Old Home Week

... a trip back to Tom Baker Cancer Centre for my first oncologist check up.  It feels like years since I've been here. 

I have both a sense of triumph and a sense of not really belonging anymore.  Much like when you go back to your elementary school and suddenly discover that the drinking fountains only come up to your knees ... you've outgrown the place and didn't even notice that you grew up.   

There are sick people here, ailing people, sad people.  These people look at me - with a question mark etched on their face - "what are you doing here?", "are you one of us .. or one of them?"  They look at me and I feel as if I'm an impostor.  But I want to say "no!  I'm one of you ... but I'm cured."  Maybe I need to wear a badge that says "Hello, my name was Foam Lori" or "Chemo Graduating Class of March 2010".

I pop into Radiation Unit #10 for a quick visit and some hugs and high 5's from Lisa and Diane.  It feels weird to be there but it's shocking to realize how quickly the time has gone by and how locked in to some weird purgatory of suspended animation I've lived in for the past number of months.

I wander down the hall trying very hard to NOT think about "me" having cancer and trying very hard to not think about all of the sickness and pain in our world.  Push those thoughts away ... bring back hope, optimism and denial ... it's happier there.  Nurse Diane meets me in the hallway with a hug.  (can I tell you what amazing people healthcare professionals are??!!)

Dr. Wilson is almost giddy with delight to see me - she is happy and enthusiastic.  You have to take that as a good sign!   Everyone expresses how well they think I appear to be doing (it's a good thing none of them are clairvoyant!) and she is genuinely pleased with my progress.  With another looming "look-see" exam I try to extend the chit chat and conversational banter as long as possible ... the weather, news, hospital expansion, reality TV (you get the picture).  I describe to her the feeling I get in the treatment zone that is reminiscent of sticking your tongue on a 9V battery.  I mean, hasn't everyone (!) done that??  The conversation continues on to an in depth discussion of tongues on flagpoles in January and other such rites of Canadian passage. 

... but the inevitable glove is donned and down on the bullet I bite!  

She is surprised by how little radiation burning I have and she proclaims "excellent, appropriate early treatment response" - I take that as doctor-speak for "we did a great job and you were lucky to have us as your medical team, aren't we wonderful?".  Yah, as a matter of fact I do think they are wonderful.  :)   She agrees with Dr Jenken's findings but is even more optimistic than he was.  Regardless, it means I am cancer-free right now.  

My surgeon reiterated that this cancer has a 50% 2-yr recurrence rate - but that also means it has a 50% chance of never coming back.  So I'm going with THAT option.  :)   My oncologist (Dr Wilson) said that due to my good response to treatment it should mean my chances are more like 70/30 in favour of staying cancer-free.   She also said "in all likelihood, in 40 yrs you'll look back on this as a little "blip" in your life".  I like that thought - blips are good.

But because this is such an aggressive form of this disease, I am on the 1-month check up plan.  This requires I go back to visit both the surgeon and oncologist once a month for the next year or so to ensure I stay cancer-free.  I am very happy with the aggressive follow up ... as it means if there is a recurrence, we will catch it quickly and it reduces the stress of wondering for 3 months if something is growing again.  

I'm still recovering from the side-effects of treatment (fatigue, GI issues, not sleeping, bone pain, loss of muscle mass, etc), and these will continue to improve over the next year or so, but I'm feeling better, more energetic and more positive about life everyday.  I've made the decision to stay in Calgary for the next 2 yrs (to get through the medical gateposts) and suddenly there is lots of other "life" happening in my life.    I hold no false illusion that I have beaten this ... but I do know that I'm absolutely going to live my life as if I have 2 yrs left to live - and I'm going to make the most out of it and not let opportunities pass me by or put them off.  All in all, I am very pleased with the news, the follow up plan and with my overall prognosis.   "My future's so bright ... I gotta wear shades! " :)

I came home to a great little surprise on my doorstep (no, NOT a burning bag of dog poop!) but a mug from my friend Dawn.  The mug has a huge letter A on it ...  it's my grade for Graduating the Chemo Class of March 2010!   Thanks Dawn ... you're a sister fighter/survivor and I admire your courage.   

For the first time in a loooooong time I feel happy and joyous to be alive.  I have to thank all of you for your wonderful support that has really bolstered me though this trying time.  Friends are the best!  

So, I survived my 1 month reunion and Old Home Week was far more good than bad.  I think I want to set this as a pattern for the future.   :)

Am I ready for this??

WOW!  I can't believe it's been a month since I last posted.  Time has literally flown by and I've been so busy ... busy doing "what", I'm not sure!  I've been taking notes for the blog and it's about time to get them up here.
  
A "month" means it's time for the first post-treatment check up.   (gulp!)  I've been putting off thinking about the possibilities and consequences of what this check up could mean.   Treatment is over.  My security blanket of care has been ripped from my firm grasp.  My sweet bubble of denial, hope and cavalier optimism could come crashing down.  I'm not ready for this.  I mean - I'm REALLY NOT READY FOR THIS.  

April 19th. Yup.  It's my birthday.  Yay me!  I made it to another one ... and hopefully many more.  :)   Thanks to my friends who kept me hopping for 3 days of birthday kindness and caring.  I now have 5 more lbs to lose.  LOL  But it was fun gaining them eating and drinking with you all.  :)

I had a great birthday (few days, actually!) ... seeing friends, enjoying the sunshine and really just very happy to be alive.   On Monday, I actually slept in (luxuriously) and then enjoyed cleaning the car (seriously!).  Then I went to dinner and a movie with a friend.  A great day. 

April 20th:  D-Day.  Doctor Day.   My first check up with my surgeon Dr Jenken. 

After a very sleepless night, I went to the surgeons office early.  Toni greets me with a hug and a sheepish "happy birthday" - oh yeah, I guess they have that info on your chart, don't they?   I can't imagine anyone else being so lucky as to have a "look see" exam with your colorectal surgeon as a happy birthday greeting.  As someone said to me ... there is a full spectrum of luck - some people win the lottery - and some people have the escapades that I seem to encounter.  :)

It turned into a "good'ish/bad'ish" news kind of day. 

Everything looks ok but doesn't "feel" ok.   He's unsure whether he is feeling new tumour growth or scar tissue - other than that he is pleased with my progress.  He reiterated that this cancer has a 50% fail rate but his sense is that his own success rate is a bit higher than that.  He did advise me to stay positive and enjoy life as much as possible.  (good advice!) 

The next steps are to come back monthly for a "look-see" exam to see if there is any change in the "iffy" area.   Now if you thought it was a hassle going for a pap test once per year ... you ain't seen nothin' yet!

