tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67578260661563878022024-03-12T20:34:49.982-07:00The Dancer with Cancer - Yikes, Vaginal Cancer!For women recently diagnosed and looking for shelter from the storm.Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-76331536959235614632013-02-05T12:41:00.000-08:002013-02-05T12:41:01.166-08:00The 5 regrets of the Dying<div style="background: white; line-height: 15.75pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Not sure if you missed this article posted
online recently, so let's review. It listed the five regrets of the dying: Not
that this is what is happening to me, it’s just a fact of life. How I would reply to these are in parentheses, so this list is also my "5 regrets".<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Number one: I wish I hadn't worked so hard.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">(For
me I answered yes-not at dance-just my straight jobs. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">I work stressfully to please others and never recognized for it.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Number two: I wish I had stayed in touch with my
friends. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">(YES! I need to contact them more often and that would include visits, too. )<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Number three: I wish I had let myself be
happier. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">(Okay….<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think I’m a pretty darn
happy person. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">I’m just practical and deny myself of material things I wouldn’t have 10
years ago </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">but <u>I AM</u> a happy person)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Number four: I wish I'd had the courage to
express my true self. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">(When I'm being my dance self or my reiki self, I <em>am</em> my true
self - </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">but not when I am in my working life, which is most of the time)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">And number five: I wish I'd lived a life true to
my dreams, instead of what others expected of me. (I have lived a life true to my
dreams – but I also did what I thought others expected of me the majority of
the time and that was a lot of pressure)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Then the article makes a fascinating leap to a
little-known phenomenon called post-traumatic growth. We've all heard of
post-traumatic stress. But sometimes, when people are faced with a deeply
traumatic experience -- illness, accident, or another brush with death -- they
walk away not diminished, but super-charged by the experience. Suddenly, they
can live a life without fear, focused on what matters most to them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt;">Now this is where I wish I wake up and land from
having this illness, super-charged by the experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I recently watched Deepak Chopra’s “The 7
Spiritual Laws of Success” again on DVD.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
says a most amazing thing at the end, “I am an impulse of the universe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am part of a collective wave of consciousness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After I am gone, I will have come and done
what I came to do and that’s enough.” Agreed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-66456956955687646702012-12-01T09:24:00.002-08:002012-12-01T09:24:35.335-08:00Butt wait, there's more!Seems the weeks following my radiation, I've been feeling something is wrong. I let it go on for a little while keeping an eye on it, then began cycling on what it could be and when I was certain that another tumor had developed, this time in the rectum or bladder, I went for consultation. So in my last post, we learned that no new tumors or evidence of cancer has come back to the vagina and I was sent for another CAT scan and for a colonoscopy. I still have to hear the CAT scan report and her findings from that this coming Tuesday. <br />
<br />
Friday morning was the colonoscopy. Seems everyone I spoke to has had one but me. You have to eat a light liquid diet the day before and drink this prep stuff that night and then repeat again in the morning, the day of the outpatient surgery. Did I listen? No. I got up for work, fed the dog and prepared my lunch like normal. I eat with another co-worker in what I call my happy place - it's dark, has nice long tables, a full kitchen and an enclosed bathroom where you don't sit in public stalls. So when she asked me what I brought for lunch and what time we were eating in there, I still spaced out that I wasn't supposed to be eating and ate that turkey tv dinner. Even ate handfuls of M&M's around 4pm and you aren't supposed to have have any red or purple dye. I only remembered when I got home and saw the prep medication. It will have to do. Mixed the first 6 oz. bottle with 32 oz. of water and got half of it down. I should never have stopped drinking. Took another half hour to finish it. Got a really fat straw and put it in my water holder and drank another 32 oz. of water easily to wash it down. Went and warmed up the bathroom, lit a candle and brought in my iPad to play games. Then the evening really got started. Each visit was so long my legs ached. I would think that there were periods of time when the prep must have stopped working so I would come back to the couch to stretch out and rest only to jump up and rush down the hall, and suddenly the bathroom seemed so very far away. This lasted until 11pm and I found I had fallen asleep on the couch. I woke up long enough to get ready for bed when the last few urges tugged at me again. <br />
<br />
Set my alarm for 5:45am and started the entire process again. This time I mixed it with Gatorade with no red or purple color and drank it all down in one sitting. I had evacuated most everything out the night before so it was clear coming through and no evidence of tv dinner! I may be able to bluff my way through and fib that I stayed mainly liquid. I admitted to it anyway.<br />
<br />
I showered, got into my leopard-skin fuzzy duster, slid into my slippers and off I went to the Outpatient Surgery Center on the other side of town. Don't know how you're going to be feeling afterwards, so you may as well be warm and comfy when you roll into bed upon your return. It was 10:30am when I got there and everyone was in their street clothes and the place was filled with surgery patients. I felt out of place. My procedure wasn't until noon but they took me back fairly quickly and got an iv in me and ready to go. I could hear the nurses talking on the other side of the curtain, rooms weren't available, doctor's weren't there, telling each other it's a good time to go to lunch. My husband was off somewhere voting on his new union contract. We were there early enough for him to just drop me off, I wasn't scared this time but would have liked the company. I knew I was going to lay there awhile. But everything was going really smoothly, the anesthesiologist came by, then the doctor, then the nurse came and wheeled me in. Got me situated on my side, put some air/gas on me and I started to feel woozy when they started talking about how I was in O.R.5. I said What?! O.R.5! Do you know they are re-making that movie, I was so hoping I wasn't going in THAT room. There was brief conversation about Coma and the re-make and how the nurse loves this room, so I suggested just changing the name to something fun and she blurts out "The Tiki Room!" I told her that place and Double Down were the best bars in Vegas. She agreed, they were laughing and I was on my way to my own happy place. Good night, lights out, and then a funny thing happened. During the procedure, I felt this pressure I didn't like, some kind of pressure in me, a pushing in my belly, when I realized I had woken up during the surgery! Couldn't move or open my eyes but I was aware what was happening for a moment and thank goodness I fell back under again. I was back in the recovery room just waking up when the doctor came in. I think of him like an Asian James Bond. I really like his style. He gave me an excellent report that there was no cancer evident, no tumors, no mass, no polyps, but what I did have was this: (I'm cutting and pasting from Wikipedia)<br />
<b style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"><br /></b>
<b style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">Radiation proctitis</b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">(and the related</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><b style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">radiation colitis</b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">) is</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inflammation" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" title="Inflammation">inflammation</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">and damage to the lower parts of the</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colon_(anatomy)" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" title="Colon (anatomy)">colon</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">after exposure to</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/X-ray" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" title="X-ray">x-rays</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">or other</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ionizing_radiation" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" title="Ionizing radiation">ionizing radiation</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">as a part of</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Radiation_therapy" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" title="Radiation therapy">radiation therapy</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">. Radiation proctitis most commonly occurs after treatment for</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cancer" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" title="Cancer">cancers</a> <span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">such as</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cervical_cancer" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" title="Cervical cancer">cervical cancer</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">,</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prostate_cancer" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" title="Prostate cancer">prostate cancer</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">, and</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colon_cancer" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" title="Colon cancer">colon cancer</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">. Radiation proctitis involves the lower</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Intestine" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" title="Intestine">intestine</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">, primarily the</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sigmoid_colon" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" title="Sigmoid colon">sigmoid colon</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">and the</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;"> </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rectum" style="background-image: none; color: #0b0080; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; text-decoration: none;" title="Rectum">rectum</a><span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px;">.</span><br />
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; margin-bottom: 0.5em; margin-top: 0.4em;">
Radiation proctitis can occur at two times after treatment:</div>
<ul style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19.200000762939453px; list-style-image: url(data:image/png; list-style-type: square; margin: 0.3em 0px 0px 1.6em; padding: 0px;">
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;"><i>Acute radiation proctitis</i> — symptoms occur in the first few weeks after therapy. These symptoms include <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diarrhea" style="background-image: none; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Diarrhea">diarrhea</a> and the urgent need to <a class="mw-redirect" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Defecate" style="background-image: none; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Defecate">defecate</a>, often with inability to do so (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tenesmus" style="background-image: none; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Tenesmus">tenesmus</a>). Acute radiation proctitis usually resolves without treatment after several months, but symptoms may improve with <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Butyric_acid" style="background-image: none; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Butyric acid">butyrate</a> <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Enema" style="background-image: none; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Enema">enemas</a>.<sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-pmid11072942_1-0" style="line-height: 1em;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Radiation_proctitis#cite_note-pmid11072942-1" style="background-image: none; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none; white-space: nowrap;">[1]</a></sup><sup class="reference" id="cite_ref-pmid19107351_2-0" style="line-height: 1em;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Radiation_proctitis#cite_note-pmid19107351-2" style="background-image: none; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none; white-space: nowrap;">[2]</a></sup> This acute phase is due to direct damage of the lining (<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epithelium" style="background-image: none; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #0b0080; text-decoration: none;" title="Epithelium">epithelium</a>) of the colon.</li>
</ul>
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<span style="font-family: sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 19.196969985961914px;"><br /></span></span></div>
So this is what I am feeling causing me to feel like there is a mass there. For those of you going through this cancer journey with me, see what we have to look forward to!!! It's <u>not</u> going to heal. They have burnt the tissue inside and possibly my bladder as well, they are just perfectly good cells that got taken out in the line of fire. Going to have to adjust my lifestyle, go back to a healthy diet and juicing once again, and use enemas from now on. This area of the rectum may also have shrunk causing difficulty in my bowel movements. At least I was aware of my body to know something was amiss and go check it out - remove the fear that cancer had jumped to another area and get back to getting my house in order.<br />
<br />
So back in the recovery room, another nurse was back with my clothes, my husband was there and she gave him instructions to go get the car and come around to the drive through in back and I would be there. She complemented me on my leopard-skin duster and commented how well prepared I was to come dressed for surgery. Not my first rodeo now, is it? Love my comfy, cozy cushy clothes. With all the people I see dressed in pajamas to do their grocery shopping these days, why not the surgery center? I was starving, we got some quick food and headed back home. Life feels very promising right now. It's coming on Christmas.....Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-54347891313821067862012-11-24T09:43:00.000-08:002012-11-24T10:02:19.271-08:00Grateful<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">The long, never ending highway of
grief continues. My husband's maternal grandmother passed away two days
before Thanksgiving. As if remembering this last holiday without my son
wasn't hard enough to get through, this wonderful woman leaves us. <span style="background-color: white;">We won't be going to Morocco at this time but we were
dreaming about going in April and still might, inshallah. My husband
calls his mother every night. She paid a few thousand dollars to create a
tent outside the house on the plaza and is feeding all who come by to pay their
respects. Relatives are still arriving from all over the country and the
house is full of guests. I wish we were there to help. There is so
much that goes with grief I wish we were there for, those that come to comfort
you and those that just cause more pain. His aunt was telling my husband
how there are people there wanting to be waited on hand and foot while all this
wailing goes on around them. It was so horrible to hear about his
grandmother's condition at the end. </span><span style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br />
I think back of being with her in her bedroom in 2002 and her showing me photos
of herself in her twenties. She was so proud of being a
"hottie". I am also thankful that I remember better times with
her - when the disease was just starting and her arms just starting to shake.
