Maybe going to the hospital was good for something after all. . .

I just noticed my sciatic nerve problem seems to have disappeared. (Yay!)

Hmm. . . About the hospital visit. It wasn't as easy as a fever this time.

(I think I'll just use the read more thingie when going into disgusting detail. . .)

I want. . .

to be pain free.

My urethra feels like it's make out of the stiffest, most unbending bamboo, which makes sitting down torture until I'm lucky enough to find a comfy position.

Also complicating that sitting thing is my sciatic nerve apparently feeling I'm a bit. . .hefty.

My urethra also feels like it's some kind of ring of fire when I go to the bathroom. I'm convinced I pee lighter fluid. It's cry-inducing painful. Unfortunately, people panic when you cry while going to the bathroom (especially 12 year old Beasties).

I've got all these wonderful drugs that don't do anything. What's the big fucking whoop about Oxycodone (or whatever it's called)? All that shit does is put me to sleep. Putting me to sleep is not alleviating my pain. It's just moving it to a later time slot. I want that shit GONE.

I can find relief from all my pains (except the peeing thing) when I lay down, but all that does is put me to sleep, because I can't hold books over my head for long and I suck at reading sideways.

Part of me is looking forward to the surgery on Wednesday, because when you don't have a bladder, you don't pee out your urethra, though I guess that doesn't take care of the bamboo problem. Maybe I can get them to just remove the damn thing entirely. . .

So I got sick at home yesterday. . .

(I'm noticing a trend)

Threw up, had an equal and opposite reaction (but probably not the one you're thinking and definitely one I'm not going into here) and developed a fever. When I discovered said fever, it was 101.9.

About 10 minutes later, it was 103.4. That was the point when I started making my way to the emergency.

Got to the ER at about 5pm-ish.

Got out at midnight.

During that time, I had 50 bazillion vials of blood drawn, all kinds of fluids and antibiotics pumped into me and no food given to me until I snagged a (thin) slice of roast beef and a (also thin) slice of turkey off some sandwich they dug up just before my midnight deadline. (I had planned on grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner and I REALLY wanted those damn sandwiches. But alas, my consumption of them was not meant to be. . .)

Why the midnight deadline? Because I had a procedure scheduled for this morning at 8am. For this procedure, I'm not allowed to eat after midnight, no drinks, no medicines, nothing. So after we got out of the hospital, and I took Le Beastie to McD's to get her something to eat, I had to drive the twenty minutes home smelling the delicious smells of grilled chicken wraps (plain, thank you) and fries stinking up my car.

It was torture.

Got to bed about 1 (had to clean up the mess I made pre-ER visit) and was up and back at the hospital at 8. Sluggish, groggy and pissed, cuz I was hungry.

Everything was going good until I got that needle (they had to inject radioactive dye into my bloodstream). Well, I got dizzy and apparently passed out (though I have no memory of such happenings). I came to just at the nurse who ran the machinery came back into the trailer (it's like an 18-wheeler trailer type deal) with like 4 nurses. So now it's the nurse, the 4 OTHER nurses and the guy of undetermined job status who stuck me with the needle. Exciting times. . .

I, of course, hate all this attention, so while they're all asking me the same questions ("How do you feel? Are you dizzy? Do you want to go to the ER?"), I just want them to leave me alone so I can get this procedure done and eat.

I finally sorta convinced them I was ok. (Three nurses left, but one stayed behind "just in case.") The procedure seems to take twice as long today. Was v. v. annoying.

Procedure gets done and the nurse running the machinery turns into this REALLY BIG mother hen. She's hovering over me. Got me three packs of graham crackers, two little containers of orange juice and a mini-bottle of Gatoraid. Offered to call a Med-trans van to get me home. I thought she was gonna break out the straps and tie me to the chair, but I finally convinced her that really, really, really, I was OK.

Now I'm home, and I didn't have the post procedure McD's I usually have, and I'm tired and I haven't had my medication today.

PLEASE LET MY WEEK OF EXCITEMENT BE OVER!!

Let's be real for a moment, mkay?

I find it funny that I can't talk frankly with my friends about the fact that I'm dying of cancer. They say all the things friends are supposed to say, "Don't talk like that!" "You gotta stay positive!"

It's hard to stay positive when go through 4 pads on a GOOD day and who knows how much toilet paper.

