Twenty-three minutes to go...

...until November! 



Hell yeah!   Time to get off my ass and do something for myself.  Writing makes me feel good.  So, I'm going to treat this as a job and while the kids are at school, I'm going to set aside some time every morning for me! Just to write.  I signed up for Nanowrimo and have done it every year since 2009 and I have 7 unfinished novels sitting on my computer. Some are really good, some are kind of crap.  Two are almost complete, the other 5 need a lot of work.  But each one was so much fun to write.  And who knows, maybe this will be the kickstart I need to develop a healthy, daily writing habit.   If I can't go back to work, I should be writing instead.

So, Nanowrimo 2018, despite my funky mood, why not!  Time to focus on something lighter for a change.   I've got a tiny morsel of a plot idea.  Let's see where it goes.

30 days
50,000 words
Unfinished draft #8, here I come!

Yay November... next to Christmas, my favourite time of year!

Not so random thought...

I've had a poor attitude this week.  Dwelling on the negative instead of embracing the positive.  However, after an uniterrupted solid 8 hours sleep in which my brain actually shut down and let me rest, I'm in  good head space today.  I'm up, I'm showered, I've put a load of laundry in and I'm about to tackle the breakfast dishes.  I feel like I've turned a bit of a corner.  For today, at least.

But here's what I'm thinking.

My forties haven't been stellar, so far.   And neither have the thirties or forties of some of my friends.  Or the fifties and sixties of some of my family.  A couple have gotten divorced.  One has seen her spouse incarcarated.  One is dealing with MS. Some are dealing with depression.  One is on dialysis waiting for someone else to die so that he has a shot at life.  And then there is the c-word.  Cancer.  I'm constantly amazed by how many of us are actually fighting for our lives.  There is actually a lot of cancer in my family and my community.  I keep meeting survivors.  And fighters.  And people that didn't make it as long as they would have liked.  And it's sobering but also inspiring.  But this week I've been focussed just on me.  I'm not often self-absorbed, but this was the week for me.  My pity party. I have incurable cancer.  I am fighting for my life.  And I'm determined to beat that diagnosis for as long as possible.

But why the hell should I have to?

We are all good people.  I surround myself with good people.  My friends and family are solid, lovely, good people.  We've tried to live lives that, while not perfect, are pretty decent.  We have good kids, supportive families, and solid friendships.   And life has spat on us. Or shat on us.  Whichever visual you prefer. And I can't help but wonder why.   Why me?  Why her?  Why him?   Whose ironic crap shoot dealt me this hand?  Why not someone else for a change?  Quit crapping on us, we're only so tough!

And then there are other people.  Colossally arrogant, abusive, racist, downright lousy people.  And they get to be in charge of the United States of America.  How about sending a little shower of crap their way instead.   Karma doesn't really seem to make sense right now.  Just a random thought...

Fighting again

So... after three weeks of uncertainty, I am officially fighting again.  Started chemo, plan B this week.  And I am exhausted!  Which is hopeful because it feels like my body is again doing something.

Last round of chemo was Folfox (flourouracil, leukovorin, and oxiliplatin).  It was considered "curative."   Needless to say, it failed me.   This round of chemo is GIFFIRB (Flourouracil - or 5FU cause that's funnier - Leukovorin, Irinotecan, and Bevacuzamib - or Avastin) and is considered Palliative.  The intention is not to cure, as this is considered incurable at that point, but to slow the growth of the new tumours and keep me comfortable for as long as my body will tolerate it.  And since you all know how stubborn I can be... ;)

A bit of  downer, yes.  But no one has given me an expiry date and I have way to much on my plate to not assume that I'm going to be round for a few years yet, so here's to cocktail #2 being more successful than cocktail #1.  If the fatigue I felt yesterday after disconnect is any sign, my body is going to fight this on overtime!

5FUs to you, cancer! 

Can't sleep

I'm awake.   It's 6am.  I've been up for well over an hour.   I was hoping to find someone on FB to chat with, as I certainly can't phone anyone at this ungodly time of day.  Even my dog won't get up and keep me company.   I think this is the hardest part of this whole ordeal for me.  Being alone with my thoughts in the dark of the night. It doesn't happen very often anymore.  I've been feeling hopeful and eager to get on with my life.  I've even embraced the stubbornly hanging on neuropathy as a quirky residual effect of what was, otherwise, not really that horrible of an experience with chemotherapy.

Yesterday I felt unreasonably optimistic.  The autumn sun was out, the trees haven't yet shed their leaves.  It's just stunning.  It makes you feel immortal. I was googling things, reading statistics, looking up side effects, and thinking "all is not lost."   The manic feeling started to wear off sometime during my nephew's birthday party as I watched my children patiently play with their toddler cousins and I wondered how many birthday parties stretch before me.

Right now, in the dark of the house, when I can't see out the windows and the only company is the buzz of the appliances, I feel less optimistic.  I'm letting the darkness seep into my brain filling every recess with doubt and grief.  It's keeping me awake.   It's going to be a caffeine kind of a day for sure.

I had a reality check on Thursday morning.  I went to the doctor to get the results of my post-chemo CT scan and to talk about my return to work and return to reality from this whirlwind blip on the radar of what I was fully prepared to write off as a bad chapter in an otherwise pleasant life. Turns out, I'm not over this.  I'm not even remotely close to being out of the woods.  I can't even see the trail for the trees.   I have another tumour in my abdomen.  And signs that cancer has spread throughout the lining of my abdomen.  The chemotherapy didn't work. My cancer didn't respond the way the oncologist assumed that it would.  I'm a carcinogenic enigma.  And so, while I'm still dealing with after effects of the first rounds of chemotherapy, I'm facing the thought of further, more aggressive treatments.  Of uncertainty.  Of living the rest of my life with a chronic, incurable illness.  And not knowing how long that might be.

