Chemo today. Had my oncologist check-up yesterday, and she gave me some more drugs for the excruciating joint pain that I get with this chemo. I told her I'd been eating some magic brownies, and she was fine with that. She said that we live in BC, after all. Hey, whatever works. Last time I had chemo, I had an immediate allergic reaction to the Docetaxel drip--I got really hot right away and had chest pains. So they stopped the drip and pumped me full of steroids and Benedryl via IV. Then they started the drip again. So this time, I'll get premedicated with the stuff to prevent the same reaction.
I gather from my nurse and doc that what I experienced with the last chemo is only going to get worse, as the effects are cumulative. But the good news is that after this chemo, I only have 2 more! I should be finished with chemo in the second week of January.
Then comes the radiation. We met with the radiation oncologist on Monday, and it was explained to us that the benefits of radiation are good and proven, that the chances of secondary cancer is less than 1%. So starting at the end of January, I will go in every day for five and a half weeks to get my radiation. I was told that it's like going out in the sun, that I will tan on the radiated area. Folks, I don't tan--I burn, like within ten minutes of being in the sun--with 50 SPF sunscreen. But if I get bad skin irritations, they will, of course, give me yet another prescription.
This morning, before I go in for my chemo this afternoon, I'm going to do the whole home spa thing. Long hot bath, good reading (I'm reading Inventing Victor, which is a collection of short stories by my friend Lisa's friend, Jennifer--and it's great!), sitting in my new massage cushion (DH bought me a new wonderful massage cushion yesterday at Costco, which has a rolling function, a shiatsu function, and a heat option!). I'm hoping that after chemo, I won't be too wiped out to go to the end of the term Creative Writing party on campus. I haven't seen a lot of my creative writing cohort in a while.
I want to write about all the fun stuff that's been happening in the past two weeks and try to forget all the crappiness (since that will be soon revisited anyway). Lisa and Vicki's visit was a godsend, if only a little too short for my taste! It was so wonderful to hang out with my best friend from home and her mom, and take them to all my favorite restaurants and places in Vancouver. Luckily, the weather wasn't shitty the entire time, as we were blessed with some wonderful sun. I think they really enjoyed it, and I hope they come back soon. When I'm not a lazy ass, I will download some of the pictures and post them.
Then we had two wonderful events for the book I edited that came out of the workshop that I taught back in February and March. The book is called Eating Stories: A Chinese and Aboriginal Potluck. I went on CBC on Friday morning to talk about it, then three of the authors went on CBC on Sunday morning for an interview, and other authors and folks are going to appear on radio, tv, and in print about it. People seem really excited about it! So I celebrated my birthday at our launch on Sunday, with song and cake and flowers (thanks, everyone!). And then we had dinner with DH's folks and sister and her family (before the launch we went out to brunch with DH's parents at Cafe Pacifica in the Pan Pacific Hotel). Then DH and I went to see Beowulf on 3D Imax (which would have totally blown chunks if not for the impressive 3D effects). It was a great day!
Last night, our pals Michael, Anne, Debora, and Lynda brought over a fantastic dinner (sushi from Hiroshi's, noodles that Michael made, and salted cod that Debora made), and frozen soups. We had great conversations, enjoyed the food, and it was just so great to see my pals.
But the best thing that happened in the last few weeks was when we were at our family doctor last week, getting our flu shots. While we were waiting for her to come into the exam room, Chloe grabbed my head and pulled it to her ear and said, "Mama, I can hear the ocean. I can hear whales." Granted, it's like she's saying I'm empty-headed, but it was wonderfully poetic to me.
Showing posts with label random nonsense. Show all posts
Showing posts with label random nonsense. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Thursday, November 22, 2007
On the Bus
I was on the bus yesterday, going home after massage therapy. I take the bus a lot now, to go to and from all my appointments along Broadway, which is one of the main drags in Vancouver. There are two buses that I could take: the 9 or the 99. The 9 is like the everyday people bus--folks look a little more sullen and don't smell as good. The 99 is the express bus that goes to UBC, so it's full of university students. Most of the time, I take the 9 because I can't stand the chatter of students, even though the 9 takes longer than the 99. But yesterday, I caught the 99 because it was the first bus that pulled up.
