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