into the chemo unit this past week was hard... those drapes are now shutters banging in the wind; I wish the noise would stop. 

I saw some old faces which were sad, I hate seeing the same people, and you want them to get better, ring that damn chemo bell and get the hell out!  For those of you saying “what bell?”... there’s a bell on the floor you get to ring after the last treatment. 

What’s worse though is seeing the new ones, new faces, not unlike how mine was 5 months ago.  I know the new faces because they still have hair, they are always asking questions or getting lost, mostly though you see in their eyes how scared they are.   

I don’t hear that damn bell very often; I wish it was noisier...

The What the ???: In addition to doing chemo infusions twice a month (the hospital never used the term “infusion” prior to this, makes my sister think of tea), I’m also doing oral chemo, BONUS (insert sarcasm symbol). 

I tapped a few of those Toxic Little Tablets (TLT’s) into my palm and started to count, 1, 2, 3... I need 7, when out of the corner of my eye I can see the nurse rushing over saying “don’t put those on your hands!” 

Ummm, how did she think I was going to take them, shake directly into my mouth and hope that only 7 of the 98 go down my throat...? I’m thinking she should have said something, or perhaps the pharmacist could have mentioned it while explaining I can’t take them with Grapefruit or “exotic” oranges, whatever the heck those are?? 

I’m no statistician but I believe any study would conclude that the majority of subjects were more likely to touch the pills with their hands than they were to wash them down with an exotic orange (not literally an orange, but the juice from one).

Sheesh, I can’t put them in my hands but I can swallow them, talk about mixed messages!

Well, I didn’t go up in flames or show any signs of smouldering, some thorough hand-washing followed and so far so good. 

My routine at home now is to tap tap tap 7 of those TLT’s into an espresso cup, I then transfer the TLT’s from the espresso cup to my mouth, and it’s all quite civilized in a bizarre sort of way.

Lessons Learned: Art makes me happy, all forms of chemo make me sad, and I need to find out exactly what exotic oranges are so that I don’t eat any!

Boxing, War, Hide-A-Beds, Strength...

March 18, 2011

The Good: I never realized how many people were in my corner until I was backed into one...

The Bad: I was having a bad day, you know, the type where you just want to bitch and have someone say “I hear ya”... well, this person said “walk it off soldier, walk it off”... which in hind sight, was what I needed to hear.

Two days later I found out I have four months of chemo ahead of me, surgery was a success, just not good enough...

I have a feeling this soldier will be doing a lot of walking over the next few months, walk it off soldier, walk it off...

The What the ???: So, back to the creepy basement where I have physio... they recommended I try massage, perhaps it would release some of the locked muscles, sounded like a good idea...

The massage table appears to be from the 1950’s, for sake of argument, let’s say 60’s... and for someone who just had surgery, this seemed frightening.  I asked about a massage chair, they thought that was a great idea and would incorporate it next time... yeah, like I’ll be coming back... I did what I could to get comfortable on this broken plank... is it just me, or would you think a massage place in a hospital that is part of the physio unit would have more up to date/ adequate equipment.

Have you ever slept at someone’s house and they had one of those hide-a-beds with a bar that goes right across your back, and no matter what you do you can’t get comfortable, and you wake up the next morning all crooked vowing never to return, cursing the day you met them... ok, that last part is a bit harsh, maybe just vowing you’ll never return and thinking “why, why, why would you even have something like this???”... that’s what the massage table was like.

Next time you make a donation to any Cancer organization, perhaps you could add a side note that it could be put towards massage tables.

Lessons Learned: I’ve had several people tell me I’m strong and have been such a fighter... am I?  Am I any different than anyone else who would be put in a similar circumstance?  I don’t know...

I look at all the men and women in the cancer unit and I know what they are going through, to some degree... and to me they seem strong... the lesson here, for me, is that if there is a difference, as in some people aren’t strong, I won’t be one of them, I am strong, thanks for the reminder. 

March 11, 2011

Support, New Body, Home, Healing...

The Good: I told my support crew at work I feel guilty accepting food... there are times when I’m flat on my back and can’t do much of anything, and there are times when I can move around and do stuff, and those are the days I feel guilt... I’ve been told that this food is meant to help during the good and the bad...

Thank you that I don’t have to worry about food during the good or the bad, it baffles my brain that you continue to think about me months into this, even if you don’t provide food, thanks for thinking of me, it means more than any words I could begin to write on this blog... Thank You

The Bad: The physiotherapist said “this is your NEW body, and you need to learn how to live with that”... there are so many things throughout “Cancer World” that you need to learn to live with... do they even know what they are saying when they say “YOU NEED TO LEARN TO LIVE WITH THIS”... WE KNOW we have to learn to live with this, WE KNOW we have to learn to live with a lot of shit, we just need time... it happens so fast...

I just need time, I just need time to learn to live with this and all the new things cancer throws at me.

The What the ???: I Want so badly to go home, be in my house, be in my room, have my parents take care of me, and just be home... I know your both dead, I just wish you were here!!!

100 days of happiness ROCKS!

Lessons Learned: The feeling of someone’s back next to yours can heal better than any drug...

Creepy Basements, Tick Tock, GI Jane, Me...

March 4, 2011

The Good: Physio hurts, it feels awkward, it’s uncomfortable, and often times painful... but when I leave I can move better and I know it’ll help in the long run, I know it’ll get me back to being mobile, being me, and I’m happy about that. 

On a side note, why does it have to be done in the basement of a Hospital, a basement of all places, it just gives it a creepy vibe... I’m just saying, basements are not meant for healing. 

The Bad: March 16^th floats around my brain like a dark stormy cloud threatens the start of a picnic, I do what I can to run away and not think, play some frisbee, tick tock tick tock... can we throw the blanket down or what???

March 16^th is when I meet with the oncologists to review the pathology report from surgery and they decide/ recommend further treatments... I’ve read some people feel anxious when treatments stop; I don’t think I’ll be one of them, I’m anxious to start living again.

The What the ???: I haven’t done chemo for a couple of weeks so the hair has started to grow back, and for those of you who don’t know, I’ve got pretty dark hair so now I’ve got the GI Jane look going on, if I couldn’t kick your ass before, I can now J

Lessons Learned: There are so many reasons why I should want to trade places with someone, someone who’s healthier, cancer free, someone who’s chances for survival are better than mine... but I don’t, I don’t want to change places with anyone.  I’m happy where I am, and I’ll be ok with wherever this takes me, as long as I can still be me, even if that me is a revised version of what once was...