The bus was packed, but I was able to take a seat when a bunch of people got off at Granville. There were two women sitting across from me, bitching about their professors. I gathered that they were grad students from the way they were talking about theory and such. One of the girls was complaining about some criticism her professor made of her performance in class, and she began her sentence with "I appreciate what he's saying, but...." Which got me thinking about euphemisms in academia. Basically, when someone says they appreciate what you're saying, what they mean is that they think you're full of shit, which is also what they're saying when they state, "That's interesting." When they say, "That's interesting," they really think what you're saying is completely idiotic. Now when someone says, "I find that fascinating," what that means is that they're not sure if you are full of shit or not, but they think what they're saying might be full of shit too, so they will investigate the comment to decide on the exact content of BS later.
What the fuck does this have to do with my cancer? I don't know. I just wanted to sound pretentious.
But really, I wouldn't have been thinking about this if I didn't have cancer, because if I didn't have cancer, I wouldn't have been on that bus going home from massage therapy, which helps get rid of some of the pains of cancer.
The other meandering thought that I had while on the bus: there was a woman standing in front of me as I was sitting down. She was about 20 years older than me, or so she appeared. My first thought was, "I should let her sit down because that's the polite thing to do for older people." Then I thought, "Screw that. I have cancer, and she's only about 55 or whatever anyway." Just as I was about to whip off my hat to demonstrate the level of my sickness, I noticed that she was wearing a wig. I can spot fake hair a mile away now. Then I thought, "Shit, she probably has cancer too." But I sat there anyway.
It got me thinking about the hierarchy of illness, especially when it comes to cancer. The day before, I was at the acupuncturist, and there were two other women in the room with me. My acupuncturist said, "This is Blahblah...She's got a rare form of cancer. So rare that only three people in Canada have been diagnosed with it--and I'm treating two of them!" He beamed. The woman just sighed. The first words out of my mouth were, "Wow." But then I thought, What a dumb thing to say. Wow, like impressive? Or wow, like unbelievable? Either way, my gut reaction was that I felt icky for saying "Wow." But yeah, I've noticed how people like to one-up everyone else with cancer stories. Makes me feel weird.
Like when people say to me, "My sister had cancer, and it was awful for her, but she didn't complain at all." Like, wow, good for her, she's such a fucking hero. What's with the heroics of not saying anything when you feel like you're going to die? It's like when women, or their husbands, brag that they didn't have an epidural or scream when they were pushing a melon-head out of their vaginas. Cuz you know--it makes me feel better to bitch and moan and cry and wail when my body feels like it's being ripped open or aching with every little breath. Being silent is only an option for when I'm really dead.
I guess that's the stigma of cancer. Not supposed to talk about pain and death and dying. But really, that's what's going on inside the head sometimes. I myself find that really interesting. Fascinating.
The bus was packed, but I was able to take a seat when a bunch of people got off at Granville. There were two women sitting across from me, bitching about their professors. I gathered that they were grad students from the way they were talking about theory and such. One of the girls was complaining about some criticism her professor made of her performance in class, and she began her sentence with "I appreciate what he's saying, but...." Which got me thinking about euphemisms in academia. Basically, when someone says they appreciate what you're saying, what they mean is that they think you're full of shit, which is also what they're saying when they state, "That's interesting." When they say, "That's interesting," they really think what you're saying is completely idiotic. Now when someone says, "I find that fascinating," what that means is that they're not sure if you are full of shit or not, but they think what they're saying might be full of shit too, so they will investigate the comment to decide on the exact content of BS later.
What the fuck does this have to do with my cancer? I don't know. I just wanted to sound pretentious.
