Three long time friends stopped by on Friday for a visit. One was visiting from Australia and the others live in town. They brought me the softest pair of PJs that I've ever worn, and some matching booties.
We caught up for awhile and then we talked about the cancer. One friend said she couldn't imagine what I was going through. I told them what I've felt all along: that this is not happening to me. This brought up a discussion about how that could be an automatic response and part of my attempt at self-preservation. I hadn't thought of it that way, but it makes sense. I haven't consciously distanced myself from what I'm going through, and I'm aware when I go through each part, but it doesn't feel as if it's happening to me. It still sounds strange to say "I have cancer." One of my friends likened it to going through a traumatic event like a rape and having an out of body experience and watching yourself go through it, but not feeling as if it were happening to you, which is a survival mechanism. It's easier for me to have a good attitude when I don't feel as if it's happening to me. And I definitely don't feel like a victim.
I don't know if other cancer patients feel the same way, but I think it's what is helping me get through it. It's surreal on some levels. I can't get my head around it. I have always felt that I would never get cancer, because it wasn't in my family, at least that I knew of. I recently contacted a second cousin on Facebook and asked her about my biological father's side of the family - I was not raised by this father. I had heard rumors that my paternal grandmother died of either lung or colon cancer. The second cousin talked to another cousin in California who gave her this information: my grandmother died of colon cancer, as did two of her sisters. Another sister died of breast cancer and a brother died of lung cancer. I'm lucky I only got one kind of cancer with these genes! And actually, I didn't get any of those cancers, so maybe it was just a fluke.
I am in week 5 of radiation and have started the second chemo round. Sometime after the treatments end, I will get another scan done to verify that the tumor has disappeared, never to return again. Then in February, my colorectal surgeon will start looking at the possibility of reversing the colostomy which would make me very happy. And if it can't happen then, I'm not giving up hope that it can't happen someday. This shit is taking up too much of my time!
Tuesday, November 12, 2013
The cancer card
I admit to shamelessly using the "cancer card." In my opinion, it's okay to use the cancer card as long as you have cancer, but it's bad karma to use it otherwise. Here are examples of when I've used it:
1. Door to door roofing salesmen beckoned me outside and asked, "When was the last time you had the roof replaced?" My response was, "I don't care, I have cancer." His response was to raise both hands in surrender, back up, and say, "Fair enough."
2. Telemarketers call (daily) and give me their spiels about needing money from me, and I tell them that I have cancer and am not donating now. Many wish me well before hanging up.
3. My bank called and left me a message to call back. This annoys me, because I don't know if someone has hacked into my account, and they want to warn me, or if it's a sales pitch. It was a sales pitch, and I asked them to only call me if something bad has happened, because I have cancer and don't want to be bothered with sales. The wrote a big note on my chart to leave me alone and only call for problems.
4. My neighbors wanted to take me to see Steve Winwood concert, but I wasn't sure I could sit through the pre-Steve show, so I called the box office after trying in vain to find out who the pre-Steve show was. I left a message that I had cancer and wasn't sure I wanted to watch both shows and asked who the first show was. The box office called me back and told me who was playing first. We decided to skip the first act.
I also use it on myself. For example, when I want to go to bed at 8:00 PM, I tell myself it's okay, because I have cancer. And when I wake up 11.5 hours later, that's okay, too. I take more naps, because I have cancer. I don't work a full 8 hour day because I'm tired from the cancer. It's my invisible handicapped sticker, and I have it with me at all times. I'm not abusing it, because I am working, walking the dogs when I can, driving myself to treatments, and trying to live a somewhat normal life, but with a lot more sleep, which is something I was lacking before all this happened. I will appreciate it while it's here.
1. Door to door roofing salesmen beckoned me outside and asked, "When was the last time you had the roof replaced?" My response was, "I don't care, I have cancer." His response was to raise both hands in surrender, back up, and say, "Fair enough."
2. Telemarketers call (daily) and give me their spiels about needing money from me, and I tell them that I have cancer and am not donating now. Many wish me well before hanging up.
3. My bank called and left me a message to call back. This annoys me, because I don't know if someone has hacked into my account, and they want to warn me, or if it's a sales pitch. It was a sales pitch, and I asked them to only call me if something bad has happened, because I have cancer and don't want to be bothered with sales. The wrote a big note on my chart to leave me alone and only call for problems.
4. My neighbors wanted to take me to see Steve Winwood concert, but I wasn't sure I could sit through the pre-Steve show, so I called the box office after trying in vain to find out who the pre-Steve show was. I left a message that I had cancer and wasn't sure I wanted to watch both shows and asked who the first show was. The box office called me back and told me who was playing first. We decided to skip the first act.
I also use it on myself. For example, when I want to go to bed at 8:00 PM, I tell myself it's okay, because I have cancer. And when I wake up 11.5 hours later, that's okay, too. I take more naps, because I have cancer. I don't work a full 8 hour day because I'm tired from the cancer. It's my invisible handicapped sticker, and I have it with me at all times. I'm not abusing it, because I am working, walking the dogs when I can, driving myself to treatments, and trying to live a somewhat normal life, but with a lot more sleep, which is something I was lacking before all this happened. I will appreciate it while it's here.