Maybe I'll wake the dog up. We could go watch the sunrise and get that boost of Vitamin D that fueled me yesterday.  If I can't sleep, neither should she!

Dosage reduction...

So yesterday was a bit interesting.  At the beginning of every cycle (I am currently on cycle 9 of 12!) I have to answer a bunch of questions about side effects and whether or not I'm struggling with them.  I've been handling the side effects really well.  Some have gotten more prevalent and some (like the hair loss and jaw pain) have almost disappeared, so overall, things are going ok.

But when she asked about neuropathy (the numbness I've been experiencing) I was honest and told my nurse that my fingers are pretty much numb all the time now and were still numb yesterday from the last treatment two weeks ago.  But I told her I could still do things like typing and sewing, it just felt a little funny, like they're asleep.  Then I told her that that numbness had also moved into my feet and sometimes it hurt to walk a little.

So she consulted with the other nurse and they phoned a couple of oncologists to consult, and they decided to reduce my oxapilaten dosage.  I had to go home for about an hour an a half while I waited for the pharmacy to remix my new dosage, so I didn't get home from the infusion until after the kids were home from school.

While I appreciate the lower toxicity going into my last four treatments, I'm having mixed feelings.  I do feel like I can handle the numbness as I have been so far, and I worry that lower dosages might be less effective.

I'm sure it's all in my head... the nurses are the experts, not me.

Anyway, 9 almost down (get unhooked tomorrow), three to go.  Then we will see what my upcoming scan shows.

And... shoutout to my cousin, Joy, who has been dealing with the after effects of her kidney cancer for the last several years and had emergency surgery for a brain tumour that her oncologist discovered in January.  She's been going through radiation and chemo pills and has been officially given the "No evidence of disease" diagnosis.  So, YAY JOY! 

Wait for me, Joy, I'll be joining your survivor's club, soon!  Feeling optimistic these days.

Laura

Haven't blogged in a while...

Nothing really to update.   I'm still doing well.  I'm dealing with tingling and numbness in my fingers pretty much daily now and starting to feel pain in my feet now, too.   I'm not getting any of the breaks in week 2 (my off chemo week) that I was at the beginning.  On the plus side, though, I'm in the middle of treatment 8, so there are really only 4 infusions left and in 8 weeks I'll be saying goodbye to chemo (hopefully forever if my post-chemo scans look promising).

Tired is not adequate to describe how I'm feeling, though.  It's a complete utter exhaustion that is affecting my every body part and my brain, and I'm sure my personality.   Today is a good-day (steriods coursing through my body make chemo days actually quite productive) but tomorrow I will likely crash again.

I have to lower the expectations I have on myself and stop writing this "Oh, I have all this time off work, I'd better get stuff done around here" expectations I have of myself.  Today's goal... laundry.  Tomorrow's, relax.  Keep it realistic! 

I have all summer off with the kids; we can do the decluttering of the winter clothing that still clutter up the area surrounding our front door, the clothes that are outgrown but still in the kids' dressers, and the toys that haven't seen the light of day in years,  during July (or August when I'm completely off the chemo).

So really, I'm doing good. The stereotypes I had in my head pre-chemo, have proven to be needless worries.  Only had one bad day of vomiting out of the 3 months I've been doing this.  Also only lost about a third of my hair and the loss seems to have slowed back to what it was before chemo --- normal, daily, clean-out-the comb, levels of hair loss.  So, if you know me, you know I had insanely thick hair to start with.  Now I have a lovely medium amount of hair.  Cutting it short probably helped with stemming the loss, and for the first time with short hair, I don't resemble a mushroom!

On to the next two months of this adventure.  Then... the recovery and eventual return to work.  I miss my Monday to Friday people and the adult conversations, but I have to admit, I love being home in the quiet house during the day.  I'm reading the third novel I've actually started and finished in May; I've scrapbooked a ton of pages; I've started stockpiling the homemade greeting cards; I've had to take a break from the crocheting because of the numbness in my fingers but for a while I was doing that consistenly; I can still type despite the lack of sensation, so I've even started writing again (read "proof-reading and revising" my Nano-novels.  Maybe 2018 is the year I'll finish a book and start looking to publication.  I have said that before, haven't I?    :)

Oh, and the laundry and basic housework is almost being kept up.  If you know my house, when I'm working it's a weekend slog to catch up.  Now, not so much.

Children are home now... suddenly I can no longer hear myself type.

Logging off,
Laura

Thoughts and Prayers

Just a thought that I didn't have the guts to say on Facebook (because you all know I'll get attacked for it)...   This group I follow and occasionally comment on is full of very devout Christians who are dealing with cancer.  They continuously post "Praise God, no evidence of disease," or "Praying for your recovery," or "thank God, I'm in remission," or the more dangerous,  "I'm leaving my treatment in God's hands" (ummm... maybe he WANTS you to do chemo, did you ever think of that... he's up in Heaven rolling his eyes while you are taking the natural approach and praying for a miracle?) etc.

So anyway, good for those of unwavering faith.  It's awesome!  Please feel free to pray for your recovery and give all your thanks and credit to whomever you worship if it makes you feel better.  But what I keep thinking, every time they thank God for their recovery, is...

Umm... who do you think gave you cancer in the first place?  If it's his design that you recover, it kind was his design that you suffered, too. Right? Maybe I'm jaded, but it seems a little one sided to credit God for their recovery, and not credit him for the disease in the first place.  You can't have it both ways.  Or can you.  I'm over-thinking this way too much!

I will wisely keep my smart-ass mouth shut on this one.  At least on Facebook where opinions can easily be miscontrued.