Thursday is my first check back with the oncologist for their own personal "look see" oy! ...  I'm bringing more bullets to bite! 

In the Right Place

I was in the ENT Specialist office (ears, nose & throat) today for yet another opinion of why I have enlarged lymphatic tissue in my upper airway, a raspy voice, tremendous difficulty swallowing and a rawness when I breathe.  6 specialists share the reception and waiting area.

Sitting there, texting away, awaiting my appointment with the Otolaryngology – Neurotology Specialist (what child ever says "when I grow up I want to be an Otolaryngologist??? LOL  Well? ... wait.  When I was about 7 I decided I was going to be an Ornithologist ... until I learned it was a bird watcher - but it was a cool thing to say when I was 7).  I digress ...  I overheard the receptionist for the hearing Specialist gently ask an elderly gentleman "good morning Sir, are you here for your hearing test?".  The gentleman stood up, leaned in towards her and said "pardon?".   The receptionist replied "SIR. ARE. YOU. HERE. FOR. YOUR. HEARING. TEST?".  The man stood a little taller, cocked his head to one side, and said "WHAT?".   The receptionist reached for his elbow to guide him and said "right this way, Sir".   I think he was most definitely in the right place.  :)

So, here I am, I'm in another specialist office - for someone who has never been sick in my life, I sure have made up for it lately!  So far I've seen the head and neck cancer Oncologist, the speech pathologist, my own Radiation Oncologist, and now the Otolaryngology/Neurotogy Specialist (ENT for short!) about the nasal, and swallowing issues I have.  The BIG question is "are we dealing with a 2nd cancer here? or something else?".  No one seems to be able to definitively answer that question but they all seem to take great pleasure in guiding a lighted scope up my nose and down my throat ... and making me say strange sounds and swallow things!

The 2 oncologists say the same thing "yes, there is something wrong with the lymphatic tissue but it doesn't look like a cancer".  The speech pathologist says that my vocal cords are slightly impaired by the lymphatic enlargement in my throat.  The ENT specialist says "yes, there is strange enlargement of the lymphatic tissues but also can't see a cancer of the upper airway." So ... what next?  Well, now it's time for another CT scan of my sinuses to ensure there is no cancer there and to see if there is any info there to help answer the questions.

The most common thinking is that this is most likely a combination of old injuries (when my face was crushed by a drunk driver and then reconstructed) and allergies.   The ENT specialist thinks that because I'm allergic to antibiotics that I'm also allergic to mold and most likely dust mites, too and that the dry climate of Calgary may be drying out my nasal function.   Air-born allergies. This would account for why I can't breathe and I cough constantly back East in the humidity and why I'm so dried out in Calgary.   AIR.  That's my problem.  So, it seems like all I have to do now is to find a planet to live on where there is no air!! Any suggestions?   :)

Next stop - Allergy specialist.

I don't know how things work elsewhere, but I'm amazed with the Canadian Cancer Society and the Canadian Healthcare system because once you are diagnosed with cancer, you seem to automatically get immediate attention for any other issues.   I saw this with my mother and her breast cancer a dozen years ago and now with myself.   They all bend over backwards to seek answers for me and to get me the tests and specialists I need - the most time I've waited to see a specialist is about 10 days ... and they apologize for the "wait".   Such amazing people. 

Again, I'm pretty confident that there is no additional cancer but it's very reassuring to get all possible tests and opinions to be absolutely certain.   Kind of like the elderly man and hearing test ...  I'm in exactly the right place (if only I could find some "non air" to breathe!).   :)

Things I've Learned that I Never Knew I Needed to Know

 This journey has been fast and furious but I really have learned a lot along the way ...  

• Daytime TV really sucks!   (Please let me get better soon so I don't ever have to be subjected to this drivel again!). Pretty please.  :(
• Ice cream is good - if it's the only food that you can digest.  And I could well be the ONLY person in the history of cacner treatment to not lose a %$#@$ ounce of weight during treatment.  Dammit!  I gained 5 lbs to go into this thing and NOW, on top of everything else, I have to lose these 5 lbs.  LOL  Isn't it ironic??  ;)
• A person can survive without vegetables (and wine!) - but certainly NOT happily. :(
• I can, in fact, choke down a bowl of oatmeal everyday - but only if it's heaped with brown sugar.  
• Just because popcorn (at the movie theater) smells good doesn't make it a good idea to actually eat it. 
• Dogs are incredible therapy ... even if they hog the bed! :)
• That I can blog from the bathtub - but you probably didn't want to know that!
• That it is possible to spend 3 hrs per day in the bathtub and not get wrinkly. (how can that be??).  And the Kindle is great for reading in the tub ... no pages to get wet. 
• That Shaelen (my beloved, borrowed daughter and university student extraordinaire!) CAN, in fact, cook! (but only with Gordon Ramsey (me!) to gently(?) guide her.  ;)
• I learned that I have enough self-restraint and good sense (huh?? me??! no way!) to NOT jump on the trampoline with a bunch of kids at a birthday party ...  that's just for now!  Next time I'll be in the thick of it all.  :) 
• I can survive the lethal combination of being both blonde and having chemo brain (at least I think I've survived!)  But it does give me 2 great excuses for being ditsy now.  :)
• One of the most important things I have learned is that it's ok to be selfish every once in a while ("now" turned out to be a good time to practice!) -- and it's not my responsibility to solve other people's issues - especially when I am sick.  
• That the "Big C" is horribly scary and very lonely - but it doesn't have to be the death sentence we all fear. Hope, tenacity and shear will power can get you through it ... with a healthy dose of wacky humour thrown in for good measure.   :)
• That healthcare workers are some of the MOST special people in the world.  Truly unsung heros.  So, now I shall sing for them ... close your ears! 
• That so much of stress and worry are manufactured by us - and are such incredibly unhealthy states for us to live in.   I vow to continue to shed stress from my life and to live a little more in the beauty of "now" and a little less in the stress of now - for the hopes of tomorrow.  
• That it is possible to get through the worst things in your life ... when you have such incredible friends in your life to help you see that life is truly worth living!  Thank you - to all of my friends who have believed in, and supported me, through this horrible ordeal.   I owe so much of the success of this to YOU!  

I never intended to share my illness with so many but I'm glad that I did.  I KNOW I derived a lot of positive energy from my friends and I hope you gained some insights and optimism into the path to beating cancer.   Sadly, nearly 50% of us will be struck by this disease in our lifetimes ...  together we can get through it.  I KNOW we can!   Post-cancer Lori "knows" it.  :)  

The View from the Top

Well, I've reached the summit of this climb - thanks to all of my friends and sherpas helping me, and coaching me, along the way!  :)    It's time to part company with my alter-ego "Foam Lori" but it's also time to rest here at the top for awhile before getting the "all clear" on the path ahead.  

