This Is Your Brain On Chemo

I only have one complaint about this last chemo cycle, which is pretty good.  Usually my guts are the big issue, but they’ve kept themselves in check quite well this time.  I started acupuncture recently in an effort to help with the queasiness mostly.  I did acupuncture a few years ago in a group setting and loved it.  It was so relaxing I konked out on a recliner only to be woken up by my own snoring and some guy across the room glaring at me.  This time around I have my own room to snore away, but I’ve been a bit frustrated because I haven’t felt the same overwhelming relaxation and I haven’t fallen asleep in any of my sessions yet.  I turned a corner this week when I realized that I also haven’t nearly been as nauseous as past treatments, and while I could credit the pills I’ve been taking all along, I think this voodoo deserves some credit too.

As I mentioned though, I’m not completely off the hook.  Side effects were supposed to get worse as treatment went on, and everything seems to have piled on in the Chemobrain department.  Oof, it’s been quite a week.  I asked my boss a question yesterday and forgot most of her answer by the time I got back to my desk.   I went back later with pen and paper, told her I was severely embarrassed but I had forgotten everything.  With a huge, graceful smile she said “You brought something to take notes with this time.  Clearly you learned something from it, so let’s not worry about what you forgot”.  WHEW.  Today I had to give a pretty easy talk to some new hires and it was a disaster.   I totally blanked on what projects I work on.  Every time I spaced something I wanted to yell “I have cancer!  I’m not really this dumb!”  I won’t beat myself up about it, I know I can do better, and I doubt anyone in the audience cares or even remembers.

Tonight I misinterpreted a website posting about a colon cancer support group.  They meet the second Wednesday of the month, and are changing locations to the SCCA House, temporary housing for families from out of town/state who are here for cancer treatment.  Anita had told me they were on hold last month but I figured we were ready to rock this month and left her a message.  I called the receptionists at both SCCA and the SCCA House who both told me there was no meeting tonight, so I decided to just show up at SCCA House.  Another receptionist told me the group was meeting there next month, but not this month.  So with all that proof that there was no meeting, I did what anyone else would do: I retreated to my car for a Cancer Stakeout.  I was just nonchalantly sitting in my car looking at Facebook for half an hour, but sizing up everyone who entered the building to see if they looked like regular patients, or people who might be going to talk about cancer in their butts.   When I finally get around to writing that sitcom about being a detective, I’ll combine this storyline with one where I bring my mom to work, since this seems like something she might do.

The winner in all of this though was Monday night.  Dinner at my sister’s house.  Not once, not twice.  Three times I caught myself blowing on the salad to “cool it down”.  It was a cold salad!  I’m glad I have several weeks off of the chemo to hopefully regain my senses, otherwise I may need to look into hiring a handler.  Someone qualified to use a Tazer or an electric cattle prod.

And instead of a butt joke I’ll share the text message that made my day this week: “There’s this Drs show on at the airport bar, and these glib, handsome doctors are talking about how great life is without a colon.  Just great!”  Well, I’ll find out soon enough.

One Month Cancer-versary

That ill fated CT scan was July 13th and perhaps my celebration choices are questionable.

My parents are on vacation and I am in their house right now, about to steal one of their cars.  Okay, they know about it, but still.  I think I finally have the hang of these anti nausea pills and have figured out how to stay ahead of that side of chemo ickiness.  There’s still my gut issues to work out, but we’re definitely making progress.  Today could have been a blue ribbon day were it not for an unrelated migraine.  Come on body, get it together. 

I have lost 17 pounds since this started.  I found a box of shortbread cookies my mom reserves for semi special occasions and got to work.  Normally I would balk at one person leaving the amount of cookie wrappers my entire family might not go through in one sitting, but I know my mom won’t mind.  And to make it a cliche binge eating session, I was crying as I was shoveling cookies in my mouth in front of the tv.  Rather than tears, I prefer to call them liquid feelings-I was actually rather happy during all this.  I was thinking about how lucky I am to have parents who will let me steal their cars and eat their cookies, about cousins who have been sending encouraging notes even when I am slow to write back, about friends who still treat me like a normal person, about coworkers who enthusiastically ask me about treatment, about people I haven’t seen in a long time who have passed along hilarious and upbeat messages, text messages accusing me of being a diva, about the people I don’t even know who I hear are reading this blog, about finding a good explanation of Chemo Brain, about the secret teams my friends have created to take care of me (I don’t even know half of what they’ve planned), and about all the reasons I have begun calling myself the Luckiest Cancer Patient Ever.

I really hate that whiney “chemo sucks” campaign, but it is so true.  I’m basically going to have the flu for likely the next year at best.  Lately I do spend a lot of my time rolling around in bed groaning, but at the same time I’m still able to remind myself of all the support you guys are sending.  Having a little glimmer of positive energy during all that truly helps.  Thank you. 

Now let’s close out this post so-sappy-it-would-make-Hallmark-barf with the Butt Joke O’ The Week, courtesy of my old high school friend Heather:  Now when someone asks “What crawled up your ass and died?”, you can say “Cancer”.  Seriously you guys, one good PET scan in and I will be running around in a faux-crabby mood just waiting for one of you to set this one up.  Save the date.

I’m booked!

I got my itinerary today.  13 pages of appointments someone else scheduled for me.  I want to make out with you, SCCA.

This Friday I have an EKG, Chemo School, and a PET scan scheduled.  I find the PET scan rather fascinating.  Cancer loves sugar, so I’m going to be injected with hummingbird water, then they will scan my body over a couple of hours to look for excitement.  Whatever lights up could potentially be cancer.  I hope my scan is super boring.

Monday I meet BATMAN.  He could decide to do surgery first, but it’s doubtful, so I probably won’t see him again until October.

Tuesday I will get my port put in.  This will give the nurses easy access for blood draws and chemo hookup, thus saving my veins in case I take up heroin later.  I can have a light meal 6 hours prior, which is defined as toast and clear liquids, or “non-human milk”.   Sounds like their other patients sure know how to party.

And Wednesday is the big day: chemo!  Since I’m a special case (due to connections, not condition mind you), my coordinator wasn’t able to get me in earlier than 2:30.  And we’re not blasting me with chemo, it’ll be a slow infusion.  So for this first appointment, I won’t check out until 9:30 at night.  I’ll get a doggie bag of chemo to take home and will continue the infusion over the next two days.  I go back in on Friday at 7 PM to be disconnected, then I repeat in 11 days.  Fear not, I have earlier appointments for the rest of this round, and will get out just in time for rush hour.

I have been turning down your generous offers for a couple of weeks now, but soon I will be begging for chemo dates from anyone who wants to come hang out in a hospital for several hours and watch me get poisoned slowly all day.

And finally, this week’s frontrunner for best butt joke is “It’s not a tumor, it’s a butt plug!”  -Ann M.  Previous week’s winner is in response to hearing that the tumor was tattooed during my colonoscopy, so it would show up on future scans as a known issue.  Sonja Rafterford, please take a bow for “That’s like… the ULTIMATE tramp stamp”.  And Dana is responsible for a mantra worthy of this blog’s title: “Cancer will rue the day it landed in your butt”.  If I’m going to have cancer, at least it’s one with endless opportunities for one liners.