Last Oil Change! (…for a little while)

Tuesday marked the last chemo cycle of my first round.  I have a month off to go crazy and get healthy for surgery on November 5th, then I will most likely be down for the count for about a month recovering.  Then more chemo in December!  Hooray!  …right?

As usual, the day started with a blood draw, and the waiting room was PACKED.  The girl who drew my blood recommended I go to Hawaii to recover from my surgery next month.  I doubt I will, but doesn’t her recommendation count as medical advice?  Instead of meeting with Sam this time I met with the RN, Charlie, who is an absolute sweetheart.  After my blood counts were all the way at 16 point something last time, I have dipped to 1.8, or “right on the ropes” of another snow day.  It’s crazy to think I could drop so fast, but hey, another painful Neulasta shot will clear that right up.  Charlie and I talked for a long time; I felt bad for cutting into his lunch break but he had a lot of reassuring things to say about my upcoming surgery.  One of his recommendations was to get a lot of protein in, which I figured might be a challenge.  I eat meat when I go out, but when I cook for myself it’s a mostly vegetarian diet.  He checked my protein levels though and much to my surprise I’m in a good range.  He also poked around my belly to see how things were going.  This brought me some closure; lately I had been thinking about similar exams from my General Practitioner and the Gastroenterologist before I found out I had cancer.  If this tumor is fist sized, shouldn’t they have felt something that made them speed up the testing or something?  Charlie said he couldn’t feel the tumor at all, so I forgave the previous doctors.  Yes, the tumor MUST have shrank some due to the chemo, but I think it’s also one of those sneaky tumors that has been hiding from such exams this whole time.  Jerk.

Then it was up to Infusion.  The good news this time was that Judy was my nurse.  The bad news was, IT WAS NOT JUDY.  I was somehow assigned to a different nurse named Judy.  She was nice, and competent, and followed all of Judy’s orders from previous treatments, but it just wasn’t the same.  Good Judy came over eventually and said she was mad at the scheduler who screwed up.  She made sure I was taken care of and assured me we’d be reunited in December.  As she was leaving she told me she loved me.  I feel so lucky to be at SCCA.

 

I had the most festive chemo pole in the whole cancer ward.

 

As usual, my guests and I were up to no good, in a fun way.  At one point I was in the bathroom (I do that a lot on Infusion days) and could hear my friends laughing from my room.  The Nurse Bait was out of control this time; we had four kinds of cookies for everyone.  FANCY cookies.  My mom and sister have gone above and beyond with the baking this round.  I hope they know how much chemo I’m in store for here, they certainly aren’t pacing themselves.  And celebrity guests were right in line with a grand finale.  We learned that Kinko’s can make a really fabulous, sturdy David Hasselhoff for a very reasonable price, and we also got a lesson in British pop culture via a whole calendar of Cliff Richard.  Apparently he’s the UK’s answer to The Hoff, but while the Hoff will pose for calendar shots in the buff with real live Shar Pei puppies, Cliff poses with fake parrots.

I have to say, my chemo experience was never a horror story.  In the last two months I’ve thrown up a few times, but I’ve never spent a day hugging the toilet bowl like they love to portray in the movies.  I don’t really feel too bad on the three days I’m plugged in.  I do feel pretty lethargic, stupid, queasy and generally not awesome for the week following, but my doctors have been really good about prescribing things to help with that.  My purse is FULL of prescription bottles, it’s a borderline depressing sight.  There are a lot of things to like about my infusion days.  SCCA has created a wonderful environment for its patients; I have no idea where they find their employees, but everyone is always happy and helpful.  They have people wandering the waiting rooms with juice, water, and crackers, or offering hand massages.  People turn down the hand massages a lot, I haven’t figured out why, but I’m one of them.

Most importantly I am grateful to everyone who came and turned my treatments into a Party In The SCCA.  My tiny room was always full of friends who took time off work to come hang out.  There were a few times I thought I was going to be productive and write some overdue thank you notes, but never could because someone was always dropping in, so if I owe you a thank you note, let’s blame my supportive friends for my tardiness.  Really, I had long days in those rooms; at least 5 hours at a time, and over the course of this entire first round, I was only alone for 5 minutes.  I am overwhelmed by the amount of time you guys took out of your days, and humbled by the “where else would I be” attitudes you showed up with.  For those who didn’t make it this round, don’t worry, I’ve got a lot more cancer I’ll save for you.

