I am NOT an asshole. Surgically Speaking.

Dichotomy

2010-07-05T13:06:00.000-07:00

I was reading a book awhile back (granted MANY people have read this book as of late, as I do believe it's being made into a movie currently. still...this was bout 3 years ago). A part of the book the characters were discussing that everything: every being, every entity, every object, every city, every genre, culture, and individual has A Word. One word that in an overall average or medium...most accurately embodies that thing.

I'd say, for instance, Chicago, as a city...it's word could be "VARIETY" OR "PLENTITUDE". If you want something, chances are good you'll have ALOT of options for that thing in Chicago. I think it must almost be a subliminal bit of pride in some of us born Chicagoans knowing that we have so many choices.

But my word?? I'm sure at any given point in my life, my "word" could and has changed. We're transient beings, after all, right? And who more to be transient than my airy gemini as I am? (not that I could claim to really know so much about astrology. But i digress...)

So. My word? I think, at this very moment in my life, I am going with "DICHOTOMY"

A Dichotomy is any splitting of a whole into exactly two non-overlapping parts.

I have such a capacity for love, peace and serenity in me. A massive capacity for it, actually. It's difficult to reach that place, but it exists within me.

And at the very same rate, I have an immense capacity for spite, rage and seething anger. It's easier to reach, of course, as it always goes.

The path towards both of these places, within me, are vastly different. Obviously. But each require much the same amount of effort, regardless of how different the path is.
I can't say it's more fun to pursue peace, love and all that fuzzy warmness, anymore than it is to drift chaotically into hate, rage and blazing iciness.

Each path leads me to places that have different names. Different physical locations within myself, and different atmospheres surrounding them. Except with the common theme of ultimately just being a place in which I am alone. Utterly alone with myself.

Ssssoooo...your word is?

Priorities

2010-05-13T23:33:00.000-07:00

I need to get my priorities straight.
Here I am. midnight.
chemo begins in T minus nine hours. and counting.
and here I am. whining.
complaining.
cracking snarky jokes about fallin' off the wagon,
but they're trying to save my life.
Have I gotten SO adapted to having cancer that it's become an annoyance??
I've gotten so good at being a patient that I have forgotten I am actually under attack?
All day long, every minute of every day my cells are at war. They are fighting for their (or rather, MY) life, and here I am complaining.
How can I remind myself that I have a terminal disease which can (and chances are will) kill me, when I'm feeling so good?
Its been a nice couple months. I've been off chemo since february. And although I've been plenty busy with many many trips to hospitals, it was such a change of pace...the whole cyberknife thing...that I guess I just got too comfortable.
I got to accustomed to having my skin back to what I remember. To having my hair actually have a shine to it again, instead of the dull look from all the various chemicals coursing through me. I got way to comfortable not having any taste issues, and being able to eat and drink ANYthing at ANYtime I wanted. I was too spoiled to actually have fridays OFF.
Trivialities really.
Really.
Because in the grand scheme of things, why should I be so concerned with these trivial things when my actual existance is at stake?
I could die. very easily. very quickly. and with no notice. specifically FROM this cancer. any given moment or instance, this tumor growing inside me (or ones they don't see currently) can wrap around some key artery, or impede an organ's function, or anything. and next thing you know, no more Becca. I'm not exaggerating over overreacting.
But because I feeeeeeel good and healthy at this very moment in time, I seem to feel it appropriate to bitch and moan about the inconvenience of chemo.
Really.
Its an inconvenience. It gets in the way. It cramps my style. I have too much living to do to be bothered with sitting in an infusion room.
GAH I just want to SCREAAAAAM. Fuckin' chemo. I thought I was done with you! How did I ever manage to convince myself of that?
And so Here I am.
Here I sit.
at my desk. at midnight. trying to get my head right. And trying to organize my priorities.
It seems somethings never change.

Nothing Like Barium in the morning!

2010-05-01T11:30:00.000-07:00

(on a sidenote, I am not sure why the frame of the videos i'm embedding from youtube are being cut off on here...you're not missing much with the other inch of screen in the frame really, but i suppose if you wanted you could click the video screen and it'll just take you the that video on youtube's site. If anyone wants to help me out on this one, i'm much obliged)

Thwarted.

2010-04-30T20:12:00.000-07:00

It's been a lazy day for me. Not really because I wanted it to be. I actually had quite a few things I intended to get done today. It's friday, my one actual day off (don't take that to mean that I'm some sort of workaholic or anything, its not that I work hard...I just seem to be at work at least every day of the week, for at least some hours. Helps when you love the place you work though).
I digress, SO, it's my day off, and it just so happened to be an absolute GORGEOUS day, reaching near 80 degrees. Knowing that the end of April in Chicago could mean things as crazy as blizzards, I wanted to take full advantage of a full day off in good weather. I wanted to clean out my car, finish the hat I'm crocheting for a friend, bake a loaf of bread (heh....yea, i know. random. don't judge me) wanted to pick up yarn for a new baby blanket I will start, book tickets to new york for the OMG Cancer Summit at the end of May.
You get the idea, I had plans.
I had so many plans I almost forgot I had a doctor appointment today. You know why I almost forgot I had the appointment? Because I haven't had to see my Oncologist for (well, for me anyway) a stretch of time. What with being off of chemo, and my counts being good, I didn't have to see him while I was having my cyberknife stuff going on. Cyberknife is a completely different hospital, doctor, and staff, all in a completely different suburb than my Onc. Luckily, yesterday, the doc's office called to remind me.
No problem, I thought, I'll just scoot on over to see the Doc, and continue on about my day. I supposed I figure it was just a "Hey Doc, cyberknife is over now. For the moment I wait a month to get re-scanned and see how it worked. I'm feeling good, no real side effects to note" kinda visit.
My doc....has other plans.
I don't hold him at fault or anything, he is very dutifully doing exactly what I need him to do, which is worry about my numbers, my lack of treatment, and my potential cancer growing. He was nervous because my CEA counts were seen to be rising, and I hadn't been on treatment since maybe end of january or very beginning of Feb. I hadn't had a petscan since late december. The LOCAL reoccurance was hopefully being treated by the cyberknife, but he was concerned about two small spots on the ct scan seen on my liver. That could, of course, just be blips from the hiccup I had back in august with chemo-toxicity...oorrr....well, duh, we all know what the 'or' could be.
So he felt I should have my CEA drawn again, and have a scan tomorrow (saturday) and then come in to start chemo again a week from today.
YEEOOOWWZA's.
Should I be surprised? Nah. I mean, rightfully, noone ever told me I was never going to have chemo again. I was only really given a break to recoup from my skin reaction and to figure out exactly what to do next.
Should I be upset? Nah. It's happened time and time again that I come in to the office completely oblivious that I very well could be plopped in a chair right then and there, an IV plunged into my port and put on treatment right while sitting in the exam room. It's not like I'm new to this.
Should I be sad? Nah. The scan and blood test results aren't back yet, and I still am hoping for relatively good news from the cyberknife people. So theoretically, we're just trying to keep on top of things, rather than playing catch up later.

But either way, despite any of my rational thoughts, I walked out of the doctors office with all the steam let out of me. I felt defeated and punched in the gut once more. How many times have I felt that very same feeling? That feeling of "What. The. Fuck." Of "Why am I keeping on with all this? Everything that they do to me? It hasn't ended since it all began four years ago. No rest for the weary. Why do I keep at it?"

So instead of finished ANY of my aforementioned tasks...I attempted some retail therapy. (Being poor, retail therapy for me consists of Forever21 and/or a thrift store. cuz...well...I'm poor). That didn't really help as I mostly just wandered around the store and thought about how pointless it is to wear nice stylish, cute outfits...in the chemo room. But, a new pair of gladiator sandles, $2 pair of earrings, and 2 $3.50 tank tops later I walked back out to that previously mentioned GORGEOUS day to drive home. I felt maybe instead of retail therapy, maybe I could fool myself with a tasty indulgent icey coffee drink. Dunkin' Donuts called my name, but didn't fulfill any void.
After those attempts at distraction, I just came home. Avoiding all the various texts and calls. I came home, put my bread out to rise, and sat on my front porch to finish crocheting that hat. I still had that defeated feeling. That feeling of unmotivated listlessness. I tried to let myself cry. Maybe a pity party would help. I was angry and pissy and tired and worried and disappointed and...and...and...but tears didn't feel like coming. I think I was just too defeated to even make that effort.
Instead I just sat there. Watching the sky grow a bit gloomier, feeling the wind kick up, listening to my neighbors chatter away in spanish, smelling the sewage-y aroma of the canal a few blocks away waft over me.
It's going to rain. In fact, I believe its going to storm....badly. How appropriate for my mood, I thought....

Well, the entire day has passed, its a little after 10pm. I guess there's not much for me to say. or do. So, logically, the next step for my day of thwarted tasks is off to a Gypsy Dance Party. Naturally.

G'night.

Aw Video-Schmideo

2010-04-28T14:25:00.000-07:00

(oh, and in case anyone is interested, the music in background is some awesome ukulele playing by Jake Shimabukuru)

The Elusive Hope

2010-04-10T23:26:00.000-07:00

Sweet curls of smoke slid past her lips lazily trailing to the ground.
she leans back and lifts her chin, staring off into neon curves.
Amidst shadows and voices, she's all at once present and absorbed in her own distance.
The bassline paces her breath and her thoughts.
Clutching tightly to who she's known for years she begins a process of seperating and sorting.
In the company of chaos her ideas can be hers and hers alone.
Opinions, joys, beliefs, and fears all spin together in a hazy stream
Filtering through her carefully constructed defense she can only believe this is some form of that elusive feeling she assumed to been rid of for so very long.
The elusive Hope
Humbled to be given a glimpse of it again, she'd almost forgotten it existed.
Savory traces of it teased every pore, flirting with a fabric so fragile that every fold verged on collapse.
She quickly inhaled those curls of smoke attempting to capture what she felt
before slipping quietly off into an abyss of ambivalence once more
curiously eyeing the bodies around her, caught up in a world that has felt skittish since she lost her place in it
Could she still belong here? Would a fight be warranted? Is the taste on her tongue that of something previously unattainable?
Closing her eyes and succumbing to a delicious weight where seconds, hours, days, weeks ago there was only emptiness.
maybe its time to face the same question she's had many times before.
And search for answers within perfumed pillows of silken smoke.

The Girl with the Golden Cervix

2010-04-06T00:18:00.000-07:00

"We're just going to implant a couple seeds, Fiducial Markers actually, around the tumor. They will serve as a radiological landmark to define the target legions position with millimeter precision, allowing the Cyberknife to treat the area with greater accuracy."
Seemed simple enough, no? Last week I went in to the Cyberknife surgery center to begin this process. Fun times, guys. Fuuuunnn times. I found that for as much as I've gone through. And for as much as I tolerate, they never cease to amaze me by the crazy sci-fi things they think up. Inserting a 12 inch needle into my butt cheek all the way to the front near the cervix and then just dropping off a little golden seed using the assistance of a ct scanner to see the needle inserting in real-time?? NUTS i tell ya!

Now, I realize that I've learned to go with the flow so much that I must've assumed this little process was gonna be a breeze. As people in the waiting room outside the CT Scanner can probably attest now...I assumed wrong.
I can't, for the life of me understand why, when choosing to do this to a person, do they not automatically just knock them out? I'm sure there must be some blatant obvious reason that I'm overlooking purely because it was ME having a needle shoved in my ass. But truly, looking at it now the entire process seems so barbaric given the highly advanced and futuristic thing that I will be having done to me with this CyberKnife.
Its times like these, that I do allow myself to look at who I am from a distance and give an approving nod. I actually am one pretty intensely tough chic. Normally, I cringe if I hear someone talk AT or TO me about how "strong and stoic" I am. HA! I'd neeeevver say that about my person. But then something like needle through the ass happens and I get to take the time to look objectively and go "Hot Damn I am kind of a badass."

So, what the hell are they doing to me with this Cyberknife? The best I can explain is they will be using this highly focused pin-pointed extremely precise radiation machine to blast that damned tumor into oblivion as best they can. And in order to do that, the Cyberknife uses those gold markers to track. Now that I've had the markers placed, and the follow up CT Scan done, I have been given the go-ahead and the physicists or whoever are hopefully busily plotting out my treatment plan. Its anywhere from 1-5 treatments total. Each treatment being around 1 hour. I hope to know this week what my schedule will be for the treatments.

That's pretty much the cut and dry basics. And all I have time to write up at this moment. Next blog I want to divulge my back and forth relationship with a thing called "Hope" and how this cyberknife has been injecting it back in my daily life, despite all my reluctance.

cancer-face part 2. The update.

2010-03-22T00:17:00.000-07:00

Addendum to the shrunken skin...

2010-02-04T13:59:00.000-08:00

To better illustrate my skin woes...(though, really, this video and photos do nothing to show how much puss and gunk accumulates out of all that redness. which is even more fun fun fun to deal with.

Yaaay Chemo.

I think I must have put my skin in the dryer and shrunk it

2010-02-03T14:44:00.000-08:00

In my grievances for this week (well...been more than a week really), has been my poor battered skin. I do believe the Erbitux is the cause, but whichever of the various drugs is causing it...it's a bit too much for me to handle.

I have just holed myself up in my room, calling off work eventually, because being out among people is just a pain in my butt. Its not just that my skin isn't pretty. Really...who cares. But add on to it that it feels a couple sizes too small for me, its itchy, and raw, and stinging...all around miserable.

Chicago winters definitely don't help my situation. I can't even open my mouth all the way without stretching down my eyelids so much the bottom lid pulls away from my eyeball. THAT tight. And there's a lovely little patch of super raw rashy skin just under my chin that is so super tender to EVERYthing. It stings just raising my head to look up. So, I'm uncomfortable, to say the least.

I debated taking the photos, seeing as just walking past the bathroom mirror distresses me. But, since I told myself long ago that I want to document whatever I can, the ugly of it all..why not bare my raw chapped face to the world wide webs.

I have nothing more to say about it. I want my skin back. Amazing how seemingly little things could cause so much grief. Gah.

My Reminder.

2010-01-17T12:26:00.000-08:00

I realize this is not exactly the timeliest of posts. But, I figured, looking back over alot of what I've written...sometimes...I may seem a bit...depressed.
Now, mind you, that is not to say that I do not have a large portion of my being consumed by ill-feelings of some sort at any given time. HOWEVER, I don't think that it speaks to the truth of who I fully am.
I don't think I'd ever be described as "perky", but alot of the time, I'm pretty goofy. I like to laugh. Yea, I know, everyone says that. But I do. I love nothing more than getting swept up by a wave of laughter so hard and at something so ridiculous that I am rendered unable to speak or breath for several minutes. (alot of you who know me in person have witnessed these laughing fits, which often end in me doubled over clenching my gut with tears streaming down my face).
This is January. of 20-flippin-10! and I am still here!! I am here, and I am able to laugh. Not at everything. Not all the time. But I am still capable of laughing. Smiling. Cracking dumb jokes. Talking smack. Living.
The living isn't easy. Its hard going most of the time. But I spend all my efforts on trying to make it as easy as it can be, at least for me. I try with all my might to seem as carefree, and as giddy as you please. So maybe I'm not. Not all the time. But as the saying goes, you fake it til you make it, right?
I feel bitter at the world around me and my circumstances quite often. My inner dialogue often falls into rants about how unfair things are, and how jealous I am of everyone else around me. Right or wrong, I fall prey to that.
But I can still laugh. I savor that laughter like it was a fine wine. In my place in life, at this point in time, laughter holds more value than any material thing. This isn't prophetic earth-shattering information or observation. I hear it all the time, how much people supposedly value laughing (and good friends, sharing moments, etc etc). Rather, this is just a reminder.
No New Years Resolutions, more so, these are my New Years Reminders.
I'm alive. I'm fairly functional. I have amazing family. I have incredible friends. I have support in my corner. I am still not an asshole, and I am not normal, no. But I can laugh my ass off sometimes and that can be all I need.