It's wild to think about how quickly the past few months have gone by and it's anguishing to stop and realize how much I've gone through during that time.  The upside to all of this is the realization of how wonderful life is and how many amazing people there are in this world - and how many of those have touched my life.  I am truly blessed. 

I can't thank my friend Jorinda enough for coming with me to my final day of treatment.  It's funny  - they (my medical team) continued to tell me that I'd be in a lot of pain and not able to transport myself to treatment in the final weeks so I organized a few friends to be on "stand by" for those days I wasn't able to get myself to treatment and they were a little disappointed that I never called them in to action.  How wonderful is that??    But I was so thankful to not go to my last treatment alone. :) 

This is my radiation team extraordinaire -  Lisa, Diane (in back) and Mark.   All of the people at the Tom Baker Cancer Centre have been utterly amazing and all so generous with their support, kindness and help.  I am truly impressed and so grateful for their kindness and expertise.  (I don't think I look like someone who has just had 6 weeks of massive pelvic radiation & chemo, do I??  :)  )

Foam Lori - her final day of employment.  From here she was taken back to the "simulation" room to be repurposed and reshaped into another body.  It was a tearful good-bye as they wheeled her away.   :(

Now I just have to battle the exhaustion, radiation burns and GI issues for the next few weeks and then full-fledged recovery begins.  April 22nd is the first of the "look see" appointments with my surgeon and oncologist to make sure the cancer is gone and hasn't spread.  THEN the beginning of the "rest of my life" powers up into full force! 

I've been too tired to write much in the past few days but I will get back to writing more about this in the coming weeks but I truly can't find words to express my thanks to all of you who continue to support, encourage and believe in me.  Friends truly are the best!  

Hooray for Allergies!!

Last week was a whirlwind!  Very stressful - but I made it though. 

Meetings with my oncologists, and more throat studies - it now looks like my throat issues are more generalized that a cancerous mass and is more likely to be caused by some autoimmune issue (such as allergies, or other).  But my Oncologist reassured me that while there is certainly an issue with the whole lymphatic area in my neck and throat, she felt that is was highly unlikely to be a cancer.

More tests with the ENT surgeon and pulmonary functions in the next few weeks and we'll watch it closely but ... yippee!  No more cancer. Whew!!  What a tremendous relief.  :)




Thanks for the positive thoughts and tremendous power everyone is sending my way.  It's working!

Saying "good bye" to cancer treatments forever!

My Second Last Day: 

One of the last few times to snuggle with "Foam Lori".    The past 6 weeks have flown by and I will truly miss the RT team:  (regulars)  Lisa, Mark, Shannon, Diane, Karen and all of the other people in the dept who have had such a positive affect on my life recently.  Thanks to you all! 

Saying Good bye to 'Foam Lori" ... she leaves from here to find some altered state to help someone else beat cancer in the future.   Go "Foam Lori"! 

Victory!  I'm still wearing skinny jeans at the end - when they told me I'd have to wear Muu-muu's. Ha!  No way.  ;) 

PS:  Foam Lori has a fat ass, a square head and ... she's taller than me.  It's really time for her to GO!  :)

Treatments and Tribulations

They tell me that the majority of patients get bad side-effects simply because they believe they are going to get them.   Shannon (radiation therapist) said "and then there's the less than 1% like you, who are so strong willed (who me??) that they refuse to get most of the side effects".   First, who ever said I was strong willed??!   (D'oh, busted!) and secondly, who said this was easy on me?  Sleeping is so difficult when every time you move skin rips off.  I have so much skin peeling off in the radiation zone right now that I'm tempted to keep it all and make a pair of shoes ... or maybe a belt.  ;)   

My friend Deb just pointed out that "Hey, rich ol' broads pay big bucks to have a peel done on their faces.  Too bad yours is on your ass where no one can see it when it heals with all that nice, new, smooth skin!!!!!"  thanks Deb!  I LOVE friends like you.  :)

Here are some photos from my radiation treatment.  (Mark has promised me some more detailed descriptions but I'll update with those later.) 

The Radiation Machine:  Lisa (she shaves her head for her patients) and Karen are getting me (and "foam Lori") positioned perfectly for radiation. It almost takes longer to get the positioning set up perfectly than the treatment itself takes.  Apparently, radiation has eaten my eyes out!

 

The Control Room:  2 CCTV monitors (to see if I freak out or something on the table and try to escape!), images of my pelvic skeleton (to ensure perfect alignment for each treatment), the radiation field images and the dose input screens (as defined for each of the 14 radiation dose "fractions").

 

A close up of one of the radiation fields.  The IMRT technology allows for the highest doses of radiation to be applied directly to the target zone, without allowing too much "scatter" damage to other areas.

An image of how the radiation field overlays on my pelvic region.   It looks like my hips are "excellent" !

It's not all Sunshine and Roses (or mountains) ..

Sadly, the victory party might be on hold for awhile.  Late breaking news ...   more tests are required to make sure there isn't a 2nd related cancer.   Tests this week gave some good(ish) news but also sparked some additional follow up tests to rule things out completely.   Stay tuned - and send LOTS of positive thoughts.  They help so much!    ~ Thanks

I'd kill for a plate of sauteed vegetables!

Week #5 is OVER!!

It's been a very long week and I've been bottling up as much energy as possible to reward myself with a trip to the Mountains with Rhonda and some friends.  Success!!  I wasn't able to do a full-fledged hike but we did get to the mountains and had a great trek across Lake Minnewanka - in glorious weather.  :)  It was a great day to be alive!

 Laura, me, Rhonda, Elissa - Lake Minnewanka, Banff, AB

My goal for the week became "rest up enough and store enough energy to go to the mountains on Saturday".  This was a daunting task when on Monday, I was barely able to muster up enough energy to get to radiation treatment and then come home to sleep again - how on earth would I get to the mountains and do a hike by Saturday??   But I've learned that shear determination will bring you whatever results you truly desire.

First, about the week just passed ...

This was the week the exhaustion arrived.   It hit me like a brick wall.   One minute I was accepting a lunch invitation for sushi and the next I was flat on the floor and barely able to get up.   I was a long distance runner in high school and university and I had hit my "wall" many times but this one has sent me flying (or failing!) in a way that I had never expected.  I desperately wanted to go out and "do" things - but where the mind was willing, the body was weak.   The weather has been stunningly wonderful and it's been a shame to have to be inside "resting".  Ugh.  Being sick SUCKS!