Cycle 4

I’m way overdue on an update.  I’ll pin this on my new habit of never turning on my computer on the weekends, and a sudden change in one of my eyes.  It’s from the chemo; it’s always from the chemo, but my left eye seems to have gone blurry overnight and it’s difficult to see objects up close.  Perhaps I’m due for a pirate patch.

Cycle 4 started with a late blood test, close to noon.  The nurses take my blood samples with a special needle for my port, then leave me accessed, meaning the needle stays in for a couple of hours until I make it up to Infusion, and stays in for the two days I take chemo at home.  This nurse was very ambitious, she put all kinds of dressings all around the access point on my port.  I think spackling paste may have been used.

Instead of meeting with Sam this week I met with his RN Charlie.  That was some Snow Day; my new blood test results were laughable by everyone who viewed them.  Let me back up and explain a little.  The first shot I was given at SCCA when I was disconnected was called Neulasta-I incorrectly called it Neupogen.  They both do the same thing, but Neulasta is a more powerful one time shot, and the Neupogen is its little brother, packaged up to take home.  Initially my chart had orders that if my blood count went below 5,000 I had to get a Neulasta shot when I went in to get my pump taken off.  That didn’t really work; I still failed my blood test.  Sam adjusted orders so that I’d get Neulasta when my counts went below 10,000.  So with my snow day, I took the Neupogen home and that got my blood count up to laughable levels.  Really, the nurses would look at it and laugh.  I was at 16,000.  Definitely okay.

If you let kids you babysit for stay up past their bedtime, they might come visit you in a cancer ward later.

I had another meeting with the nutritionist and got some good news-I am allowed to eat fiber again!  Well, not too much, but good grief, I was missing good food.  Judy was once again a doll.  The Nurse Bait went over bigtime yet again; nurses kept interrupting to thank me for the cookies.  Even the nutritionist loved them.  Good work you Nurse Bait fairies!  Word is getting out on the floor that I have a celebrity entourage, so between that and the cookies I don’t suffer waiting for someone to check on me.  And now guests are showing up with their own celebrities, which I love.  This week’s guests were fierce.  Dolph Lundgren was dishing out karate kicks at cancer, and apparently I was trying to eat Chuck Norris in this picture.  Rawr.

Because I checked in so late I didn’t get out of SCCA until after 9:00.  I think someone kindly informed me I was the last patient there.  Getting unhooked two days later was the same thing; couldn’t check in until 9 PM.  I was a little concerned I would get there after everyone went home and would have to cart that pump around for another night; this time with bonus “I’m done!” beeping.  Thankfully there were plenty of nurses still there, including my first nurse, Amy. She admitted a coworker had said someone was coming in for a disconnect and she had tried to look busy, but once she saw it was me we had a fun reunion.  We sat and talked and eventually she kicked the other nurse out who was trying to remove the duct tape and cement around my port so she could finish the job and we could keep talking.

SECURITY!! This guy's no celebrity.

I don’t want to jinx myself, but with one cycle left in this round, things seem to be much better.  At least for me, chemo itself wasn’t brutal, it was all the side effects.  And there are tons of pills for all these side effects, so treatment was more about figuring those out than dealing with chemo itself.  I actually feel pretty good for those three days I’m plugged in.  I do still tire pretty easily but I love naps, so this might be my favorite side effect.   I bet that stupid tumor feels differently about all of this.

Special Delivery

My Snow Day Week O’ Fun does not come without a few housekeeping items.  I have to take potassium pills for two days, and these things are about the size of a banana.  And my immunity is officially so nonexistent I have to take antibiotics just in case.  And finally, I have to give myself a Neupogen shot every day for five days to get my blood counts up.

What’s cute: These teeny tiny little bottles of Neupogen!   They are cuter than if Anne Geddes took pictures of those adorable mini ketchup and mustard room service bottles instead of babies.

What’s not cute: Waking up at 2 AM when the Neupogen kicks in.  YEOW.

My first shot was intense all around.  I guess for diabetics and other conditions shooting up is no big deal, but the first time I did it was pretty weird.  And empowering.  Wipe everything down with an alcohol pad.  Uncap the needles a certain way so they don’t stick you.  Wipe down the area I’m going to pinch and stick myself with another alcohol pad.  Try several times to get the right amount out of the bottle without air bubbles.  Push the cat off the sterile counter and remember to close the door next time.  Dispose of needles in really cute new box labeled BIOHAZARD.  Wipe everything down with another alcohol pad.  Wonder what everyone else is doing right now.

