If 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.
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!)
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Friday, September 21, 2012
The 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Devil Claw Marks
I 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.
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.
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 but her". 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.
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.
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 but her". 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.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Sadistic 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.
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. NO. 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.
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.
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.
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.
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. NO. 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.
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.
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.
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.
Monday, September 3, 2012
Radical Hope
It'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.
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 "Radical Hope: The Healing Power of Illness". 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.
How can illness be the healing path?
"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.
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
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?
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 "Radical Hope: The Healing Power of Illness". 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.
How can illness be the healing path?
"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.
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
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?
Thursday, August 30, 2012
When it Rains it Pours
It'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!
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.
My friend Susan recently sent me a private message and I am going to use her words just to keep me going:
"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.
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.
My friend Susan recently sent me a private message and I am going to use her words just to keep me going:
"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.
Sunday, August 26, 2012
Gifted by an Angel
People 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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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. 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.
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