But really, I wouldn't have been thinking about this if I didn't have cancer, because if I didn't have cancer, I wouldn't have been on that bus going home from massage therapy, which helps get rid of some of the pains of cancer.
The other meandering thought that I had while on the bus: there was a woman standing in front of me as I was sitting down. She was about 20 years older than me, or so she appeared. My first thought was, "I should let her sit down because that's the polite thing to do for older people." Then I thought, "Screw that. I have cancer, and she's only about 55 or whatever anyway." Just as I was about to whip off my hat to demonstrate the level of my sickness, I noticed that she was wearing a wig. I can spot fake hair a mile away now. Then I thought, "Shit, she probably has cancer too." But I sat there anyway.
It got me thinking about the hierarchy of illness, especially when it comes to cancer. The day before, I was at the acupuncturist, and there were two other women in the room with me. My acupuncturist said, "This is Blahblah...She's got a rare form of cancer. So rare that only three people in Canada have been diagnosed with it--and I'm treating two of them!" He beamed. The woman just sighed. The first words out of my mouth were, "Wow." But then I thought, What a dumb thing to say. Wow, like impressive? Or wow, like unbelievable? Either way, my gut reaction was that I felt icky for saying "Wow." But yeah, I've noticed how people like to one-up everyone else with cancer stories. Makes me feel weird.
Like when people say to me, "My sister had cancer, and it was awful for her, but she didn't complain at all." Like, wow, good for her, she's such a fucking hero. What's with the heroics of not saying anything when you feel like you're going to die? It's like when women, or their husbands, brag that they didn't have an epidural or scream when they were pushing a melon-head out of their vaginas. Cuz you know--it makes me feel better to bitch and moan and cry and wail when my body feels like it's being ripped open or aching with every little breath. Being silent is only an option for when I'm really dead.
I guess that's the stigma of cancer. Not supposed to talk about pain and death and dying. But really, that's what's going on inside the head sometimes. I myself find that really interesting. Fascinating.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Monday, October 1, 2007
Video Diary: Room
What happens when you put technology, such as a digital camera, iMovie and Garage Band, in the hands of a fool such as myself? This happens:
I don't know why--okay, I do know why: boredom and lack of energy for physical movement and the overwhelming sense of going stir-crazy--but I made this short film giving you a glimpse into my pathetic life. You might not believe me (haha), but I have no formal training in video and music editing! :D BUT I will admit that I, myself, am playing the shakuhachi in the music track, albeit the track was edited and "enhanced" with Garage Band. The poem can be found on Brandy's Poem of the Day.
I had let the shakuhachi rest for a while, but I picked it up a few days ago to see how I was doing with the breathing. I got lightheaded after playing it for a couple minutes, which according to Roshi, is not necessarily a bad thing. But it does take an incredible amount of energy to maintain breath on the thing. I certainly don't have the patience to keep at it for very long during any given period of time (meaning, for more than three minutes). My parents and kids came home while I was playing it today, and when Chloe heard me, she said, "Where's that music coming from?" So I was a little bit proud that my child at least recognized my noise as "music."
By the way, I (re-)discovered another remedy for my muddy cottonmouth (I've been called "potty mouth" before, and am finding it to be so damning and true at the moment): salted dried prunes, which was a childhood favourite of mine. Thanks, Mom!
I don't know why--okay, I do know why: boredom and lack of energy for physical movement and the overwhelming sense of going stir-crazy--but I made this short film giving you a glimpse into my pathetic life. You might not believe me (haha), but I have no formal training in video and music editing! :D BUT I will admit that I, myself, am playing the shakuhachi in the music track, albeit the track was edited and "enhanced" with Garage Band. The poem can be found on Brandy's Poem of the Day.