The wake up call is nasty.  Same pains as before, in my hips and lower back, and the first night I had no idea how to handle it.  Do I take a few aspirin and hope for the best?  Painkillers?  Is it too late to take a sleeping pill?  I never got back to sleep, not even that inevitable 45 minutes before the alarm clock goes off.  I went to work, but was rendered absolutely useless by 2, so I went home to sleep.  I only slept for 20 minutes and was cranky as hell for the rest of the night.  For shot #2 last night I drugged myself to the hilt.  According to a few message boards, Claritin seems to help the pain, no clue why.  So Claritin was joined by some Tylenol, a Lorazepam, 6,000 IU of Vitamin D, and a Percocet.  Is that how Jim Belushi went or do I need to do more coke?  I slept like a brick though, and was in full Snow Day mode today.

I also went to see my General Practitioner for my headaches.  I’ve had migraine problems for years, and with the chemo (or more likely, all the pills I’m taking for the side effects) headaches have become routine and have ruined otherwise great days.  Honestly though, my oncologist offered to prescribe whatever I needed for my headaches but I really just wanted to have a doctor appointment that wasn’t about cancer.  I told his nurse I was going through cancer treatment and she said “What kind?  Obviously not chemotherapy”.  YESSSS!  Cancer looks good on me apparently!  She really said “obviously”.

And a few days ago, two people I really like welcomed a new member of their family.  I have a soft spot for baby Liam because I got the invitation to his baby shower right as I was first getting diagnosed.  I was so mad at that invitation.  I had CANCER, and I have to go oooh and awww over little shirts and little pants, and weird contraptions I had no idea what to do with?  I kicked that meeting request around in my inbox begrudgingly for a few weeks, then realized that this is a HUGE thing for Liam’s parents.  Huge.  Things aren’t going to stop happening because I have cancer, and it’s totally dumb to expect the world to drop everything and mourn with me.  Big happy events are going to happen to people around me, and if I sit here pouting about my situation I’m going to miss out on a lot.  I think I accepted the invitation the day before the shower, but by then I had figured out my feelings, gotten over myself, and I had a very good time.  So, welcome Liam!  You may just be hours old, and I think you are a long way from forming coherent sentences, but you have already taught me something very important.

SNOW DAY!

I flunked my blood test.

My last cycle was a breeze side effect wise; I’ve got a prescription for just about everything now.  Emotionally it has been the toughest yet.  I’ve been wanting more than blind faith to know the chemo is working, I have been a little angrier, and again I made the mistake of internet research.  I can get pretty resourceful with the Google, but I have self imposed a No Research policy for colon cancer as much as possible.  Curiosity got the better of me this weekend and I looked up the recovery time for my second surgery on my liver.  I found people talking about how difficult the recovery time was; one lady didn’t feel herself for a year and a half after her surgery.  Which probably means that how I feel right now, going through intense chemotherapy, might be the best I’m going to feel for a very long time.

Don’t worry, this post gets better.

My morning began like other cycle mornings; go to the lab, make a joke with the receptionist (today’s: “I’m here for cash and prizes”), get blood drawn.  The girl who drew my blood had drawn it before, so I was trying to remember what we’d talked about last time so I could be that considerate patient who asks follow up questions.  Then I remembered: we talked about her boyfriend having gout.  It was kind of awkward then, she didn’t mind, but I figured it’d be really awkward to bring up again.  I let it go.

Waiting for my oncologist was more exciting than usual.  My mom is very active in the local club for Italians, and had talked to one of her friends whose son not only had colon cancer, but had gone to SCCA and had my same doctors.  On a hunch I guessed that it was one of the patients whose profile I’d read on their site.  My favorite part of his story is that as a UW professor, he loosely knew Batman and emailed him for some advice after he was diagnosed.  Batman called him within 10 minutes and had him in his operating room 72 hours later.   Batman is the #3 surgeon in the country for colon cancer; people fly in from all over to see him.  Oh, and the University of Washington Medical Center is ranked #5 in the country for cancer treatment.  Think I’m in good hands here?