Death Row

2009-11-23T21:19:00.001-08:00

That's pretty much what it feels like. Someone whom I hadn't spoken to for a little bit asked me today if I "was any better or still doing treatment?". Before I really even thought about it I scoffed and blurted back "I'll never get any better, I'm on death row, man."
That's when it hit me.
It's essentially how it has felt to me being sentenced to unending chemotherapy just to maintain or manage the cancer that they cannot cut out of me. I am aware that the quote on the back of my Cancer Sucks shirts says "Cancer is a word, Not a Sentence" but it's moreso the idea that regardless of being diagnosed with Cancer, no matter how "well" you take THAT awesome news...in addition...you have to endure the same crap-ass treatments from there on out. Without much end in sight.
Before ever knowing cancer as intimately as I do now, I had a certain...expectation, if you will. Not that I ever expected to get cancer, mind you. But from what I knew about people who got cancer, you found out about it, got chemotherapy (honestly had no clue as to what that actually meant) and/or radiation (my preconception of this was you sat in a room and got blasted with laser beams for days on end. theoretically, I guess I wasn't far off). Than, you got some kind of surgery to cut it all out. And after all that is said and done...you're given the all clear, you're now respected and admired more b/c you were brave/inspirational/strong, and you got to call yourself by a new title of Survivor. That's how it's supposed to happen. It still actually happens to people in that way sometimes. Or, the expectation is you've found it way too late, its so far gone, you instantly just die. Note that in either of these crassly over-generalized views, do you get an ambiguous "well, you have cancer, we can't really get it out of you, or even see it, but it's there, so we're going to give you alot of drugs, lock you in to a regimen that will cement you into your current location/hospital, and really, we don't know what to expect or what will happen because of all this." That isn't how the story is supposed to go!! Damnit.
I'm not exactly sure what my motivation is. What is the impetus for walking myself into my doctors office once or twice a week, sit down in that awesome vinyl "recliner", having a needle plunged into my chest and waiting around a few hours while my body is infused with drugs that set out to destroy cells that seem to keep outsmarting us?? I ask that simply because, the more I think about all the time I spend getting treated for cancer, all I can see is all the things that get taken away from me because of it.
I can't work a full time job.
I can't have children.
I am not even entirely sure I can have sex.
I can't pay my own expenses.
I can't even have a bank account in my name.
I can't really move off to a new city.
I can't take a vacation thats longer than a week.
I can't fart.
I can't drink an iced tea.
I can't go for a full day without a few half hour visits to a bathroom.
I can't eat a salad.
I can't go to college.
I can't, I can't, I can't.

I'm sick to death of shit I can't do. I'm sick of all the trivial restrictions this b.s. has put on me. And even though I describe it as trivial, it really isn't. I may never have really wanted children. But the sheer fact that I CAN'T...as a ramification of things done to me in order to preserve my life...that human right was just blatantly taken away. And to some of the other examples I've given some may argue "oh, you can...it's just a challenge". Yes. You are correct. There are things I could do that may just be an extra challenge...I could fart....through a tube inserted into my stomach. I could eat a salad. Slowly. Chewing to mush. With a chaser of grape juice and an extremely loooooooonnnggg and frustratingly exasperating day in the bathroom later....yes.
I look at my examples and I see whining. But so flippin' what!! I think I've earned the right to whine.
Even though ultimately, its not really whining. It's just honesty. I've been living with this long enough to know that just like I will never be President of the United States...I will never be able to do or have some of the things I touched on.
And it's all cancers fault.
So basically, I'm just sentenced to the rest of my days, however many they be, being stagnantly resigned to this form of death row. It's morbid, yes. It's twisted, true. But it is.
And do not mistake this for gloom and doom. I'm simply being bluntly honest.
I am not seeking sympathy. Or fishing for inspirational words. Trust me, at one point I was THE Queen at "reframing" the situation. (who else could come up with rationalizations like: "well, radiation isn't so bad...it's laser hair removal, I get a great bikini line from it." or "being infertile and sterile isn't that awful, it's like built in birth control! I can go slut it up with no fear of babies!")
But even the Queen of it gets tired of hearing it sometimes.

From Last August

2009-11-10T21:23:00.000-08:00

Blow after blow,
taking me way down low.
And I don't know
how much more I can go.

Put on that smile and yes,
it works for awhile.
But at the end of the night,
I throw it back on the pile.

If I just want to lay,
completely wasting the day,
Don't need to hear you say,
I shouldn't pout in that way.

Happy isn't always right,
Laughs can't help every fight,
I know I can feed my soul
Even when pain takes its toll.

Washed out

2009-10-27T23:35:00.000-07:00

cool stares and premeditated words,
its changed me.

orbiting around a piece of me that no longer exists,
its changed me.

normalcy averted. bliss thwarted,
its changed me.

doors closed shut, but trap doors left open,
its changed me.

appreciation grown while patience is lost,
its changed me.

a gift in disguise, or a curse in plain sight,
its changed me.

clinging to desire, and awash with ambivalence, what I wouldn't give...
to be able to change it.

Life Support? in our Social Networking realities

2009-10-26T18:43:00.000-07:00

When you are diagnosed, you have a few choices in terms of ways in which to cope. Among those choices are things like support groups, or networking groups of other people with cancer. In our social-networking-crazed world, its also easy (if almost impossible NOT) to build a community of cancery-people online. All the myriad of websites with message boards, email groups, blogs and of course...the big bad daddy of 'em all, Facebook. Over the years, I've met people who've either been through the same things I have for colon cancer, OR have had various cancers of their own but for some reason or another, we've connected and relate to each other. Sites such as The Colon Club, Imerman Angels, and Planet Cancer to name a few, have allowed me to either reach out to, or be reached by a huge network of patients/survivors/caregivers, etc. Many of these people I keep in more regular contact with via Facebook.
I actually have my "friends lists" in my Facebook broken down into "Colon Cancer People" and "Other Cancer People" and they're both pretty lengthy.
I figured it was healthy and good to have people you can vent to, and relate to in ways you never ever could to even the most well-meaning friend or family member. But inevitably, if you have a network of cancer-folk you will also lose some of those folk. And chances are, lose them to the very thing that you yourself are fighting. No matter how close you were to a person, or how long you knew them, ANY interaction in the cancer world, even a brief one, can form an intense bond.
I've posted on here before about someone I knew and was close to, passing away from her cancer. And in the time since then (roughly a year ago) several others I've met have passed away from it as well.
As of late I've been mulling over whether having this community of cancer-folk is actually a good and healthy thing after all? I recently was in an email discussion back n forth with a handful of other colon cancer survivors (of various lengths of time) and one of them made a comment about how he was glad he was finally getting "past this cancer crap" and beginning to "move on with life". It wasn't a comment directed at me specifically, but at the group as a whole. Many in the group had cancer quite a number of years ago (8, 10, 13 etc). Just those simple comments were enough to simultaneously enrage me with jealousy, and fill me with sadness and resentment.
I would LOVE to be able to get past cancer. I would give anything to be able to move on with life. I don't see how that is ever possible for me however. I mean, yes, I can still do other things and not dwell day to day on cancer, cancer, cancer. I can try my best to not let it consume me every minute of every hour. But ultimately the fact still remains that every day, twice a day, I have to remember to take my chemo pills. And every week, for an hour or so every week, I have to truck myself up to the burbies to get an infusion at my oncologists office. The time in between all of that, I am sometimes lucky to be able to distract myself and not think about my ultimate demise, or perhaps any of the MANY ramifications that come about from having cancer, or being on treatment. Although, successful in that as I may be, I can easily log into facebook or even just check my email and instantly be reminded about it in someway. Some friend will post about how a scan has come back clear! Or another will send a link to an awesome organization we cancery-people should know about. Or maybe there's a fundraiser, young adult cancer-mixer, or a walk/run for awareness we should support. Or...and these are the "or's" you begin to dread: You randomly happen upon a friends profile page in passing only to realize from the comments posted that a person who, not more than a week prior, you were reading about them celebrating a 27th birthday...or who that VERY day you had just addressed a birthday card to send to her, belated of course...apparently just passed away the day before. I don't know whats more sad, the fact that someone you know just died way too young and for not a good enough reason...or the fact that you find out on a website...or the fact that its not all that uncommon of an thing.
I begin to think about how if I didn't know all these people...all these wonderful, amazing, remarkable, hilarious, strong, intelligent, accomplished, loving, kind people...that I wouldn't have nearly as much sadness and sorrow. To be fair, with or without knowing them, I have my fair share of it. But with knowing all of these new friends, I've expanded the potential for grief many times over. So is that good for your psyche? Is it healthy and healing to have to continuously face the end result to things in which you yourself are facing? In the same respect if I ignored all these new friends. If i disassociated myself from all the organizations I've connected to that do so much towards cancer-support...is that any healthier? Would denial be any better of a way to cope? Common knowledge would lead me to think no. But I would be remiss if I did not admit that I don't always believe common knowledge knows what the hell it's talking about!! Of course, ultimately, there isn't a right or wrong answer. However, I'd love to hear others thoughts on this matter.

(and in a related note. Rest in Peace Stefanie Biggs )

I'll Begin bracing myself now gulp

2009-09-20T20:25:00.000-07:00

grumble grumble, growl growl...
Of course, I need to state my obligatory disclaimer now: IN NO WAY DO MY FOLLOWING COMMENTS REFLECT ANY DISRESPECT TOWARDS ANY PERSONS DIAGNOSED WITH BREAST CANCER. RATHER, IT IS IN RESPECT TO THE OVERSATURATION SURROUNDING BREAST CANCER AWARENESS AS OF LATE.)

So I realized today after a stop in walgreens to grab a bottle of water, that I should really begin to ready myself for the onslaught of Breast Cancer promotional collaborations every where I look. From pink-ribbon shaped cranberry bagels at Panera to pink-ribboned batteries from Duracell, the omnipresent pink ribbon will be infiltrating even more aspects of my consumer life during the month of October.

October, friends, is of course, Breast Cancer Awareness month. Now, I am all for dedicating months to various different issues in which awareness should be gently nudged forward. Buuuuut, in my humble observation, Breast Cancer Awareness is never over. It lasts all year round. I know for certain that in Chicago there are plenty more walk/runs for Breast Cancer throughout the year than are just in October. And I am rarely far from some sort of pink-themed product in almost any given store I frequent.
I suppose the reason I really get so irritated is not that I feel Breast Cancer is not an important issue. I think any and all cancers are evil, horrid, and awful. As far as I am aware every cancer there is can kill you. People should definitely be aware, vigilant, and proactive in their health in general. I guess that I worry how much breast cancer awareness campaigns focus on that one specific cancer as if its the only cancer that a woman can get.

Or is it that I fear the possibility that breast cancer awareness campaigns have gotten so incredibly large and successful that it could be detracting potential funding for research on other types of cancers? I do not want to try and imply that Colon Cancer should be getting the same recognition as Breast Cancer (I mean, theoretically, I could stick to that argument purely based on my own personal experience and based on the fact that colon cancer is a possibility in both men AND women, young AND old, bbuuuuuut, i digress).
Do any of you guys readily off the top of your heads know what the ribbon color or designated awareness month for Lung Cancer is?
Answers: Pearl and November. Learn something new every day. I believe it has also surpassed Breast Cancer as the number 1 leading cancer-related death in women. So maybe we should have some more walk/runs and fundraisers for lung cancer awareness and patients? It'd be lovely to have pretty pearlized frying pans where 10% of proceeds of my purchasing them will go towards Lung Cancer awareness.
Rightfully, the whole designated months for various causes can get out of control, there's a day for absolutely everything. from "National Health Care Professional Day" to "National Root Beer Float Day", it begins to not have any real meaning at some point. But I use that more just for example.
Why am I whining about it anyway?
I don't really know. It all just seems to irk me. Maybe its not right that I'm agitated by it. Maybe I'm just over sensitive due to my own experience with cancer and far too many times having the assumption or misperception if I'm a "cancer-survivor" it must've been Breast Cancer (or even more commonly, lymphoma or luekemia). Maybe it doesn't matter. Who knows. Ideally I'm not sure if there is an answer that would make me get off my soapbox and just shut my trap about it. More walk/runs for more causes? Seem like it'd be overkill. Maybe just less focus on one cancer in particular and more evenly distributed funding towards all cancers? But then, the argument could be raised that they can't equally fund every cancer b/c some are indeed so incredibly rare, that the time and expense would be better served for those cancers that are more prevalant? (heh, which just may be breast cancer). A short fairly interesting article about the top myths concerning cancer would suggest that funding should maybe go towards making sure people who are "ignorant about cancer" are better educated.
Needless to say, I mean no slight towards any one particular person battling cancer, no matter what part of you its affecting. Like my very first post in this blog, it's not a matter of "my cancer is better than your cancer". But rather that I'm just sick to death of the color PINK!! sorry

I guess my left foot has a pretty big ego

2009-09-17T18:06:00.000-07:00

Cuz it sure is all puffed up. Pfff.

So, Monday evening while sitting in my room, I happened to glance down and notice that my foot seemed pretty fat. I glance at my other foot and my observation is confirmed. b/c my other foot is decidedly thin and much more 'normal' looking.
I figure this can't be good. And proceed to freak out in my head. I racked my brain (and the brains of those around me) to figure out what the cause could possibly be. It hasn't gone down. but there's no pain, no discoloration, i can feel my feet and move them around just fine. it's just ugly, and very worrisome to me. And even more worrisome that I seem to be freaked out about it, and yet noone else seems to want to acknowledge the potential fucked-upness of this.
I tell my doc, they do a doppler ultrasound, they find no clots. and so that's that. I'm told to just elevate my foot. keep an eye on it. and if anything changes, let them know. That's it? Well, I already know its not normal. and there has to be a reason. And given all I've gone through and the fact that it's NEVER just 'nothing' that goes away with no further ramifications. Nothing has ever just gone smoothly for me throughout this all. I'm really tired, it turns out to be anemia and i'm damn near out of blood. I am short of breath, and can barely walk up stairs...turns out to be spiking liver enzymes and potential toxicity to chemo. I'm trying to be as proactive as possible, and yet seem to get nowhere. i'm extremely aggravated and upset.
So, does THIS look 'normal' to any of you? What the hell else can I tell my doc to do? I'm supposed to be able to go to my doctor and HE'S supposed to be the one who works to figure out the source.

Much needed update (sorry. spank me later)

2009-09-12T09:02:00.000-07:00

Hey friends and loved ones. I'd just like to clarify that i have ideas that i want to get out on my blog daily. Sometimes multiple times a day. And for some reason or another, I never seem to get to my computer when I have those ideas, and be the time I do, Facebook suddenly eats all my time.
So, with that excuse put out there for my poor updating ability, let me just launch into where I've been hiding. But first, a teeny update on livingSTRONG. In the summer, July I believe, LiveSTRONG and Nike had a street chalking event in front of the Taste of Chicago downtown. So of course...I had to flex my supreme lettering and spelling skillz!

(feel free to click on any of the photos to enlarge them for a better look)

I just had to knock one out for my buddies over at Imerman Angels, giving em some representation (was actually really impressed with my ability to recreate their logo freehand with chalk on asphalt)
And even Ro-Ro got in on the chalky love, giving some representation to her Aunt(s) and many others we know affected by Boob Cancer. (she definitely got some stops and stares at those killer titties!)

And of course, there where plenty of super talented artists who pulled off pretty massive and, detailed pieces.
But more recently, for the past few weeks (almost a month now) I was fighting more acutely for my health as I seemed to have a sudden, rapid, and intense adverse reaction to the chemo drugs (at least they think that's the cause)
Three weeks ago I went in to see my doc and things didn't look good. My eyes and face were sunken in, my skin was grey almost, but definintely sallow. And I literally wasn't able to do anything but sleep. My liver enzymes spiked up to crazy high levels. as well as my potassium level went way down. I lost a ton of weight. I dropped down to 98 pounds. But in the midst of all this, I had planned to attend the "Colon Cancer is a Big Dam Problem Walkathon" in Little Rock AR. I got the ok from my doc to go, probably mostly because my mom was going with, and two friends. so I had mom there to be my nurse. I wasn't even able to walk i was so weak, thin, and lethargic, so pretty much the whole road trip, i was in a wheelchair. But I was determined to go. It was great fun. And even though I barely look like i'm having a good time, I truly enjoyed meeting so many new awesome folk, specially all those newbie colondar models from the upcoming 2010 issue.
However, seeing photos showing up from that weekend on facebook, I was a bit horrified at how I looked. I know its trivial to talk about physical effects, but you all have to understand, I freak out when something odd happens to me physically because it just serves as an obvious visual reminder of the cancer I try to avoid for little bits of a time.

Making my entrance to Little Rock, don't i look like one happy camper?

Team Babcock rocks the house though!

Bam! Check out them backs!

All the past, present, and future Colondar Models that came back to walk the bridge.
Now, I got bag upon bag upon bag of IV Hydration, with Potassium, Magnesium, and other Electrolytes dripped into me, was taken off Chemo for a bit. I was taking potassium tablets, and just tryiung to eat and gain weight. So, I am pretty positive that I'm on the mend. I feel WAY more energy, and don't need a wheelchair to get around now. That was a scary and hard to deal with moment. To have to depend on everyone around you to push you around in your chair, it was hard for me to just accept it. The doc's can't think of anything to account for my sudden change, after ct scans, gallbladder/liver ultrasound, small bowel follow through, and upper GI xrays, CBC's, and CMP's they don't know for sure what it was. Our general theory is toxicity to chemo, in some form or way. But, before deciding to take a break, I did get the news that my CEA tumor marker levels had gone way down to 8, from somewhere in the 20's before (and ideally you want to get down to nothing. But colon cancer patients sometimes never get down to 'normal' even if they're cancer is technically gone. So I'm a bit relieved to hear that at least the drugs where working to some degree.
I'm taking this "break" to recoup, strengthen myself, and get ready for whatever plan they come up with next. And FULLY taking advantage of the last days of summer. Smoothies, ice cream cones, milkshakes, italian ice....if its cold and delicious, I'm ingesting it!