She was still able to get around great, so filled with life and able to
let me know how much I meant to her. One time she came fully dressed into
the hammam (the baths) to give me shwika for my teeth - this horrible tasting
stuff that cleans and makes them white - going past everyone and yelling in
Arabic to them things that made them howl with laughter until she found me
naked and being washed in the back hottest room with the girls covered in henna
and babies playing in buckets of cool water. I remember going off with my
husband/then fiance to Agadir and when the cab came to get us it was dawn and I
clearly remember his mom and grandmother in the front window of the house
staring down at me, waving and blowing kisses. What were they thinking about
this American girl in an Adidas track suit and baseball cap that had come to
take their golden boy away? So many great memories I hold on to with
fondness. Anyway, we're doing better today. </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 17.05pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 16.35pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">To take our
minds off things we went and saw the movie Life of Pi yesterday. It was
in 3D and visually stunning like the reports say. Such a spiritual and
colorful story, it would be hard to believe if you heard it from someone.
Impossible and amazing things happen all the time to people and yet they
come through them still internalizing and processing, asking the age old
question, "Why did this happen to me, why was I chosen for this, and what
am I to do with it after this experience is over? Wait for some
journalist to come along and put it into eloquent words and make it into a
movie?" <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 16.35pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 16.35pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">As for my
health, I would just like to wake up one morning and not be afraid of what
might be happening next. Got up Friday morning at 5:30am, drank my barium
and made it to my CAT scan on time. Almost forgot about the horrors
of diarrhea for a moment until it came rushing back. Been trying to
flush the stuff out of my system now. I have the results on CD and may
try to look at it later. Last time I had the film and looked at it I
could see I needed more medical training to notice anything. Hope nothing
is visible for me on it this time. There is still the colonoscopy
appointment to do on Tuesday. Saw the oncologist last week and she
reports that she sees nothing in the vagina but ordered the CAT scan with and
w/o contrast to be sure. Almost cried in her office when she told me.
The feeling of having the mass there has subsided but I know something is
still there, it just may have shrunk and I'm grateful for that. It's a
beautiful day and people are in a shopping mood. Not me, just thankful
I'm still here to shop another day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 16.35pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="background: white; line-height: 16.35pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Still trying
to get my bedroom dark, putting in foam board in that upper window today.
Can't sleep unless it's a cave in there. I hope to get to the Post
Office to mail out more family photographs I found and call
my drummer friend today. His home was recently robbed twice and
he is an older gentleman that doesn't need this kind of stress. I can
hear his silky voice shaken by it. I'm so sorry he got displaced during
my latest sad news. I was hoping to have him here for Thanksgiving dinner
it just didn't turn out to be a good time for company. Anyway, that's my
news. Hope all is well with you and you are getting your Christmas
decorating done. So grateful to be able to think of you, toast to you,
and wish you well this holiday. Here's to good health - Your health is
your Wealth!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<!--EndFragment-->Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-70066097175128232622012-11-18T17:07:00.002-08:002012-11-18T17:15:37.787-08:00I am RadiantI realize I have allowed some time to lapse since my last post. I recently received about a dozen inquiries wondering if I am still blogging since there hasn't been any update. I was surprised more than 3 people out there were even reading these rambling messages. I'm very touched you are still interested and that I haven't completely grossed you out.<br />
<br />
My last radiation treatment was October 12th. I was back to work on the 15th. On that day, I found that my dance friend John Compton passed away of AIDS, the night before at 10pm. I had met John when I first started taking Jamila Salimpour's classes at the old Poultry Factory on Sansome Street in San Francisco. Mark Bell, Europa, myself, and John used to hang out on the shipping dock in front of the building between classes. We darted in and out of each other's lives over the next 40 years and his death just marked another blow of loss for me. Seems this trend of bad luck and trouble just won't quit.<br />
<br />
I made it through the move although most things are in still in boxes, I have what I need to maneouver around the house and it's functional. I've also emptied the storage I've kept for over a decade and moved that into the house as well. I came to Vegas with my car, a boombox to teach with, a few dance costumes and teaching togs, my computer and a small suitcase of clothes. Since that time, I have either had things I owned in California come here in the trunks and carloads of others or replaced the things I had before. I now own so much I am on the verge of becoming a hoarder! It overwhelms me how much there is. I've tried my best to be ruthless and toss out much of what is old, unused, unloved, broken, once trendy, or things just taking up space, but there is still so much everywhere. If I had this in storage for 10 years and didn't miss it, I certainly won't miss it if I toss it now. Cancer changes your view of material things as well. These things aren't the items that are of importance to me any longer. The relationships I have forged with very lovely and talented people are. Losing John just made me want to gather all of them up in a bunch at once, hold them tight once more and remind them how very much I love each and every one of them and how they have greatly contributed to the richness of my life with so many wonderful experiences. So, every chance I get I try to go through more of these boxes and sort through, tossing, donating and gathering into one place for others to own and love as I have. I've started to place all of my dance things as well as Marliza Pons' into one room and plan to make it into a "store" to sell off my costumes, props and wonderful lifelong collection of all things Orientale. It's a task that's a job all by itself. It's also a marvel I have the energy to do this.<br />
<br />
Once they told me they could no longer see my tumors, I no longer needed treatment, to go get a second opinion from my oncologist, I was cut loose. Got a mug and a certificate for bravery that I made it through radiation. Saw my oncologist and she also confirmed that she did not see any evidence of a tumor but did that mean that the cancer was gone? She could only test with <span style="background-color: #eeeeee; line-height: 22px; white-space: nowrap;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">epithelial</span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span>cell scrapings and I was too raw from radiation to do that testing right now. She will keep me in surveillance mode and test again in the next three months. <br />
<br />
I feel kind of spun out into limbo, no support group, no advice, just the strong urge to get back to healing and a normal life again. The problem is, that cancer returned once before when I didn't expect it to, how can I be sure it won't happen again? I can't. Yet if I cycle on it, perhaps I'll manifest it. So I've tried to distance myself from the thought of the ordeal and carry on as if it was all a bad dream. Haven't wanted to talk about it let alone blog about it. The symptoms persists and although I am a 1,000 times better every day I am further away from a day of radiation, <i>I know what I am feeling</i> and it is definitely a result of the radiation. They can tell me all they want that I was only radiated in the pelvic area yet I still feel it in my joints, feel it in my skin, still smell it. The most alarming new trouble spot is the pressure I feel in the bladder and rectum that has me going back to the doctor this Tuesday. Please Doc, just check me out and assure me that nothing is there and nothing to worry about. Tell me I have an over reactive imagination and I will get back to carrying on with a vengeance and renewed energy. <br />
<br />
Thanksgiving is coming up in four days. It has been one year since this nightmare began. I have a LOT to be thankful for. I have made it through to the other side of treatment as difficult as it was unscathed, tempered from the experience, and filled with renewed interest in all of the people that are connected to me in this life. Thank you for helping me make it through with your love and encouragement. So I urge you: Gather your loved ones this holiday, hold them like it's the last time, and say I love you with all sincerity. I know I will.Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-11153755818709114052012-10-02T09:42:00.001-07:002012-10-02T09:44:19.135-07:00UpheavalIf things weren't completely out of my comfort zone enough, I have moved. The movers came last week and moved all of the furniture to the new house, thankfully only about a mile away. So glad it's a one story and no more stairs to deal with. I did not have the energy to pack a lot of things by the time moving day arrived so they also packed for me. I was lucky to have already made up labels for each room so I tagged the boxes as they filled them but as for the contents, I have no idea. <br />
<br />
We hired a group of guys, displaced construction workers from Hawaii who own their own business now. They came prepared with shrink wrap, moving blankets, and dollies. We just had to rent the truck. We were fortunate not to have an option to get a smaller one, we made the move in one trip. I like giving work to deserving people. I sing the praises of Big Boys Moving Labor. Message me and I will give you their number if you are local to Las Vegas. You also get what you pay for. They worked for almost 6 hours like slave labor, always laughing, never complaining or judgmental. And yes, we bought them lunch, tipped them big and bought them beer at the end of the day. Only one drank anyway and that is only during Monday night Football so he was really stoked. So what am I in such upheaval about? They moved the boxes and just put them anywhere in the house. Not in the rooms they were labeled for mind you, just in the house. There are heavy boxes I will never be able to lift all over the place. What didn't fit in the garage or in the den, just went anywhere - and they are everywhere. If I didn't have the energy to pack, I certainly don't have it to lift boxes to find other boxes, move furniture or unpack. Fortunately, we moved things by carloads prior to them coming for the furniture so I am able to shower and know where my clothes are. I was able to do all of this around my radiation schedule. There's nothing like being in total chaos and not able to get off the couch to do a thing about it. At least the couch was empty so I could use it and I had cable so I could watch my beloved Masterpiece Theatre or HGTV and drool over the Property Brothers. (Counting each and every blessing here!)<br />
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Going through radiation is difficult to say the least but being without internet is just like enduring another symptom. I must have moved to a location where the cell tower has a weak signal and my phone would either not connect or have horrible service. I was talking to people where entire parts of conversations were missing. I had received a new phone and an iPad for my birthday last month and found I could connect sporadically but was not able to reply to anyone. The house is just about a minute from closing so they are asking us to sign and return every document we ever signed previously but I have no way to scan and send it back. Had to drive over to locations all over town to do that, meet their demands and get back to that empty couch in the middle of chaos. <br />
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I've heard from a few people who are warriors with me that their internal treatments went far worse than mine. They have endured horrific repercussions from the radiation that fried their insides, outsides, and still suffer symptoms long after the ordeal. They assure me that I will get through this, I have no doubt, I made it through the death of my son. Sadly, that experience will leave me with symptoms and scars the rest of my life also that doesn't even compare. I feel lucky as I count my blessings that I have endured so much, the worst is almost behind me and that I have the time off to heal albeit not without stress. Today is my husband's birthday. I want to treat him like a king to let him know how much I appreciate him quietly enduring all of my misfortune but I have missed the mark. The sale of the house, timing of my paycheck, the hectic schedule of the move in between radiation appointments have left him in second, possibly third or fourth place. I am filled with emotion and want to cry as I feel my efforts are inadequate to show him how much he means to me at this time and my last minute plans are not enough. I always read articles that mention the caregivers who are constantly and continuously there for the ones who fight. They are the ones closest to you going through it, feeling it blow by blow. Cancer affects everyone who loves you and cares for you. I got mad love for all of you who continually pray and send me healing thoughts. I have huge gratitude for you rallying around me in another difficult time in my life and will forever be in your debt.Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-50511706796031964272012-09-21T09:19:00.003-07:002012-09-21T09:49:39.043-07:00The Internal Treatments I'm not just a little scared, I'm terrified. I know it's out of my control so I can't worry about it. I've already committed myself to go. I saw the radiologist last Friday. He said he could see both tumors. One is already gone and the original one is now flat. That just means that if it had 9 billion cancer cells when it was protruding, it now has only a billion. I feel much better, thanks.<br />