(It gets worse. If you like cherry cobbler, stop reading now!)

So I got sick at work on Sunday. . .

They paged my oncologist and he told me to come in to the cancer center on Monday for a checkup. I really wasn't expecting (translation: REALLY didn't want) the whole lab work thing, but I guess it's a good thing they did it.

Turns out my hemoglobin was "critically low." (It was like a 7 or something.)

Yay me. Got to spend all day Monday and half of Tuesday getting three units of primo A+ pumped into me. (I slept through all of it and a good 5 hours afterwards.)

Waiting for all that blood to kick in so I can stop sleeping so damn much. . .

So. . .

I dropped off of Facebook for a bit.

I'm not going to go into why and I'm not back yet, just posting an update so people know what's going on with "the cancer thing."

I went to the doctor on the 15. He wasn't as "not himself" as he was last time I went, but yet and still, the news was still not good.

Turns out the chemotherapy isn't working. I have another surgery scheduled for the 16th of March. I think they wanted to do the surgery on the 16th of February (they talked about admitting me to the hospital straight from the doctor's office), but I put my foot down. I didn't have anyone to take care of Le Beastie and I was in a rental that I hadn't budgeted to have indefinitely.

After this surgery, I will be taking a month off of work to heal, going back to work about early/mid April and quitting my job to move back to Delaware at the end of May.

And. . .that's my update for today.

So. . .I'm taking a break from Facebook. . .

It seems like every time I turn around, someone is announcing they're pregnant. I'm happy for them. . .really. But at the same time, I'm enraged, because I won't be getting pregnant. I won't be having any more kids. And it wasn't even my choice.

I found out by accident that radiation had killed my ovaries. A quick off-hand comment by some doctor that I never saw again and I'm sitting stunned in the office.

I never meant for my daughter to be an only child.

And I'm pissed that she has to be.

I knew there was going to come a time when pregnant people and newborns were gonna send me down the spiral, but I always thought it would start with my boss' daughter (the first baby I saw post-op). It didn't, so I thought I was safe.

Boy was I wrong.

All the feelings were just waiting for 5 months to pass and me to drop my guard.

Oh well, I'll just wall myself off while I work on it. I mean, I can't be so self-centered as to ask my friends not to talk about their pregnancies, can I?

A quick update

Someone pointed out to me that I haven't updated in a bit, so I'm doing a quick copy and paste (too tired for more atm. . .)

At my two month post op check up, it was discovered that all of the cancer that the doctor had cut out had grown back. Now I'm on chemo again (3 month cycle that runs through March, I think). Harsher stuff this time. (My hair fell out just before Christmas, the first week after chemo I'm pretty much useless, blah, blah, blah.)

I am having trouble working full shifts because I'm so tired all the time, so my income has gone down. If something doesn't happen soon, I'm going to have to move back north, so I have people to take care of me.

That's pretty much it for now. I'm working on getting my energy back (instead of my day being a series of naps, I try to stay awake at least until Le Beastie gets home from school, working on walking more (not working out quite like it should atm. . .) and trying to drink more water, not tea) and trying to stay upbeat (sometimes it even works).

And that's my update.

Getting better all the time. . .

I'm now back up to 5 days a week at work (though with only 5 hours instead of 8) and most of my pains are gone.

I have to work on my stamina (after work, I'm usually ready for a nap and most nights, I'm in bed by 8:30), my flexibility (I can't sit back against a wall and put my legs anywhere near flat on the floor) and muscle strength (my Kegel muscles are shot, leading to some interesting situations when I'm in new places).

But I'm not complaining. It could be (and has been) worse.

I have an appointment at the end of the month where we'll go over my last scan to see if the cancer is all gone. Until then, it's business as usual. . .

And now, it's time to get ready for bed. . . Or maybe WoW. Nah, definitely bed. . .

Uh. . .

"Find encouragement in comparing yourself to your first week instead of your best day." ~ Hystersisters.com



Sometimes I get caught up in whatever pain/drama I'm going through, but it doesn't take me long to come back to "Remember when you first came home?"



I'm sorry for all the griping, bitching and (probably) TMIs I blindside you guys with. Consider it a sign of how good a friend I consider you that I just let it all hang out. (Or you can ask to be removed from the list so you won't see them if it bothers you.) 8) 



Have a good night all. . .