In other areas, my mom finally got her blue colon star tattoo touched up:
and then my two female cousinds Katie and Jenny both got matching tatt's as me n my mom, in the same spots. I'm recruiting and initiating my army. and these ladies have been official card carying members since day one. but now they can drop the card, cuz they're wearing it on their skin!That felt really nice, to have my mom and my cousins showing their support for me (not that I needed validation, but its a good feeling to have).

And finally, proof that I am feeling waaaaayyy better, this past saturday my grammar school had an unofficial mini-reunion. I haven't seen most all of these folks for about 15 years!! All I knew, is I didn't want to show up looking visibly on deaths door. Sooooo, I think I did a good job cleaning up, and steppin out for a night on the town.

My docs work wonders down they? ;)

Alright, thats part of why I hadn't updated, just wanted to get that out of the way. I have more blog posts written and saved, and just waiting to publish very shortly. So stay tuned, recruit friends to read, spread the word. I want to gain some readers!

Cancer is sucking the big one all around the nation...

2009-06-24T19:14:00.000-07:00

I love seeing all the different color combo's people are picking out for themselves for their Cancer Sucks shirts. If you get yours, please please please lemme see!
So far, a few of my fav's:
Order yours here for men's or here for women's
You can click and choose the color of the shirt, and the color of both "Cancer" and "Sucks"
just like burger king...have it your way!

Have you kissed your cancer survivor today?

2009-05-20T21:12:00.000-07:00

So I hear that June 7th is "National Cancer Survivor Day". While I'm not entirely sure I'm buying into the cause...far be it from me to deny a little recognition of the absolute bullshit that I (or we, as survivors) are going through. Although, I honestly don't know if I really am all that comfortable in the role of "survivor". Its kind of an age old debate amongst people with cancer. Do you call yourself a Survivor? A fighter? A patient? Do you define your status, or avoid mentioning any "status" at all? I've heard arguments for and against all of the above. And they're all pretty valid. Some people can get rreeeaaaaallly touchy with the wording. Right down to how someone who's passed away from cancer is sometimes stated as John Doe "lost his battle with cancer yesterday..." b/c it makes them sound like they lost in the end instead of focusing on the strength and fight that they gave.
I dont think I ever got entirely comfortable with saying I was a "Cancer Survivor". The general public sure does love to push it on you though. And Just like other forms of labeling, you may not necessarily like them, but sometimes it's just easier to be able to classify yourself for certain situations. I've been in situations where I didn't really want the conversation to begin to focus on my cancer-journey, but I saw it heading that way, and it's just easier to say "oh, well y yes, I'm a cancer-survivor". Some people are so uncomfortable with the C-word they are grateful to be able to just nod admiringly and carry on the conversation in other directions. There sometimes happen those folks who will want to probe you further, but I usually have a set of generic answers for those situations.
(i.e. "yes, its very hard, but I have a great support system and medical team." and "How am I now? Well, I'm here and good at the moment, and that's all I can ask for!"...no matter how "good" I'm feeling.)
Anywho, I actually started writing this entry for a specific reason, and just realized I let myself start rambling...so I'm going to hijack it back to my original intent. Although I would love to hear your thoughts on labeling, the 'survivor' role, etc etc. I am sure I will be retouching on this in the near future. Considering I debate it to myself pretty much daily.

BBUUUTTT, Last night my buddy Jonny Imerman and his organization Imerman Angels held a "Survivors Celebration" at swanky "Martini Park" in downtown Chicago. It was an awesome event, with free cocktail reception, lots of well-connected individuals within the cancer community speaking, and networking galore. And, I got to showcase *drumroll please* My new Cancer Sucks shirts!!!!!
Yes Yes YES! You can now get on, completely customize the color of the shirt and the words of your shirt, making it your very very own. A very good friend of mine makes them right here locally and independently. He's graciously offered to donate proceeds to my Fund to help with all the ongoing medical bills. Go ahead and click below to get started customizing your very own...
Womens shirt's
Mens shirt's
Please please please spread the word on these shirts, they're great quality, and I don't think many would argue that it DOESN'T suck. Support your cancer survivor/fighter/patient/warrior/bitch/or badass. They make perfect outfit for a lovely visit to the doctors office, or your local infusion center, or even (as I so nicely model above) at swanky downtown clubs. Order and wear on June 7th!!

I am just a visitor in your world

2009-05-18T21:57:00.000-07:00

I'm a guest at this point.

I peer into the same activities that I once was wholly apart of. I observe things like parties, and other social events. I attend dinners, and performances. I engage in these "small talk" conversations. I even physically partake in activities like shopping, or exercising.

For all intents and purposes I think I do a very good job at involving myself among our social world. I had 26 years of practice at being myself, so I'd hope that I'm decent at it. I don't know anyone else who can play the role of me, better than myself. When I'm feeling the isolation, the seperation, and the lack of motivation, I can quickly launch into "old normal becca" at the moment someone asks me "So how are you?" And I think most people are none the wiser.

Even though people ask that as a way to mask what they really want to ask which is "How are you dealing with cancer and treatment still? are you tired? sick? doing any better? is it almost over? What happens next? Even though they do that...ultimately, most, don't want to hear all the answers to it. If they did...I would think, they wouldn't mask it with "how are you?" They'd just cut to the chase and ask directly. "How are you?" is just a space-filler.

I've disassociated myself with you. You as in, the rest of our normal world. I don't belong there anymore, as I am not normal. I am in another class now. And not the "cool kids" or the "theater dorks" or the "jocks" class. I am now a member of a society of people, I believe, who cannot help but acknowledge that what we once were is no longer, and what we now are is a completely bizarro twilight-zone reality that most can ever even fathom.

I drive down the street and see a young 20-something mother pushing her stroller down the street and I think "nope. never will be me.".
I stand in line at the bank and watch a couple in front of me who discuss their weekend plans of going camping in michigan. Seemingly no worries other than the fact that they've been waiting at the bank for over 5 minutes to take care of their finances for the week.
I watch an old 70-something woman hobbling out from Panera to her chevy taking her time to watch the seagulls in the parking lot as she puts her cane in the passenger seat.

I see all of this, and am filled with a longing for the irrelevance, enviable monotony , and unreachable normalness. My monotony and normalness is living my days thinking almost nonstop about my guts, my blood, my side effects, my prescriptions, my schedule of emptying my bowels, my money and lack thereof. I spend my days off doing doctor appointments, infusions, procedures, transfusions, waiting room, blood tests, scans, and scopes. I spend my evenings pretending I've found that new perspective on life that makes me enjoy all the little things that much more, when mostly I'm gluing on that smile and going through the motions of who I knew myself to be before the me I am became the permanent patient.

Chase Park Daycamp, circa 1987
Gay Pride Parade, Circa 1996
Senior Prom, Circa 1998

New Orleans Circa 1999

the "Friendsgiving" holiday, Circa 2000

Professional Bathroom Critic....

2009-05-13T23:06:00.000-07:00

Since being diagnosed with an affliction of the colon, I've developed quite the complex relationship with bathrooms, PUBLIC bathrooms, to be exact. I've never really had a fondness for public bathrooms (though, to be fair, I don't exactly know anyone who does). Particularly, I have an intense dislike of actually touching anything in a public bathroom if I can help it. (which includes such famous practices as "hovering" and the "kick-flush").
That intense dislike has grown to a certain dread now that I am a slave to my intestines. I very literally plan my day around knowing where I can access a 'decent' public bathrooms and at what times I'll be needing to do that. When that planning is done for my own home-city, its not too much of a problem. But when I'm in unfamiliar territory (say...vacation) that is a pretty daunting, if not damn near impossible task.
So I've often joked that it'd be great to just travel around and document, for people like myself, where the best (and worst) public bathrooms are. Maybe even create a little guide book to take along with you. It could be quite the lucrative business considering how many people suffer from Ulcerative Colitis, Crohns, IBS, Colon Cancer, or even just good ol' fashioned weak stomachs. I know I for one would pay for that information, in order to better enjoy my daytrips and vacations.
Well, I actually did start to 'document' my bathroom experiences. I was mostly being silly...but I found this little video from my trip to Eastern Europe earlier in the year that I fully intended to upload but couldn't manage to do it from overseas, and by the time I got back to the states had forgotten about it. Unfortunately, may camera cut off midway before I got to go into detail about this place, but nonetheless, enjoy the first installment of your new friend, The bathroom critic:

She's got Betty Davis eeeeyyyeesss....

2009-05-11T15:41:00.000-07:00

Apparently, I was not crazy when I thought to myself a few months back that my eyelashes (and eyebrows for that matter) had exploded into a crazy twisty crimpy outrageous mess.
Here I was, hoping and praying that shaving my head did not also mean that I'd lose my eyebrows and eyelashes...b/c you know...that really makes you look like a cancer-patient. (which is one of my top goals. NOT looking like a patient.)
And not only was I not losing them, I was literally pulling out my manicure scissors and trimming my eyelash hairs! Whoever does that?!? I'd never had to "trim" facial hair in my life. But these damn lashes kept growing out too long and then kinking in wierd places and curling back into my eyes! It was so annoying. I trimmed them, and they just seemed to grow back. And my eyebrow hairs were poking out and down and up in all kinds of directions. I had to trim those on many occasions as well.
But I still just figured maybe my hair follicles were all around traumatized and freaking out with all the stress and drugs and low-blood count, etc.
However, in a doctor appointment a few weeks ago, just before my doc was walking out he turned and peered deep into my eyes (which was a bit awkward, I won't lie). After a moment he asked if I'd noticed my eyelashes growing out long and crazy, but before he'd gotten the whole question out of his mouth I yelped "YESSS!" He explained that someone had recently approached him with the idea of marketing the drug that I've been on (Vectibux) to people who'd lost eyelashes and eyebrows in other treatments as a way to grow them in again.
I thought it completely ridiculous that ANYone would even consider taking such a horrid drug simply to get some lashes, but as my friend Jess said the other night "Honey, you'd be surprised the lengths people will go for vanity!" (she being the daughter of a cosmetic surgeon.)
Anywho, he wanted to take a photo of my eyelashes so if this marketing push ever got under way, they'd have some examples to show.
And I give you...my betty davis eyes:

April? my how the time flies...

2009-04-15T22:15:00.000-07:00

Seems just like yesterday I was blogging from Bosnia back in January ;)
Sssooooo, I've been absent in the blogosphere as of late. No real good excuses, just been out living life I guess. (although in truth I spent many many hours right here in front of my computer screen. damn that facebook just sucks up all my time).
Not a whole lot has changed in Becca's world. I did just get back from California. Back up in the redwoods visiting fellow colondar model (and very good friend) Mark. He has a bakery in Cazadero CA which is just outside of San Francisco. And let me tell you, it is an awesome place to be. I simply cannot get enough of the bakery, or them, or the redwoods. The best part is, Mark and his family have a few cottages on their property that you can rent out as bed n breakfasts. They're adorable. My mom, and two friends, stayed there for a few days and got simply spoiled. Check out some pic-spam:

Cozy Raymonds Bakery, off of Cazadero Hwy:

Where you can do silly-dorky things like pose with the owners:

Goat Rock State Beach is down the road. Where you may be lucky enough to catch Gus...the friendly seagull. (er, may or may not answer to "Gus")
We may look like we're posing, but in actuality we're just trying to weigh ourselves down in the massive winds :)
Mama waiting to tour her FAV beverage company, Korbel Champagne Cellars!
Our Gracious hosts for the weekend
HORSES?! oh, i'm so sold.

The view from Marks back yard. Redwood anyone?

Oh you know I just HAD to...

(p.s., if anyone out there is interested in going and staying in the redwoods, by all means please look up my friends, http://www.raymonds-bakery.com/ remember to support independent businesses!!)

Outside of that, I've just been truckin' along. Got a little more ink (I know, I know, its a sick obsession.). Doing my chemo treatments every 2 weeks like clockwork. Next week I have a PET scan again. And other than that, nothing much new.

I have exciting things to look forward to. Flight of the Conchords, my absolute favorite kiwi's EVER, are coming back in concert at the end of April and my awesome mom got me some tix. (I got to see them and meet them last year in concert, they are hands down the most gracious celeb's ever. Not that I've encountered many of them...but these guys take the cake.)

And, on my birthday, GOGOL BORDELLO!! (playing with Man Man! how epic). It's a sign i tell you. I've been trying to see these guys in concert the past 3 or 4 times they've played here, and I just keep missing it. So this time around, I'm in possession of tickets and nothing will stand in my way!! if ya dont know...betta' ask somebody.

Well, nighty night lovelies...

Language barriers

2009-01-29T10:14:00.000-08:00

I admit, I'm a bit of an obnoxious american. Maybe not in the sense of thinking the world revolves around me...so to speak. But I guess I just listened too much to most of the people who told me that "dont worry, most everyone there speaks english too".

Wow. The language barriers. I may sound like i'm complaining but perhaps only becuase all i really want to do is be able to strike up random conversations with people. (or at least be able to appropriately tell off the naggy beggars that follow you persistently).

Anywho, I am in Sarajevo right now in an apartment with a ridiculously enviable view of a tremendously colorful city.

My oh my are there characters here. Soooo many of them. But THIS by far, is my favorite shot of the day:

Dobar dan!

2009-01-27T03:53:00.000-08:00

Greetings!
(my disclaimer right off the bat is that if you see ˝z˝ where a ˝y˝ should be just know that i canNOT get the hang of this croatian keyboard. I`m trying to catch my typos, but in the interest of typing fast and getting out of this internet cafe as fast as possible, i may not get them all.)

So then...that being said, Im in Croatia!! Split to be exact. Got in a day ago, and it is absolutely amazing. I dont want to be here long, but I just HAD to put some photos up. Its warmer than Chicago here, though its not hot, by any means. Its more like...mild. Today it has been raining all daz, though its only 1p. Hence why I am sitting in an internet cafe instead of browsing around. Im drenched. (and cant seem to find the apostrophe key on here...)

Observations (even though ive made these observations before), just about everzone in Europe is stylish...right down to the nuns. AND, there are TONS of drop dead beautiful women here in Croatia. Jesus. Talk about feeling inadequate. Tall, leggy, refined facial structure. makes me sick! heheheh.

Anzwho, take a gander a few photos from so far. Im sure Ill have tons more as the days go by. Tomorrow we are headed to Sarajevo in a rental car. Yipes. Keep your fingers crossed we dont get *gulp* lost...

I made the pilgrimage!

2009-01-19T07:49:00.001-08:00

So I'm sitting in a kitchen of a house in Silver Springs Maryland, a mere half hour train-ride into the heart of all the action of the next few days. Obama-thon!
Tom and Dawn have very graciously offered us a place to stay in their home, and my mom, Roanne and I snapped at the chance.
I'll be traipsing around the mall for the next few days in bright red moon boots. I think I'll try my hand at this "mobile-blogging" feature, since I know am the owner of a nifty-difty new G1 phone. (super sweet 3mega-pixel camera phone)
Now that I've updated you all on the technology I'm working with, I'm off to put on my moon boots.
more to come...?