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My alarm didn't go off. It's after 8am and I have to be in the middle of town by 9:30. I go in to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror. I look weird. My husband is awake and walks past me. I tell him I look weird and that I'm getting in the shower. It's a beautiful morning. I'm running around the house trying to remember what they told me about what to bring. I have to see the finance officer, grab a couple videos - funny ones? Should I be laughing? Can I shake? What if they don't have Blue Ray? I'm just wasting time now. I plug in my iPhone to charge, grab a Town Called Panic and The Fountain, a plum and head for the car. I don't really want to go. I told you this already, didn't I? I get to the hospital, check in and within 5 minutes we are back in the original CT scan room this all started in two months ago. The nurse/tech, Jose, tells me to get undressed, put this stretchy belt around my waist with a tail hanging down in back and have a seat on the table. He comes in with a clipboard with a waiver for me to sign. I am reading every word and start asking questions. "What unusual complications did you tell me about?" Jose gets a nervous look on his face and says he'll get the doctor to explain. The radiologist comes in and tells me that this is the standard form to cover them from all the things that could or may happen, that we've discussed everything - basically sign the damn thing and let's get on with it. He tells me he'll be back in with his nurse in a moment.<br />
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They come in and my husband leaves. I have forgotten the FMLA paperwork for them to sign so I can get approval to be off the next two weeks. He's going to head back home and get them. They tell me that this will take 2 hours while a team of people map exactly where the radiation should go. They have to be sure it doesn't come near my colon or bladder and just reach this tiny little area. I ripped the X's off that were on the tape that have marked my hips for weeks while I did external radiation on the day I finished. Turns out they don't need those marks anymore. They will scan me with the cylinder inside and do the measurements. He announces that he is inserting the cylinder, I feel a pressure and I my voice goes really high for a moment and then it's in. He teases me that I yelped. They leave the room discussing another child patient and I'm alone. I'm in the Stargate ring once again. I hear a voice telling me they are about to start, not to move. I close my eyes and visualize a perfect treatment, it's painless, no symptoms, the cancer will be eradicated from my body..... I can feel I am moving back through the ring and moving in and out while they scan the pelvis. It's over in a few minutes. They tell me they will have a team move me onto a gurney, into a waiting room and this is where I can watch a DVD, listen to my iPod, play with my iPad or read a magazine. This may take up to an hour or longer. The team comes in and I apologize for being so fat. One guy tells me that you wouldn't believe how light a person becomes when there are 6 people lifting all at once. They take the edges of the sheet, align the gurney and quickly transfer me to it. I can still feel someone shaking like they are struggling to lift. Gotta head to a gym when this is over.<br />
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I'm wheeled down the hall. As many times as they must do this, they still bang the walls when they go through the doorways and they apologize for all the bumps we have to go over. I can see rooms as I pass by, technicians looking at xrays and adjusting machines. It's like some intense ward in a hospital except this is the medical building across from the hospital. I had no idea what was behind these doors. I'm in this small waiting room with a TV, a chair and a table filled with magazines and DVDs. I ask the tech to put in the DVD I brought. She puts in Town called Panic and places my things on the chair. It's in French but subtitled but I wonder what they must think as they pass by the room I'm in. If you haven't seen the movie, it's kinda like claymation. It's just silly but I need it to help me pass the time and not think about what is coming next. <br />
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Not sure how long I am in the room. The radiologist comes by and pokes his head in, asks how I am doing and says that we will be going in soon. I let him know I am fine. I doubt it's even been an hour, maybe twenty minutes and Jose is back. He says we are ready to go for treatment. He grabs all of my things, puts them below the gurney and wheels me down another hallway and into a room. A large machine is in there. It almost looks like a storage room. There is a boom box playing some rock station. The lights are rudely on and I am just left there. I realize how my external radiation technicians, Kevin and Karen, at my other treatment location, treated me like a Princess. They made sure the lights were low, had my ring ready for my hands, asked me if the volume was good or if I wanted it louder, came by me and touched my hands to let me know they were ready to start and were leaving the room. None of that here. Cattle Call. Jose comes in to tell me he will be hooking up the catheter to the cylinder. This is how the radiation is fed to the tube. He says we will start soon. Another guy comes in with what looks like a Geiger counter and sweeps a wand over my body. He never says a word, looks at the machine and leaves. Brave man. The room falls silent. I focus in on the music. I know this song. I start singing along in my head. Wish I had asked them to play my mediation CD or to pump up the volume on this song. I can hear or maybe I feel this sound as the radiation fills the cylinder. The lights are so bright. I wish they had arranged for Kevin to come and be with me today, I am so scared as to how my body is going to react to this phase of treatment. I'm sure they weren't going to pull him out of his location just to soothe a frightened patient but it would have been really nice. I miss being the Princess. They announce two minutes more. I'm a bit taken back. Has 10 minutes really gone by? I've only sang one song and it wasn't Innagaddadavida by Iron Butterfly. I'm back in the waiting room, the radiologist nurse comes in to remove the cylinder, tells me my next appointment is set up and to stop by and see the finance officer before I go. The guy comes back with the Geiger counter and waves the wand over me. Maybe it's magic and he is taking all the cancer away. <br />
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I hope my husband is back but I don't see him. I head to the lobby where the finance office is. I call my husband and he is shocked that I am done. He's found the paperwork and is headed back to get me. I make a payment and we are chit-chatting and wow, he's there! Okay! What a morning, everything moving much faster that I expected. We stop for some breakfast even though it's noon and head home. I feel a heaviness in my body, I have to lay down a while. Watching TV, I'm checking in on my body and how I am feeling. I can sense the radiation traveling up my body. That feeling of it in my throat is back again. They can tell me all they want that I don't experience these things but I do. Think it's time to take a nap and stop being suspicious of what's going on in my body.Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-53115809766752818242012-09-16T13:00:00.003-07:002012-09-21T09:32:14.127-07:00Devil Claw MarksI wanted to share what happened to me last Tuesday. I go to get a check up every other week from a doctor who resides at the location of my treatment. I see the nurse first, she takes some vitals then the doctor comes in to discuss. She was asking about how my skin was. I told her that it's very dry to begin with but that I noticed that there were patches I've found that don't even feel like my skin anymore, very dry, like it's burnt. She tells me it's from the radiation and that she is going to get me some samples to try. She brings in a large tube of some gel and several sample packages of this cream called XClair. She explains it's for the dryness, I can use it anywhere and I can even combine them. I see the doctor, we discuss the drying skin patches and the rest of my ailments and I'm done.<br />
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That evening, my husband and I go out to dinner. We go to Carraba's for an Italian dinner, I have soup, salad and the main entree, it even comes with a small sample size dessert in a little shot glass. Delicious, except that I feel like I've just had Thanksgiving dinner and we are both stuffed to the gills. I have that food intoxication come over me and I have to go right upstairs to bed. I pass out for a few hours and wake up sometime past 11pm. I'm lying there in a sleepy stupor and notice my lower back is on fire. I grab the gel and rub some on, struggle with getting the little sample pack open and rub that in too. The nurse said I could use them together. I'm laying on my back watching the tv, hoping it will bore me back to sleep but the fire on my back keeps heating up. My husband comes up to the bedroom and as he enters I ask him to flip on the light and take a look at my back. I explain I just put the lotion on they gave me today but it's still burning. I turn over and he immediately asks, "Were you scratching this area?" I told him no, I was sleeping on my back, just rolled over and put the lotions on. He asks me if I want to go to emergency hospital. Now I am feeling a bit alarmed and I ask him why. He says it looks like those paranormal shows when the entity scratches you. I yell, "WHAT?!" and jump up to check it out in the bathroom mirror. As I rush past him, he tells me the scratch marks are climbing up my back. I have no idea why I didn't ask him to take a photo of it. I know I didn't scratch it but there are welts all over my lower back that looks just like the devil's claw. <br />
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When I go into radiation the next day, they all want me to drop my trousers in the lobby so they can look at it (like it's still there or something) but it's gone and I look like a grouchy, whiny old lady complaining about every ache and pain. I had no intention of taking off my pants at their request in the lobby no matter how excited they were to look at my bum. They don't see a thing, it's not even red, and I am still in that category of "Patient with weird side effects no one has ever had before <em><u>but her</u></em>". Needless to say, I am now terrified of the lotions and refuse to use them. Must have had an allergic reaction. Ahhh, the joy of having cancer. Never know what's going to happen next.Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-8379544748967724322012-09-09T14:49:00.001-07:002012-09-16T13:01:52.593-07:00Sadistic Chemists!Here is my pelvic radiation tip for the day: Tuck's Medicated Wipes! You can get a box or the handy travel packs. Who knew they weren't just for hemorrhoids, I certainly didn't. Just like having an ice cream after a fiery hot dinner, these cooling little wipes do the trick instantly.<br />
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So, I mentioned in one of my last posts that I finally got the doctor to listen to me and prescribe something for the diarrhea, right? Well, I finally go and get that prescription filled. When I pick it up, you have to have this consultation with the pharmacist so that you understand how to take it and what symptoms to expect for allergic reactions. I head over to the consultation window and meet with the pharmacist. I know him well so I feel comfortable. Don't expect him to say much but take as needed with plenty of water and it will do the trick. <u><strong>NO</strong></u>. He tells me that it will make me drowsy, so not to take it if I am going to work, drive, or use heavy machinery. Certainly won't be using that chain saw I just bought..... I say, "Daniel, what kind of a sick chemist makes up a batch of pills to take for diarrhea that make you drowsy? What if I fall asleep on the toilet or something? I don't usually have diarrhea at night, I have it during the day. But now I have to figure out a time I'd like to nap and take them?" He replies, "Obviously a very sadistic chemist created these pills but it's my job to let you know the side effects." I now take them at night and still have to deal with the diarrhea during the day. So we are back to the Imodium and pray for relief.<br />
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On Friday, my husband and I go and give the deposits on the new ranch style house we will be moving into on the 21st of September. In the blink of an eye, we give them 6 weeks of rent and a huge security deposit. We'll do the walk-in inspection 10 days later and have two weeks to move in leisurely. Gotta get myself in gear and start packing. Been dug in this house like a tick for the last 6 years and there sure is a lot to go through. Don't want to be taking junk to the new house I don't need or want. There are boxes in the garage I have never unpacked from the original move here. I still have the internal radiation treatments to go through and they will be the roughest. I looked on the Internet for more testimony from others that have gone through it and their descriptions frightened the hell out of me. I am still on the fence about doing them at all. Although I do not want the cancer to come back, I do not want to do these treatments at all. I already feel over-radiated and I am done with any more. If the tumors are gone, I'm doing these for preventative measures. Don't want to do them.<br />
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Later that night, I have tickets to a Bellydance Concert at the Jewel Box Theatre at the Flamingo Library. It's the big local bellydance convention here and the first night of the headliner's dancing. I have another bout of diarrhea and I don't think I am going to be able to make it. I fight it for over an hour and when I realize I am at the final minutes of backing out or going, I decide to go ahead and get ready. I have to hope the medication will finally kick in -- or I just turn around and come back. I throw on the cute little black dress and put on some make-up and I'm off. I get to will call, get my ticket and easily find my friends waiting for me. I'm sitting smack dab in the center seat in the middle section of the theatre. Excellent view, but a long way to go if I have to use the restroom. Everything goes well and I am able to enjoy the show without worry. Was such a joy to be a spectator and not have that nagging feeling I am missing out by not being on the stage. <br />
