Recuperation

This second round of chemo was definitely rougher than the first. I was out of commission for an entire week. I've been trying to figure out why, when the first time around was such a breeze.

Most women on chemo stop having their period. This phenomenon has lovingly been termed "chemopause". I haven't talked a lot about the possibility of damage to my ovaries and a complete loss of fertility. Or the fact that if my genetic tests come back a certain way, my doctors will suggest having my ovaries removed altogether. I can't face that part of reality right now. And chemopause is usually temporary.

But it hasn't started for me, yet. I got my period normal and on schedule. I think that's what did it. Because of chemo, I'm already anemic. I think that the extra days of bedridden-ness came from the combo of anemia and menstruation.

Thus ends the over-sharing portion of today's post. I've felt pretty great since Friday. I bought a dope bike basket and tooled around town on the silver cruiser my guy handed down to me. We checked out some of Bayou Boogaloo. We even rode bikes to a bar. We actually ended up kind of wasted, which obviously isn't something I should do regularly in my condition, but I can't tell you how fun it was after months of moderate drinking.

We had plans to check out Cypress Creek Landing's campsite in Desoto National Forest in Mississippi on Saturday, but both slept in because of the aforementioned wastedness. We got there with just a couple of hours of sunlight left, but it was still just what I needed: fresh air, sunshine, dirt, bugs, campfire, and a lovely, lazy creek to look at.

My man and his other lady.

I wanted to take more pictures, but I think my phone killed itself searching for signals in the country. Next time I'll take an actual camera. It's only a 2-hour drive up there so I'm sure we'll check it out a few more times before the summer's over.

Wigs

I was holding out hope that I might not loose all my hair during chemo. I'd heard anecdotally that black women frequently experience an overall thinning as opposed to losing clumps of hair. My barber's ex is a breast cancer survivor and he was able to cut her hair through her treatment and keep her looking cute. It's a hope I'd nursed secretly. Alas, it was not for me. I lost my hair in nauseating clumps just two or three nights after my second dose of chemo. I'd put a bonnett on that night and was afraid to take it off in the morning. I shaved my head with clippers that afternoon and my boyfriend shaved it with a razor later. My head is super cold. I'm not a fan.

Not a fan

I've been rocking a white scarf under a straw hat. It's a look that positively screams "Chemo Patient". I'm not a fan of that, either. I miss my hair so much. I hadn't realized how proud of it I was. Or how dependent on it for just basic identity purposes. I felt good with my hair cut super low, but really uncomfortable completely bald. What's even more annoying is that all my hair hasn't fallen out. So, in between shaves, I grow a nice, patchy stubble. Uggghhhhh.

After my trip to the wound specialist yesterday, I felt like some cheering up. So I dragged myself to my local wig store. Picking a wig isn't easy. I haven't had straight hair since I was 17. I feel like nothing looks right on me:



I did finally make a decision and went for function overall. I picked a wig that was lightweight, affordable, and covered my eyebrows (since i'll probably lose them later as well and who wants to deal with that every day?!). My boyfriend says it makes me look like on of the Supremes. I don't want to just throw it on for a photo. I'll post one the next time I get myself done up a little. I try to just think of it as a hairy hat.

Chemo Week 3 Update OR Uggghhhhhh

At this point, during my first round, I was going on about what a badass I must be. So few side effects. So little down time.

A week into my second round and I'm already dreading the third. This dose saw me lose my hair, suffer through two solid days of malaise and nausea bad enough that I literally could not get out of bed, then several days of fatigue and lightheadedness. I'm losing weight (which normally I'd be down with at the beginning of summer, but is generally frowned upon in cancer patients), I'm having trouble falling asleep, and then I have anxiety dreams almost every night.

Today is the first day I feel like I have the strength and the motivation to get up and out. Like a rubber band, I'm snapping into action. Today I'm going to take the cat to the vet, hit the laundromat, clean up around the place, get my bike fixed, then check out some of this Bayou Boogaloo festival (I really just want another cochon de lait poboy).