Mo' Money, Mo' problems

2009-01-05T22:39:00.000-08:00

That is how the phrase goes...right? The more money you get the more problems you get with it? Than how come I'm getting the opposite? Ain't got no money and yet it just gets me more and more problems.
I currently am trying to figure out how in holy hell I can deal with the devil (also known as Sallie Mae) when I don't have the ammo to battle.
I owe them...oh..I dunno, something like $35-40,000 in loans. *yay to all that interest. Apparently you can only defer it a couple of times (of course, you have to PAY to defer them, which in itself is pretty funny that you have to PAY in order to not have to pay.). I've exhausted that option. And then I was offered a partial payment deferment...for three months. whoo-hoo. And the last time I called to get them to stop calling me, they couldnt' do anything for me. Except the gentleman I spoke to (who I do believe reads my blog now, which is awesome that someone listened to me!) worked out pushing my payments back a month or two.
The problem lies in not only has my situation NOT improved, it has, for all intents and purposes gotten worse.
I dont make squat for money at my job. I get barely minimum wage. I work only parttime. I feel restricted and limited as hell in getting a different job due to a multitude of reasons. For myself, I'll elaborate:
A. who's going to hire someone who can't even commit that they'll be able to work a full work schedule b/c every two weeks i have to be out for chemo...damnit chemo infusion centers dont work on weekends.
B. Even if i didnt' have to get treated every two weeks, there are many occasion when various complications keep me from getting into work at all...be it sudden blood transfusion, ct scan, scope, or iron infusion.
C. and even if I didn't have that potential looming over my head, in general, I'm exhausted enough after working a short shift of 6.5 hours four or five days a week as it is. And its a pretty easy desk job. I can barely remember the times when I worked two or three jobs at once, or worked fulltime and went to school part or fulltime. That sounds like a wonderwoman to me, and yet I used to do it.
D. If I'm able to get past all of that, I'd have to get a job that I can explain to them that once (minimum) but more like twice a day, for roughly a half hour at a time I'll have to lock myself in a bathroom. Which, in most normal jobs, you get a lunch hour. So maybe I could work it so that it was my lunch hour...now of course this would also mean that I would always spend every work day in a bathroom instead of eating. That could potentially get problematic.
E. Oh yea, and do I need to even touch on the subject of Insurance and the fact that I would not only wreck the insurance setup at most any business with my pre-existing conditions, I am basically a Liability. I know that an employer wouldn't be able to NOT hire me based on me having cancer, but exactly how would I be able to prove that even happened? I've toyed with the idea of not saying anything to a potential employer about cancer. But realized it's nto exactly plausible given reasons I've already stated and the fact that I would need to right off the bat be able to start scheduling my off days so I can get my treatments.

I could actually keep going with reasons I feel limited. But besides that all...I love my job. Well, I may not have that involved of a job description, but I love the actual organization I work for. It is a folk music school and they have been amazing for me. They are the most supportive and accomadating people. I feel very much blessed that I have an employer that not only is understanding of my situation, but are right there in my corner. They've allowed me to use the entire facility (including huge gorgeous concert hall) for my very first fundraiser. Than, my fundraiser I had a few months ago they all collectively raised about close to $1000 for it without mentioning a word of it to me. When I was in the hospital about to have surgery, the first (and one of the only) flower arrangements I received was from my coworkers. A bunch of them showed up to my fundraisers. They bend over backwards to help me rearrange my schedule when chemo-stuff changes. They're always very respectful of my situation, willingness to talk about it, etc. I never dread going to work in the morning, I love what my job offers to people. The fact that we share, spread, and support local arts, artists, musicians, etc. The fact that we have a place where people from all walks of life come together to learn, play, and share cultures. That we offer people with limited incomes the chance for scholarships and financial aid, including children from low income homes. And thats only a small part of why I love where I work.

So needless to say I feel stuck. Because I dont feel I can get back on my feet, which I've been trying to for three years. And I can't shake these Sallie Mae fucks. And yet I can't pay them. I can barely pay my rent all on my own. and my monthly payment due for student loans would come close to $500. and a partial payment would still be like $250. I think even if i just paid the interest accrued every month its close to $200. And I can't afford that anyway. I have rent/phone/auto/food/ and then I'm not even touching on the massive medical debt I'm already in (and just get deeper and deeper into every two weeks with the next chemo treatment. I make payments here and there, but there are some things that just dont receive anything. For instance, I dont think I've been able to afford sending payment to the radiation people...ever. I just can't when I have to make sure that my oncologists office is current on bills so that I can continue my drugs as needed.
I'll elaborate even more later about how all this just serves to contribute to my lack of self-esteem in anything these days.
If I could blink my eyes and make Sallie Mae just fall off the face of the planet, I would do it in a heartbeat. . Someone help me! puh-lease.

Viiiidddeo!

2009-01-02T14:05:00.000-08:00

Okay, it may not be riveting video. but needless to say my awesome mom and family got me a super sexy new video camera for xmas. So I have a way to get stuff i've had laying around, onto my computer. and out to my blog!
So, I want to start out small. A little infusion room anecdote if you will.

memories of life.

2008-12-30T22:48:00.000-08:00

I have a crush but it was unrealized til now.
I was infatuated but didn't let myself see it.
I took for granted.
I took advantage.
and now all I want to do is take it all back.
My crush is on life...I love it, but it seems to not love me back.
I try all I can to get its attention.
I stop and smell the roses.
I live it to the fullest.
I laugh at the small things.
I rage at the injustices.
I smile when I pass someone on the street.
I sing to myself loudly in the car
I savor the flavors on my tongue til the last drop goes down

and yet Life doesn't seem to think I appreciate it.
maybe Life thinks I'm ungrateful.
maybe life thinks I'm a brat.
Maybe life feels undervalued, or not very attractive to me.
But I love it. Dearly. And always have.

All I can do nowadays is think. and reflect.

reminisce.
....remember that time? when we stole a salt shaker from a hot dog stand and a lime from a liqour store and ran off to chug that bottle of tequila under the train tracks in wrigleyville? You broke your flip flop, and you got too drunk and crawled under the park bench to fall asleep and those guys drove down the alley, saw us all, and thought you were dead?
reminisce.
....remember once when I came home early from work because I was sick. Only to find that you had sponge painted one whole wall in the living room gold?! I got so pissed off b/c it was hideous, and b/c you didn't ask me, that I wrote you a two page letter saying it'd BETTER be back to white by teh time i got home OR ELSE, and left to go buy soup? (and a few hours later when I returned...I found it all white?)
reminisce.
...remember that time I put you in my messenger bag for your first ride on the subway to go down to Taste of Chicago? We couldn't walk more than three feet without being stopped by someone, you chic-magnet. And we ended up getting "interviewed" by the Channel 7's "ChowHound" while eating a giant bbq'd turkey leg?
reminisce.
....remember that time we thought my mom would be gone all night so we snuck you in my house, only to find out 15 min later that she was coming back home so we hid you in the closet for an hour til i thought the coast was clear enough to open my window in the middle of january and all but throw you out the window with no shoes on? And you took off towards the alley but almost had a heart attack when you reached the garage b/c the motion light turned on?
reminisce.
....remember when we used to sit in the home office at two different desks on two different computers, less than five feet away from each other and talk back and forth via a chat window instead of actually speaking just b/c we could? And knowing we were total dorks for doing it, but neither of us caring?
reminisce.
....remember you didn't feel the baby all weekend so you got nervous and went to the hospital only to find that you'd miscarried and would need to induce labor to deliver a stillborn? I was in my first real college class, summer school, and the middle of august. I stayed in your room for the entire two days waiting. your mom came and went, and so did the boyfriend, but i stayed. curled up in a ball and slept on a chair with a damp sheet for a blanket in a WAY over airconditioned room and waited. When the drugs finally worked, I was flung into role of a sort of morbid midwife and held up one of your legs til it was all done?
reminisce.
....remember when you went to let the dog out in the middle of a blizzard and accidently locked yourself out, but I was in the bathroom and couldn't hear so you thought it was a good idea to try and break in through the teeny window over the door but got stuck halfway through and couldn't breath? til i finally heard you barely eeking out a whisper cry for help and when i came back and saw you all the way up there halfway through the window and red in teh face I laughed so hard i couldn't breath myself and you got really mad cuz you really honestly couldn't breath? and after getting you down i laughed myself silly for probably another full 30 minutes?
reminisce.
...remember that time we went rollerskating at Rainbo and when we were done we thought it was a good idea to stay in our rollerblades and head across into the cemetary and roam around, only to get locked into the cemetary a half hour later. And not having any shoes with me, we decided it was the only option to scale the wrought iron fence...in rollerblades?
reminisce reminisce reminisce.

Life, I have a sweet silly crush on you, and I really hope one day you see how much I'm in love with you.

The How and Why

2008-12-10T23:45:00.000-08:00

How do you respond when the people who are supposed to save you from cancer, tell you there's nothing they can do?
How do you react when the day that was supposed to signal the end of the stupid fight you've put up for months, is abruptly cut short and you are sent home?
Why do I continue to get screwed? Who did I fuck over in a former life? in this life?
Why can't shit just be simpler?
How do you move forward when you're not given options?
Why keep going if the outcomes already been set?
How do you tell someone who means well enough that "sending love/prayers/thoughts" really isn't doing a damn thing for me? love/prayers/thoughts apparently aren't winning this battle for me.
Why is it that you can have so many people from all over the globe rooting for you, and yet nothing still goes your way?
How come?
Why bother?

When I tell you I passed out, I'm serious

2008-11-11T21:56:00.000-08:00

There's quite a few of you that I talk to on a regular basis. And periodically (or, as some of you may attest to, way too frequently) I forget to call someone back. Or text back. And I do mean quite literally in the middle of conversation.
For instance, a quick phone call from someone, and I have to take care of something really quick, and I say i'll call you right back.
And then I don't.
I'd like you all to know, that when I finally do get back to you, and tell you that i fell asleep...I am not exaggerating.
Thanks to my roomie, we now have photographic evidence of this phenomena. (see that little silver spot by my arm? Yep. Thats my phone. Laying there opened. Ready to call. SEE! I had good intentions.

MY president!

2008-11-06T18:18:00.000-08:00

Through this whole campaign, I kept pretty low-key. I felt with absolute certainty who I WANTED and who SHOULD be elected. But I never boasted about it, or bragged, or preached. I'd been disappointed too many times by my own country. I'd been betrayed and disillusioned by not ONE bad election, but TWO back-to-back bad elections during the first years that I was even able to vote.
What did I matter? What did my voice mean? Obviously, not a whole lot.
I kept low-key b/c I didn't want to be so disappointed again by a slap in the face from the rest of my fellow Americans.
Its alot like the battle with cancer. I am cautious now. More-so than I may have been in yearspast. I do not like to get my hopes up b/c I've grown accustomed to expecting the worst (and then hoping for the best later).

But tuesday night??!

Maaaannn, tuesday night dreams came true, hope came back, faith was renewed. I never in my 28 years uttered the words "I'm proud to be an american" without laughing sarcastically, or sneering.

And tuesday night?!?

Tuesday night I sat in the McDonalds on Chicago Ave. at almost midnight with close to 200 other people of all shapes, sizes, class, race, gender, age, and background. Before I even realized I was saying it, the words "My president is gonna make the world proud of us. We did it" tumbled out of my mouth.
I actually needed to stop mid-sentence and think about the words again to myself...."MY president..."
Not "THIS president" or "That dickface in the whitehouse". No, no, no..."MY president"

Maaaaannnnn, it felt good. It felt damned good. Good enough to want to pump my fist and chant USA! USA! USA! (luckily I caught myself and checked that before I made a scene in McDonalds). Besides, I was plenty tired from screaming and cheering and running up and down Grant Park in sequin flats and a mini-skirt to really do much more than smile and keep sipping my vita-water.

The world is not perfect yet. Peace on earth doesn't yet exist. Hell, the very next day my damn fridge stopped working and I started my day by having to toss out all the food in it. Things are still going wrong. But at least now, we're on the right path again.
We've been off-course for a long time now, so we've got a while to travel back before we can start moving forward. Alot of wounds to heal & mistakes to apologize for. But DAMN it feels good to be on that track.

As a good friend of mine said once, about a completely different situation, but which fits just as well for this moment: "It's like a long cool drink of water after a hard journey through the desert."

OBAMA! Thanks for the drink man. We needed it.

(And now, for some pic-spam, enjoy....)

The setting, my GORGEOUS city, Chicago.

The cast, too many proud Americans and friends of.
Yup, that's right THE official parking entrance.
HAPPY cops at a political rally?!?
Obama really is changing the world!

I have pride THIIISSSS big!

Welcoming in our new President Elect!

Celebrating with the masses

Ladies n Gentlemen, the man of the hour!

Checkin' myself

2008-10-06T21:54:00.000-07:00

Good grief, I am just horrible at this blog stuff. I come and read my own blog, while at work. and think to myself "when the hell is this gonna get updated."
And have soooooo much to say. and yet forget to sign in and say it.
pppfff...

So anywho. You ever have that wierd moment when you catch yourself doing something completely trivial and mundane but you have a flash from a previous moment in your life when that very mundane task was much much more laborious of a chore?
Am I just being way to blatantly obvious here?

Every now and then I have those odd moments. For instance today, I walked out to the kitchen from my room to grab a handful of chips and stopped in mid-stride as a memory of a few years back, home recovering from surgery, and doing that very same thing (walking out to grab a snack) was a major chore. Shuffling along with my skeletal 102 lb frame swimming in sweats, fuzzy slippers, and ginormous hoodie. Hair unwashed for three or four days straight and sticking out every which way. It took a good 5 minutes to walk out, get something and make it back to my room and in bed. By which time I was exhausted.

So today when I had that brief flashback I just paused and soaked in that memory. Let it bubble up, feel the emotions from that time, acknowledge how far I've come, and then continued on. I don't want to begin to take the everyday little things for granted.

Aight, enough with that. Lemme give you guys some updates. Some of you may have seen my new do', but I should officially unveil it for all of cyberland to critique. I've been doing chemo infusions every two weeks since may, but I started with the full regime of FOLFIRI, Avastin, and Erbitux. After four cycles I was switched to just taking Erbitux while I awaited surgery. So I've been doing that since..oh, i dunno, before August. The odd thing was that about a month or so after being taken off the big cocktail of drugs, I started noticing my hair just shedding ridiculously. I thought it was the residuals of the former drugs working themselves out of my system. But it just kept coming out. My hair was limp, thinned, and lifeless. It's not a very common side effect of Erbitux. So I don't understand why after not comign out with the multitude of chemo drugs, it was doing so now.
I started by cutting it pretty short. (depicted here by the "many faces of me" heh) Which actually wasn't all that bad. But I wanted to kick it up a bit. and added in hot pink and red highlightsBut you know...it just kept coming out. I was haunted by little hairs. Everywhere. Hanging off of everything. If i leaned forward and shook my head back and forth little hairs would rain down. Just practically leaping off my head.
So I knew the inevitable was coming. *gulp*. I was going to have to baldly go...where few women ever have to go.
And so after a few glasses of wine for lubrication, out came the clippers and off came the hair!

(oh how the wine helped.....)

But you know...I figured I should try something I wouldn't normally have ever tried (well, um besides the very obvious SHAVED HEAD). So, for the meantime, I have a little bang and side burns. Which makes wearing a hat kinda like a little illusion:

So for now, I'm getting used to the (really really cold) breeze on my scalp, not having to wash or brush my hair really at all, and getting wierd looks from little kids. It's not all that bad. Not my choice. But it's a little fun playing the role of a little emo/punk/skinheadish/lesbian girl. Why not, life is short, play roles.

Having cancer is a full time job

2008-09-23T23:03:00.000-07:00

Man. Ain't it the truth.
And I don't just mean that when you have cancer (or crohns, or heart disease, or diabetes. Any chronic illness really) that you live with it 24/7, cuz that's a given. Duh. Yea, you don't really ever get to take a vacation from cancer. Til you cut that crappy stuff out.
I mean more that it's a full time job. 9-5p monday-friday.
Cancer is usually nice enough to take weekends and most major government holidays off, how very convenient. Or not, depending on what YOU happen to do for a living.
For instance, if you work a regular 9-5 office job. It's a bit hard to make yourself 100% available for doctor visits, treatments, and procedures.
I needed a blood transfusion the other day. Now, I'm not going to argue that I should take this news with utmost seriousness. I mean, I don't wanna be running on a quarter tank as much as they don't want me to. But I had to call off the next day. Because the transfusion was going to be about 7 hours. and of course, the infusion room isn't open after 5. And it's not open on weekends.
The next day after the transfusion, was chemo day for me. So I spent another couple hours in the doctors office. But it had to be during business hours. which means no work.
When I was getting radiation, and had to drive to the hospital every day for five weeks. I had to leave work early every day during that five month period b/c the radiation center wasn't open after 5, but the very latest appointment I could get was 3:45p.
While I don't really think that any of my coworkers or friends are going "that lucky bitch. who does she think she is, always getting to leave early and call off last minute. pfff."
Cuz I would gladly trade in the need to call off in exchange for no cancer. (ugh, that was a bit of a no-brainer m'thinks).
And I'm super lucky in the sheer fact that my job is absolutely amazingly awesome at accomodating me (ah. aaalllliterations). I may not have a super high pressure job with tons of benefits and an awesome salary. But while I'm lacking in that department, being able to know my employer has my back and will work with me to get around all these treatment schedules, is incredibly reassuring.
And I realize that I sound a bit whiney. But really. In this day and age with business's and corporations having all sorts of untraditional hours of operation, etc. You'd think that having cancer wouldn't be so damned restrictive.
I am lucky that my employer is a small one, and it's very much like a family. They support me alot. But what if I had just started a new job? I'd constantly be calling off, late, or leaving early, and that sure doesn't look good on ones reputation. It's frustrating to say the very least.
A couple weeks back my surgeons nurse called while I was at work, and I didn't answer. She left a mssg at about 3p that (rather out of the blue) my surgeon wanted me to see a urological surgeon and that he's booked for next few weeks, but had one opening come up the next day.
Uumm...I wanna meet this doctor as much as you do, but I knew nothing about this idea, and had already planned on flying out to California on that day.
I know they're just trying to expedite the process, and with as much time as I spend wasting away in waiting rooms, I appreciate that. But DAMN. Consult me first before just scheduling an appointment which I'll have to cancel. I hate looking bad in someones eyes for no good reason other than false impressions.