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I get home and my husband is all over me, telling me how sexy I look and how great it is to see me dressed up and in full dance make-up again. So nice to feel desirable, too bad he's leaving for the gym.Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-32348091093432482072012-09-03T10:11:00.002-07:002012-09-03T10:11:33.055-07:00Radical HopeIt's Labor Day today, September 3rd. I've had an alright weekend not the most productive but at least I have got some packing done. My husband mentioned we might be jumping the gun packing; the new house hasn't been approved and worst yet, I'm not even sure my short sale is complete. I was sent a letter from my agent but it has never actually come from the bank. I put it on my list of things to do on Tuesday. <br />
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I keep checking in with myself and how my body is doing without radiation for 4 days and I am sorry to report that it isn't enough of a break. Maybe a week would make a difference. I have been really tired this weekend and just needed to sleep. At least I am not feeling as physically bad as I did that second week. So as I am contemplating my progress, I check my emails. There is one from a friend who studied dance with me at UNLV. She is in the middle of filming Liberace at the LV Hilton this week and took the time to forward this newsletter from the Jung Center in Asheville, NC to send me positive thoughts. She didn't point out which article to read but I noticed this one that piqued my interest called "<a href="http://ashevillejungcenter.org/radical-hope/">Radical Hope: The Healing Power of Illness</a>". <em> </em>It's for a lecture I cannot attend and it will not be streamed live but what I did glean out of the ad for the lecture validates my thoughts about how something good is going to come out of all of this for me. My feeling is that I will discover some non-profit to start like my angel did or some other work will grab me and spin me into high gear with it's purpose. I'm going to put those words here since I know many of you may not want to follow the link to the Center.<br />
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<em>How can illness be the healing path?</em><br />
<em>"This path opens us to possess the courage we need to accept reality, leave the role of victim behind, and step forward as a seeker. It can facilitate our medical treatment, sometimes being a cure, and help us to realize that healing isn't about staying alive. Rather, healing is about becoming who we are meant to be, living our potentials and moving closer to our authentic selves. Finding meaning in our darkest moments so that new life and creativity can emerge.</em><br />
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<em>For what then counts and matters to bear witness to the uniquely human potential at its best, which is to turn one's predicament into a human achievement...... suffering can have meaning if it changes us for the better." Vicktor Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning</em><br />
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This is what I hope for myself and the others who may be reading this searching for answers. It validates and gives a loud answer to my cry to the heavens: Why me?Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-54434398459565473672012-08-30T13:21:00.001-07:002012-09-02T16:06:36.733-07:00When it Rains it PoursIt's almost the end of August. I have had another two radiation sessions. Every other week on Tuesdays, I have to go into Sunrise Hospital and see my radiologist for a check-up. My stomach is so upset I am not even sure if I can make it to his office without stopping at every McDonald's along the way for a pit stop. I make it in, they put me in a room but my stomach won't wait. I dash across the hall. The nurse comes in to tell me he is going to want to do a pelvic exam. I tell her this is not a good day but we can try. The doctor comes in and we talk about my progress. I ask him if he can hear my stomach gurgling from where he is standing and he says yes. I have been complaining about this for some time but they said to just take massive amounts of Immodium and I'll be fine. I told him I've already taken 3 this morning and nothing is stopping it. He finally says he is going to write a prescription for me. Finally - relief is on the way!<br />
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He sits down with the miner's hat with the light on and takes a look. He tells me that the second tumor is still gone and that the first is now the size of the head of a matchstick. What great news. He tells me to get dressed and comes back in the room. "Just want to let you know that you have still one month to go. You'll get 3 days off with the Labor Day holiday, then only four more external treatments left. Then we will start the internal treatments." My heart just sinks. I don't want another day of radiation. I know it's for my own good and for my future health but I just feel I can't take any more. Enough with the non-stop annoying symptoms tearing at my positive attitude. We talk a bit about it and he says that it would be best if when we get to the internal treatments to take the time off from work, the less stress the better. I explain to him that in the mix of all of this, I have gotten approval for the short sale on my house and I am going to have to be out of my house by the end of September. How am I ever going to find the energy to be able to pack up my house and get it ready for the new owners? I find a solution for one problem only to find another challenge. <br />
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My friend Susan recently sent me a private message and I am going to use her words just to keep me going: <br />
"It seems like perfect symmetry; the end of radiation and the move to a new home (beginning). One day at a time." She's right. Still, there is one more month to go and it will be the hardest challenge yet.Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-87492819011127434982012-08-26T11:05:00.001-07:002012-08-26T11:20:11.896-07:00Gifted by an AngelPeople going through pelvic radiation, let me give you a warning: Never eat spicy food! Resist the temptation to go for Indian, Mexican, Cajun anything that has the word spicy or hot in it. Do not use the Tabasco or cayenne pepper or even the little packets of sauce they give you with tacos on your food. I am your friend and I warn you, do not eat SPICY food! There is my public service announcement for the day.<br />
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Another week of radiation came and went. I made it through another 5 days although I was thinking the entire week I was going to play hooky on Friday, I went anyway. Monday I almost made it through the entire day at work. The fatigue really got to me and I left a half hour early. Tuesday, I left by 3:30pm. Again the fatigue took me down hard. On Wednesday, the smells overcame me and I started to get so nauseated. It was a helacious schedule at work and the worst possible time for me to go but I had to. I almost puked in public. I could smell every one's soap, the hazelnut creamer by the coffee machine, the carpet, the smell of rain in the air..... I wasn't sick until the smells overpowered me. I left for my radiation appointment that day with it raining so hard the windshield wipers could barely clear it off for me. I was driving the freeway at 35mph. Every intersection was flooded. Hadn't seen monsoon rain like that in a decade. I know we desperately need it. By the time I made it to the building, I could have used a kayak to get to the front door. Opened the umbrella over the open door to step out only to get drenched, stepped into ankle deep water and my shoes filled. Didn't see the elderly lady that comes in right after me. I got a little worried and hoped she was okay. So hard to see someone so frail doing radiation at her age. Went right home and never returned to work. Instead, I slept all day. Thursday I made it to my appointment again and then never made it back to work. It's getting harder and harder to make it in to work each day. I keep coming like a faithful dog because I am afraid that no one will be able to make it without my help, not know where I am at with things I have left in mid-stream. I know the day is coming soon. I am just going to need to take the entire time off and just stay home and heal. I made it through Friday's appointment without playing hooky only because of this delicious carrot dangling over my head.<br />
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I mentioned in an earlier post about the woman that was paired up with me by the Imerman Angels who started the non-profit, Heavens Door Open. Well, she sent me an email on my birthday (she didn't know it was my birthday!) saying she would like to arrange to send me to a spa. She looked at a few and settled on this beautiful spa in Lake Las Vegas in Henderson called the Ravella Spa. It was just the Ritz-Carlton a few years ago. Lake Las Vegas is fashioned after Tuscany without the grape fields. It's just beautiful out there and one of my favorite places to hang out for a day, grab lunch, and window shop. I pull in to the front of the hotel and the valet's take my car. I ask where the spa is located and they point to this building a distance away closer to the entrance. I'm thinking about asking them to drive me there but off I go, past the beautiful fountain in the center (See photo above)to the spa entrance and go in. It also houses the gym and the entrance to the outdoor pool and beach area. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuhJf1El_EuYDdLsDa-4N3uC9nduAX-V80wcU1iinkYpaOGzHZENJQ4aKWDxlJxQUhYMFmIXcceoKIRNjN6YyHEKiYu5xPwUWofBE9X2XryroG3tHgCpyL6EoM3yQuSqedI3t2hk7si1XD/s1600/PICT0320.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuhJf1El_EuYDdLsDa-4N3uC9nduAX-V80wcU1iinkYpaOGzHZENJQ4aKWDxlJxQUhYMFmIXcceoKIRNjN6YyHEKiYu5xPwUWofBE9X2XryroG3tHgCpyL6EoM3yQuSqedI3t2hk7si1XD/s320/PICT0320.JPG" width="320" /></a>I approach the front desk, the girl is on her cellphone. She tells me their computers are down and it takes a moment to find someone that can pull up the appointment, take me downstairs to the Ladies Spa, get me a robe and show me how to use the lockers. I go to the Relaxation Room to wait. They have honeydew melon water, so hydrating! I drink two glasses. A few minutes later my attendant comes in to let me know that because I am late she can give me a massage but will not have time to do my entire treatment. I am feeling that if someone else paid for me to have a special spa treatment, I doubt she would want me to settle for a massage I usually get every month anyway. I ask her to reschedule me, I'm local, I can come back anytime. She checks and says there is an opening at 5pm. She tells me if I'd like to wait and use the beach, pool, or spa amenities, I can stay here. I wasn't prepared with a suit or towel to partake in the beach so I tell her I'll go home, get some things done and return later. <br />
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So glad I did. I'm there in plenty of time to use the wet sauna and open my pores. I take a nice shower with all of their lovely skin products and rinse the toxins off. When I go to the treatment room I lay face down, and she gets started with exfoliating my skin with this chocolate oil and coffee grounds, scrubbing every part of me well. She leaves and I get up to use the shower. Grounds are behind my ears and between my toes! I am face down again as she starts in with the warm shea butter made from goats milk and rubs it into my skin leaving what feels like a quarter inch of it on the surface. Then she covers my feet with wet warm towels, my legs, my torso and bundles me up into a cocoon. I cook this way for another twenty minutes with a warm towel over my eyes. This is the one time my nose serves me well and allows all this wonderful aroma to delight me. I feel like a tamale! She comes back and unwraps me, I put on my robe and go back upstairs to the Healing Waters. I am thinking the dry sauna is the best way to end the day, take a hot tub, the cold plunge and take another shower. The dry sauna is probably off due to me being the last customer. It's almost 7pm. We take some photos together and I head upstairs to the front desk. The girl up there was checking on the concert tonight in the ampitheatre for me. She told me my bill was completely take care of - even the tip! I take a quick cruise around the gift shop and go outside and head to valet. The sky is a wonderful orange sunset and I can hear the mc announcing the jazz concert about to start. What an amazing day. I wish I could treat everyone to a day like this. Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-82084841766331482262012-08-24T19:23:00.001-07:002012-08-25T15:00:16.248-07:00Over-radiatedThe people at 21st Century Oncology are so good to me! The techs really go out of their way to ensure I have a pleasant experience, which they know in my heart is not. They are well aware of my resistance to the procedure, show genuine concern for me and always try to make me feel welcome and comfortable. I endure the next 5 days of treatment, my first full week. The doses increase daily but I'm still not sure I notice anything but the diarrhea. That was the first indication and it came almost immediately after the first doses. Thought it was just the change going from a raw diet to a meat based one again. When I check in with my body, it tells me my back is out, it feels like my right hip joint feels off in the crotch area. I tell one of the techs that if I was a Barbie doll, maybe we should take that leg off and put it back on again. Maybe it will reset itself and I'll feel better again. I feel this burning sensation when I pee. It's not like a bladder infection. It's more like if you got a very bad sunburn and your skin is on fire and you need to smother yourself in aloe vera - that kind of burn. My butt burns too and I am very thankful I bought and installed a portable bidet and got lots of chemical safe wet wipes for my skin. They can't seem to make soft, fluffy toilet paper to my liking. Cotton balls would probably work better if they were larger and more absorbent. Once I have my treatment and I head back to work, the first thing I notice is my hip aches. Nothing much, but that maybe I need to see my chiropractor. I make an appointment to see him. It does make a difference. I have dull headaches and never had them much before. I don't sleep that well anymore, sometimes I can't fall asleep, other times I fall right out only to wake a short time later and can't fall back to sleep. I get that new zzzquil and it helps.<br />