I live up on top of an escarpment, in a lovely, older, wooded subdivision of Calgary.   I'm next to a very large riverside park and trail system and huge off-leash dog area.  It's a very quiet neighbourhood and, for the 6 weeks of the year that the leaves are on the trees, it's very pretty.

Shae has decided that I should be in a wheelchair.  How sweet and caring of her!  Of course, I'd be flattered if she said that because she was looking out for my well-being  - but NOoooo ... she said she thinks it would just be a lot of FUN to push me around and then let me GO down the hills of that escarpment. :D   (wow, she acts likes she's my real daughter and not just a borrowed one). 

They continue to tell me that the bad weeks lay ahead.   I continue to tell them that side-effects are for other people.  ;)   But I now fully understand that vegetables are NOT my friend and the consumption of such shall result in immediate and severe repercussions!  As someone who has lived more on vegetables than any other foods my entire life - this is SO hard!  I would kill for a plate of lightly sauteed, el dente, vegetables - served on a bed of wilted spinach (ahhh, the memories!) - but I know they would surely kill me first!!  :(  Until then, I survive on oatmeal (blecch), ice cream and white rice.  How lovely.  LOL

"Forget Injuries, Never Forget Kindnesses." ~ Confucious

First, let me apologise for the graphic nature of the last post.   I truly found it shocking that some people took my stoicism as meaning both my illness and my treatment were no big deal.   It was a bit of a rant from me but far better to let that stuff out and move on, than it is to keep it in and have it negatively impact my health.   Thanks for bearing with me.

I'm a little behind on a lot of things as I seem to have an overwhelming central focus on my own life at the moment, but know that once I'm past all of this, I will be back ... with a vengeance!!  I promise.   :)   (in a good way, of course!) ;)

Thank you to everyone who keeps in touch and keeps me in your thoughts and prayers.  It all really helps!  I'm overwhelmed by your cards, emails, phone calls and comments.  (PS:  it's ok to comment on the blog if you wish)  - you are amazing and I SO appreciate it!   Your words, thoughts and acts of kindnesses will be in my heart forever and are helping me survive and grow through this time.

Some of the wonderful, random acts of kindness: 

Hugs from Deb!

Special words and thoughts from MaryAnn and Kaye!

"card of the day" award goes to Sarah! But I've never met this guy in any of my hospital visits! :(

Cards, cards, cards ....

Cards! ...

and MORE cards!  :)

Reality Check

I'm going to give a more detailed update this week because I am hearing from people (sadly, mostly from my mother - who lives 1000's of miles away) who think my treatment is no big deal and that it appears to be far easier than treatments others go through.  Not necessarily so. Aggressive cancer = aggressive treatment!  It's a concentrated, brutal regiment/protocol that I'm choosing to deal with in a positive, light-hearted way - but it is very difficult and very PAINFUL.  I just prefer to take a positive/optimistic approach to it all. 

Let me be graphic for a moment.  Take the worst injury or wound you have ever had: imagine it, visualize it and remember how it felt.   (In my case they removed a tumour the size of a small plum - so imagine that wound).   Now, inject your body with 16 hrs of chemo therapy drug that destroys your bone marrow and kills fast growing cells (all mucus linings, new growth cells healing the wound, blood cells and hopefully - cancer cells) and it makes your body ache in ways you never thought possible.   Now, take that wound and blast it with 14 zaps of full strength radiation every day (for 30 days).  Now place that inflamed, angry wound in your anus ... with the end of it in your anal sphincter.  Now poop.  Imagine that.

P A I N F U L  beyond compare.   :(

Now, think about eating.  If I eat one food that disagrees with me (and lately EVERY food seems to disagree with me!) - I get immediate, urgent, violent diarrhea.  Imagine the acidic effects of that diarrhea on that open, angry injury??  I spend about 7 hrs per day with horrible diarrhea - every day.   Lately, I've had 2 only days without it - those were 2 GREAT days!    I've had moments when I have really considered dumping my dinner straight into the toilet .. to avoid the imminent pain!  ;)

Because my body is creating so many new cells to combat the chemo, radiation and healing of the surgery, my metabolic rate has gone through the roof!  I'm hungry all the time and I eat when I get hungry ... it's the only way to heal.   The downside is that when you eat - you poop!  arrgghhh

My mornings (upon waking up) are filled with the realization of the horror of the pain of starting a new day.  The chemo and radiation have blown away my body's ability to produce bone marrow (most of your bone marrow is created in your pelvic region) so my long bones in my legs and arms are trying to ramp up production to keep my blood levels and immune system up.  This is very painful (think growing pains when you were a child) and it makes sleeping sporadic at best.  Now, imagine someone has taken a cheese grater to your genitals and then poured lemon juice on them.   Those ARE the effects of radiation to your pelvic region.   This is definitely NOT fun! I am just dealing with the effects better than most patients tend to. The radiation team tells me that many people are in a wheel chair by this point of treatment - simply because it is too painful to walk. 

As Jack Nicholson said, as he was dealing with chemo, in Bucket List "right now, there is some lucky bastard having a heart attack!"  How true that statement feels on some days.  

It's just reality for me for the past few months and it's what lays ahead for the next few months.   This is not about the pain of today -- this is only about the cure for tomorrow.  This is about healing ... not about being sick. 

So, no.  I don't complain, I don't cry and whine about my pain or what I am going through. I look for all the positive in the world around me and I'm so incredibly thankful for a treatment that is likely to cure me.   Yes, I may act too bravely sometimes but I don't act sick, I try hard to not look sick, I won't play sick and I don't believe I am sick -- these are the only ways to beat this thing! 

The cancellation of chemo this week was NO small event.  While those on longer, staggered, lower dose cancer treatments can postpone a treatment until bloodwork is better -- I cannot.  This was a one-shot deal - chemo has to be concurrent with radiation.   I can only hope that it didn't affect my chances of beating this thing ...  I'm going with that premise - because right now, it's all I have.   That and the powerful, positive affect of the people like YOU all around me!

I believe that I am like the Canadian Men's Hockey team ...  I was delivered a harsh reality check but it hasn't knocked me out of Gold Medal contention.  

Thank you all for believing in me!   Only 2 short weeks of treatment to go  - and then recovery begins.   :)

"No Chemo for YOU!" (with apologies to the Soup Nazi)

Well, "D-day" was in fact disastrous.  Ok, possibly not completely disastrous but certainly less than optimal.   And sort of like "oh shit! I wasn't expecting this".  :(

The good news is that my bloodwork is bouncing back significantly (thanks Sherpas!) and puts me back in a healthy enough range for maintaining continuity of radiation treatment.  The bad news is that there is no way the doctors were going to put me at significant health risk by giving me the next 2 rounds of chemo.   As I said previously, "this is a one-shot deal".   No Chemo for me! (not even Mulligatawny). 