I’m off topic now.  I whispered to my mom that I thought he was sitting behind us in the oncology waiting room and got confirmation when he was called in shortly before I was.  I had my weight taken, blood pressure and temp checked, all that, then waited for Sam.  Big surprise, he wasn’t alone.  I guess Italian moms don’t keep secrets; this patient’s mom had told him I would be in on Tuesday as well, so he had been looking out for me also.  Sorry to state the obvious, but once again it was so uplifting to hear from someone who had gone through what I’m going through, and I’m not just talking about having an Italian mother.  The first thing I asked him about was the liver surgery and he said “Oh, it was a breeze.  I was back at work 7 days later”.  So I’m not sure what surgery I was reading about a few days ago, but I seem to be in for practically a drive through procedure.  He assured me the neuropathy would get ridiculous soon and we bitched about one of the drugs in my chemo routine, Oxaliplatin, like Jerry Seinfeld talking about airline peanuts.  He’s just about on his very last chemo treatment, so I asked when he was diagnosed.  Dr. Whiting almost cringed when he said two years-he quickly jumped in to say that was extremely fast, and I should not take that as a guarantee I will be off the hook in 24 months also.  Oof.  So for those of you who have told me you love my blog, you’ve got two more years to look forward to at the very least.

My meeting with Sam continued, and yes, flu shots are a go.  I learned I’m no longer getting Avastin (*guitar solo*) because I’m getting closer to surgery (November 5th), and I learned I didn’t have to take those steroids if I didn’t want to, they were just there to help with side effects.  I happen to feel better without them, and I don’t want to put my baseball achievements in jeopardy of never making it to Cooperstown.  I asked him for more reassurance that the cancer is losing and he pulled up the results from my blood tests that morning.  I think my CEA levels are in the 80′s, continuing their downward spiral.  Then he said “Oh, your potassium is too low”.  TOO low?  Not just really low, but too low… for what.  Oh, and my platelets, also TOO low.  I knew there was a chance that certain blood test results might mean I am not currently strong enough for chemo, I just had no idea that could happen when I felt so good.

He said “It’s mandatory that you follow what I’m about to tell you.  This is a snow day.  You can’t have chemo for another week, so use this week to feel good, get strong, and have fun.”  Do other oncologists talk like this?!  He just put the most positive spin on something that I assumed was bad, bad news.  There are actually some pretty big perks to this; one being that it bumps my last cycle to within one month of my colon surgery.  Previously I was in a weird spot where I might need a mini chemo to make sure I didn’t go too long without it, but this puts me in a more comfortable range.  And it works out much better for the two concerts on deck; now I will be wearing the red sequined fanny pack to see Hall & Oates, which just feels so right.

I told him a Hall & Oates concert was on the bucket list, and immediately regretted it.  It’s so weird to use the term bucket list when you might actually be holding your bucket.  We had a great talk about it though.  He thinks it’s important to have bucket lists-he has one but hasn’t gotten to work on it yet.  And having cancer doesn’t make me immune to getting hit by a bus tomorrow.  Going into this I was probably less afraid of death than most people.  At least I had accepted that it happens to everyone, but this has made me realize I might be okay with it some day, but I’ll do whatever it takes to delay it.  This brings up all kinds of feelings for another blog post some other time (I’ve got at least two years to cover now), but I brought this up to illustrate how sorry I felt for his next patient, because overall, we spent so much time talking today that I’m sure a few poor saps had to sit waiting on that stupid exam table for quite awhile because of me.  I know, you’re probably wondering if no chemo also means no celebrity guest but you’re wrong.  After we left SCCA we went out for mediocre Mexican food and sat next to local sportscaster Paul Silvi.

Snow days are awesome.  I could have gone home and logged on to get some work done, but that’s totally not how you have a snow day, limited PTO banks be damned.  I took a giant nap this afternoon, but I want to carpe diem the crap out of this next week.  Instead of being queasy this Saturday I’m going sailing.  I might go back to Quinn’s to swim in that delicious wild boar sloppy joe.  I might even take the twelve vials of prescriptions to combat all my side effects out of my purse to lighten my load for a few days.  I’m going to not have cancer this week.

Whooooaaahh We’re Halfway There

Seriously dont sing the next line.  Cycle three of five today, so I’m halfway done with this round.  So far it’s been very awesome.