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To add to the excitement of the weekend, it's also my birthday. I'm having one of those years that I don't feel like celebrating. I just want it low key, get me the gift I asked for and move on. It's just another day. I know I should be thankful I've lived another productive year, but seems that the cancer makes everything fun take a back seat. My husband is not deterred. He tells me to go to my appointment and come right back. He worked the night before and came in late so he still needs to sleep. I had the day planned to go get my hair done and get a pedicure. Not sure of what he needed, I came right back. He told me to change into something comfortable and we took off for the Mob Museum. (I have only been asking for months for him to take me.) We have to wait in line to get our tickets and it's so freaking hot outside - the hottest day of the summer so far - and it drags the energy out of me and there's a moment I'm not sure I can stand long enough to get the tickets. The line moves quickly, we get them then have to wait while the guide puts our wristbands on and talks to us. Little things like this take up energy I just don't have any more. Don't want to be rude, just please point us to the elevator and move to the next group. But I'm not like that, I suck it up and let him chat. You start at the top floor and move your way down. As we enter and get our first photo op at the line up, I notice this smell. My husband mentioned it too so I'm not completely crazy. Don't know what it is but it's not Fabreeze. My nose is in a hyper-sensitive state and I can smell everything like a super human. They could probably use me like a hound in a missing person's case. Not sure if all this stuff is so old it carries that kind of smell, if someone around us didn't wash, or if the place is so new that you can still smell some kind of construction scent. I can bear it the first hour but after that we start rushing through the exhibits. I miss the Kennedy assassination video and a lot of the Hollywood and the mob connection. It's definitely some kind of chemical smell and we leave quickly before I get nauseous. We can always come back.<br />
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We leave and go to the Mirage to get tickets to the Beatles Love by Cirque du Soleil. I still don't feel like I am going to have the energy to enjoy it so I arrange to have someone who would like to go come pick them up from us. We go back home so I can nap. There is still time before we head to the movies to see Bourne Legacy opening today. After that we were supposed to head back downtown to the Wynn's La Cave. I'm really not feeling like heading back down to the Strip, my energy is really draining fast. I am still hungry so we settle on sushi and head over to a restaurant nearby with teppan cooking and tatami rooms called Osaka. A wonderful dinner, beautiful surroundings, a piano bar and delicious food. I come back home and open all my presents. It's a wonderful night and just how I wanted to spend it, doing just as much as my body would allow.<br />
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The next day I am worse. My husband leaves for work and I become a total couch potato, TV is on and I doze all day. No energy to clean or get ready for another work week. The pain I was feeling in my bladder and colon are worse, the burning is really bad. I take the next two days off from work but continue to go to my radiation appointments. On Tuesday, it's my doctor check-in day. I tell the techs how I am feeling this day. They tell me to go right to my appointment and let the doctor know. I'm sure he could see the look on my face as I explain to him the pain is too much. I am about to burst into tears and tell him I am going to bolt. I've had enough. Every time I sit down I can feel this huge mass, like a ball the size of my fist and it really hurts worst when I stand up again. I can't take it anymore. I tell him it feels like my bladder will fall right out of me. He says he would like to examine me. <br />
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He and the nurse come back in. He puts on the mining hat that has the light in the center and takes a look. I hear the surprise in his voice, "The smaller one is gone and the original tumor has shrunk by half!" This is very good news. He asks me to get dressed and he'll come back in. He tells me that he is going to give me the next 3 days off and with the weekend that will be 5 days without radiation. A sense of relief comes over me. He says by next Monday I will be feeling like a million bucks. Try a half dollar but okay, I'll take the reprieve from radiation. He says that we can't lose what we've done thus far and he can't give me any longer than that. Like a bad loan, I know he may have to tack the days I lost on the end but I don't ask. I just want to leave and start my radiation vacation.Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-50845207717750583452012-08-22T18:38:00.001-07:002012-08-22T18:56:55.009-07:00Radiation beginsI have a few more days of freedom before the radiation actually begins. I plan out a wonderful weekend with my friend who is in town. We go and catch a matinee of Moonrise Kingdom, what a delightful yet quirky movie packed with stars and nostalgia. We were elbowing each other throughout the movie saying, "I remember that" or "my parents had that set in the house". We go over to iHop and have lunch. The doctor says that I should start eating a slab of meat once in a while along with some fish as it will help with the diarrhea and eating all fiber will not. I take it this gives me permission to eat crappy once again and I go and have the big breakfast - buttermilk pancakes, eggs, hash browns. Only a month ago I would have turned my nose up at food like this and today it's heavenly. <br />
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I bring my children's book in for her to read. I have finally finished it after 35 years (yes, I don't do things on the fly you know) and it's ready to go to the Library of Congress to get registered and receive my ISBN number. She gets to the dedication page and breaks into tears. She loves it and turns every page reading and looking at the pictures like a child. I was glowing. So wonderful to share in a creation with a friend that loves it as much as you. She has a bag of things to give to me, the most wonderful adult styled children's book called "The Guardians of Being" by Ekhardt Tolle, I will cherish forever. We make plans to meet on Sunday for massages at the Nevada School of Massage. It's a two for one clinic and we both get the best massages of our lives! It's off to Mimi's Cafe for lunch then to a girl's house on the other side of town to do my hair and make up for a photo shoot. We get there late because she has slept in. It takes way too long to get everything done, run out of time and we have to leave. It's been a very special weekend and really takes my mind off of what I am going to be doing on Wednesday.<br />
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I try not to think too much about it the next two days, no more searching for answers and cures. I have to walk in bravely and just do it. I get there in plenty of time, sign in and have a seat. They have a huge Thomas Kincaid puzzle on a table in the corner. I sit down over there and study the painting and the progress. Gotta stop thinking about what's going to happen to me next. One of the therapists opens the door and says, "Are you ready?" My knee jerk reaction is to think silently, "Are you insane? Ready?! Really? Who's ready for radiation? It's not like I am next in line for a ride at Disneyland!" I smile and say "Sure." I follow her back. There is some smell in the hallway. I don't know what it is but I think it's burning flesh. I get all the way to the back down long halls and I see Kevin from my mapping appointment and I feel a lot more relaxed when I see him. He's this young, good looking Filipino guy with this overgrown semi mohawk. Looks like every Asian, skater dude in the Bay Area wearing tight pants with the chain wallet in a hoodie carrying a skateboard. But he's in scrubs but still has the legs akimbo stance. We greet each other and I immediately feel more comfortable. He has the table ready with my blue leg holder pillow and a rubber head cradle on yet another huge machine in a dark, spa lit room. They place a nice clean sheet down so the table isn't cold. I pull down my pants, swing around onto the table and they cover my yoni with a small white square of paper. They make a lot of adjustments using the marks on my dancing hips and sacred vessel. I feel the table move here and there and I am all lined up. They have this small boombox playing some crappy radio station of music I don't really care for but at least I can try to focus on anything but what's coming next. I tell Kevin that I know that the doctor said I would be getting very low doses and that they will be building up over the course of the next few weeks. I ask if he could please cut that dose in half and it can be our little secret. He smiles like he is going to give in to my request then says, "Ahhhhhh no" and shakes his head.<br />
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They give me a small comfort ring to hold to keep my hands still across my chest. They let me know they can hear and see me and not to worry, to call out to them if I need to. The sides of the machine close in next to me. There is a top and bottom portion and all these things rotate around me. "The Plan" knows exactly where to radiate me based on the mapping. I hear whirring and movement and I go into a meditative state and start to pray. Guide their hands and oversee their calculations, let the dose kill the cancer and leave the rest alone and undamaged. I have my eyes closed but I hear the sound when the radiation is given. Just like getting an x-ray, this sound goes off for 10 seconds four times, each time the machine rotates around me, stops and gives me another dose - from the back, the front, the sides. Then one of the techs comes in and puts in this plate that angles the beam to the exact location and I get two more doses, each about 12 seconds. I hear the door which is literally 12 inches thick, open and they come in. It's all over. They pull me out from the machine, help me to a sitting position, and Kevin says to me, "Hey are you crying?" I pull up my pants and put on my shoes. I explain that I could feel my son very strongly in the room with me. I let them know he died recently and I'm still not over it. I complain about the crappy music and Kevin says he will request another one for me and I can bring in my own music to play if I like. I tell them I'll see them tomorrow and the next few days go just like that. I don't notice much difference, just like getting a prolonged xray. Three days are down out of the twenty-five external treatments. Still feeling good, healthy, still doing Zumba.<br />
<br />Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-1234456226877478952012-08-21T09:36:00.002-07:002012-08-21T09:36:50.686-07:00Somebody get me a compass, I'm getting mapped!Exactly one month from when I originally refused treatment, I am back at the radiologist's office. It is also my 9 year American wedding anniversary. (I was married in Morocco the year before this.) My husband goes with me. Such a romantic way to celebrate - not! I see the doctor, we discuss all my fears once again so my husband can hear them first hand. I want to know if we can still have sex, if the radiation will affect him and cause him to have two heads or if he will have glow-in-the-dark penis if we do, long term affects of radiation to my body, the short term affects, vaginal shrinking, nutrition, the damage to my bladder and colon, the duration of the entire treatment. He tells me it will be 5 weeks of daily treatments and 3 weeks of internal, those being 2 hours or more each visit. He goes out and gets this dildo looking thing with a tube on the end the radiation will go into. He tries to make it all better by saying I can bring in a dvd of my favorite movie! Great, how humiliating it is to be sitting with your pants off on a table, now I have to be observed with a radiation dildo in me for two hours also. Why not bring in porn?! We listened to his explanations to all my questions and his orders to have as much sex as possible - it's a "use it or lose it" situation. If there is too much shrinkage, he will prescribe a vaginal stretching dildo to take home with me and use in the privacy of my own home. So surprised to hear that isn't another task the technicians are going to do for me. I am given a gown and taken to the back. I meet the technicians, Rina and Kevin. <br />
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I am laying down in yet another Stargate looking machine while they move around the room doing this and that. So many other things I wish I was doing at this very moment than this. I don't want radiation, don't know how these thoughts effects the treatment if I am so negative about it. Kevin comes in to explain he is going to "map" me so that they can radiate only the specific area they will be targeting. He tells me he will be tattooing me with three little dots. I tell him my son was one of the best tattoo artists on the West Coast and I wouldn't let him put one dot on me - let alone three - and now I am willingly submitting to these tattoos that will always be a reminder of this very day. They mark my dancing hips and my sacred vessel with tiny black dots that look like moles. Good thing I have freckles everywhere. They blend right in. They also bring in a large blue pillow and place it under my feet, ask me to get real comfy and they blow up the bag and it hardens. It will hold my legs in place and keep me still during my treatments. They lube up a tampon and let me know they will be inserting it to take measurements. I'm laughing and joking with them the entire time as I am fully embarrassed by the process. Little did I know they can hear and see everything outside the room and my husband is waiting behind this curtain in the hallway, listening to every word I say. He tells me the doctor comes by and observes me behind the curtain in the hallway. Fortunately no one can see me but they can hear every crazy comment I make. Hey, why not make their job fun? I'm sure they deal with freaked out patients all day long. I'm not getting treated today, this is only the preliminary stuff and they assure me treatment will go much quicker than it took to map me. I decide on a location and they check on a time for my daily appointment in an office location closer to my work. I was hoping to do it around 4pm each day and go home from there, maybe take a little nap then get up and cook dinner. The office closest to my job is only open until noon so I have to take a 10:30 appointment and would be back to work by 11am. Oh well. I'll take it as my lunch and still be back to cover my co-workers when they leave for lunch. I'm all set. I start next Wednesday with very low external doses building up over the next 5 weeks. <br />