I'm gonna have to do all that alone cus, while I write my piddling blog posts, my partner in crime is writing (revising) the Great American Novel. He's supportive of me by doing everything while I lay in bed. I'm supportive of him by putting in earbuds while I watch anime all day. We're gonna do some camping up by Black Creek in Mississippi this weekend, though. I'm really looking forward to getting out of town for a bit.

So it's a mixed bag. It looks like basically the entire week after an infusion is shot. But, I only have two more infusions of this particular drug. My mother will be here for the one next week. Her visit is really the only thing keeping me from raw panic. I like that things are moving along and I'm finally getting the treatment I need. But chemo really is the pits.

Round 2: Fight! OR Free Brazilian

The day after chemo feels exactly like what it is. I've been poisoned. I'm sleepy, groggy, can't keep a thought in my head, and am seeing spots. Also, my pee is red. Which I keep forgetting and being alarmed at.

I've also started losing my hair. Basically everywhere. It's alarming. I shed worse than the dog.

My stomach is the size of a walnut.

Also headaches.

I made myself a list of 6 things to do every day to not feel like a failure:

1. Make the bed
2. Bathe
3. Play with the dog
4. Cuddle with the cat
5. Cook for my man
6. Water my garden

I managed 3 today. Try again tomorrow. 

Last time the fatigue only lasted a few days. Hoping to be up and at em by Sunday.

Got Till It's Gone?

I know it's cliche to say, but sometimes the only thing standing between you and happiness is you.
And your perfectly rational fears.
And your underdeveloped ability to share your feelings.
And the fact that the things you're refusing to give the person who cares about you are the things you want from them.
And self-loathing.
And resentment that nobody seems to be able to help with the self-loathing.
The medications that make it all seem ok, but completely dampen your sexual energy.
The rifts that develop when two people who used to revel in expressing themselves physically find themselves in a situation that prevents it.
Feeling self-conscious about your body for the first time in your adult life.
Wanting to ask for what you need, but spitting caustic cynicism instead.
Not knowing how to apologize.
Not feeling like you should have to apologize.
Wondering why everyone doesn't understand what you need from them.
Deciding to withdraw completely.
Not looking him in the eye.
Not caring if he's hurt.
Regretting all that and trying to make amends.
Frustration.
Lack of self-esteem.
Feeling ineffective in every aspect of your daily world.
The whirlpool of negative thoughts that you can't escape.
More medication.

And the moment when the man of your dreams decides that he can't take it anymore. Well. He stuck it out longer than another guy would, right? You're strong. You can do it on your own, right?

No. The thing standing between me and the life I've always dreamed of isn't cancer, but what I've let it do to me and my relationship. I won't let this illness steal one more thing from me. I'm weeping openly instead of raging silently. I'm asking clearly instead resenting. And I'm hoping for the full forgiveness that will truly bring back the closeness that convinced two practical strangers to move in together in the first place.

I guess this isn't the kind of post I usually share the day after chemotherapy, but a cancer diagnosis can have a lot of effects on relationships. Relationships more established than mine (I talked to my chemo nurse about our break-up and how I'm trying to convince him to stay. She helpfully added that she's seen marriages of 20 years fall apart because of cancer. I should add that to my "don't" list at some point). It's my intention to be as honest about what is going on in my everyday life as possible.

Right now, everyday with cancer, I'm putting things into perspective. What is important to me on a daily basis? (snuggling with my cat, cooking for my man, tending to my garden, reading good literature, and looking for ways to be active even though my leg wound is still not completely closed). What role is my illness actually playing in my life? (I feel fine, he still finds me attractive, and when I can't take care of myself, someone will). And what exactly do I want to have when cancer is over? Will I be satisfied if I wake up one day, cancer free and alone? All because I wasn't dating a fucking psychic?

Sometimes a shock to the system is exactly what it takes to get things back on track. I'll be spending everyday with cancer fighting the illness but building with the people around me. And not getting the two confused.

Killin It! (softly) OR Confessions of a germophile

Today is officially 12 days into my first round of chemotherapy. It's right around now that my white blood cells should be at their lowest quantities, leaving my body most susceptible to infection. Also, any side effects from the drugs/poison should be subsiding around now. My body would generally be recovering, getting ready for the next dose.