I had let the shakuhachi rest for a while, but I picked it up a few days ago to see how I was doing with the breathing. I got lightheaded after playing it for a couple minutes, which according to Roshi, is not necessarily a bad thing. But it does take an incredible amount of energy to maintain breath on the thing. I certainly don't have the patience to keep at it for very long during any given period of time (meaning, for more than three minutes). My parents and kids came home while I was playing it today, and when Chloe heard me, she said, "Where's that music coming from?" So I was a little bit proud that my child at least recognized my noise as "music."
By the way, I (re-)discovered another remedy for my muddy cottonmouth (I've been called "potty mouth" before, and am finding it to be so damning and true at the moment): salted dried prunes, which was a childhood favourite of mine. Thanks, Mom!
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Jinx
Much that comes with this condition is about wondering, superstitions, mysticism, regrets, what-if's, swc's (shoulda-woulda-coulda's), and all the abstracts that could drive anyone nuts. I was just reading my user profile on my daily poetry blog, and the description is that on Halloween Eve 2005, I made a vow to write a poem every day for the rest of my life. While I'm not all that great at posting every day, I have written a poem every day. But the thing is, when I'd read that again, I immediately felt that in writing that almost two years ago, I jinxed myself. I know it sounds silly, but I suddenly thought--why did I make a promise like that? I mean, I enjoy writing a poem a day, but to make a vow? Vows set you up for failure, ultimately.
Anyway, those are some random, prescription-mixing-with-chemo thoughts. I would hate it if my poetry caused cancer.
Anyway, those are some random, prescription-mixing-with-chemo thoughts. I would hate it if my poetry caused cancer.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Spa
At the moment, I'm kinda anti-computer. But I like showing pictures. Maybe that makes me a narcissistic bitch. Maybe not. But here's why I'm anti-computer: because you can't take the computer in the bathtub without the risk of electrocuting yourself. So until they make water-resistant laptops. . .
Here's where I spend a lot of my time nowadays:
{my home spa}
{. . .with new washcloths. . .}
{. . .and a glass of chardonnay, a pitcher of lemon water. . .}
[By the way, funny thing I discovered: lemons float, limes sink.]
{yesterday, my hair started falling out. Or rather, it started coming out easily when tugged on. I sat in the tub for an hour, massaging my head, rubbing vigorously, tugging with my forefingers and thumbs, pulling out little black clumps. Kinda like weeding, only taking much longer. Guess I have a lot of hair. Now my head just looks like a poorly clipped shrub.}
Here's where I spend a lot of my time nowadays:
{my home spa}
{. . .with new washcloths. . .}
{. . .and a glass of chardonnay, a pitcher of lemon water. . .}
[By the way, funny thing I discovered: lemons float, limes sink.]
{yesterday, my hair started falling out. Or rather, it started coming out easily when tugged on. I sat in the tub for an hour, massaging my head, rubbing vigorously, tugging with my forefingers and thumbs, pulling out little black clumps. Kinda like weeding, only taking much longer. Guess I have a lot of hair. Now my head just looks like a poorly clipped shrub.}
Thursday, August 23, 2007
"First-World" Fight--An American in Canada
I have to admit: I'm having a hard time trying to figure out how to tie the story I want to tell at this very moment into my cancer. Maybe I should tell the story first, and then the connection will also come out of my ass. So last night, Dude was on the internet trying to find a way to gussy up one of his computers. He kinda became transfixed by it. This was because he had taken apart an old Mac G4 Powerbook by taking the screen off (it was already falling off as the hinges broke and the wires were just hanging there, exposed) and hooking it up to an actual monitor. So he was feeling proud and encouraged when he managed to get the jalopy started. Then he wanted to mess with the shiny computer we have--the one that is totally awesome accept for the fact that it is 1/32" too tall to fit neatly into our desk space. So he wanted to take it off the base somehow, and mount it on the wall. He didn't find any official word from Apple on this, but he found some other geek website that explained how to do it. I thought, There must be a reason why you're not supposed to....So I said to him, "Dear, any idiot can do anything if they try hard enough, but it doesn't mean it's the right thing to do." I was struck by the awesome aphorism that came flying out of my mouth, and wanted to set it in stone, in permanence, somewhere. Here's good enough for now.