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I'm walking down the hallway with my folders of information, my appointment card, and wave goodbye. I feel defeated that I have to do this and not fight it like I want and should on my own. I feel I can beat this, it's two teensy, weensy tumors for goodness sake. I settle in for a fight of a different kind. I'm still anxious and scared of what's to come next week but for right now all I want is the next few hours with my husband at dinner, discussing our wonderful wedding and reception 9 years ago and the real reason I fight. We have an Italian dinner close to home at a restaurant overlooking the Vegas Valley. We watch the sunset and all the lights come up. No more discussions tonight about cancer.Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-54155864400479307812012-08-20T12:34:00.001-07:002012-08-20T12:34:48.263-07:00ChangesSo along with the diet change and juicing, the cottage cheese and flax seed oil every morning, the baking soda protocol, I feel there must be more I can be doing. Hmmmm, coffee enemas? I've got to get serious about my health. I start drinking only alkaline water. My real estate agent even sells bottles of Real Water spray that will make filtered water alkaline for you and gifts me with a bottle that will last me for months or a month, if I only drank more water. I drink my fair share, but my skin is still as dry as a lizard. I always tell people that when I die you will be able to make belts and boots from my legs.<br />
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So I make some real changes. I toss out all products in my entire household that has harmful chemicals - my underarm deodorant, toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner, body lotions, make-up, cleaning products, laundry detergent. I start reading the labels of everything in the house, not missing a single word I can't pronounce and it goes into the trash. <br />
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It's a new day and a new beginning. I'm going to start being more responsible with this body I am supposed to be taking care of. Going to wake up and be more conscious of what I am doing to it.Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-20134367625003428382012-08-18T19:32:00.003-07:002012-08-19T10:37:55.634-07:00Gotta face the musicI get a call from the radiologist over the weekend that he has spoken to my surgeon and it is imperative that I reschedule my appointment and come in. It feels like a scare tactic. I still feel great and make plans for my trip to UCLA. I might even catch Dr. John and Joe Bonamassa at the Nokia Theatre and make it a fun weekend. In the meantime, I drop off all of my medical results to the new gyn-oncologist I am going to see in a few days. The surgeon tells me that there is no way she can just go in and remove the cancer with another surgery. To do that she will have to remove my bladder and colon and I will be wearing two bags the rest of my life. <br />
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My son's birthday comes around. My husband and I arrange with the International Star Registry to have a star in the Cancer Constellation dedicated to him. It's a wonderful thing to know his star is shining down on all of us. They send the coordinates and a beautiful colorful poster of the star that bears his name. It's a small gesture to honor him and it makes us happy to remember him on his birthday this way. No matter, it's the most emotional week I had to get through since Mother's Day.</div>
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I contact the Imerman Angels and asked to be paired up with another cancer survivor. They have a bit of a problem trying to find someone who has the exact same cancer or even someone who has taken an alternative direction. They call back, ask a few more questions, and they think they have someone in mind. In 24 hours, I will get an introduction email from my "Angel" and we can arrange to speak on the phone or email, whichever is comfortable. She emails me on a Sunday and I am reading her description, when the phone rings, it's her! She has had cancer three times and beat it. She lives in San Francisco and runs two non-profit houses for women in the latter stages of cancer. She takes them to indulge in an oasis retreat and have a total pampering spa day away from the hospitals and cancer groups. I am so inspired by her ability to find such an awesome gift to bestow on others to create a non-profit business while you are in the grip of your own cancer fight. In our conversation, she validates all that I am doing for myself to fight with alternative methods as a warrior woman but understands that I may need to integrate them into my treatment. She's made that journey and stands beside me in my struggle. I am in awe that Imerman's found me someone so gifted and accomplished in life. She tells me to call any time of the day or night and she will be there for me; she truly is an angel and a blessing to me.</div>
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The day comes to get my second opinion. I make my way up to the office, sign in and wait. They take some vital signs and put me into a room. The doctor comes in and I immediately feel a connection with her. We talk for a while about the timeline from November 5th until now. Her smile makes me feel safe, like someone finally understands all of my efforts to make a difference in my situation. She steps out while I get ready for yet another pelvic exam. I'm totally hoping she will tell me it's gone, she sees nothing and I can Tweet the news to the world tonight. But I'm wrong, it's just the opposite, I hear exactly what I am <strong><u>not </u></strong>hoping to hear, that the cancer has spread and now there is a second smaller tumor to the left of the original one. She explains very gently and clearly that I do not have time to waste. She knows and respects the radiologist I'll be working with and I need to get in there and get started on the treatment. She does not feel another opinion with the head of oncology at UCLA will make any difference as they all come from the same school of thought and the opinion will be the same, to take the radiation. I drive home thinking about the gaviola juice clinics in Mexico or the Budwig's Clinic in Malaga, Spain. It only requires a nine hour flight, 10 days of treatment and $7,000. But I don't have anymore sick or vacation time to take off from work. I'm right in the middle of selling my house. I knew that if I could not make a difference on my own it would come to this and here it is. Gotta face the music. My back is against the wall, I will have to take a conventional route and schedule radiation.</div>
Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-51542873999333380272012-08-18T18:37:00.003-07:002012-09-21T10:04:41.832-07:00Juggling a "Sweep Feed"So the therapist adds a laundry list of things to help center me that stresses an already exasperated situation. It's like I'm juggling a complicated "sweep feed" only to have my pins passed back to me almost as quickly as I send them off. Hey, God only gives you as much as you can handle, right? Apparently all those dance shows I organized in the past were a walk in the park. Now I have to find the time in my very full schedule to fit this new load in. You know I'm up for a challenge. Gonna rely on my years of "can-do" attitude, so bring it on. <br />
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Ah, I failed to clarify the reason I told the therapist why I decided not to schedule with her for another 3-4 weeks. One of the stressors I decided to eliminate was my mortgage. I found the name of a short sale expert and went for a consultation only to actually start the process. In 24 hours, my house had an MLS listing and was up for sale. Suddenly, I had to have a spotless house, candles that smelled like apple pie burning all day and people traipsing through my house from Thursday to Sunday. We could barely leave the house to get errands done before the next group would arrive. We would often be woken by pushy real estate agents parked in our driveway that just had to get an out of town client in to see the property. I took boxes home from work everyday. Co-workers donated their boxes or saved delivery boxes for me. Five times we got offers in on the house that fell through. So many forms that had to be urgently signed, scanned and sent back by the morning. I started a journal to help me organize the packing and prepare for the move. I make files, labels and begin decluttering. It's an event in itself that could take up all of my time even without all the dr. appointments and working a full time job.</div>
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I make more appointments to talk to doctors. I go and see my gyn and he asks why the surgeon just can't go back in and cut the cancer out where she took out the uterus and sew it back up again. Now we're thinking, a do-over! The area is so small it can't possibly take that much to do. He suggests I take this new oxidation stress supplement for the next 120 days that he will try with me along with his own mother who is on high blood pressure meds. It can only help. His medical mentor is down three diabetes medications out of five after taking it. I go back to work and excitedly tell a co-worker. One of her family members is a distributor for the pills and will bring me in an extra bottle she has the very next day. The first thing I notice is my mid-afternoon slump disappears, I have the energy to cook when I get home and even do a short Zumba workout. I'm still feeling terrific. I find another gynecological oncologist three miles from my house and make an appointment for a second opinion. I call UCLA and get an appointment with the head of gyn-oncology the following month. I figure I have time to knock it out with all the good things I am doing. I am on every prayer circle from the west coast to the east coast. I join the Guardian of the Grid, White Light Express, and place myself on long distance reiki lists and pray for a miracle. Make note to self: Sharpen my juggling skills.</div>
Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-83361741664563906432012-08-18T13:05:00.002-07:002012-08-19T10:53:02.736-07:00Commitment to Alternative<br />
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">For the past two weeks I find myself so emotional, I can barely
function at work. To make matters worse, my supervisor and co-workers are
on some kind of witch-hunt to find fault in everything they task me with.
I can't tell if they are trying to pressure me to quit or just find it
sport to hold my mistakes accountable so their own blunders don't seem so
large. It's hard enough to get up, shower, wash your face and get to work
on time without knowing you have to do it and fight another day of cancer.
I probably<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i><u>am</u></i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>making mistakes and I will be the
first to admit it. I can barely walk down the hall at work because I
can't even concentrate to remember what I am doing. I am consumed with
finding any way but radiation treatments.
I want to spend my every waking moment researching what this cancer is,
what to do about it, and band together with those who have fought the fight
before me and won it. What did they do? What made the difference
that they survived it? The one thing I know is that it's all about
manifesting what you become as a human being and living a higher conscious life
to become that very special, meaningful you. This message I know like I
know I am a woman but it's kind of dusty and hidden like some treasure you love
but have forgotten to keep close. I'm not emotional because of my
illness; it's my son’s death. I still can't handle him being gone.
I go to his room everyday hoping he comes back during the night, like he was
just out with friends and it's all a bad dream. I can be mad at him again
for making me worry. But I can't, he's not coming back and I hurt that I
let him down as a mother. I should have taken better care of him, I'm not
honoring his life enough, and I ache that I will never see his wedding or hold
his child in my arms. I can't hold the tears back and all my thoughts are
of him and every memory I ever had of his life with me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in;">
<br /><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Through my job, I am allowed six free appointments to see a therapist when one goes through
life changes. I am given the names of 3 women to choose from. I
search online to see who they are and if we will be a good fit to share my
deepest hidden thoughts with. I settle on one because she seems from her
advertising and photo the most "normal" of the 3, plus she is close
to where I live. I would rather that she has a spiritual edge but what's
more important at this moment is someone who has the insight to set me back on track.
I'm listening to a program on PBS and I hear the speaker read Chapter 1
of this woman's life and it<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>so</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>sounds like me: "I walk
down the street. I see a deep hole in the sidewalk. I fall in.
I can't get out." Well, eventually she gets out. She
just doesn't walk down that street anymore. I need someone to tell me how
to avoid that street altogether. So I meet with the therapist. She gives me a
laundry list of things to do and I go off to tackle them and we agree to meet
about 3-4 weeks later. She tells me I am living from a place of fear.
Fear from all the loss I've had in such a short period of time; fear of
not living up to everyone’s expectations of me.
For the first time in my life I've learned how to say, "I
can't". I never did tolerate those two words in my vocabulary before; I’ve preached it to my students in every dance class I've taught for the last 40 years. Now I
can't do anything - right. I am juggling 11 balls when my capacity to juggle
effectively is about 6 max. I've got to pass off a few of these balls
without the possibility of fearing some kind of public breakdown. I've
got to find a way to keep smiling and not take to heart every single person who
has<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><b>never</b><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>had cancer giving me his or her
opinion on how to deal with it or cure it. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">In four days, I am to start radiation treatments. I spend
the weekend trying to knock out the therapist's laundry list. I sign up
for Tai Chi, make acupuncture appointments to get Chinese medicine, do hypnosis,
start meditating, find a way to lessen my stress at work, continue to stay
committed to eating raw and juicing more. I'm going to Guided Imagery classes
at the Caring Place in Las Vegas, join in on the monthly reiki circle, search
for information on how to start a blog, and look for an organized dance class,
the therapist thinks I need one. I might just let that one wait a while.
I'm happy to be doing Wii Zumba in my living room. The other thing
I am positive about is that I am feeling so fantastically healthy right now.