My white blood cells were back up to a non worrisome range, although I will likely get that Neupogen shot again to keep my bone marrow productive.  I also got updated CEA levels-I do each cycle, but this was a good one.  This is how they gauge how cancerous someone is.  The normal range is between 0 and 3, in smokers it hovers around 5.  My first CEA levels, back when I had my colonoscopy, were at 10.7.  Before my first cycle, they had gone up a little, and after that first cycle, they shot up into the 100′s, I forget exactly where.  Let’s call my tumor Miss Jackson, cuz she’s nasty.  She fought back after that first taste of chemo.  But then I had that second cycle and I’ve given that tumor a nice warm glass of shut the hell up.  My CEA levels are still in the 100′s, but they have decreased.  Hopefully this is the beginning of a plummet, as my doctor said. It is normal for the CEA levels to increase during treatment; they can reach 1,000, but it’s exciting when they start going down.  I also got orders for a follow up CT scan the first week in October, so we can really get a good look at my progress.  Some of you have asked how we’d know, and we can guess all we want based on my blood tests, but the real proof will be another month off.  I’m excited. 

SCCA looked a lot more cancery today.  Often I’ll be looking around the waiting room and sometimes can’t tell who’s being treated but today it was depressingly easy.  Aside from me rolling in wearing pajamas essentially, I might have been the subject of anyone else’s game.  My head is still a giant ball of hair, surprise surprise.  Typically colon cancer patients don’t go all the way bald, but Folfoxiri is the toughest, most aggressive chemo treatment they can give me, so my nurse advised me I would be losing hair.  And usually hair starts coming out 20 days after the first cycle, and I’m at Day 27 with minimal shedding. 

This infusion wasn’t for everybody; only the sexy people.  There were so many props I’m shocked we never had a photo shoot.  Richard came back for more, but with less clothing, Chuck Norris was there to karate chop my cancer, and later two famous Daves showed up: Hasselhoff and Mr. Lee Roth.  Something epic needs to happen with all these celebrity guests once this is over.  It was a great rotation; everyone hung out for a little bit then had places to be, but with the exception of a few minutes, I always had someone there.  I took advantage of those minutes with a little nap.  And the drugs weren’t as troublesome this time.  I didn’t have Avastin (*guitar solo*), and I felt a lot better afterwards.  If that’s what’s behind some of my ickiness, I will totally forgive you, Avastin (*guitar solo*), because you do wonderful things.  I even got out on time and didn’t feel totally out of it or horrible when we left.  It was a gold ribbon infusion day.

Care Bear

I have a 10 lb cat with 100 lbs of attitude and a 100 lb dog with 10 tons of snuggle power.  My dog Bear looks intimidating enough to any troublemakers in my neighborhood, but the running joke has always been if anyone were to break into my house with a cheeseburger, I’d be a goner.  Bear has stepped it up in the security department though.  Aside from one incident when he was baited with a bunny on one of our walks (or drags, as that one turned out), he’s proving everyone right who ever said “oh they just know”.  He’s been much more vigilant at night and wakes right up when he hears something in the driveway. 

I have spent the last several nights at my parents’ house, which I highly recommend to anyone not feeling well (clarification: your parents’ house, my parents have their hands full) and of course Bear came along.  What a deal, they get to cater to my every whim, AND they get to take care of my dog!  Every morning my dad lets Bear out so I can sleep more, or at least he tries.  He’ll open the door and Bear just won’t leave my side.  We’ll try all kinds of exciting dog things, like “Bear!  Come!  Let’s go potty!  Bear?  Come!  Bear, let’s go for a walk!  Come on Bear, it’s okay.  Wanna go outside?  Treat, Bear?” and he looks so torn for all of thirty seconds while he walks towards the door, then runs back to my bed, then hesitates, then walks towards the door again.  He had to almost be dragged outside the first day, and what dog doesn’t want to pee on new bushes?  I think he’s figuring out that routine still, and that when he runs back up the stairs afterwards, I’m still here.  With my dad being the one to walk him and feed him the last few days, I think Bear’s loyalties might be waning slightly.  He now worries when my dad leaves, and gives him furious tail wags when he comes back.  Traitor. 

