Need to do something

I found out today that 7 women in my neighbourhood between the ages of 20 and 35 have breast cancer. My first thought was is there something in the air? But no. It's sort of typical --scary, by typical. Early detection, more survivors mean more patients. I'll still ask my doctor's opinion on it though. What worries me more is that I never see these women around, even though I walk Oli all the time. This is because apparently, they never leave their house. Some are depressed, feel alone and are not coping well, while others probably deal with it in the safety and privacy of their own home. My nurse and doctor keep telling me I'm doing very well but I never realized I was at the top of the coping spectrum. Geez. I have to do something. I need to help. I wanna turn my cancer experience into something productive, positive. I have something to offer, to share.

I'm going to try to get in contact with these women and see if they would come over for tea or rum :), either on their own or all together. I don't want to intrude, but for those who feel alone and wish they were feeling differently, maybe knowing me could help. I'm sure going to try --pushy thing that I am. People keep telling me I have positive energy that's contagious. Let's see if cancer patients can catch it too.

10 laps for life

Friday night was the Relay for Life to end cancer at Millenium Park in Orleans. Both my neighbour T and my neighbours C and F's daughter and her spouse were walking all night to raise money to fight my disease. Just to prove how everyone you know has been affected by it in some way or another. D, C. de Lune and I went out to show support for our friends and stayed for 2 hours. It was an experience I'll never forget. All those people camped out, walking and running lap after lap to help me. I know, they weren't there helping me directly, and yet, they were --I have directly benefited from that support. If there's one thing I can say about cancer treatments is that it's obvious just how far raised money goes. This new chemo I'm on, the more effective yet less side-effecting one, was still in clinical trials in 2003! Think about it: when we were kids cancer was a death sentence. Now it's like a bad dream, a sickness that can practically be cured if caught early enough. I will not die from this, I'm certain of it. C de Lune was amazing. I told her in the car what this event was for and when I used the C word for the first time she said "I know cancer mummy". No kidding. Then when I told her the point of the Relay was to help heal people like me, she told her dad to drive faster! My kid. Gotta love her. But the best of it all was how she ran 10 laps for me, on her own, faster than most adults, not showing any signs of stopping. People were watching her, shock on their face. And she would have kept going. Words cannot express just how proud I was. Next year, she says, we are running all night.

Doing alright

This round, so far, has been much easier on me. I'm doing very well --maybe the summer weather is helping. I'm on preventative antibiotics right now but my tongue is still very white --it's thrush, a bacteria that can overgrow when your immune system is down. No fever so far, no pain and lots of appetite. But I'm off the steroids now so the bone pain might still come. I hate waiting for something like that. Cancer and chemo in particular are teaching me a lot about living in the moment. I have no real choice, really, because when I'm sick, it's hard to believe it will go away, and when I'm feeling good, I don't wanna think of the next round of getting sick. It's a good lesson I hope will stay with me. I just hope I can out of the hospital from now until Sunday, because a house full of pirates without me could be disastrous.

One to go

Chemo round #5 is done people! Only one to go. I see light at the end of the cancer tunnel, and the music is loud and the booze flowing. Yes, I'm having a party to celebrate my return to normal life -- a luxury I'm sure many of you take for granted. I will be able to take a normal bath, saran wrap optional. I'll be able to feel good for more than 2 weeks at a time. I'll be able to let my kid kiss me on the lips again. I'll be able to run and get my nice muscles back. I might even go back to work one day :).

I think this time I should feel a bit better. Chemo is very much a trial and error experience. Since everyone has different side effects, it take 1 or 2 nasty experiences to get the meds right. This time I'm getting weened off the steroids in order to prevent the blood pressure drop and bone pain. I have a bigger dose of morphine that I should be taking regularly, in order to not end up needed more when the pain gets too bad. And I'll be on preventative antibiotics starting on day 5 of the cycle, to prevent infections, of course. Sounds good to me because I canat be in the hospital this time, because C. de Lune is having a pirate summer party next Saturday. I'll let you know how it goes.

Cash to end cancer

Went out with my playgroup girlfriends on Wednesday night. C. de Lune's baby playgroup, not mine. :) I met most of them when she was only 4 months old. I don't get to see them very often, but at least I see them regularly enough. And time flies at an insane rate when we start talking. And eating. And drinking. No drinking for me though. Not yet. Soon. Oh so soon.

Of course, the conversation hovered around cancer quite a bit, among other subjects like upcoming babies and new boobs and such. One of my friend's mom is fighting a tough battle, and another friend has a girlfriend who is going through the same chemo regime as me, just two rounds ahead of me. Unfortunately, she had a worse case. That's when I realize that it all could be so much worse.

Someone called cancer devastating. It's moments like those that I get an electric shock of reality. I'm living something most people call devastating. I agree, cancer is devastating, but when you land in the middle of it, it's not so dark. Daily life goes on because it must, and there's no time to think of what it is you're really struggling through.

While I was in the hospital this weekend, my neighbours were selling stuff, donating all proceeds from their garage sale to Relay for Life, a charity event to end cancer. I was very disappointed to miss out on all the buying and selling goodness, but can you believe they made over 800$! That's awesome.

Bubble girl

This last week since my last chemo round has been a spectacle and achy grossness, as you know. And on Friday night, it got interesting. After feeling better on Thursday, the bone aching got much worse by dinner time on Friday. I called D, crying from pain, while he was on his way to pick up C de Lune. I went back in the tub, the only place that seemed to give me relief and cooked myself in hot water. I also took a morphine pill. This seemed to manage the pain, but D got worried about me sleeping so much so he asked me to get up around 7:30. By that point, I already had a fever that was climbing at an alarming rate. Since we didn't know if this was simply a result of my lobster-type cooking, I called my home nurse. She told me what to do to bring down my body temperature for a half hour. It did come down to 99, then hovered around 100 for awhile (100.2 is a fever), before suddently spiking to 102.7. That's when we went to the Civic. I guess in hindsight we should have gone to the General, but I figured the Civic would be less busy. Anyways, by midnight I was in observation, having blood tests. My white blood cell count came back desastrous --D made a joke of my only white cell trying to be intimidating, screaming "stay away! stay away!" to the bacteria. So they gave me intraveanous antibiotics and transfered me to the General at 3 am. Saw the oncologist on call around 4 am, and was sent up to a room, where lots and lots of blood was taken again. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep. On Saturday, they gave me my own room since I had to be in isolation. My immune system was at 0.9 and the bacteria fighting cells were at 0.3 -- think about it: zero is, well, none and normal is between 4 and 12. My normal is 8. This morning, it was at 2.5, enough to be back at home and out into the world. That's something good.

Two more good things:
1) While I was in the hospital, this cute 2o year old admissions clerk came to ask me questions. I don't know how we got to that, but I told him about my previously long wavy blond hair. To which he replied, with shyness and respect, to not worry, that I was still very pretty. Now that I think of it, he said it again before he left. That was sweet of him and when he was gone, I smiled a lot.

2) We went to Cora's for lunch after 2 days of hospital food. D used a butter knife to cut my hospital bracelets off --that was entertaining! There were two women having lunch beside us. They didn't talk to us but after they left, the waitress told us they paid our bill and she wasn't aloud to tell me until they left. That made my day.