I'm a bit devastated by this news but I also know that there is no way my blood could sustain another chemo blow this soon into it's recovery from the last round.   They continue to tell me that this is the most brutal cancer treatment and that I AM doing very well.  The critical aspect of this protocol is to maintain is the radiation treatment and I continue to show no significant side-effects from that part of the treatment. (whew!).  Most people have to stop or take a break from radiation and that significantly affects prognosis.   

The chemo part of the treatment is simply used as an enhancer (turbo-booster) for the radiation and it is the least critical aspect of curing this cancer.  That said, I'm not sure what this does for either my short-term or long-term prognosis.  All I can do is keep doing what I've been doing (along with all the help from my friends) to get through this and have the best possible outcome.   I'm still confident that I will beat this thing but these bumps along the road are getting a little bit exhausting. 

I'll end with a happy little story. At the Cancer Centre there are volunteers who travel the floors, on the prowl for the hungry and thirsty, with cookie and juice carts ... spreading complimentary happiness and Peak Freans (2pack cookies of various flavours) wherever they go.  Lin was having a little bit of trouble grasping the concept of "drink cart girls"  in the cancer centre but we happened upon them twice yesterday and we stocked up on juice, tea and cookies before meeting Dr Wong for the "bad news".   I think it was just a case of "you can't have your cookies and chemo, too".  :)  

Onward ... 

Halfway Up the Mountain .. the easy part is behind me.

It's surprising how quickly 3 weeks can pass by.  It's equally surprising to realise how the next 3 weeks, that sit firmly in front of me, can seem SO daunting.   Standing halfway up the mountain and looking back at what I've accomplished is good ... looking up to the summit is still a daunting view. 

Today is "D-day".  No, not doomsday ... but "decision day".   "Go/No Go" day.  The day where we (my oncologist team) makes the decision about whether or not I can safely continue treatment.  (Read as "complete planned treatment for the best possible prognosis").   This is not an easy day by any means.  

The first 3 weeks of my chemo-radiation treatment were actually quite easy to get through (if you can honestly say that having litres of toxic poison pumped through your veins and getting 14 zaps of radiation daily is "easy"!) but for the most part I dealt with it all rather well (hiccups included).    I have stayed busy and active; eating well, trying to live a "normal(ish) life, getting out to the mountains, keeping up with my social life ... basically, staying healthy and feeling alive! 

What I wasn't prepared for was the news that my immune system was hit HARD by the chemo.  My happy oblivion was shattered with the reality last Thursday and Friday that the chemo is actually doing it's intended job of attacking all of my body's fast-growing cells ... including my white blood cells and specifically neutrophils.  The good news in all of that is that it's fair to assume any residual cancer cells are under seige from the chemo but the downside is that my immune system can't be allowed to fall so dangerously low so as to risk me catching a life-threatening infection or it can get so bad that they decide to stop radiation, too.   Thank goodness Lin is here with me to help me rationalize the information and to just be a friend through all of this. 

"So what?" you may say.  Lots of people delay chemo by a week or 2 to allow their blood to return to safe levels and then continue on.   Well.   That is not a possibility in this case.  My chemo and radiation run concurrently (at the same time) - radiation occurs everyday and chemo is for 8 hrs on the first 2 days of week #1 and week #4.   And guess what?? Today is day #1 of week #4.   There are only 3 weeks of daily radiation remaining and the chemo has to be administered this week or it simply doesn't happen.  It's a "one shot deal".   So ... today is "Go/No Go" decision day.   Who would ever think that you'd want to beg for 16 hrs of additional chemo?  Well, I am.   But more importantly, I'm just hoping my bloodwork is up out of dangerous level territory, radiation can continue and that my prognosis is still looking ok.

Wish me luck ...  I'm standing here looking up at the top half of my mountain and it's time to call in some help from my trusty Sherpas.   :)  I've been studying hard for my blood test all weekend ... so I think I should pass this time!   Stay tuned ... 

The Bubble is Bursting

I've had so much good luck and good news lately that I guess I was living in a false sense of security that I could just control all aspects of treatment and sail through.  Well, apparently that is not so. 

The BIG goal was to get through chemo-radiation with as few side-effects as possible to get to the next 2 rounds of chemo on Feb 23 and 24.   So far, I'm having few, if any, side effects of radiation and I got through the few 2 rounds of chemo with flying colours ...  and I'm feeling great.  There's no reason I can't get the next 2 rounds of chemo, right?   Wrong.   I look good, I feel great but my bloodwork is not in the same great shape.   Obviously the chemo is working and has attacked my cells ability to reproduce but it seems to have attacked my white blood cells and platelet cells in a way that may be too dangerous to continue.  

I got that news yesterday (thank god Lin was there with me) and it hit me like a ton of bricks.  I absolutely believe that I  will get through this with hardly a blink but I hadn't factored in this ... at all!   There are more bloodwork tests today and then again on Monday to hopefully show that my blood has reached nadir (the low point) and is recovering well enough to continue treatment.   All your powerful thoughts and prayers are REALLY needed and appreciated right now. 

Stay tuned for a more positive update ...    Thanks everybody!

Don't cry for me Argentina ... or Peru ... or Brazil!

I have a flight booked to Lima for Feb 24th.  Business class, in the new pods.  8 hours direct from Toronto to Lima ... 8 luxurious hours in a business class pod.   Those who know me well know that my favourite place in the world is on an airplane (preferably with a free upgrade to business class!) flying off to some new adventure.

This year I was going back to Peru for 4 to 6 months. I wanted to spend more time back in the jungle, with the people I met there last year, to help them develop their band and to help out more schools along the Amazon.  I was going to have a homebase in Lima to work on my new business venture and then travel around South America to experience Argentina wineries (and maybe meet a few of those gorgeous Polo players!!  ha. in my dreams!  :)), the warmth of Chile, and the excitement of Brazil.   Alas, it was not meant to be for this year.  This is the hardest part of my illness so far ... canceling what was my planned future.  I guess this means I just have to move on to Plan B, C, D, E .... Q!   Something will pan out.  Something even better.  :)

Today I canceled my ticket.  Now it's me crying for Argentina ... and Peru and for the deforestation of Brazil.  ;) This makes it real that I'm not going.  It was easier when I just kept pushing the departure date into the future. 

Why am I so happy?