Monday, November 11, 2013
King Kong fanny pack, Willy and the hand jive, and catch my anal drift
Today, I got reacquainted with the King Kong fanny pack. Things got off to a rough start when the fanny pack nurse realized that I did not bring the bag or pump with me. I didn't know I was supposed to bring either, but then I remembered that the nurse, who unhooked me at home the last time, didn't leave them with me. I even sent my brother home to check. The nurse had given the only pump she had to a new customer, because the company she works for didn't send one for him/her. So the nurse had to get one delivered to me at the cancer center, while I waited. It came via a courier, and then she brought a spare fanny pack she had in her car just in time for me to take the elevator downstairs to the radiation treatment area. So I would have had to wait anyway from the time the pack was hooked up until my 3:45 radiation.
I got the 15 minute mitomycin infusion after my blood results came back, and I'm now wearing the King Kong fanny pack with a strap that ends right under my right boob. The last fanny pack I had had a much longer strap that allowed me to wear it across my body and hang to my waist. With a colostomy at my waist, I don't need to wear a heavy fanny pack AROUND my waist. I'm not thrilled with the short strap on this one, but I called about it and they are going to try to send a nurse here during the day or have one meet me at the cancer center before my radiation tomorrow.
Just so you know, I do have fun with the receptionists, nurses, radiation therapists, and doctors during my treatments. The radiation therapists whom I meet with 5 days a week for about 15 minutes are a fun group of gals. We've had some impromptu dancing, singing, story telling, and lots of laughs packed in a short time. They give me a rubber doughnut ring to hold on to, which, of course, you already know about, because you've read the other blog talking about that. The other day, I had to remind them to get me the ring, but I couldn't remember what it was called, so I said, "Don't forget the hand job, so to speak." This prompted comments from the therapists. "I guess we won't watch you on the viewer this time like we normally do" and "You're going to need a cigarette when you come out of here."
And Dr. BigHands just had a birthday on Saturday, which I learned about the Thursday before. On the way home on Thursday, I stopped at one of my favorite gift shops, specializing in the bizarre, gag gift types of presents. I got him a card and two gifts and left them for him on Friday, when I went for my treatment. I saw him today when I went for radiation therapy, and he thanked me and informed me that he get sick on his birthday, but it was still a good birthday. On Friday, one nurse had told me that he had four gift bags, two cakes and a pie waiting on his desk for him. The card I got for him had two roosters on it, and under them, it said, "Mine is bigger than yours." I explained inside the card that I meant my age was bigger than his. I gave him some salad tongs, which had hands at the end of the tongs - the tossing part, not the handle part. I was going to suggest he use those for exams instead of his BigHands, but I think the splinters might be worse than his MainsGrandes. I also found a small bottle of hand sanitizer that had "Anal Traveler" on the label on the front of the bottle. This can have several meanings, if you catch my drift, and if you're standing down wind from me, at a time when my pouch has sprung a leak, you would.
I got the 15 minute mitomycin infusion after my blood results came back, and I'm now wearing the King Kong fanny pack with a strap that ends right under my right boob. The last fanny pack I had had a much longer strap that allowed me to wear it across my body and hang to my waist. With a colostomy at my waist, I don't need to wear a heavy fanny pack AROUND my waist. I'm not thrilled with the short strap on this one, but I called about it and they are going to try to send a nurse here during the day or have one meet me at the cancer center before my radiation tomorrow.
Just so you know, I do have fun with the receptionists, nurses, radiation therapists, and doctors during my treatments. The radiation therapists whom I meet with 5 days a week for about 15 minutes are a fun group of gals. We've had some impromptu dancing, singing, story telling, and lots of laughs packed in a short time. They give me a rubber doughnut ring to hold on to, which, of course, you already know about, because you've read the other blog talking about that. The other day, I had to remind them to get me the ring, but I couldn't remember what it was called, so I said, "Don't forget the hand job, so to speak." This prompted comments from the therapists. "I guess we won't watch you on the viewer this time like we normally do" and "You're going to need a cigarette when you come out of here."
And Dr. BigHands just had a birthday on Saturday, which I learned about the Thursday before. On the way home on Thursday, I stopped at one of my favorite gift shops, specializing in the bizarre, gag gift types of presents. I got him a card and two gifts and left them for him on Friday, when I went for my treatment. I saw him today when I went for radiation therapy, and he thanked me and informed me that he get sick on his birthday, but it was still a good birthday. On Friday, one nurse had told me that he had four gift bags, two cakes and a pie waiting on his desk for him. The card I got for him had two roosters on it, and under them, it said, "Mine is bigger than yours." I explained inside the card that I meant my age was bigger than his. I gave him some salad tongs, which had hands at the end of the tongs - the tossing part, not the handle part. I was going to suggest he use those for exams instead of his BigHands, but I think the splinters might be worse than his MainsGrandes. I also found a small bottle of hand sanitizer that had "Anal Traveler" on the label on the front of the bottle. This can have several meanings, if you catch my drift, and if you're standing down wind from me, at a time when my pouch has sprung a leak, you would.
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