Maybe they have it all wrong. Just maybe I don't have cancer at
all, it doesn't show on the CAT scan, they can't do blood work on me to find
it, it's so small that maybe I can just kill it on my own. I spend
the next 72 hours on the internet. I find everything on Kindle I can
order to read, I find the "cancer tutor" website, Never Fear Cancer
Again and order his supplements, call Dr. Burzynski in Texas, find local
alternative cancer doctors in town, look into Isaac’s Clinic, Gerson Institute,
Budwig's protocol, baking soda cures. On Monday, I call to cancel
the radiation. I’m going to lick
this on my own.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I hear the lyrics for Steely Dan's chorus to "Deacon Blues" playing in my ear: </span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"</span><span style="color: #474747; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">They got a name for the winners in the world</span><span style="color: #474747; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;"> </span></div>
<span style="color: #474747; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">I want a name when I lose </span><br />
<span style="color: #474747; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">They call Alabama the Crimson Tide </span><br />
<span style="color: #474747; font-family: 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 23px; text-align: left;">Call me Deacon Blues"</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-40746439953231682702012-08-16T17:02:00.001-07:002012-08-19T10:45:20.895-07:00I Get the NewsEarly in June, I get this message on my phone to call my oncologist, she urgently needed to speak with me. It had been a month since my pap smear so I thought no news was good news. I call them back and they won't tell me what's going on, only they had to get me in as soon as possible. The only opening on the schedule is 4 days away. I make the appointment and hang up. I try to go back to what I was doing at work only to keep cycling on what she wanted to see me about. When your oncologist calls urgently needing to see you, it can't be good news. I call back and plead, "Can't you get me in any sooner? I'm going to have an anxiety attack if you don't." There is nothing available but she will call if there are any cancellations. I wait all week and they call to say they can get me in at 9am instead of 4pm. I take it and fly over there. The doctor tells me that the pap smear showed squamous cells indicating the cancer had returned in the vaginal area where they took the uterus out and she was going to do a biopsy of the area and send me for a CAT scan to be sure. In my mind I am thinking, "How can this be? They took the uterus out, it's over and done with." But it's <em>so</em> not over.<br />
<br />The following Monday I go for the CAT scan. They take me into a room after making me drink a gallon of berry barium. What the heck? Is that some kind of cruel joke to make the stuff sound tasty? I get inside and lay down inside the huge ring that looks like a Stargate entrance. The medical assistant puts a pick line in me and says she is going to put this stuff in my vein. It will make everything light up inside you. She's moving around the room. She comes over to me and bends over quickly close to my face to tell me the stuff is going to make me feel like I am peeing but I'm really not. I ask "And when am I going to feel that? Oh god, I'm peeing!" She laughs, leaves the room and in a few minutes it's over. Tells me I can get the film before I leave. A week later I am seeing the oncologist again. I told her I looked at the film. She asked me what I saw. I told her I saw I needed several years at medical school to be able to determine what I was looking at. She says there is nothing on the film, it's clear, but the biopsy definitely shows cancer and that she is recommending I go see a radiologist and she's already made an appointment for me to see one the next day. It's happening all too fast. The Summer Solstice is here. Two days later, I am seeing a psychologist. Think I am long overdue.Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-8221791321521683092012-08-16T16:01:00.000-07:002012-08-16T16:01:53.386-07:00RecoveryNew Years Eve came. My sister and I took out the fur coats, popped the champagne and grabbed glasses only to walk to the end of the block to watch all the fireworks on the Strip with other neighbors who had gathered there. It had been 10 days since the surgery. I had been laying down for so long healing, I was actually begging my boss to let me come back to work. She told me I had to have the doctor's release. I was getting up and moving around but not without pain or loss of energy. I still pushed on. My sister and I would do as many errands as I could stand - go for some lunchtime special at a nearby casino with a ridiculously cheap prices, clear out the pantry and garage, take some of my son's things to his friends and my own things to Goodwill, then nap. Some of these things had been on my to-do list for years. Got stacks of filing cleared away, the house was spotless, the dog was walked daily. I worried that if I got everything on my to-do list done, would I expire? <br />
<br />
Time came for my sister to leave and I drove her to the airport. I would now go back to work and be in the house alone. It was very quiet and lonely. I went back to work and my co-workers were relieved to have me back. Although they did a great job of pitching in, they did leave me a backlog of things to close out that never got touched during my absence. It will take months to get caught up. I had to get to closing out 2011. Still felt the daily aches and pains from the stitches. Tried all kinds of skin remedies to make the scarring disappear but none worked. <br />
<br />
I noticed this ad for Run Away with Cirque du Soliel, a One Drop World Water Day Event happening the end of March. I was determined to make that walk as a goal for myself to be feeling well enough to walk 3k. Maybe I'd even feel enough energy to take up Zumba. That was an ambitious idea. I asked everyone in my department to join me and got 3 takers. One brought her grandson, another her aunt and mother, and I brought my husband's supervisor. We had a nice crowd, coordinated early morning breakfast, carpooling and where to meet. It was a wonderful brisk walk I had no problem making. I was elated. There was free food, entertainment, lots of fun exhibits and I had never actually been to the Springs Preserve. It was a great day. I wanted to do it again so we planned for Walk for the Cure in May, two months later.<br />
<br />
On May 3rd, I had my first cancer check up since the surgery. Saw the nurse practitioner, told her that I had been having some spotting, nothing more and was healing quite nicely. She said she saw some "proud tags" that may be the cause and she would put some medication on it. The next day, my husband and I went for full executive physicals. I hadn't had one in years. They do it all. The doctor told me I looked great and those many years of dance still had lingering effects. I really felt good. Energy was up, mood was great, I was on a healing path. The next day is the Walk for the Cure and I get the doctor's exhuberant okay. We meet in the morning for breakfast again, carpool over and join thousands of others walking and running. Another great walk and Zumba here I come! I buy the Wii version and start doing the short class version in my living room trying to make it to a full length class. I'm now doing it 3 times a week - nothing short of a miracle! I'm feeling good enough to take a 4 day vacation to Los Angeles to go to Venice Beach and Universal Studios. I don't even notice any lack of energy. I am looking good and feeling fine! Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-35537295994334474682012-08-11T19:04:00.001-07:002012-08-11T19:04:20.211-07:00The SurgerySpent the next day getting the house ready for me being out of it. Went for pre-op exams, x-rays, ekgs, blood work to be typed, and dropping off my portion of the pay to the hospital. My longtime friend Bobby flew into town to see me before my surgery. It meant a lot to me that he made the trek but I really wasn't up for much company. I was still in a lot of pain and very exhausted. I felt it must have been alarming to see me this way. It was still good to pick him up at the airport and spend some time at the house before he went to his hotel. He was with me when my son was very little and was a huge influence on his beach life and attitude. I shared some of my son's photos with him that he kept in a photo album. He found it touching Ethan had found a special place in his life for him through the years. I'm nervous about the surgery and distracted. Couldn't really focus on having quality friend time with him to catch up. Still re-assuring he was going to stay through the week and check in on me. Had a good team around me, near and far, cheering me on, wishing me well. <br />
<br />
The morning comes too soon. I am up and in the shower. I just have to wipe myself down with the pre-op towels they gave me, get dressed and drive to the hospital. I can't wipe my own back down so I ask my sister to come in and help. She takes a moment to take shots at my body telling me that it's so sad I have no butt. She may think she is teasing me to lighten the mood but it's an old jab well worn at and does not help to settle my nerves or put my edginess aside. The ride seems unbearably long. Summerlin Hospital is way on the other side of town from Henderson. We get to the hospital, find a place to park and go in. I check in and we wait. The nurses station will take me back first, then my husband and sister can see me before I go under. I give my sister my phone and give her last minute instructions to keep my friends posted with updates on Facebook. She's always got her nose buried in her laptop anyway so I thought it was the perfect task for her. The nurse calls me back. My husband looks scared. My sister is looking at books in the free library unconcerned. She tells my husband she is going outside to smoke. I am in a bed with my sexy white thigh high stockings and hospital gown on. They are explaining the procedure, how my legs will be hooked up to this machine that will massage them so I don't get dvt, put in a pickline iv, put my hair in a cheese cloth shower cap. They are asking me questions about my meds and basic info that I already answered on all the forms. I am immediately wondering why they had insisted I do them at all. The place is beginning to fill up around me with other patients. I see beds being wheeled in here and there, curtains being drawn between beds. I wonder why they haven't asked my family back, I've been here a while. A tear rolls down my cheek as I call in my mind for my son to come be with me, I'm scared. I don't want to be cut on and I don't really want to lose the one organ where I created and nourished his life. Even that is being taken from me. <br />
<br />
My husband is in the waiting room, they have called him to come in but my sister is not outside smoking. She has decided that she would go and get breakfast in the hospital cafeteria. He decided to take one more sweep before he left her and found her about to order. They finally came in and I felt relieved, wish they had been able to come in sooner. It seems like we barely had time to say goodbye, to take my things and they were wheeling me back to the operating room. <br />
<br />
My normal reaction is to make light of the situation by making comical comments. As we wheel into the operating room they have the music cranked up and the boombox is blaring "Do Me Baby"!!! There seems to be about 6-7 people in the room. I start yelling over the music, "There's a pahty going on up in heah! Groovy! Music is cranked up, ya'll have your party hats on, where's the cocktails?!" Dr. Lee turns around and says, "I'm ready for you right over here." They transfer me to the other table, I see the DiVinci machine taking up a third of the room. It looks like something straight out of Star Wars. They will place 4 little holes in me and operate from about 3 feet away from my body to take out my uterus. The nurse asks if I could swing around and lean over on this side table with a pillow on top. Everyone is smiling and happy I'm there. I see this huge horse syringe and ask if they are going to use that on me and Dr. Lee says yes. I tell him I pray I am knocked out when he does. Then they put this oxygen mask on my face. I pull it up long enough to say "May God guide your hands, I love each and everyone of you for being here for me, now party on!" I take two breaths and I am out.<br />
<br />
I don't remember recovery at all. I only woke up long enough to see my sister and husband bring flowers to me as they place me into my hospital room. I am in a quarantined room alone. I want to talk but have a strong urge to just sleep. My husband wants to stay but my sister can see I am not up for company and doesn't see the need to stay. I wake up some time in the morning with a nurse beside me. She says my blood pressure is sky high, says something like I am almost in arrest. I tell her I did not take my meds last night. It should be on my chart that I take certain medication. She asks me if I got up and went pee, she needs to measure it. I told her no, I just woke up. Then she discovers that I have a catheter. A Catheter! I didn't even know. I saw the iv in my hand, felt my legs hooked up to some machine, a breathing tube in my nose but had no idea I also had a catheter. Asks if I'm in pain and I said no so she goes off to get me a BP pill. Another nurse comes back a little while later and says she will be taking care of me today, gives me the pill. Seems like its been hours since I saw the last nurse. She unplugs my legs from the machine, takes off the breathing tube, eases out the catheter. Then she tells me I am getting up and taking a little walk with her! I remember them telling me I had to do this and go number two or I was not going home today. I put on a robe, grabbed the iv and we went for a stroll! She was so cute and perky for that time in the morning and we said hi to all the nurses as I went past them on the floor. I was even amazed with myself that I was up and walking. She told me if I felt I had pain to take something, not to try and suck it up and bear it. I told her "Oh okay, I'll take something", then went back to sleep. Had to remind them I was gluten free so they would tailor my breakfast, seems they didn't have much about me on their chart. I was able to go home after seeing the Doctor at around noon. I made it through the surgery. I just had to go home and heal, if only I can make it up the stairs to my bedroom. <br />
<br />
I stay in my bedroom for another few days and my sister is a very kind nursemaid. I eventually start coming down and spending my days on the couch watching dvd's of a funny series my brother sent on British TV called "The I.T. Group"; he sent all four seasons. My sister is bringing me liquid and making me food although the gluten free diet was never high on her priority list to find recipes for. I know she felt I was acting like a princess on holiday but the fact was I had just gone through major surgery, not to mention losing my son. This was no picnic to me. My dance career was out the door, wasn't sure if I would ever have a sex life again, and these four little incisions were killing me! I only find out two months later that one of those medical wraps would have done wonders those first few weeks. What's important is the cancer in my uterus is gone.<br />
<br />
<br />Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-54538573284024324212012-08-05T14:08:00.001-07:002012-09-02T16:16:35.761-07:00The longest, darkest night<br />
I go home and plop myself on the couch and put my feet up. My son came
downstairs to go out back and smoke. I told him, "Guess what the doctor
told me today? I have cancer!" He was leaning over the couch above me.
"That is so f**ked up." I decided to make light of it and said,
"If anything happens to me, I am going to leave everything I own to
Louie." (Louie is my Boston Terrier) He gave me a Huh, and went outside. I
watched MTV's 100 all time bands and really relived my life in music. Every
single great song that came on was associated with a memory. It was wonderful.
The music lifted my soul. When it ended; I continued to watch Saturday Night
Live. Thought I would laugh myself happy. I already had my tears, no need for a
pity party. It was a Jimmy Fallon Special and I laughed and laughed. It felt
wonderful. Couldn't believe how talented he is. Laughter is healing.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
The problem still persisted that I didn't know what I was supposed to do.