Loss of a friend

2008-08-22T14:56:00.000-07:00

I had so much to come back and write about. Past couple of weeks filled with ups and downs, and all kindsa in-betweens. But, I think this entry needs to be saved soley for the purposes of remembering a great great woman.

A dear friend, fellow calendar model, fellow colon cancer patient, and just all around goofy gal, Heather Maes, passed away wednesday, August 20th.

I'm still a bit of in a surreal world about it. So I figured in making this a tribute blog to her, I'd regal you all in some of my own personal tales of my friend.

When I flew in to Albany New York last year in june for the Colondar photoshoot, I have to admit, I was kinda dreading it. A whole weekend up in the boonies with a buncha cancerous people? Blech. Not my idea of relaxing. Sounded more like it'd be a weekend of prayer-ful "oh god lets be thankful that we have this blessing of being able to appreciate life" and wallowing in our pitiful cancer-infested lives. No thanks.
The moment I stepped off the plane, I headed straight for the bathroom (those of you that know me know this is always the first, and last stop for me before and after getting on planes). I had the cell phones numbers of the three other models who were flying in that day with me. We were all supposed to meet up for each other and wait til the last person got in, so we could all ride up to Lake George together.
But I thought "well, I don't really care to hang out so much, I'll just go do my thang in the bathroom, go grab some coffee, and act like I forgot the numbers."
While setting down my bags in the stall, my cell phone started going off. I didn't recognize the number, and figured it may be one of the other models. So i ignored it. A minute or two later, it rang again. This time, catheter in hand, and annoyed, I answered.
The voice on the other end was Heather. I didn't want to let on that I was currently standing with a tube about to poke it into my stomach in order to poop...hell, I didn't even know this woman. I simply said "Um, Hey, yea, I'm here, I'm actually in the bathroom...I'll meet up with you in bout 20 min." and thus began my friendship with Heather.
When I emerged all flushed and empty feeling, I found Heather sitting atop her bright pink suitcase at the bottom of the escalator, in her bright pink Victoria's Secret sweatpants suit. (how DO i remember these things?). Perfectly made-up face, and perfectly coifed hair. (i've never used the word "coifed" but if ANYone ever deserved it, it was Heather).
We clicked immediately. She instantly made me feel at ease that this girl was real. And that meant it probably wasn't gonna be a weekend full of singing "kumbaya" in front of a firepit.
She let on right away that she had an ostomy. So we got busy talking bout how we cope with air travel and an ostomy. We sat and drank coffee and made fun of the absurdly athletically-fit, super-toned and tan woman that randomly kept passing by our little table. (come to find out later that woman was another fellow colondar model. But at the time, Heather and I, both decidedly NOT as in shape, busied ourselves with being catty about her).

That weekend I got to know all my fellow models pretty intimately. And I made friends that not only will last a lifetime, and not only are like family...friends that have already proven to be miracle-workers, life-supports, and the best shoulders to lean on anywhere. I admired Heather, she was brave enough to bare her ileostomy bag to all the world to see. I know I bare my stoma all day long, but it's different than having a bag attached to that stoma. And for that, I thought she was amazing. Not only did she bare it on her photo, but when she caught flack for it later, she dared people to challenge her. I admired her, and then, I was proud of her. She was so regal and noble looking in her photo. So elegant.

I got to reunite with her again in person in Baltimore at the Colon Cancer Alliance conference. Her in her signature Victoria Secrets sweatpants suits :)
There was a costume party on opening night. And we were to dress as someone from our favorite decade. Who did both Heather and I show up dressed as? Why, Madonna(s) of course!

Like-a-Virgin and Vogue in the same room at the same time! It was obvious then how we were kindred spirits then. She also loaned me that wig and schooled me as to why blondes DO have more fun (well...sometimes)

That weekend was also Heathers birthday. We all felt so lucky that we could celebrate with her. Mark, one of the other models who couldn't be there, even Fedex'ed one of his cakes to the hotel room! (we made the girl at the front desk smell the box to make sure what it was!).

The next time I saw Heather was just a few months back, in March, for the Flush Out! colon cancer event in Indiana. She was looking fabulous as always. If anything, Heather was always our glam-girl. She knew how to work it, and work it well. She was always 10 times more pulled together than any of us. This photo was taken inside the limo ride to the survivors dinner we attended that weekend

(can we say Va-Va-VOOM!)
That weekend in Indiana, my world kinda came crashing down. I got alot of bad news all at once. And Heather was right there to pep-talk me through it all. Despite of how much of a sourpuss super-bitch I was being.
Later, in May, when I got word that I had a reoccurance. When getting the word out to my extended 'colon-fam', Heather was one of the first to reply to me. She knew exactly what I was feeling, and had the right things to say (which was to not really say anything at all, just know that I was angry, and had a right to be).
When hearing that Heather was not doing well and going into hospice care I had only one immediate ringing thought.

I had to see her.

Nevermind that I was going through chemo and about to have surgery. Nevermind that she lived clear across the country from me. Nevermind that she wasn't expected to make it very much longer. I just didn't care. I didn't know exactly why I needed to see her. I didn't know exactly what I would get from being there. I was cautioned by alot of people to rethink going. Besides I don't really have the money, and airfare to San Francisco was NOT cheap. Nevermind it all. I had one driving thought.

I had to see her.

One of my fellow colondar models Ray (see how everyone of these guys is just a lifesaver?) generously donated some money to me so that I could get the flight. And another friend of Heathers, Krista, and I flew out there last week. We visited Heather once last week, and once this week just before leaving. Again, I don't know what I expected, or what I wanted from the visit. I didn't know if it was purely selfish, or selfless. But I do know, that being able to hold her hand, and talk to her one last time, made the news that came this wednesday night just that much easier.

Heather is no longer in pain. She no longer has to put up the fight of her life. She did worlds of good in everyones life that she touched. And the title she recieved at the Relay for Life in may of "Survivor of the Year" couldn't have been given to a better woman. I want Heather around to make fart jokes and sing badly to Bon Jovi, for years and years to come. Alas, we don't always get what we want. And just knowing that I got to know her at all, will be good enough and yet never enough for me.

For now, These photos are how she'll always remain in my mind. The fiery attitude. That incredible poise and grace. And that awesome contagious smile and laugh. Heather...Hope you're reading my words somewhere in an internet cafe in heaven...send a shout out whenever you can, k?
Love
Becca

bitter

2008-08-10T22:14:00.000-07:00

You think you get it. You are being empathetic. You try. You attempt. Make an effort.
But you don't know. You can't know. And honestly, even if I could accurately make you feel how I feel, I wouldn't want to inflict that on anyone.
You can think about me.
You can have sympathetic conversations with me.
You can feel outrage or despair at my expense.
You can try to do little things to help.
But you can't know.
You can want to take it all away. Or do it all for me.
But you can't know.
I wake up with it.
sleep with it.
eat breakfast with it.
shower with it.
Drink with it.
Walk my dog with it.
Answer my phone with it.
Scratch my nose with it.
I buy books online with it.
I make fun of fat kids with it.
I live it
breath it
eat it
wear it
cuss at it
use it.
I am it.
and you are not. And so you can't know.
I am not talking to you. Though I know I'll get comments and/or emails to that nature.
No. No I am not talking to you. I'm talking to you though. And probably you too. But don't worry, not you over there.

The lurker returns...

2008-08-06T21:32:00.000-07:00

I did these a couple times when I first started my blog but I've forgotten bout it as of late. Retelling the various odd things I hear in public bathrooms while I'm spending my 15-20 min. doing my thing.
It was mostly kids saying the damnedest things, considering most the time I was at work doing this. And at work, we have a HUGE childrens program (for music) so there are always kids running round. They do say the damnedest things though.

Anywho, most the time these days I have my ipod going while I'm in there, so I honestly haven't been doing too much eavesdropping. However, last week, I ran outta battery on my ipod and therefore was listening to the people in the stall next to me. It was memorable enough to make me think "I should post this"

So it was a little girl and an older woman (I'm assuming her mom, though it coulda been a nanny, aunt, etc. who knows. not relevant to the story. or maybe it is. not sure)

The convo goes as follows:

Woman: "Alright, go in the big stall so I can help you."
Girl: "Okay. I my tummy is moving around, I think I have to make a poopie too."
Woman: "Go ahead, sweetie, I'm waiting right here."
Girl: "If I squeeze right here, the poopie comes out real big."
Woman (awkwardly): "Alright sweetie, but I don't think you think some things we don't need to talk about, and just keep to ourselves?"
Girl (seemingly oblivious): "Right here, if I push, but then squeeze it is big, and funny shapes."
Woman: "Alright, finish up now, here, take the paper. And honey, we don't need to talk about that stuff outloud. Don't you want to keep that private?"
Girl: "I'm done!"

there was a bit more. But, isn't it poignant how that maybe should have been an opportunity to teach your child to NOT be uptight and embarrassed to talk bout stuff like her funny shaped poop? I mean, how many seemingly mature adults do I know who can't talk about their shitting habits with out awkwardly hesitating and beating around the bush. So why not at least let your kid know early on that it's no big deal? why the stigma?

Not that I wanna get on a soap box bout it, in all actuality when I was listening to that convo I was trying my best not to burst out laughing cuz I couldn't see either of them, and yet n still I could completely hear how mortified that woman was that the little girl just kept going about her bowel movements. So I thought I'd share.

Fundraiser wrap up

2008-08-05T21:32:00.000-07:00

Whew! I had to post this real quick to get myself back in 'good vibe' mode. I just got an auto-reply email from a friend who I'd sent an email to, and it's really just thrown me into the downward spiral of anger, hatred, and sadness....
sssooooo...fundraising wrap-up news. which is ultimately more happy feeling than what i just read.

Last thursday, my awesome roomie threw a pretty impromptu fundraiser for me, which doubled as a birthday party for her. It was held at the super hip Rockit Bar . For being the solo planner and organizer (with a bit of help from me, and her man) Ro pulled off a damn nice event.

Jason from Rockit was super gracious in loaning us the space. He even went as far as to give us a waitress, and two security guards for our section of the club. The band Your Vegas played for the crowd (it was also their lollapalooza pre-party). They were sweet enough to go way out of their way to give us items to raffle off. I mean, WAY outta their way. I was touched.
<--Guitarist, Mat, from Your Vegas

My friends I see frequently all showed, but I also got some surprises from people I hadn't seen in ages...

the scholasticans came out en force

some co-workers
capoeira friends
even my landlady. who was lookin mighty refreshed and hot btw, back from her vacay to Romania.

We had cake with funny captions

plenty of drinks to go around

As well as food, don't forget the food (french fries fried in truffle oil? as that stacy london chic would say "oh shut up!").

I got to squeeze in a mini dance session with hot bodyguard (they DO exist!)

Of course, there was boobage, and full taking advantage of the boobage

Even the most awesome Jon Imerman (of Imerman Angels fame) came through to just celebrate being alive, and getting healthy.

If nothing else in this world, and if nothing else in this life of mine, I at least have more than one (actually, going on like hundreds) of moments that reassure me that people are genuinely kind in their hearts. I know I've said it before, but it is humbling as hell to see so many people come out to support you, some who don't even really know you. It gives me motivation to keep the positive side of me going a bit more than I may have otherwise. Shit is hard. Noone will deny that, and everyone can recognize that. BUT, man, good friends sure do help out the process.

There is another fundraiser in the works already, because, surgery looms near, and the impending costs of both the actual surgery, as well as not being able to work, are bigger than life. It's all intimidating, to say the very very least. But I have the same feeling I had two years ago this month. A feeling of "lets just get this over with already. bring on the surgeon!" I want to get my life back. Hell, I want to get a life to begin with. The past couple months have yanked things out from me that I thought were stable. With everything going on, I feel like I don't even have my own life anymore. I belong to doctors, I am a victim, I am at times set in isolation, at other times set in a glass box for all to view. I just want to get some 'semblance of the life I sorta envision for myself every now and then.

stay tuned for future fundraiser news. Cuz as many many many people can now attest to, don't nobody throw a par-tay in the name of fucking up some tumors like me and my peeps do! ;)

ME

2008-07-29T22:41:00.000-07:00

5, 4, 3, 2, 1, GO

I am energy.
I am fire.
I am you, but you don't want to see.
I am why.
I am that.
I am honest, but you don't want to hear.
I am open.
I am air.
I am here, but you don't want to know.
I am wind.
I am life.
I am up, but you don't want to look.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, GO

eat eaT eAT EAT!

2008-07-28T22:59:00.000-07:00

I need to gain weight back. I get it. You don't think i'm trying??
I submit exhibit 9-A to the jury:

exhibit 9-B

Exhibit 9-C

It's rough. but i'll take one for the team and eat 6 corn dogs. wwwwhhhy not?

For reference...it's a burger, some fried macaroni and cheese, and a fried twinkie (not pictured)

The last pic....6 count en, 6 corndogs! g'yeah!

Did you know..?

2008-06-29T21:54:00.001-07:00

Did you know that diarrhea can lead to really low levels of magnesium and/or calcium and that in turn can cause your toes to sieze up and curl in on themselves completely out of your control?
Did you know how freakish it can be when your own body parts take on a life of their own and move without you trying or wanting them to?
Did you know that you can eat tums for a quick fix of calcium?

Yea, fun weekend.

I woke up this morning and while laying in bed I began to yawn and stretch out. Immediately when I stretched my legs out, my calf muscle just spasmed and cramped up out of no where. I thought it must be something like a charlie horse, although I've never had one. It remained siezed up for a good couple minutes with me just whispering "ow ow ow ow owwww". NOT a fun way to start the day.

Then later in the evening I was just laying on the couch and again out of no where my foot just took on a mind of its own. I literally could watch my toes very slowly fold themselves under each other. and I couldn't make them not do it. I massaged my foot, I put it flat on the floor, I tried to flex my toes upwards. Nope, they just went right on back. Freakish.

I called my doc's office, because this brought back memories of oxaliplatin's nasty neuropathy side effects from two winters ago. And I'm not ON oxaliplatin now.

Luckily my doc happened to be the one on call, and he enlightened me that Erbitux (that wonderful beast) has been known to cause drops in magnesium and potassium etc, and that you can also have low levels from diarrhea. Which, in my own special kpoucher kinda way, I guess you could say I've had. I knew I wasn't gettiing the fluids that I should be. But damn it's hard to drink alot.
Anywho, that's been the focal point of my sunday. For now I'm just keeping an eye out. Doc is gonna check the bloodwork I got done on friday to see if they also checked my magnesium levels.

aaahhhh. the good life.

oh yea, documenting

2008-06-23T16:29:00.000-07:00

The documentation for today? After a wonderful weekend spent alone getting chemo-fried?

I hate everything.

Aw Shucks

2008-06-17T17:59:00.000-07:00

Secret admirerererrrs? Wowie.
(oh yea, just for the record, I wasn't intentionally fishing for compliments or vying for attention or anything. though I'm sure none of you thought that).
Just down in the dumps.
But thanks for the kind uplifting comments. helps.

As if I didn't look young enough already

2008-06-11T20:40:00.000-07:00

Alright, I said I was gonna 'document' stuff more. So *gulp* here goes.
Documentation of the evil phenomena known as "erbirash"
(jeez I hate seeing myself so close up)

the comparison picture below was taken just a few weeks ago.

I look like a pimply-faced teenager. I am not cute.

And this is how I normally can be seen while on chemo:
Don't I just look thrilled.

There ya have it. I guess when I've bitched in the past about how people don't seem to fully grasp that you're "sick" or not well, if you don't look like the typical chemo patient...didn't lose your hair, no outward signs of illness....Guess this time around chemo made sure I got some outwardly visible signs.

Damn I shoulda kept my mouth shut.

Oh so many friends

2008-06-08T10:40:00.000-07:00

I gotta say, doing this shit a second time around, I have a bit more clear of vision.
First time I dealt with this bullshit, I was in a different place. Living in a different place, in a relationship, different perspective on life.
Cancer, shakes you awake, ya? If you were snoozin' on life, coasting through on autopilot, well, what better to give you a swift kick in the ass than a cancer diagnosis?
So, immediately, you start to have this lovey/glowy/shiny everyone is beautiful and i love everyone in my life. and those who I don't love a whole lot in my life...well...i'll just not have them in my life anymore.
As complicated as cancer can be, well it sure makes other things pretty simple. Surround yourself with good people. Cut out b.s. Life is too short. yadda yadda yadda.