People keep commenting that I seem too happy and this should be the most fearful time in my life.  Well, I look at it in few ways:

1. I feel so much better right now than I have for a long time.  I'm thrilled to have energy, optimism and hope for the future.  
2. My diagnosis was about illness.  My treatment is about being healthy and living.  I much prefer living to being sick.  :)
3. I have never felt so loved in my whole life!   The things that people are doing for me is nothing short of incredible.  I am not alone in this - and that makes me so happy and so loved.  :)
4. I try to live my life without regret.   That means that I never want to look back on the things I've done in life with any searing doubts or regrets that I missed out doing the things I wanted to do or wished I could have done.  Carpe Diem, Obsido Cancer! ... Seize the day, Besiege the Cancer! (sorry - I just made that up!  ... apologies for my poor Latin - it's been a lifetime since High School Latin classes and I'm more than a little rusty!  Please feel free to correct me or help me make something poignant up.)  :)

I've been dealt a tough hand of cards my whole life and I've always triumphed over adversity with shear tenacity, a smile and some sort of off-colour humour that most of my friends find somewhat funny (or they simply put up with my wacky jokes as part of "who I am".   ;)

IF my cancer comes back and IF I get sick again in the future, I will look back on this time and know that I really enjoyed life while I was feeling so good.   So, I want to live as much life today ... because I know that believing in life is the only way to make it endure.   I had a very dark thought one day  - "what if there is reincarnation? and what if NEXT time I'm not so lucky?".  That was a very sobering thought.   We are all very lucky by virtue only of our birthright - where we were born, to whom we were born, and in the era in which we were born.  It's all just a stroke of luck.   My advice to you?  Use that luck wisely.  

I said to Saar last week (what do I call you, Saar? my ex? but we're still friends ... so I think I'll call you "friend" because you will be one of my friends and confidants for life!) that I am the luckiest person in the world because I have so many great friends pulling for me and helping me.   To which he replied "just what part of this do you think has to do with "luck"?"   He said "you've given of yourself to everyone around you for your entire life, and you bring great people into your life.  There is no luck involved at all."      Thanks Saar - you made me look at things in a very good way.  

It's February 14th - the day of love and I thank all you who love me ... for simply loving me and supporting me in this journey I'm on. 

All of that is why I am happy!   :)

Week #2 - is IN THE CAN!

And what a week it was!   From Meltdown Monday to Fabulous Friday.   Someone told me that this would be a rollercoaster ride – but I had NO idea how true that statement would come to be.  

The week ended on a tremendous high note with the results of my bloodwork and a check-up with the oncologist to chat about how treatment was going.   I have almost no nausea and I’m taking no drugs (see Meltdown Monday post for more news on that!) to combat it – I simply feel great, and I’m eating well.   I’ve been out with friends every night this week and I’m getting more tired from my social life than I am from treatment.  LOL    

Ok, let’s chat about eating for a minute.  I was telling my oncologist about Naomi cooking great food for me and how incredibly well I’ve been eating through this whole thing.   My weight is unchanged since starting treatment and my energy level is getting back to where it was a few years ago.  Anyway, the doctor told me to tell Simon and Naomi that my treatment was going to last for 3 yrs and that I needed Naomi’s cooking all the way through!    She then offered to write me a prescription for it if I needed it.  :)   Thanks Naomi – you are an incredible chef!

My bloodwork 1 week post-chemo was great.  A few levels had dropped a bit (WBC, RBC and platelets) but were still well within the normal ranges.  This was the news I was a bit anxious to hear because prognosis is dependent on getting all rounds of chemo and you never know how your body might react to the chemo poisons.   Yippee!

Early in the week I had developed a deep, severe ache in the lower part of my right calf.  If you Google “chemo + leg pain” it returns  DVT blood clot – call doctor immediately!!   Yikes.   I love Google but it’s a dangerous thing for a fearful mind!    Luckily, I have doctor friends who I can call immediately.  :) (Yay friends!)   After a friendly chat I learn from Brian that it’s likely much ado about nothing (if you can call chemo related bone marrow issues “nothing”?).  It seems that the chemo affects me by hitting areas of my body that have sustained previous injury and is causing painful, transient muscle or bone flare ups (ok, that covers a lot of my body!).  The great news is that that is only pain ... I get a bit fearful when the words “blood clot” and “possible death” come into play but if there is one thing I know how to deal with, it’s pain.  And as I’ve said for the past 23 years – “pain can’t kill you .... unless it makes you jump off a bridge!”  ;)   

So, I’m rocking forward expecting some pain but knowing that it’s all part of the treatment and that the teeth-grinding pain in my legs is not a life threatening blood clot but simply part of the healing process ...  and when it wakes me up at 3am I smile and can go back to sleep.  

It’s strange.  I feel better partway through chemo-radiation than I have in about a year and a half.  My energy level is going up, I’m waking up at 5:30 am because I am raring to go (and not only because my mom has forgotten about time zones, again!).  I’m happy, optimistic and ready to meet life head-on again.  It’s a great feeling to be on the healthy side of an illness.  

Someone asked me to post some “real stuff” in the blog and not just the fun, happy stories.  Well, I’m thrilled to say that about 90% of what I go through is happy, heart warming, energy-boosting stuff.  The bad stuff is there (and I’ve written a bit about it - but there are some parts that really don't warrant being written about) but I’d prefer to focus of the power of the positive stuff and how to turn this whole thing into a happy memory rather than a sad or tortured one.
 

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Thursday, 11 Feb 2010.   I went to a funeral today.   It was hard - VERY hard.  I wasn't sure that I could handle such closeness of death -  my own prospective death. 

Peter was a force to be reckoned with.  We knew each other through the Calgary Outdoor Club (an amazing online recreational platform started by my friend Rhonda) and Peter and I had hiked together, skied together and even completed the Amazing Race (COC style) together.  Peter had an indomitable spirit that was infectious!  He had more energy than anyone I have ever encountered in life.  Rhonda delivered his eulogy beautifully; she captured just the right elements of his rags to riches story (Peter was a Vietnamese "Boat" person, separated from his family at age 12 by the communist rule and thrown on a boat to Canada) and a lot of funny anecdotes about his climbing and hiking adventures (once you met Peter  - you NEVER forgot Peter!).  Peter's adopted Canadian family spoke (I believe Peter adopted them as much (or more!) as they adopted him!) and it was a touching, heartfelt service.  The church was packed to the gills.