Who was I to talk to? Do I just sit here and wait until the surgeon calls me in
for the hysterectomy? What do I do? I get on the computer and look for endometrial
carcinoma. Okay, it's very common, women get it, get a hysterectomy and it is
over and done with. Could be worse, I could have cancer in a life threatening
place that wouldn’t require an operation but months of chemo and radiation. I
just have to wait and see what comes. I look up the doctor and check out her
report card. She has been doing this for quite a while but has poor beside
manners. Make a mental note to see for myself what that means later.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
Thanksgiving rolls around. My husband’s supervisor, Kabra, joins us for
dinner. I am now eating gluten-free and plan on enjoying my dinner, so I find a
complete gluten-free dinner recipe. It sounds fantastic. I get up early and
make everything from scratch. Made gluten-free corn bread for the stuffing,
fresh cranberries, put the gluten-free turkey in. Who knew there was gluten in
turkeys? I didn't. My son had recently put a tattoo on Kabra of a Celtic cross
with butterflies. It needed a little touch up but looked vibrant and fantastic.
Everyone loved the dinner, especially my son. Never saw him eat a Thanksgiving
dinner so fast and clean his plate. Thought he would lick it clean. He was
really impressed. I haven't been able to impress him with my cooking for a long
time so I was really happy. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
Sunday night before my appointment, I am in pain. Feeling bad, I can't
really cook dinner and ask my husband to just run and get something quick, it's
already <st1:time hour="20" minute="0">8pm</st1:time>. He says he'll go to In
'n Out because I can have "protein style" without the bun. I go into
my son's room to ask if that would be okay with him, ask him what he wants and
apologize I don't feel that good. Later on that night, he comes into my room
carrying the dog, Louie. He knows I always sleep better if I have the dog, I
call for him every night but if he is with my son, he won't come to me. He puts
him on the bed and I tell him "He won't stay; he'll go scratch to get out
and be with you." He says, "He'll stay." He looks back at me,
hesitates and smiles at me. I felt compelled to stop and talk with him, to tell
him that I'm really gonna be okay, not to be afraid for me, and that I will
really need his help through this surgery. But he's shut the door, I start
to cry, I don't know why. I think it's just because I feel bad.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
I finally get my appointment with Dr. Kowalski the Monday after
Thanksgiving. I wake early and get ready for work. As I was leaving, I saw the
light on in my son's room from under the door. Nothing unusual, he probably
stayed up all night drawing again. Worked through the day and leave early to
drive across town to my appointment. I sit in the waiting room surrounded by
men and women. It's a cancer clinic so I know everyone has been touched by it
somehow, whether for themselves or if they came with someone. Everybody looks
worried like me. They call me in, take my vital signs and put me in a room. The
doctor comes in, introduces herself, says she will be examining me, to take off
everything from the waste down and she'll be back in. She takes a quick pelvic
exam and then tells me about the procedure, what to expect. She leads me down
the hall to the finance person and the surgery scheduler. We get the approvals,
my schedule for pre-op tests and exams at the hospital and date for the surgery
and I am off. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
I call my husband before I pull away. I have to get home and tell my son he
will probably have to drive me to and from the surgery. He will probably love
being able to drive the Benz. I just got it in July and was still getting used
to it myself. I get home, the dog is outside, I call him in and start looking
in the fridge and pantry for what to cook for dinner. I figure it out and go
upstairs to tell my son I'm home and is he okay with what I am cooking. I can
hear the tv on, see the light on, no response. I listen to hear if he's on the
phone, he never ignores me. Maybe he is sleeping? I knock a little harder on
the door, nothing. I get that feeling in the pit of my stomach something is
wrong, I pound on the door, I scream for him to answer me, I keep shouting his
name. I run downstairs and get a butter knife to open the lock on his door. I
see him lying back on the bed. He is holding a water bottle. I don't have to
take two steps in to see he is gone. I touch his arm and he is really cold. I
am too late. Nothing I can do at all to bring him back or revive him. I call
911, my husband and sister. go downstairs to wait for someone to arrive. A
barrage of people start coming in, fire emergency, police, grief counselor,
coroner, and finally the mortuary people. The take photos of the house, ask me
questions about the timeline of when I saw him last until I found him. I'm
numb. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
Not only do I have to worry about what's happening to me but now I have to
plan a funeral. I cried lying by his phone looking at the text messages coming
in. Someone posted it on Facebook and it went out of control. I never saw so
many unhappy people. I learned a lot about him in the next few days. He was
really, really loved and admired. Cancer took a back seat. I had my date, a few
days before Christmas. I had the funeral a week later in <st1:city><st1:place>Las
Vegas</st1:place></st1:city>, then a wonderful memorial service in <st1:city><st1:place>Santa
Cruz</st1:place></st1:city> with many of his childhood friends in his
hometown. They raffled off many of his things that would be great mementos for
his friends to be able to put a plaque at the Capitola wharf. They played songs
in his honor at a little club across the street from City Hall called the Jury
Room. The place was packed. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
My sister drove back from <st1:state><st1:place>California</st1:place></st1:state>
with me to <st1:state><st1:place>Nevada</st1:place></st1:state> so she could
stay with me during the surgery. I had a full day on Monday of pre-op tests. We
made it home around dinner time, got settled in and went to sleep.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-61875484066329765142012-08-04T10:47:00.001-07:002012-08-04T11:14:39.732-07:00You've got cancer<br />
My dance mother is gone, we have celebrated her life. I still have all the
clean-up, what to do with her costumes, contacting her family, writing her
memoirs. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<br /><o:p> </o:p>But there was something still wrong with me. I was starting to bleed for no
good reason at any time of the day or night regardless of that time of the
month. So many embarrassing situations when I had to rush out of work to go
home and change my clothes or wash them and come back like nothing happened. I
had an arsenal of menstrual products in every size from Barbie to Elephant. The
amazing Doctor Wells, suggested an ablation. I didn't know such a thing existed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They could go in, laser the inside of the
uterus and everything would be fine again. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would be an in and out procedure, I could
be back to work on Monday. While he was doing the ablation, he did a D&C
and got a scrapping of the tissue. Came out and told my husband that everything
looked fine. We just have to wait for the pathology. I made my follow up
appointment and couldn't wait to get there. Things were not fine; I was
beginning to bleed again! Little miffed with him. He listens carefully to
everything I had to complain about then he said, "Well, there's a reason
for all of these things you're experiencing - You've got Cancer!" There
was a huge silence. He continued to tell me that he suggests we go for a
hysterectomy and the least invasive is the DiVinci method. The best gynecological
surgeon in Vegas was Dr. Kowalski.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
had already contacted her and sent over my pathology reports. He assured me it
would be a quick surgery, in the hospital overnight if that, and back to work
in 3-4 weeks. <br />
<br />I had left for my appointment using my lunch break. I went back to work. Was
still thinking of everything he said as I climbed the stairs and went in the back
door to my department. My supervisor asked me how everything went and I told
her, "Can you believe it? He told me I have ca-ca-cancer!" I started
to sob in her office. She came around and hugged me and told me to go home, to
go see my honey and process the information. It seemed so surreal. How does
this happen to me? I just pulled off one of the most selfless acts of love for
my mentor. I have taught dance classes for troubled teens at Juvenile Hall,
worked with abused and neglect children as a camp counselor, started women's
circles at my studio, did a <st1:street><st1:address>Blessing Way</st1:address></st1:street>
for their babies before their births. I have given up every birthday,
anniversary, special family event and holiday to teach, rehearse or perform for
40 years. I have been reliable and dependable when someone needs me. Back in
the day I even picked up my fair share of hitch-hikers just because I believed
it brought good karma and now I have cancer. I gotta cry to the heavens: why
me? I nurture others through life changing events; this isn't supposed to
happen to me.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
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<br /></div>Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-28852220061107756132012-08-04T10:02:00.002-07:002012-08-04T10:06:44.457-07:00Something is wrongI stopped dancing and found someone else to replace me at my favorite place to teach in all the country, "Bellydancers of Color Festival" in Silver Springs, Maryland. People would call and ask me to teach or perform and I would find someone else. I let the dance company do the Age of Chivalry Faire, which I loved. I knew the calls would eventually stop. I had noticed something was wrong with me. No energy, fatigued, felt odd, could barely recognize my face in the mirror. Could barely get myself off the couch to cook dinner let alone a few simple stretches. I was given Suzanne Somer's book "Knock Out" about her experience with her own alternative cancer research and was told I needed to read it. Couldn't relate to most of the cancer content but out of it I began to think maybe my hormones were not in balance. A co-worker suggested an amazing gyn doctor in town right down the street from my work. Blessed be! The doctor, Orlandis Wells, told me I had Hashimoto's thyroid condition and possiby the cause of my symptions. We started working on balancing my thyroid, doing blood panels and workups for my hormones. <br />
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In May of 2011, my dance mentor, Marliza Pons passed away of an aneurysm. I can't begin to tell you how devastated I was, she had replaced my mother for me. She was an iconic figure in the bellydance world, especially here in Las Vegas. She was a pioneer for the dance and had a dance career that would rival Cyd Charisse. I was left her dance legacy and put myself in charge of arranging her cremation and funeral. I was not letting a woman like this leave without gathering her friends and family. I set-up a non-profit corporation to collect donations. They poured in from all over the globe - from Belgium and Hong Kong. In two months, I was able to pay for everything, including a niche for her ashes, her celebration party, even a tree planted in her honor in a park close to where her studio was. Brought together all of her friends and past students at the Henderson Convention Center last August 11th. It was the day after my birthday. Her choreography was performed, along with dances from her students who have gone on to become some of the top teachers and dancers in the business today. We had a live middle eastern band, food and drinks, everyone was up dancing. I had one of her amazing handmade costumes on a mannequin and a table with photos of her illustrious career. I was pulled up to dance that night and it was the last time I was seen in public. It was a night to remember. Two of my close childhood friends were also worked with her came to town and we party till the wee hours laughing and wishing she was here. I know she was. Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6757826066156387802.post-50502554564174883722012-08-04T09:32:00.002-07:002012-08-24T20:05:08.196-07:00My dance lifeFor over 40 years I have been a dancer. Dance has gotten me through good times and bad times, fed and clothed me. I started teaching bellydance in 1973 in Half Moon Bay, California. I have lived and traveled up and down the west coast from Mexico to Canada, teaching, performing at various faires and nightclubs with my young son in tow. I continued to research the music and village dances of Egypt, Turkey and North Africa. Seems after all the glamour of bellydance and the stories that came with that period of my life, I really felt a calling for folkloric dance in it's purest form. This began my crossover into solely teaching the village dances of the Maghreb, Turkey and Egypt along with the rhythms. I settled in Capitola, owned a dance studio in Santa Cruz, had two performing dance companies, my classes were packed. I gave up the studio on personal reasons, moved to Las Vegas in the year 2000 after my mother passed, went on to win for Favorite Ethnic Dancer and a Lifetime Achievement in Dance, amongst many awards in this next decade. I taught for UNLV, performed at the annual Age of Chivalry Festival with a newly formed dance company. I did my best work. I ate, drank, slept class plans, costumes, and choreography. All was good with me until the economy tanked in 2008. All the dance teachers were swept from the dance department. I taught for the community for a while and continued with performances with the dance company until just a few years ago. It feels like a lifetime ago and now I am the dancer with cancer. Let me assure you, cancer does not define me or any of the amazing things I have done or experienced in my life, it's just another thing along the journey of my life I will go through and come out on the other side to talk story about.<br />
<br />Anna Nutherthinghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16743944431282845267noreply@blogger.com0