Well, this time around, things are different. Different home, no relationship. I have tons of friends. Great, sweet, cool, concerned friends. I have a pretty small and equally concerned family. I have a cool dog...despite being a little bitch everytime it rains. But guess what?
I'm all alone.
None of the above mentioned folk, with the exception of sometimes, the dog, can be there with me all the time.
people can come visit. that's nice. people can text, or call, or email. and that's thoughtful. but when it comes down to it,
I'm all alone.
noone gets to take up residency inside my head next to the myriad of racing thoughts that keep cycling themselves around my head. I wake up alone, I spend good long chunks of the day alone, and at night I go to bed alone.
Which could all be well and good for anyone in a normal position. I hardly think I qualify as being in a normal position anymore.

Apparently some friends assume other friends are keeping me company. I bet people generally assume that at all times of the day I'm surrounded by someone. Of course, we all know what happens when you assume....

Cancer is all mine. It's taken it's place in my life as my one and only. Heh, everyone else can leave me and apparently cancer stays, unperturbed.

Party can end, everyone can go home, and cancer is still right there with me.

He can change his mind, get scared and run away, but cancer is still right there with me.

If there are only two things in life we know for sure, Birth, and Death, I think I just found one more. Cancer is always there.

Chemo Armor

2008-06-04T18:25:00.000-07:00

I don't know about you, but when I'M faced with doing more gut-spoiling, angst-inducing, all around general cancer killing juice, I find the need to ramp myself up a bit.
You know, give myself a pep-talk, psych myself out, whatever.
And sometimes, wrapping yourself up in a shield really helps. Somedays, that shield can be a snuggly prayer shawl some lovely ladies who you've never even met knit for you. Other days, it could be a shirt. Bought at a concert. A concert that brought you immense amounts of giggly joy. A shirt that is signed by some folks that did a little gesture and may not know how much it meant to you.

Lets give some backstory. I love to laugh. Despite all my dry deadpan wit and sarcasm, I love goofy things. I would much rather see a comedy than a drama. And we all know (well, maybe we don't but we should) that laughter sure does help get through a tough time. Somethings that make me laugh are the guys from Flight of the Conchords. I cannot accurately express how simply silly they're humor is to me.

They were recently in concert here in Chicago, and longstory short, they have been cemented, hands down in my book, as some of THE best guys in the business (whatever 'business' that is). Me just being a fan, and simply wanting to laugh it up a little, turned into getting REALLY good seats to a sold out show, and even a little meeting afterwards with FOTC themselves. If you know me personally, you've probably heard me gush about how great the whole night was. (but since i've been a bad blogger...internetlandia may not be aware.)

Illustrating my point, let me introduce Jemaine and Bret of Flight of the Conchords:and

Awesome, ya? More than just getting to say Hi, thank you, and an autograph (wow..i've NEVER wanted an autograph from anyone....heh...well, i mean...there was that time, back in 89, at the new kids on the block show...but uuhhh...i digress)

So, when going in for my first cycle of the always popular Folfiri chemo a week ago, I decided I wanted some armor. Something symbolic of...eh...i dunno, NOT cancer? Something that reminded me of much happier things than benadryl and nausea.

Seems the obvious choice was:
(mm-hhmm...yea. thats right.)

When I got that shirt signed, I didn't figure I'd ever actually wear it. Seemed kinda odd to wear some random scribbling. But lo and behold, I got some good use outta it. How pathetic do I look in that picture though? Could I look any LESS like a 28 yr old woman? sheesh.

Anywho. I even got to model my nifty little chemo ipod they gave me to wear home for the next two days (lest I start to miss getting pumped full of chemo at all):Anyway. I've got other things to blog bout. But I really just needed to sing the praises of the Flight of the Conchords. They're definitely the kinda thing that I think I might be into.

(c'mon. I couldn't do an entire post about 'em and not get one little song lyric in there....)

Love you guys!

lets just say

2008-05-28T22:31:00.000-07:00

That diarrhea without a colon is a trrriiipp.
Ugh.
I know I should do what I said I was going to and that is keep a better ongoing log of the bullcrap I get to go through. I've just been so exhausted. (ME?!? too exhausted to talk? pshaw you say. But yes! it is truth)
Either way, it's wednesday. I started that first chemo thursday of last week. I would expect to not be so crappy still almost a week out. And let me tell you, besides being a little tired, I probably would be just about okay, if it weren't for these damn cramps! fffuuuuccckkk....
So, the only thing I could think to pass the time since thursday, has been sleep. I really did want to go out and enjoy the really great weather this weekend, or get errands done this week (erg, damned expired drivers license) but honestly, all i've done is stayed inside and slept on and off.
I barely talked to anyone but who was in front of me, no answering phone. infrequent texts (and that is probably the rarest thing for me. for those of you who know me.)
I had lots of people seeing if I wanted to go out to things (movies, parties, bbq, etc). Which I supposed is very nice, but all I wanted to do was whole up in my house. where my bed and bathroom are in close proximity.
I have an awesomely amazing roommate who understands this, and doesn't question random naps at random times. all the time.

And an amazing best friend

who not only understands random naps...very much encourages them. which is how scenes like this occur:

But, I promise you, even a visit like this means alot to me. I guess lots of people around me want to know what they can do, and if i need anything. And I'd love to say get me this, and i need that. But ultimately, I suppose its more about wanting to not have to be "up" all the time. I like to veg. Come veg with me. It's super easy, I'll give you a crash course (ba-dum-dum-ching!)

Anywho, good friends are awesome.

Chemo, is not awesome.

Rashes and acne caused by chemo when you've never had a skin problem in your life. SUPER not awesome.

But so it goes...

Oh, and it's now 2 days before my birthday. Yay. (note super-enthusiasm in there. somewhere).

I've never not cared about an upcoming birthday as much as this one. It'd be nice to be able to eat and feel normal on my birthday though. just a small bday wish.

Well...that bed, and the ever alluring sleep beckons me yet again. Sweet dreams internetland.

Day one down from first infusion

2008-05-22T18:33:00.000-07:00

I'm home from being at the doc's all day. And...I'm sure I should be typing out my experiences with it all, blah blah blah....

but instead, i'm putting up something that brings me giggles and joy. And I don't care who thinks it's inappropriate!

I recently got back from a vacation in Mexico, at an all inclusive resort. Which included alot of midwest housewives and soccer moms (some who literally announced they were there with a friend "celebrating a divorce")
every night at the hotel was "theme night" and one of the nights was "Beach Party" night.

we merely observed and people watched for the most part. And I quickly developed some favorites in this crowd (whom I began to view of as our "class" for the week. I saw much of the same people, we all seemed to get there around the same time, and we all seemed to check out around the same time)

I became so enamored with a few of the people there...I almost began stalking them, in a way.

Now, my (or should i say my moms) digital camera takes video, but no sound. I found myself sneaking over by a table and secretly videotaping one of my "favorites" dancing the night away in ever so dramatic a fashion, except the music didn't come through in the video. This is not nearly a problem for me though! NO! It only gives me an opportunity to make myself giggle even more at this simple few second vid.
I never actually met her. but i loved her. And thus...I will dub her, "Faye".
And to me...Faye was screaming to get loose, and let her inner video hoe free. so i kindly am providing Faye with some dance tunes to groove to.
and now, I present to you...Faye. in unadulterated fashion. uncensored.

Don't call it a comeback...

2008-05-21T22:11:00.000-07:00

(yay to random hip hop references and anyone who catches em)

Hey pretty and kissable humans of the internet.
What can I say....I've neglected to communicate as much as I wanted to. You know how it goes, the best of intentions...right.

But, I feel I need to be back on this here blog, considering I have more stuff to blog about. for a bit of an update since the new year, it's been both productive and not.

I wanted to make this the year I get back on my feet. I won this great scholarship money, that was supposed to help me get some more edumacationen and get set up in the field I wanted to get into. I had new motivations. new dedications. new focus. new drive. I was busy making sure I acknowledged good things going on around me. Good friends. good food. good clothes, whatever.

I got to be in good company...
I grew as a person...
I experienced even more new things...

fastforward few months later to now, May 22nd, and I am gearing up to go in for some more chemo.

whaaaaa? yea. I got punched in the neck once again. Why? I do not know. a spot on my cervix decided to show up and cause ruckus. Is it caught early on? eh..i dunno. how can a reoccurance be considered 'early' or not? I mean...it's there. from the original. so I'm not sure how to view that.
Is it small? eh...I'd like to think so. I hear it's like, half the size of a dime. sounds smallish to me. But i guess I don't know how to compare it.
What's the plan of action? three to four more cycles of chemo. starting tomorrow (or today, depending on what time it is when I finish typing this).
Wonderful Folfiri, Erbitux, and Avastin. three days, every two weeks.
Then, I suppose scan me to find out how it's working, and figure out what to do from there, surgery? more chemo? who knows.

If I want to think of it in terms of the "lesser of two evils" I will say...at least it's not the liver or the lungs? I don't know how good that makes me feel. But it's something.

You wanna know what I dread the most out of chemo? And I don't care how trivial it sounds...it's the benadryl. They pump you so fucking full of benadryl its like being hit by a mack truck. A very well driven mack truck that knows exactly how to hit you so that you're still fully alert and aware but yet not able to participate or really move in any capacity.

So...I've decided..at least for the moment, that I'm gonna document stuff. Moreso than I ever did before. Paula's let me use her video camera, and even playing the role as my personal camera woman. I have camera, will travel. Lets do this. I dunno what i'll do with the stuff I document...but...i'll have it. to do whatever with.

Look to hear more from me. I guess. If I can keep it up.

Good thoughts and energy guys. Get that prayer power going for me. I sure need it!

Student Loan woes...

2008-01-25T10:44:00.000-08:00

I'm putting out a call...does anyone out there know alot about student loans (especially private loans?)

get at me. purty puh-lease?

Ohhh Miss Terrilynn...(a missed connection)

2008-01-12T16:49:00.000-08:00

You came...You read...You commented....

but you left no way for me to contact you back. Oh woe.

how can I get ahold of you to discuss all the joys and awesomeness of FAP and intestines and assholes?

Out with the old....

2007-12-31T11:53:00.000-08:00

BAM! Time to relish in another year down...another great one to come (fingers crossed). I am so very appreciative that I'm still here, to ring in another year. Despite the ups and downs, the changes, the new normals, and the new bills....at least I'm still here.

Happy new year everyone! See ya in '08

Oh that's just ridiculous.

2007-12-10T11:37:00.000-08:00

Now. I'll admit. I tried it. And it was good. But did starbucks really need to come out with the Peppermint White Chocolate Mocha?!?
It's over 450 calories. In one drink?!?
But yea. I tried it. And it was good. So who am I to talk, right?

Num

2007-12-03T19:58:00.000-08:00

Noone. Understands. Me.

The new normal

2007-11-15T21:13:00.001-08:00

You know. I had cancer.
(whooooaaaaa...i know, i know, you weren't expecting that one.)
I remember a couple months ago reading in a book how alot of 'loved ones' of a person who has a chronic or life-threatening illness usually want and/or expect that person to get back to normal after treatment is done.
Or at least get back to what they knew the person as before.
And I'm sure the patient would love to. It's so difficult for others to understand, and imagine, how much you just cant' do that.
if you lose an arm, you don't just go back to the same self you were before you lost that arm. And for the most part, I'd imagine people around you understand that you are changed. permanently.
You'll never do a handstand again. You'll never juggle again. You'll never clap your hands again.
(hehehehe...alright. Now I'm just sorta being silly.)
But that being said, it's so hard to relay to someone who has not gone through what you have, why you cannot ever be the same, or go back to normal. I'm speaking more specifically of people who may not have lost an arm, but who still fought a good fight nonetheless. People who are permanently changed, just maybe not in such an outward obvious way.
your life was turned upside down and inside out, there is no more 'normal'. Thats part of the whole process of illness I think. You have to grieve for yourself, and mourn the loss of your old self. And it's quite a different thing from the sappy sob-fest pity parties you can go through when you're first diagnosed, or when you're struggling to understand a diagnosis, or when you're faced with horrible new information.
You have to grieve for yourself in knowing that, while you can and will survive this, you will never be the same.
Even if you get through treatment, and it leaves you with no physical outward side effects. Even if you're given a squeaky clean bill of health. Even if you didn't suffer all that much with whatever treatments they gave you. The reason you'll never go back to 'normal' is regardless of how much you'd like to forget that you just came face to face with your own mortality. Regardless of how much you want to act like you can pick right back up where you left off. There is always a nagging voice. The persistant anxiety of the 'what-if'. The unrelenting fear of something coming back, or of you missing some important signal.
But those around you. Those loved ones who want nothing more in the world than to see you as you were before it all started...they can't read your mind. They can't see your feelings. They have their own worries. And their own anxieties. Much of it they will probably never share with you for fear of upsetting you, or stressing you. (as if you don't obsess over it as much if not more than they do).
But they can't feel the same things that you are. So they want and hope and wait for things to go back to 'normal'. It's the best of intentions really.
And that maybe why it's so frustrating when you realize that you can't go back to 'normal'. You want it as much as they do.
I spent lots of times going back and forth, debating with myself whether I want to be one of those people who talks about, and uses, and perpetuates what they went through for ages. Whether it was just me dragging it out, and why I wasn't just back to my old self. I debated with myself why I was still affected by it, even though for all intents and purposes, it was 'over'. What was wrong with me? Why is it something I still think about on a daily...sometimes hourly basis? Shouldn't it be more and more of an afterthought every day that passes? Would people get tired of hearing about some sorta cancer-related thing from me all the time?
I had to finally make the decision that I just couldn't go on and forget about it. I am not crippled by it, but it does play a large part in my life. Even now. Now that the incisions have healed over, that follow ups have come and gone, that a routine has been settled into, it still is a major player for me every day.
So I may not ever be normal. But depending on who you ask, I never was in the first place.
And even though I won't ever be normal, I most certainly can get to the 'new normal'. The 'new normal' that includes all the ways in which I have been affected by cancer.

Bring on the Boring

2007-11-06T08:07:00.000-08:00

I was reading through some various blogs the other day and it occured to me that maybe I'm doing this blog thing wrong.
It seems lots of people just do sort've "updates" of their daily life. I realized I don't do that. I guess I just don't find my every day life all that interesting to write about it. That then made me realize that I never really enjoyed doing that. I mean, even when attempting to keep the good ol' fashioned "diary" I wasn't very consistent. I had a hard time writing every night. Cuz...well...most the time I'm just not that interesting.
This morning. I woke up, started some coffee, went in to flush out my pouch, watched a little bit of the news, ate some honey bunches of oats with soymilk (yum?...yes. yum), showered, dressed, checked my email, gathered my things, took some coffee to go, went to turn on my car so it could warm up, and off to work i went. Got to work, parked, found my manager for the day was sick, proceeded to hang, answer calls, take peoples money, drink tea, crochet, answer questions, sit on my hands to keep em warm, b.s. with co-workers, scrounge around the internet for funny tidbits of information...til now. I sit here reciting my day.

Okay, that is dreadfully boring to me. I think its part of why when my mom, or my roomie asks me how my day was, or how was work, for the most part unless something huge and major happened, I always answer "the same ol'." Cuz it's really just more of a hassle to me to have to go through and pull out some memorable moments from a day in which is pretty routine.

So I will save you all (and myself) from the painful slow dullness of my day-to-day. But don't feel sorry for me, trust me, after the past two years of rollercoaster insanity worrying whether you'll see next fall...hehe, well, I welcome the slow dullness. Bring.It.On.

Lettin' one rip

2007-10-30T23:21:00.001-07:00

Dear friends,
I cannot fart. The title of this blog used to be "I shall never fart again."
And I keep forgetting to do a blog as to the specifics of why I can't. But, the long and short of it is, I don't have any lower intestine left. They've removed all of the colon, rectum, and anus. Yea, i know, i didn't know it was possible to remove THAT part.
Sooooo, that has all been removed, and to take up the role of the colon, they made a "pouch" or internal resevoir if you will, from my small intestine (which you have LOTS more of than your large).
That pouch holds everything I eat, til I choose (or IT chooses...those of you that know me know who Stella is, and what she demands of me) to empty it. And why am I briefing you on all this you may ask??
Great question. (actually, not such a great question considering you're reading a blog titled I am not an asshole) BUUTTTT...I tell you this, so that questions will start to bubble up in your mind. I certainly did not think of all the ramifications of this surgery, and perhaps that's a good thing.
One thing that very quickly became obvious to me, that may not be as appreciated by everyone out there...is the ability to just rip a big ol' fart.
Hell, maybe not even a big ol' fart. Just a plain little noiseless one. Or a gurgly juicy one, or one that makes you question whether things inside you are dying. Whatever it is, just the sheer act of passing gas. My oh my what a joy that is.
Since I can no longer do this, I miss it terribly. That's not to say that I was just some huge gas-bag that you couldn't take out in public, but who was great fun at parties.
by far.
I was your typical girl. Girls never farted. Pfff...
No, I denied it everytime. I didn't speak of it. I tried to go in other rooms, or the bathroom if I needed to. And maybe my denial of this ingenious body function has lead to this sort of gaseous karma, in which it has been snatched forever from my grips. Never again to bless me with the immediate satisfaction and relief achieved only by releasing that noxious air.