Okay, so how does this connect to cancer? Hm, I still don't know, but I'm sure someone will think of a way. I just wanted to puff out my chest with my quotable, and if that makes me a word whore, so be it.
But let's talk about the cancer for the heck of it. I was telling my friend the other day that even though I bitch and moan about all that's going on, I feel pretty lucky because we live in a place where not only can I get some of the best cancer treatment in the world--and alternative treatments too--but I also don't have to mess with insurance companies and fight with them. I find Michael Moore kinda irritating, and I think he idealizes Canada a bit too much, but it is true that here, if you are not well and you need help, you can get it without trying to justify why you should have the right to be well! So all the stuff that I get to do--a lot of it is free! At the cancer agency, there are counseling services which include one-on-one counseling, seminars for families and caregivers, therapeutic touch sessions, relaxation seminars, cosmetic seminars for women, a Chinese-language sessions that my in-laws can go to, and other stuff--all free! Not only that, but there's a complementary therapy organization that offers accupuncture, naturopath services, and other things, that is specifically for cancer patients--not free, but I heard from many well worth the cost. So I am fortunate to be where I am with this illness.
Still, trying to find a way to justify putting that aphorism here though. Okay! I got it! I'm going to say that the chemo caused my brain to think up that brilliance, and that hopefully, the chemo will replace the tumour with awesome sayings and other fun word stuff! Yes!
Okay, so how does this connect to cancer? Hm, I still don't know, but I'm sure someone will think of a way. I just wanted to puff out my chest with my quotable, and if that makes me a word whore, so be it.
But let's talk about the cancer for the heck of it. I was telling my friend the other day that even though I bitch and moan about all that's going on, I feel pretty lucky because we live in a place where not only can I get some of the best cancer treatment in the world--and alternative treatments too--but I also don't have to mess with insurance companies and fight with them. I find Michael Moore kinda irritating, and I think he idealizes Canada a bit too much, but it is true that here, if you are not well and you need help, you can get it without trying to justify why you should have the right to be well! So all the stuff that I get to do--a lot of it is free! At the cancer agency, there are counseling services which include one-on-one counseling, seminars for families and caregivers, therapeutic touch sessions, relaxation seminars, cosmetic seminars for women, a Chinese-language sessions that my in-laws can go to, and other stuff--all free! Not only that, but there's a complementary therapy organization that offers accupuncture, naturopath services, and other things, that is specifically for cancer patients--not free, but I heard from many well worth the cost. So I am fortunate to be where I am with this illness.
Still, trying to find a way to justify putting that aphorism here though. Okay! I got it! I'm going to say that the chemo caused my brain to think up that brilliance, and that hopefully, the chemo will replace the tumour with awesome sayings and other fun word stuff! Yes!
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
"Fucking Argh"
I'm going to be thinking/saying that all day. I called my main contact at the BCCA this morning--my trial nurse--and her lovely voice on her voicemail said that she's on vacation for the rest of the month. She might have told me this, but I don't remember it at all. So now I can't bug her daily about when the hell I'm going to start treatment. Instead, I called and left a message with the receptionist, but it's more difficult to bug her. G'dammit!
On a non-cancer related note, I have an article in today's Tyee (a local online newspaper that rocks):
Urban Angel
I'm taking tips from my self-professed media whore husband, and posting it here, though it has absolutely nothing to do with cancer. But you know, makes me feel like being more productive again. So it's distantly related. Everything's related, I guess. Okay, must go change a diaper.
On a non-cancer related note, I have an article in today's Tyee (a local online newspaper that rocks):
I'm taking tips from my self-professed media whore husband, and posting it here, though it has absolutely nothing to do with cancer. But you know, makes me feel like being more productive again. So it's distantly related. Everything's related, I guess. Okay, must go change a diaper.
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