As far as side effects are concerned, all is quiet over here. I had a few days of serious fatigue right after my infusion, but I'm not ready to concede that they weren't just from stress. Since then, I haven't had any side effects at all aside from food beginning to taste strange. Mushrooms taste rotted. Bread and most cheeses are flavorless. The smell of garlic or red wine turn my stomach about 50% of the time, but I still appreciate the taste of both. I crave pizza 24/7 and sweets are heavenly, but I'm supposed to be aiming towards a more healthy, vegetable-based, nutrient-rich, balanced diet (so I can't sit around eating pizza and haagen-dazs all day).

The "don'ts" of chemo are many and inconsistent, though. My oncologist placed no restrictions on me. My infusion nurse gave me a booklet of guidelines as to how to manage with my weakened immune system. But she also proceeded to provide me verbally with a laundry list of things I'm supposed to avoid:

• Like your eggs cooked soft? TOO BAD!
• Like your steak rare? Can't have that either.
• Hold fruit under running water for two minutes. You've got nothing better to do.
• Hot foods must be eaten scorching hot and cold foods, freezing cold. 
• Don't let your food cool at room temp. Put it straight into the fridge. 
• NO buffets. 
• NO salad bars.
• NO food that's been sitting out: hot, cold, or lukewarm.
• NO blue cheese. 
• NO sushi.
• NO raw oysters.
• NO leftovers more than 3 days old. 
• (At Woodlief) Did you just fill that bottle with tap water? NOT FOR HER!!

With that last command, I was surprised she didn't do a Dikembe Mutombo-style "not in my house" rejection move on the bottle itself. I've got quite the zealous little southern lady in my corner. 

Buuuuuuut. 

Everyone who knows me knows how cavalier I am about food. I've never actually gotten sick from food. Ever. I used to rinse off old, slimy lunch meat, pop it in the micro for 5 seconds, then make a sandwich back in my college days. I'm not someone who naturally thinks about the consequences of eating a little dirt. As a matter of fact, I think it's healthy. I strongly believe our society's obsession with "cleanliness" is causing all manner of health problems. The Hygiene Hypothesis is one of my religious doctrines. 

The rules are proving impossible to remember as I move through my daily life. Just today, I ate my eggs with runny yolks, had a few mulberries straight off a tree during my walk, rinsed my bottles with tap water before I filled them from a filter, and had a dinner of room temperature naan with some haleem I'd made and left cooling on the stove for a few hours. 

Given my track record with taking my own advice over that of more concerned parties, I definitely plan to take a lot of the advice I get from the professionals around me into account. I'm going to work really hard to follow all the rules in all the literature I've recieved. But you have to draw a line somewhere between "this will probably save my life" and "this will probably worry me to death" and not all advice is sound or coming from a place of science.

But I promise to pass the mulberry tree and leave it unmolested from now on. 

Shrine maidens OR My bitches got my back

I'm not religious or a gambler, but I'm hedging my bets.

This idea was conceived at a time when I was feeling super down as a way to positively direct my energy. My boyfriend has a little personal shrine in the study where he does his writing. There is a statue of Kali, Ogun, and the Virgin of Guadalupe. He's explained his selection to me before, but this blog is about ME and not him, so you'll have to ask him yourself. Also, I might have been drunk and forgotten.

So, on a bedridden, down in the dumps, "why me?" kinda day, I decided to make a shrine of my own. I chose healing deities from various spiritual traditions. I decided mid-process to make them all female. I mod podged the Catholics onto candles. They seem to like to hang out there. I bought a bunch of dollar store frames and painted them all gold with this dope, metallic paint I just happened to find at The Green Project. The Tibetan prayer flags were contributed by my friend, Lydia. The progress was spasmodic, but I finally finished it up last night. I used the mantle in the kitchen since it's where I find my creative outlet.

I have little other explanation to add since, like I said, I'm just not religious (or spiritual, I guess). My breast cancer crew (in order from left to right) consists of: Sekhmet, Iaso, Christina the Astonishing, Mariamman, Agatha of Sicily, Mami Wata, and Immortal Woman He. I learned about them all from Wikipedia and you'll have to as well.