At this point, again, you may be asking yourself: Why am I not only briefing you on this, but going into way too much detail about it?
A couple weekends ago, I am proud to say, for the first time in over 12 months, I finally got to fart, thanks to a wonderful gift from my rockin' Colondar model co-hort, (miss april) Paula Ries.
You cannot begin to know how excited this gift made me.
but in order to attempt to illustrate my exuberance....
Yes...FLARP! fart in a jar. Noise putty. Now granted, this itty bitty jar of gassy fun, could have a bit more bass and resonance to it, but when you haven't let one loose in over a year, anything will do.
it's basically like silly putty, and you just push it into the jar and it makes varying fartlike noises.

Now. Important lessons I have learned from this little jar of farts....

1) Surgeons and Oncologists do NOT appreciate when you make fart noises during their seminars and lectures. Even if it IS at a colon cancer-related event. pfff...

2) Farting noises will not force your cab driver to turn off the ungodly icey and unnecessary air conditioner.

3) When you haven't farted in over a year...you have a lot of catching up to do. Allow yourself plenty of uninterrupted quality fart-time to satisfy your gas-passed deprived soul.

4) Fart jar putty does not come out of tableclothes so well.

Well, I'm not sure why I felt so compelled to share my little jar of joy with you anonymous folk of the internet, but...in the very odd and strange event you find yourself knowing someone who's fart-deprived, you have just found your answer. FLARP!

In order to make the perfect man...

2007-10-20T09:24:00.000-07:00

You know, the man that every woman thinks she wants, the man that is sensitive and understanding. He shares his emotions, and isn't afraid to cry.

In order to make that perfect man..or maybe in order to make all men into the men women say they want, they should all go through cancer.

Or at least that is what me, and a fellow cancer-person have decided. But really it just got me thinking about how dealing with something as traumatic as cancer affects genders differently. I don't want to delve further into how different types of cancers affect different genders...I'd be writing endless dissertations on it at that point.
But its interesting to me if I take the time to look at how I think I've been affected, or changed as a person, and what that means for me. And how a guy at my age with the same type of cancer has been affected and/or changed.
Inevitably, you HAVE to be changed by the experience of being diagnosed, treated, and surviving something like cancer, in any form. You just have to. I don't think anyone will argue that point.
But HOW it affects you...and this can be a multi-faceted aspect of course. The joke between us was that men (this is a hugely broad assumption and generalization of course) become more 'in touch' with their emotions, and are alot more sensitive to the world around them and their loved ones. Sssooooooo, isn't that what most women say that want in a man? Luckily, I do not have to go seek this. I have what I want. BUT! If you're in the market for that strong sensitive man, boogie yourself on down to a cancer support group and get to flirting ladies!

(Disclaimer: the views conveyed in this message do not necessarily reflect the ideals and beliefs of the author. meant purely as philosophical cancer b.s.'ing with other like-minded good sense of humor having individuals)

(and p.s. I don't think all men are the same, and know full well there are LOTS of exceptions to those 'male stereotypes. I've been blessed enough to meet said exceptions)

You don't know

2007-06-30T23:06:00.000-07:00

I am no stronger than you.

I am no braver than you.

I am no more inspirational than you.

I am not those things. I am only what you see in me.

I am scared. every minute. of every day. day in. and day out.

If you wake up with your house on fire, your bedroom engulfed in flames. Do you just lay there on your bed and say "Ah well. I gave it a good run. Might as well just lay here and kiss it all good by."

No.

You get the hell out of there. You run, scramble, lunge, bolt for the door. You gasp for air, you do anything you can to cool your singed skin. You get out. You lick your wounds. You look back and think "Good God, I got myself out of THAT?!?"

So why is what I did, or what I went through any different?

You know what's different? Jealousy. Jealousy takes on a whole new meaning. Everyone is jealous. It's in human nature. Envious, Jealous, whichever you want to refer to it as, in some form or another, everyone, in some stage, has it.

If I had a dime for every time in the past I wished something about me, or my life was different/better/bigger/nicer/ I'd probably not be in so much debt right now.

But that was before.

NOW? Now there's jealousy and envy. But it's much more broad. Now, if I had a dime for every time I wished I was just fucking normal...just plain as plain can be....just blend into the background nondescript average jane? Gggooooooooooddddamn I'd be a ga-fuckin-zillionaire.

I hate to sound rude. But you just don't know.

Afterglow

2007-06-21T23:05:00.001-07:00

The setting: Lake George, Adirondack Mtns

You guys.
you guys have no idea.
I am coming down from a high.
I spent a whirlwind weekend tucked away in the mountains.
and fell in love with 18 people and one dog whom I'd never met previously.
We came from all over the country.
Backgrounds as different as can be.
Spanning the spectrum in age, and demographic, but all with one uniting theme.
These people (even the dog) were all touched in some way by the bastardspawn that is colon cancer.
but that almost became 'besides the point'.
They were some of the rockin-est, life loving-est, sick twisted sense of humor-est, bread bakin-est group of folk I've had the pleasure to call myself a part of.
And after the weekend was all said and done, we'd laughed together, built butt pyramids together, jumped off docks into gorgeous icy lakes together, sang together, stripped down and twirled ourselves in nothing but blue satin fabric together, branded ourselves together, learned new uses for tubesocks and strawberry shortcakes together, made mudslides, truffles, and focaccia together, and finally created a breathtaking 12 pages of iconic photographic goodness together.

I would go into detail about how each and every person i met that weekend will be with me forever, but it would just not do it justice. I would elaborate on why that weekend provided a sense of meaning and validity to the past year and a half of my life, but you wouldn't get a true understanding. I would hypothesize, metaphor-ize, personify-ze, analyze, and/or philosophize (typos intended to allow for greater literary impact ;) how this weekend with strangers who are now family, was one of the best things I've done with myself. but it just wouldn't even break the surface.

Now the glow is fading. The tattoo has scabbed over and healed. My impromptu bang trim has grown out a bit. The high is wearing off, but the memories are filed nicely away for easy access on those "I really need a smile" days.

Thanks Colondar. as I've said before. You rawk my world.

Colon Buddies

only some of the Beautiful Ones

Hier kom ik

2007-05-07T08:27:00.000-07:00

So off I go into the wild blue yonder!

Glad to say that my mom, my two best friends, and I are leaving this afternoon for an 8 day stay in amsterdam.

Gotta flat rented for the week:
I'm TOO ready for a vacation. Insurance worriers be damned!

Europe here I come

Defeated

2007-04-30T12:03:00.000-07:00

I think for the most part I've tried to refrain from posting on here when I'm really angry or upset about something.
I figure then it'll just sound like me whining. And even though my nickname as a child used to be "Becca-Whiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnneeerrrrrrr", I really hate whining.
When I do it, I hate the sound of it coming out of my mouth. So I've attempted to not come on here and gripe like it's my fourth grade journal.

But I'm just in about the foulest mood you could ever imagine right now. There isn't much else to do BUT whine in this instance.

Here's the scenario. I don't have health insurance. I had COBRA insurance from my former employer before getting diagnosed. It was crappy crappy coverage, but it was still coverage. However, COBRA ran out in February (coincidently just about when I finished chemotherapy. although that didn't really matter much b/c the COBRA benefits had been maxed out for months prior to that).

I cannot NOT have insurance. I need follow up PETscans and Upper Endoscopies pretty much indefinitely. So it was imperative I get insurance. I can't get it through my current employer b/c I am parttime, they are non-profit, etc etc.

So I hear about this program through the state of Illinois called ICHIP (Illinois Comprehensive Health Insurance Program). If you're approved, you can get covered, with no pre-existing condition, etc etc.

I applied, and got approved. Great news right? All worries solved for now?

HA.

The premium is $425ish a month. A MONTH?!? I can BARELY make $350 a month for rent, let alone regular utility bills, cell phone bill, and we're not even looking in the direction of my more than $40,000 in student loans. Nor am I even thinking about the way more than $125,000 still remaining in medical/surgical/treatment bills.

I just don't get it. I truly just can't see a solution. I do not have this amount of money. I do not have the option for making anywhere near enough at my current job. I am struggling to find a second job, or just a whole new job all together, due to the demands and constraints of this new plumbing system I had installed. I can't seem to be able to work a normal 8 hour shift with regularity. I'm lucky that my current employer is so understanding and flexible and has been there with me through it all already.

I don't apparently qualify for Social Security, SSI, Disability, Medicaid, etc. For who knows what reason.

I just don't understand. I feel very defeated. Very discouraged.

I don't know how people do it. How am I expected to pay this? It'd be one thing if I was just a normally broke fresh out of college kid. But I don't get a fresh start on this. I get to be held back by a year of treatment and surgery, barely able to work, and of course incruing massive debt well beyond even the most well established persons income. (let alone that I was not well established previously)

You always hear how a medical crisis just shatters people, not merely emotionally and psychologically, but financially as well. And I know the stories. But it's hard to fathom when it's you in that position. It's hard to dig yourself out of that pit of worry, anxiety, and fear. This wierd obligation I have. I've never imagined the statement "stuck between a rock and a hard place" to ever be so true. though for me it's essentially a life or death kinda true.

And well. That's it. I don't even have anything more to say. I barely can muster the energy to be angry. it's just too heavy. I'd rather just sink into a corner and disappear. money, insurance, the health care industry...all be damned.

The after effects noone mentions

2007-04-04T21:24:00.000-07:00

I know i know i know....i'mma bad bad blogger.

I've been on a itty bitty break. Sorta forgot bout writing. No real good reason. Other than maybe, trying to get back to living.

It's cool seeing all the comments on here though. Sometimes people comment and I realize I have no way to answer em back. Which is sorta sad.
I want you guys all to know I do read every comment and I'm so honored, flattered, touched, surprised, embarrassed, and humbled that anyone even reads what I have to say.

It was really cool that I got a comment on my last entry from a nurse that I had at Cleveland Clinic in September for my surgery. It feels awesome that they not only remember me, but actually got online to see how I was doing.

And for that...to anyone that I've come across in this mad journey that is cancer...I'm doing well. I think about lots of the nurses and fellows and doctors I've come in contact with often. Believe it or not.

I remember one nurse (or nurse aid?) at cleveland clinic who sat in my room when my mom was out doing errands, and talked to me for the longest time about her sister, and their quest to decorate her sisters house by going to every yard sale they could find.

And I remember the Radiation Therapist who would buy at least 2 of my "CANCER SUCKS" bracelets every time she saw me (and seeing as I was there mon-fri for five weeks straight...that's alot of bracelets). She single-handedly outfitted almost every person working in radiation and the CT Scan dept.

And I remember the Stoma nurse from Cleveland emailing me months after surgery to see how I was doing, and to say how great my stoma looked.

And not even just in the medical area. From the first day I told people at work what was going on, the person that runs the cafe in my job decided there wasn't alot he could do to help me, but the one thing he could do was feed me for free the entire time I was in treatment. I didn't even realize til I came back from surgery and having not worked for two months how much of a help this was to me.

A friend who I didn't even know for too long, or too well at the time found out what was going on and singlehandedly organized, and executed an amazing classical concert as a fundraiser for me in a city that I had never lived or visited, on a school campus which I never attended, nor had any connection to.

And the Radiation Doctor who ended up leaving to a new hospital right on my last day of radiation, but made sure she was the one who saw me on my final day, and then gave me her personal cell phone number in case I had any problems later on.

A nurse that my mom works with, but whom I've never met decided her family and her would not give each other presents this christmas, but instead take money they would have bought presents with, and donated it to my fundraising.

There were so many people I crossed paths with that made the experience just a bit more bearable, and helped me continue to feel like a person rather than a number or a disease. This teeny tiny blog entry doesn't touch on even half. I wish I could detail out for you all how many amazing things that have happened due to such an awful diagnosis.
I felt I needed to take a sec to reflect on some of the more positive notes and all the great people I'm lucky enough to have in my life. Since I'm not in the greatest of moods right now, and my next entry will probably be a wwwwwhhhoooooollllleeee lot more negative.

but first...sleep is an order.

obrigado gentes

The Becca Corp....Now serving your area.

2007-02-14T20:23:00.000-08:00

Yep, that's right.
I am your friendly neighborhood one stop cancer info shop.

okay, okay. I'll explain. It would seem that nowdays, whenever anyone I know has another brush with cancer, they immediately think of me.

I have gotten many a call, or email which inevitably begin with "My niece has been diagnosed with...." and usually somewhere in there will be a mention of "...and if you could tell me where I can get info about it..." or "...if you could talk with them about it..."

Now, this isn't necessarily a bad thing. I am usually quite honored that people think of me when they're trying to make sense of a senseless situation. It's flattering to be in a position where people respect your knowledge, and want your help.

The only drawback is...well...I can't always help these people. I guess before I was diagnosed, I wouldn't have known that all cancer is really inherently different. Of course, it's all cancer. And it's all bad. But it's almost like...(and I know, this is a pretty trivial comparison) allergies. You can have allergies to food, or to a substance, or to an element, or animal. But all those allergies need different remedies or treatments. What works for someone who's allergic to peanuts won't necessarily work for someone who's allergic to cats.

When someone tells me they're best friends little brother was just diagnosed with Luekemia. Well...I honestly know little to nothing about luekemia. I can tell them where I went for information. But I doubt that www.colonclub.com or www.uoaa.org would really be of help for a 12 year old with luekemia.

I have more general resources that I can pass on. And there are certain emotional states that are relatable to ALL major illnesses. I can certainly talk to someone about fear and anxiety, and all that good stuff. Body image issues, fertility, side effects...to a degree I can help someone come to terms with most of those topics. But as for cancer specific info. unfortunately, you sorta have to do that on your own.

So in a way, I feel good being that source of information for people. I hate when I can't be of help to someone. I usually do my best. But it's a strange phenomenon when you go from being just a regular every day joe (er...jane) to being that one person to go to for cancer info. I've suddenly become an expert in a field I never ever wanted to be...survivorship.

I suppose I'll wear the title with pride. I mean...hell, lord knows I paid for it (literally and figuratively). I just hope I can do it justice and when someone else who is in the same place I was in a year ago today...I'll be able to help.

And in the category of T.M.I.:

2007-02-06T13:09:00.000-08:00

I know some of you may not want to see. But then again, I have no shame. And for those of you that are curious:
So that is it. The new diggs. See, tain't so bad to see. Nothing all bloody and gorey. Nothing too disgusting. Just a teeny little hole in my stomach. Big whoop.
The nurse at Cleveland clinic actually said "Wow, it's so tiny. You know what it looks like? It looks like a cigarette burn."
Not sure if that was something good or bad. But sooner or later, when I have more time, I'll go ahead and write a detailed account of my surgeries, and my new plumbing. For any who may be interested. Since, I guess, if you don't know me, a picture of a plastic tube coming out of my stomach might seem a bit strange. So fear not, if you are confused, just check back in, and I shall clarify for you.
Til then..

Tchau minha querida's!

The gift of....Cancer?

2007-01-31T22:28:00.000-08:00

Those of you who actually know me in person (or as in person as you can get on, say, email or aim) know that for the most part, I'm a cynical person. I've got a pretty sarcastic and dry sense of humor, and am just kinda...well, sardonic.
That being said, what with being diagnosed with a deadly condition and all, lots of people have either pointed out to me, or I've read, that you grow to appreciate everything so much more after diagnosis.
You really begin to realize how relevant the phrase "Life is Short" is, and appreciate life in ways others simply cannot.
Now, I'm not saying that is not the case. I certainly know when to stop and acknowledge those moments when I'm truly enjoying life. Those times when you're just feeling good, not thinking in the future and just in the moment.
But I was watching some show on TLC titled (and I kid you not) "The Man Whose Arms Exploded". It was about Bodybuilders and steroids, but specifically followed some guy who had the biggest biceps in the world.Guinness Book winner, and a true freak (his own words, not mine).