I'm not Catholic (I'm Anglican - it's what I refer to as the Cole's notes (Cliff's notes for my American friends) version of Catholicism) but I have to say that the long, Catholic service certainly does give your mind time to wander ... and wow!  did mine ever wander to some strange places that day!  I looked around the church at the burning candles and I was immediate taken by the fact that some of you have lit candles for my life, and others say prayers for me - what amazing gestures.  Thank you.  I came home and made some notes to accompany my will about how I want (or don't want!) my final farewell to be.

Dat Peter Vu was 42 years old.   He was diagnosed with liver cancer only a few short weeks before I was diagnosed.  Life is simply not fair. 

I went to radiation treatment after the service and I felt like the luckiest person in the world.  Because I am!  My cancer is treatable ... and potentially curable and I have an army of people pulling for me.  I am so damned blessed!  This funeral was a good way for me to pay my utmost respects to Peter but also to "see" more clearly about my own situation.

I went to a funeral today.  I learned a lot - about Peter, about my friends (thank you Rhonda!) but mostly about myself.  "Godspeed, my friend.  I'm sure I will see you on a mountain top in the future ... sorry but I'll be late because I'm taking my time here on earth. "

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Mark  (radiation guy) has offered to give me some stats and details about my specific treatment and to take some photos of me (and foam Lori) to show you how we all hang out together each day.  I’ll try to get that stuff up this week – it’s all rather cool and they are very proud of their profession and state of the art radiation machines ... and they are all so wonderful with the patients.  I feel like family there – we joke around non-stop and they’ve proclaimed me their favourite patient ... and I’ve proclaimed them “my favourite radiation team”!  :)

It's been gorgeous weather here (we express-posted our snow to Texas and the East Coast ... but we should have sent it to Vancouver!) and Graffiti and I are REALLY enjoying our daily walks after treatment. That's the park at the hospital with the cityscape in the background. See? No snow!! Sunny and +7C (that's about 45F American degrees.  hehe)

On to week #3.  It’s an easy week coming up of just radiation and it will be topped off by a visit from Lin on Thursday.   She's coming for a week+ to bolster my spirits and help me get as prepared as possible for the next sets of chemo.  What amazing friends I have!  :)

Note to self:  buy wine, wine and more wine!   It’s girls’ weekend at my house  - drop on by!  :)

Girl's Night Out!

Another girl's night out ... this time with Maya and Pam.

I haven't seen them in "forever"  - (ok, it has been since before Christmas and it makes me wonder where time really goes to!) - it was great to catch up (well, except that I did 99% of the talking. oops!) 


Maya made my week when she said "no, how are you REALLY?" ... she took a few steps back, looked me over and said "you REALLY ARE that good!"  -   "Yah, I really AM!"  :D

The weirdest thing is that people seem expect me to be sick or to act sick but I really do feel great and my energy level is better than it's been for at least the past year and a half.


I think the past number of months have been about me being sick (coupled with the stress of getting some understanding of the enormity of the situation)  - but the minute my treatment started it suddenly became about "getting healthy" and living again. I truly believe that there really is something to this whole positive thinking thing. ;)


Thanks girls, it's so good to get out and just feel "alive"  ... and yes, SAVE THE DATE - Victory Party at my house on March 12th!   

What exactly was Meltdown Monday??

Well, it was what I believe to be the worst day in my life -  I awoke at 2:07am, 3:24am, and finally by 5:02 I couldn’t take it anymore!   My legs were vibrating, and I had a deep, dull ache in my calf, I couldn’t sit still, I was uber-hyper, super-charged and feeling like I was going insane.   It felt like I had ADHD, Parkinson’s disease and 40 cups of Starbucks – all at the same time! 

The first week of chemo/radiation went surprisingly well and by the end of the week the doctor was telling me that I should expect nausea over the weekend and it might be wise to take an anti-nausea medication to prevent it.  I was having a dinner party on Saturday so I thought it sounded like a great idea NOT to be nauseous all over my guests!  :)

By Sunday evening I wasn’t feeling any nausea but I did feel like I was a bit agitated and slightly “off”.   By Monday morning I was ready to commit myself to a round, padded room!  

I went to radiation in the afternoon and could barely hold my emotions together or keep my body still.   Radiation requires laying PERFECTLY still for about 40 mins and I was in a state where I coudn’t even sit still for 3 seconds.   On the radiation table I used every trick in the book ... I meditated, I zoomed away mentally to mountain tops, my favourite forest, my beach in California, cooking with friends but about halfway through treatment I had a full-on claustrophobic, panic attack and it took all my inner strength to not bolt from the table. 

Mark, the radiation tech, knew there was something wrong and cut out the imaging portion of my treatment to get me out of there as soon as possible.  Bless their hearts, they are wonderful there!    I leapt off the table and into the caring arms of an attending nurse.   It was wonderful to just get a hug at that moment.   Unbelievable.  I was a mess. 

It turns out that I had a violent reaction to the anti-nausea medication (Stemetil).  This drug was originally used as an anti-psychotic and then they discovered the anti-nausea effects of it.  Apparently, if you aren’t psychotic and then take it – it turns you psychotic!!   They told me not to take any more nausea meds but gave me some Zofran (the Cadillac of meds) to keep on hand in case any nausea hit me later on. 

I got home (I still can't believe I drove myself there and back) and I was still a complete basketcase.   The doorbell rang 10 mins later and there was a Canada Post delivery girl with a most welcomed surprise from my friend Jean in Sault Ste Marie.   Unbelievable timing!  It was the most gorgeous furry blanket and other goodies ...  I was now a blubbering basketcase and immediately called Jean.   You see – Jean is a 2 yr survivor I couldn’t think of a better person to call at that moment and cry my heart out with.  She is someone who completely understands and has an impeccable sense of timing.   Thank you so much, Jean! 

A call from Greg later that evening really turned me around and got me headed the right way into Tuesday.    Meltdown Monday was history.  Sherpa’s abound ... when the climbing gets tough - thanks Team!  :) 

 

Random Thoughts of the Week ...

• How can one day be so bad (Meltdown Monday) and the next day be so good?? I'm very happy today is Tuesday! (just say NO to anti-nausea drugs with wild side effects!!)
• How do friends just "know" the RIGHT time to do something special for you?? 
• Why do they keep the TV in the Radiation waiting room on "Curling"??  If I wanted to listen to a bunch of women yell & scream at each other, throw things on the floor and then sweep up after them ... I would go to Ranchmans Bar on a Friday night!  :) 
• Why is there a life-sized painted cow in the waiting room in the Radiation Unit?  (more on that later)
• Why do I have to take metamucil, a laxative and immodium ... all at the same time??  Do 3 wrongs make a right??  :)
• My hair is getting dry and brittle .... effects of chemo?  Or just Alberta winter air??  dunno ..

and ...