So yes, this week hasn’t turned out to be the glorious off week I was hoping for.  It was bad enough that I didn’t realize I had caught a cold last weekend until yesterday.  I’m not sure if that’s good or bad; the ignorance probably saved me from something new to whine about.  And it turns out that white blood cell boosting shot is paaaainnnfulll.  I spent Wednesday feeling like I was standing with my back to one of those tennis ball launching machines and was just getting pounded in my backside.  I assume that means the shot was working.  I also got some new drugs; one being a patch to keep me from vomiting, and a syrup to stimulate my appetite. As I was walking to the counter at the drugstore I heard one pharmacist exclaim to the other “Oh GAWD, it smells like Pine Sol!”  Sure enough.  That was my prescription. The patch is working so well I have forgotten to take the pills in addition (like I’m supposed to), and the syrup is inducing all kinds of late night snacking.  Cancer might not turn me into a size 6 now, but keeping food down is much more of an accomplishment lately. 

I should also mention that I really don’t mind throwing up if I have to.  I’d prefer not to do it in public, but don’t feel awful for me because I’ve upchucked a few times.  I think I’ve thrown up a little more than most patients might, but the rest I get afterwards beats the hours of feeling bad beforehand.  Who knows though, with this little patch behind my ear and my non toxic Pine Sol my life as a bulimic may be a thing of the past.  Again, sorry size 6 me. 

I measure how well I’m feeling by my willingness to sing in the car.  This morning on the way to work I sang I Won’t Back Down by Tom Petty, and I was singing at my cancer.

Sometimes You Go To The Hospital Unexpectedly (Sometimes)

I don’t think too many of you will want to read this one.  I also don’t think it will do much for my love life, but a small portion of why I’m writing this is to maybe someday give someone else with colon cancer an idea of every little thing that might happen.

Yesterday started out alright.  I let myself fall behind on the anti nausea pills and had been trying to get back ahead, and I was maybe a little tired, but I was at work and looking sassy.  I am getting pretty good at sneaking away for an hour for a nap in my car these days, and am waiting for the day when some concerned citizen pounds on my window asking if I’m alive.  Maybe they will just assume I’m hungover.  So I was in my car resting through lunch when I decided maybe I should head over to my parents’ house for some quality downtime, then head back.  They live about ten minutes from where I work, which is a lovely benefit.

Fair warning, here’s where I get way too graphic and honest.  Skip to the next paragraph unless you think I’m lying about having cancer since I’ve made it sound so damn fun up until now.  Really, you’re still reading this?  So, at my parents’ house, I made more of a “one and a half” in the toilet, it was that loose.  And it was red.  Definitely a “call your nurse right now dummy” shade of red.  I wasn’t too concerned though, I’d had some robust poops over the weekend and thought maybe it could be internal hemorrhoids or something, which wouldn’t hurt.  I called my nurse, she had my oncologist paged, and told me it could be three things, maybe even all three. 

One reason I may have needed to call my doctor (see how I got everyone caught up who skipped that last paragraph?) would be that my white blood cell count has bottomed out.  Sounds bad, right?  In a glass half full twist, this is a good sign that this might be as low as I go, and it’s only up with the white blood cell count now.  Second reason could be hemorroids.  Sorry kids, but you are reading about my butt cancer, remember?  The third and most exciting thing could be that the tumor is breaking down and dying.  I’ll take whatever side effects I have to for that one. 

So here I was in the middle of a work day, on my way in to SCCA to have a surprise blood test, just to be sure it’s nothing to be worried about.  After my blood was taken, I passed another milestone in my cancer world tour: puking in a public restroom.  I made it to the bathroom just fine and at least I was at a cancer hospital so it shouldn’t have been a huge shock to the person in there with me, but I was kind of kicking myself for not yelling sorry in between my obvious retches.  I think I didn’t want any feigned sympathy.  Admit it, whenever someone pukes in front of you, you act like you feel bad for them but you really just want to get the hell out.  My mom told the receptionist the second stall had been blessed and we were on our way back home. 

My nurse called with the results later, and my white blood cell counts are really low, which may have been the culprit.  I slept through until 4:00 this afternoon.  And this evening I think a new side effect began to emerge from that shot I was given when I was unhooked last week.  I forget what the drug was called, but it’s supposed to kick start my bone marrow into making more white blood cells.  As of right now I’m pretty sure those white blood cells are being cranked out in my tailbone and hips, because they’re all pretty sore. 

I will leave you all with this nasty, TMI blog post to get some rest.  I am guessing sleep is more helfpul to white blood cell creation than blogging, but I would need a medical research grant to be sure.