So they are interviewing this dude about how he got so big, and was on so many drugs that he gave himself an infection from a bad needle, and developed a hematoma in his arm. So he tried to 'fix' it on his own by poking at it trying to drain it. Needless to say, it didn't work.
Anywho, my point in telling you about that is...I watched as they interviewed all sorts of bodybuilders and experts about what they referred to as "bigarexia". Sorta the anti-anorexia. The compulsion of these men to want to be bigger and bigger regardless of how they do it.

And I started getting really annoyed.

Why?
Because of the audacity of people with perfectly healthy working bodies to subject it to dangerous substances purely for vanities sake. Hell, here I am happy to be alive, and working on getting over having my abdomen sliced open and an asshole placed on my belly. And YOU'RE pumping yourself full of steroids for the hell of it?!?

It just got me thinking about all of these silly things people do to themselves in general. Plastic surgery, cosmetic surgery, body modification, etc. And all for what? Vanity? The need to fill some void in your life? Low self esteem? Daddy issues??

I suppose I'm very happy that I can adjust so easily. But that's not to say that, if given the choice I wouldn't take the option of just having a normal body with no ill treatment side effects, no surgeries, no weird new orifaces. And the fact that there are aaaaalllll these people who are seemingly ignorant and unappreciative of the simple joy of having a plain ol' normal everyday body...really grates my nerves.

So cancer should basically wake you up to life, and how good it is and can be (goes without saying it also shows you how horrid it can be). But I guess it gives you alot of other perspectives on life, and silly humans. I'll have to start documenting every "gift" this bastard cancer has blessed me with. Starting with the super-human ability to recognize how ridiculous our vanity can get....wait, can that be considered a gift?

The nitty gritty

2007-01-26T16:36:00.000-08:00

First off...a big ol' HOOOOOOO-RAAAAAHHHH!!!! is an order, since at this very moment in time I am finishing up my VERY...LAST....CHEMO treatment!!!
whoooooooooo!!!

(can i get a Whooo? c'mon....whooooo!)

I was supposed to get it on tuesday. When I went in my white blood cell count was dangerously low. (1.0....a normal person is more around 11-14 range). They want you to have at least a 3.0 in order to get treatment.
So they gave me a shot to boost it (lovely Neuprogen). And I was to come back the next day to see how it worked.
The next day...it only went up to 1.3 (er? the last time my counts were so low and I got a shot, the next day it shot up to 10.6! I was sorely disappointed.) Ssooooo, they gave me another shot of Neuprogen. And told me to come back the next day.
So now it's thursday, I come back in, get my blood tested. It went up to 2.9. Now, remember, I said they want you to be at least 3.0 to get treatment. But my oncologist said I could go ahead and get it that day b/c he was afraid I wouldn't come back if he told me to wait til next week (oh he knows me so well...cuz I damn sure wouldn't!)
They just tapered back the dose of Oxaliplatin (the main biggie drug I get over the course of two days) to 80% strength, and I'll have to go back on tuesday to get my blood tested and make sure the counts don't drop too low after getting disconnected.
If they are low, well...it's more Neuprogen for me...but I DON'T CAAAARRREEEE!!! Cuz it's my last ooonnnneeee!!!
(heh, note the joy in all my exaggerated words)

Anywho, I thought maybe I'd share some pics with you guys. You know, a little taste of my life.

First up, the needle jammed in my port and all taped up:

(purty, ain't it? it's under the little yellow butterfly needle)

And here, my lovely chemo-ipod...and no, it doesn't hold nearly as many mp3's as my regular ipod:(hehehehe, don't you just LOVE the thrilled expression on my face? I <3 chemo so much.)

Soooo, tomorrow (saturday) I should be going in to get disconnected from my ipod. I shall update upon that event happening.

wheeee!

The lurker is beat at her own game

2007-01-20T20:12:00.000-08:00

Drats! Just when I'm starting to have fun eavesdropping on odd bathroom conversations, I'm discovered!
By a child nonetheless...those crafty youngin's.
The bathroom convo from today:

Young Girl: LalaLAAAAAA (singing in the stall rather operatically.)
Mother: (from outside the bathroom) Marisol ....(something in spanish I don't understand).
Young Girl: (sigh) Oohhkay.
(I am trying to be very quiet. The girl is in the next stall from me. After several seconds...)
Young Girl: Is someone there?
Me: ....yea...
Young Girl: How old are you?
Me: ....26....
Young Girl: Oohhh...in college I see (which sounds pretty funny. Very wise sounding for an 8 year old)
Me: Nope. I'm well out of college.
Young Girl: (sighs again) Aw...I'm wrong again. Ah well...
Me (giggles)
Young Girl: (flushes) Bbyyyeee girl in the bathroom!
Me: Uh, see ya.

Young Girl: (now outside the bathroom) Mama..I made a new friend in there....

hehehehehe.....only me. Only I can make friends with an 8 year old girl in a bathroom stall without ever seeing her.

Disappointment

2007-01-19T10:23:00.000-08:00

I just felt impelled to inform you all that Berry Rice Krispies do not deliver near the delicious-ness that I desired.

The Lurker

2007-01-16T19:16:00.000-08:00

It seems these days I get to enjoy lots of quality time in the bathroom. And some of this glorious leisure time is spent in public bathrooms, much to my dismay.
In an attempt to appease myself that I have to be stuck in a bathroom so much, I've taken to really enjoying the random snippets of conversations (or rather just interactions) I overhear while stuck in a stall.
I feel very voyeuristic in these moments. Since most the time I'm in there for a good half an hour or so, many people come and go and never even know I'm there (I'm very good at being very quiet). So just be aware...be mindful of what you say when you think noone's listening. It just may end up on a blog about some girls colon ;)
So now...for my first installment of "strange bathroom chatter"!

Mother: Hurry up honey, mommy has to go REAL bad.
Daughter: Kay momma. Hey! look how yellow it is. The mailman's was green. And the firemans was orange. Mine is so yellow! Why was their's different?
Mother: Food coloring baby, now hurry up, mommy REALLY has to go...
Woman: (on cell phone, in stall) Hello?? You're fuckin calling me now? Look, I'm...I'm taking a shit. You're annoying the hell outta me. What? I dunno. Whitehouse or something. I'm hanging up.

Woman #1: (opening bathroom door) Hello?
Woman #2 (ironic funny pun in there somewhere): Yes, I'm here.
Woman #1: Things moving along okay in there?
Woman #2: Yea, slowly but surely

Teen Girl #1: Sarah, oh my god. I'm locked in!
Teen Girl #2: Um..well hold on, I'm almost done.
Teen Girl #1: (frantically jiggling lock) Ooohhh my ggooooooddd! Noooo....I'm stuuuuucck!
Teen Girl #2: Just hold on! It's no big deal.
Teen Girl #1: That's it. I'm crawling. I can fit...

Dad: (from outside bathroom door) Madison? Be sure to untie her pants.
Madison: Ew Daddy, the strings are sticky.

More to come!

I do not want to be defined by poop

2007-01-13T14:27:00.000-08:00

You ever get tired of hearing someone complain? I have friends that will just go on and on and on about their lack of relationship luck, or career luck, or family luck...or hell, even bad luck with pop tarts (yes, pop tarts.)
I'm a good listener, when i wanna be. But obviously you can get tired of listening to someone whine eventually. Generally I don't say anything, I figure, people gotta vent, they gotta vent. And I enjoy that I can give someone that freedom to do just that. No matter how trivial an issue it may be. (Yes, you may really really really just HATE Rachel Ray and want to drop kick her in the neck. And sometimes you just need to let that out)
I've started to aggravate myself these days though. I'm actually sick of hearing myself complain. And complain about what, you may ask?
Shit.
I'm tired of talking about what I can do to make going to the bathroom easier. Or faster. And those of you who know what kinda plumbing I'm working with these days...know exactly what I'm talking about.
I don't wanna hear it. I hate how at least once a day I end up growling at this hole in my stomach and muttering "just go in you sunnuvabitch...WOOOORRRRK!" I know noone in their right mind is gonna tell me to quite complaining. I think I've pretty much earned my whining rights for the year by now. probably longer. And I think my knee jerk reaction to someone telling me to quit my whining would be to of course, dropkick them in the neck. (well, when i am capable of dropkicking again, naturally).
But me myself, I'M tired of it. I do not want to be defined by my bathroom habits and quality of my poop.
AAALLLTHOUGH...if i HAD to be judged on my poop...I must say, it's pretty decent poop. Nice uniform texture and consistency. And yes it may not ever actually be in the form of a turd (sorry, no Mr. Hanky's here) it is actually quite spectacular. But I digress.
I'm just not too keen on being a slave to my toilet. Or rather, My catheter. I want to be more concerned with perfecting my pop tart toasting skills. Or perhaps updating my myspace page? Now THAT is something worthy of being obsessive over.
(and now i shall plug my myspace page for all you curious spectators: ta-da)

While I had not come up with any New Years Resolutions (lose weight?? HA, Chemo handled that one for me. Thanks). I think I'll change my mind.

My new years resolution? (albeit a bit late)...

Do not let shit rule my life!!!!

Aaaaahhhhh yes. Feels good to say it loud and proud.

So while I will of course continue to talk about my ass, and my poop. I must also enlighten the masses to my other really really grand qualities. Like my ability to contort my mug into magnificently unflattering faces:

Feliz Novo Ano!

I hate Chemo

2006-12-28T17:43:00.000-08:00

That's it. simple as that.
no clever titles. no cute innuendo's.
I just hate it.
It's the little things, y'know? It's not so much that I'm strapped to a pump for two days. It's not so much that I've got some heavy heavy drugs pumping into my system. It's the ever so slight on-the-verge of nausea feeling that I have.
Almost like it was indecisive. It can't quite figure out if it wants to make me nauseous or not.
And the fact that I have to put mittens on in order to get things out of the refrigerator.
Or that I have to warm up water in the microwave in order to drink it.
Or the fact that drinking nothing but warm/hot beverages never ever quenches your thirst. I'm just always thirsty.
Or maybe how if I go outside now, my eyes will start twitching out of control.
Or how when I'm typing this now, my fingers slowly take on a life of their own and begin to cramp up on me.
Or how when I blow my nose there's ever so slight traces of blood.
It's all those itty bitty things that just add up. I want it to be done with. I want this part to be over.
and really all I want to do is whine. I wanna bitch and moan and maybe...just maybe that'll make me feel better.
Two more rounds to go after this, and I hope, i just hope that I can put up with these itty bitty details for that much longer.
Here's to a grand 2007 ya'll!

Limbo

2006-12-18T15:53:00.000-08:00

I don't think too many people have the opportunity to let their minds wander like I do these days. And I get the oddest instances in which to let it wander.
I've always been fascinated by people in general. Human Nature and such. Back when I was "normal" (for whatever that's worth) I'd sit on the train and watch people come on and off, and if they were in a group of people, I'd imagine backstories for all of them. Come up with little plot lines. Where they were coming from, or where they were going, what the relationship between them all is.
Having cancer doesn't change this little habit of mine. But it just makes it happen on a much more grand level. For instance, not many people get to walk the halls of their oncologists office or infusion center and ponder about all the people waiting in the exam rooms.
Sometimes I'll walk by on the way to the bathroom or back to my IV and see a couple sitting in the chairs, and I think, what kind of devastating news are you getting today. OR maybe good news, maybe a remission?
Because, unfortunately, given the simple nature of WHERE you are (cancer doctor) you know these people aren't there for the flu. It's not like you're at the podiatrist. You know each and every person stepping through that door has, in some way, had a brush with the big C.
I walked past an exam room one day and saw a middle aged black man sitting in a gown on the exam table. I saw a woman around my age sitting in the chair near the door. I thought as I passed by, Is this just a scare? Is he there to get test results? Has he already gone through a course of treatment and is just checking in? Is it a reoccurance? What form did it take? Is it liver? Lung? Bone? Prostate?
I walked past the larger infusion room to glance at the handful of patients in there receiving their treatments. I noticed they were mostly elderly. I thought, what do they think of me when I walk past? I'm young, I look even younger than I really am. I look very healthy. No one would ever peg me for a cancer patient (ahem...excuse me...cancer survivor. yyessssssss). I walk past them with my ipod in hand, big baggy hoodie and huge pants (mostly huge b/c I've lost alot of weight, but it appears to the outside world to be my attempt at the 'urban' look. or the 'hip hop' look. and yes, those are both said with "air quotes" b/c this is how I'm envisioning these older people speaking. Hey. Gimmie a break, I have to spend alot of time there)
I wonder if they feel sorry for me. Or pity me. Or do I give them some hope? Or do they not even see me. Are they just oblivious to life around them?
After doing this at each treatment I suddenly realized what this place felt like to me. The entire oncology unit. The waiting rooms to the exam rooms to the infusion rooms. It's Limbo. We're all in Limbo.
We've all put our lives on hold. We're all on pause while we take on the job of "getting well". Sure, most of the time people are encouraged to live their lives as normally as possible while on treatment. If you can, you're encouraged to work, enjoy whatever leisure activities you did before, socialize, celebrate, eat, drink, and be merry (pffff). And many people do just that. Hell, I like to think I do that. But ultimately, it always comes down to "three more chemo treatments left....two more chemo treatments left...." and scheduling around ct scans and doctor appointments. Yes in between I go to concerts, or hang out with friends, see movies, go out to eat, complain about going to work, wrestle with my dog. But I'm still just waiting. Waiting for the day I am not a regular at Dr. Kaplan's.
Waiting Waiting Waiting
Waiting for the next test results to come back. Waiting for WBC counts to go up. Waiting for side effects to wear off. Waiting for anxiety to go away. Waiting for the all clear. Waiting for the green light that says you can go back to your real life. And even then, you don't. You never just forget about that little stint you did back in the day for cancer.
It's always with you, but at the moment you're in the most literal form of Limbo I can think of.

MY cancer's better than YOUR cancer!

2006-12-14T15:30:00.000-08:00

Okay, call me a snot (and many do) but am I the only one getting kinda tired of hearing about breast cancer??
Now...don't get me wrong, it's a horrible thing to get. But as a colon cancer patient I feel like the red-headed stepchild of cancers. Noone wants to talk about colon cancer...b/c well, that'd mean talking about butts and poop (to put it mildly). But BREASTS! breasts are glorious....we must do everything in our power to save the breasts! The great american breast! So you have both men and women fighting to save the breasts. Sooooo much money and research goes into it. I feel smothered by pink ribbons. EVERYthing you buy donates money to breast cancer research. I bought a latte at my local coffee shop and the little stopper they put in the lid to keep it warm was a little breast cancer stopper!! You buy a mattress and proceeds go to breast cancer, you buy a power drill and proceeds go to breast cancer...SHEESH.
I feel like every celebrity who comes out that they have cancer...has breast cancer. Sheryl Crow, Melissa Ethridge, er...you know, a bunch of others. But who comes out as having colon cancer...uum....(drawing blank here). Oh yea, Sharon Osbourne. (actually, there are several other minor celebrity, or maybe some 'elder' celebrities, who's celebrity really doesn't count anymore).
Farrah Fawcett now has ANAL cancer *Which I have NEVER heard of referred to as anal cancer. Isn't it supposed to be Rectal Cancer...ah well, semantics.
But how much do you hear from her? Do you think she'll stand up and become a staunch spokesperson for getting checked early? I predict No. Why? She probably wants it to fade into the background when she's all said and done. After all, who wants to be known for having butt cancer?
Not me!
but oh wait...I did.

Now, thats not to say that I think breast cancer should not be researched. But I almost feel like it's drawing money away from other cancer research. Is that just my crazy chemo-brain at work? Maybe.
I just don't understand why some cancers get priority over others. Isn't ALL cancer bad? Shouldn't we be concerned with figuring out this Cancer Beast as a whole?
So my kinda cancer isn't as pretty...you have to talk about things like rectums and anus's and anal fissures, fistulas, sphincter muscles, stool (or "output" i like that...thats cute), and things that most people don't ever want to have to speak of in public. But it's an easily cured cancer when caught early. And it can be hush hush if you caught it early, treated it, and go on about your life.
But what is catching it early? Getting a colonoscopy at age 50? Well. I guess. Although if I did it at 50, well...lets say I wouldn't have gotten to do it at 50 if that was the case. I wouldn't have made it to see 50.
Who, at age 25, gets up one morning with no symptoms at all and thinks "Gee, it's a good day for
getting a camera shoved up my butt."
Shouldn't the fact that it CAN and DOES happen to people much much MUCH younger than 50 be publicized? If it is, in fact, so easy to cure early on? My cancer progressed to stage III before my 26th birthday. How long must it have been growing in me then?
Eh, I guess I'm a bit bitter today. But only b/c I see nothing but report after report on the news about Breast cancer. I feel overlooked. Without a voice. I suppose that is what finally spurred me to get my lazy (nonfunctioning) butt up and start blogging.

more to come.