• how is it possible to feel so lucky while in a situation such as I'm in??  (I really do!)

It’s the end of week #1 and so far – so good!

Part of you wants to just go to sleep for 6 weeks and wake up when it’s all over. Another part of you thinks about the technology and how there must be a way to diagnose, treat and cure cancer all in one day “at the shop”. If we can do it for cars – why can’t we do it for people??
I celebrated the end of week #1 with a dinner party and “girl’s night” at my house. Janna, Tammy, Shae and I had some great laughs, watched Ground Hog Day – the movie - and partook in some libation of the alcoholic variety! (I was told I could have a glass of wine if I followed it with 3 glasses of water – whew!!).

Thanks ladies ... it was fun!  :)

Making Treatment a 'Walk in the Park'

I discovered a free parking area in a park across the street from the Radiation unit  - it’s literally right across the street.  Graffiti has been coming to treatment with me every day but staying in the car while I was in the hospital – when I discovered the park (and free parking!) it made perfect sense to park there and take him for a walk, too.     

So now, instead of going out each day for treatment – we simply head to the park for a walk and stop by the treatment center for a few mins.   Ergo – it’s all just a walk in the park! 

Ground Hog Day!

Ground Hog Day!  Feb 2^nd – the little furry guys are unanimous – 6 more weeks of winter!  (the ground hogs think so, too).  :)

Today marks the start of Day2 of my chemo-radiation treatments and so far, so good.  Admittedly, Day 1 was a scary prospect with a sleepless night leading up to it.   8 hrs of chemotherapy and almost 2 hrs of radiation prep & treatment in the middle of it.  It would seem daunting to the toughest of souls but with Tammy here to give me moral support, the day was a breeze (well, a relative breeze).   

Shae came over to chemo with me this morning and it was really nice to have someone there with me again today.  Yesterday, I sent Tammy on a reconnaissance mission in the chemo ward to investigate the most appropriate, and popular “chemo-ware”.   She came back with the deduction that it is sweat pants and moo-moo’s for me for the next few months.   Woohoo. 

The wireless is down in the hospital right now and I find myself coerced into going to one of the many, great patient seminars they have at the hospital - this one is New Patient Orientation.  I'm not really new but I missed all of this by doing things all out of order at the beginning of this process (that's SO Lori!).  I grab a cup of coffee, sit and listen to the steady “whhhhoooosh,hoooooshh” of the chemo pump in my knapsack beside me.  Yes, my awesome day/trek pack purchased for this trip to Peru has become my carrypack for the chemo pump ... ahhh, the irony of life.  

I did learn some interesting stats during the presentation:      

• Nearly 50% of North Americans will get cancer in their lifetime
• This cancer center treats over 800 patients per day  (seriously!)  (that’s over 200,000 patient treatments per year!)
• With 10 Radiation units, Tom Baker Cancer Centre is one of the largest treatment centres in North America

It makes me wonder what we are doing SO wrong with our world to create this type of demand for cancer treatment!

I guess I must be dealing well with everything so far ... they’ve asked me to be in their next “inspirational” video for the cancer center.   I guess I’m a good actor ... but then again – it’s only day 2!   Ask me again in a few weeks.  ;)

On your marks ...

Feb1, 2010 - Day 1

Just because you’ve convinced the world that you are strong ... doesn’t mean you are.  

I’m learning a lot about vulnerabilities.   That’s a word I never thought could be attributed to me.

Cancer is a lonely disease. 

It’s weird.  No matter how strong you think you are and how much your friends help or how often your family may think of you ... it’s a very lonely world inside” the little shop of horrors”.  It’s just natural.   But weird, none-the-less.   Cancer is simply a very lonely place. 

It’s my first day of chemo and, bless her heart, Tammy has been here for me in a way I could never have dreamt!   Even though I've been very busy having fun, surrounded by friends,  it’s been an “inner loneliness” kind of few days leading up to this day.  A few nice emails but not one call from family. Disappointing? Yes.  but really? .. what can anyone do, or say, right now to change anything??  Sadly, not much.  :(   When you’re perceived as “strong” by other people, you run the risk of everyone thinking you don’t ever “need” help.   How wrong they are.  I’ve been a bucket of internal mush and there are times when you just wish you could let people actually see that.  But I don't seem to be very good at that. 

I’ve been doing lots to keep my mind occupied and my body active.    I’ve also been “nesting” and preparing to hunker down for a long winters’ nap.  LOL   I sort of feel like I’m stocking up the bomb shelter ... just in case.   I know the next  14 weeks will be anything but lounging around getting fat and happy watching Oprah(!) but I do feel like I’m prepared for anything (well – except for a blizzard because I HATE shoveling snow!).

I'm on the radiation table, snuggled into "foam Lori", wrapped in those delicious, warm hospital blankets and the technicians (Mark and Charlene) have my tattoos and other alignment marks all lined up ... 

On your marks, get set ... GO!

30 treatment days and this will all be behind me.  :)

January goes out on a High Note!

January went out on a very happy note.   Rhonda and Jorinda threw me a “Hat Day” brunch ...  Rhonda was so incredibly thoughtful to buy me some National Geographic “Buffs” to help buffer my hair loss and risk of being chilly through this process.  We had fun modelling the buffs and then the real fun started ...  Rhonda also supplied me with an array of hats & wigs to help me disguise my illness in public!   Do you think anyone will notice?? :)

 

Rhonda trying to steal the "buff" from me!  

 

 

Double the fun -with 2! 

I think I'm well-disguised as Carmen Miranda.  

or Bob Marley ...  

or Pancho Villa ... 

And the Red Baron!   :) (or "mosquito" as Jorinda called me!) 

Thanks Rhonda, Brent and Jorinda for a good laugh and a great start to the beginning of this process.  (I'm lovin' my Carmen Miranda look!)  
 ______________________________________________________________

A quick stop at Tammy & Omar's for some Qiana hugs, kisses and playing "scary monster" and finally, my day was complete!  

"Uh OH! ... that's not good"

My good friend Simon vowed to shave his head in a show of support for what I am going through ... I couldn't resist helping him achieve it!  :)   ~photos by his son 5 yr old Sam Orrell.  

"Uh OH! ... that's not good" ... as quoted by 2.5 yr old Max Orrell upon seeing his dad, Simon, sporting a new shaved down look.  :)  

Are you SURE you want me to do this??

OMG!  I can't believe he let me do this!  I guess there is no turning back now. :)

It feels like velvet!

"how does  it look?' ... ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!

Sam - the amazing photographer!

Thank you so much Simon - What a friend!!

OMG!  That was funny but stressful ... I NEED wine!  :)