I lied about the Cake . . .

So, I lied . . . We'll sort of, I posted a celebratory cake on social a couple weeks ago, claiming I bought it to celebrate the doctor telling me my tumor had shrunk. The tumor shrinking was not the lie. It has shrunk almost by half since the last time she measured it. (Yes, this is a reason to celebrate!) So, after my appointment my good friend drove me to Pusatari's and followed me around as I drooled over every gourmet treat I could lay my eyes on. Then I saw that cake, you remember it? 6 layers of perfection with buttercream frosting, (with no artificial colors or preservatives of course). It looked like the kind of cake that when you bite into it your eyes will close out of sheer pleasure. I knew I wanted to dive into it face first. Could I justify buying a whole cake for no reason, especially one that was clearly marked “Birthday Cake?” My friend was like, "Why not? You deserve it, you and your hubby should be celebrating tonight, tumor shrinkage!" Me: "Yes you are right! I don't need a reason to buy a whole damn cake, I have cancer!” And yes, (in case you were all wondering), having cancer is literally the get out of jail free, do whatever you want without apologies card, so get over it.

When my hubby came home that afternoon I was so happy to greet him with that cake. First because I know birthday cake is his favorite and second because, now that he was home early I wouldn't have to feel bad cutting a huge chunk out of it by the time he came home that night. I was happy to give him the good news; the tumor was shrinking hooray! (I mean, it damn well better be, why else was I putting myself and my body through this emotional and physical hell??) So, in my mind I was having the cake to celebrate.

***SIDE NOTE: Eating has become a cruel joke. Chemo fucks with your taste buds so bad I never know what food is going to taste like. Sometimes it starts off tasting fine, then by the end of the meal the taste turns to garbage. Eating has become such a fucking chore that I would have done anything for food to taste like I remember. I really wanted to eat something, ANYTHING that gave me a moments pleasure.

But no matter how much of it I stuffed in my face, the feelings of joy quickly dissipated. The cake tasted damn delicious don't get it twisted, but I didn't feel like celebrating. Not even the smile on Corey's face, (which usually always works), shifted things for me, so I posted it to social so all of my loved ones who follow my journey could celebrate a win. Yay, Monique is getting better! I wanted that for them, and for me. I usually love reading all the comments, but it didn't work . . . I was sad and emotional and I didn't know why.

Then as I ran though that appointment in my head I realized that I didn't want to celebrate because this journey was still far from over. Yes, chemo is almost done (THANK GOD!!!), but new things were to come, (the things that I try to block out of my mind so I can function, like, surgery, recovery, radiation, hormone therapy - LET'S ALL SAY IT TOGETHER FUUUUUCK!)

While sitting on the Doctor’s exam table in my gown she went over the 2nd half of the chemo plan and side effects:

1. Still no hair (wishful thinking)
2. Mouth sores continue
3. Constipation
4. Indigestion continue (a.k.a. can't digest like 90%of anything?)
5. Fatigue will continue 
6. Food taste like sawdust
7. Blackening of the nails (Did I mention my fingernails are turning dark blue/black? Yes you can say it, WTF?)
8. THANK GOD SAY GOOD-BYE TO NAUSEA 
9. Aches and pains and soreness. . . I want to take a pause here- Can I just clarify aches/pains and soreness? What she should have said is you will feel like a 80 year old grandma, that was pushed down a flight of stairs and then rolled onto the street for some street kids to slap you with a stick.
10. Oh and let me know if there is any numbness in your fingers and toes, that could be serious . . .

Sooooo, yes chemo continues to be fucked up.

But all I could think about was, if the tumor is shrinking will I have to have surgery? So, I asked her, "If the tumor disappears will I still need to have surgery?

Her: "Yes"

Me:" Why?"

Her: "Because there could still be some cancer cells left behind."

Me: "Oh"

Her:" Monique, Chemo is not a cure, if we don't do surgery the tumor will grow back . . . " And there it was, the reason I couldn’t celebrate. That scared the fuck out of me! After going through all of this, the cancer could come back . . . It makes me scared to celebrate, to feel like there is a finished line, because I can celebrate the small wins but this will be something I mange in one way or another forever…. AND THAT no yummy cake could fix.

The silver lining? Her: "Monique, the good news is that you are responding to chemo, some people do not, the surgery ensures we get it all." 

I know I "should" be happier, but one thing I have learned is there is now way I “should” be, feel or act.  “Should” is bullshit. #stillhappychemoisalmostdone

The Tale of, "Crazy Ass Nurse Maggie"

Let me tell you the tale, of “Crazy Ass Nurse Maggie.”

Since chemo round #3 my doctor has prescribed me 3 days of hydration, post chemo home care to help with the fatigue. This means a nurse is scheduled to come to my house, hook me up to a IV for for 4 hours each day and leave.  (Note this has made a HUGEEEE difference), so I am clear this will be a reoccurring thing. However, the nurse (Let's call her Maggie), they sent was a bit ummmm . . . I don't know . . .  too much. You know those people who get way too familiar too soon? Let's exam the facts . . . 

1. She was making little unnecessary comments that reminded me why I don't let any, Tom, Dick or Harry all up in my house, like, “It must be hard to clean all of those trinkets you have around.” Shit like that. You know, one of those people who process their thoughts out loud?

2. She was super frazzled and a bit hostile by the time she arrived, complaining that they just added me to her schedule last minute. (As if I needed to know that).

3. Then she made it clear she didn’t get have my information because her first question to me was, "Did you go away and catch a bug or something?" To which I paused, then replied, "Ummm, don't think you can catch cancer." Maggie was instantly embarrassed saying that the computer wasn't working and didn't update her on my situation . . . I let that go (well sort of).

4. She was in her 50's so she treated me like a child, naturally. Not a huge deal, however she made a huge miss-step operating under that assumption, this is what happend . . .

I thought I would do something nice on the 2nd day of her visit, by giving her a thank-you card for what it occurred to me as a thankless job (based on everything she had told me in the short time we spent together). She had also mentioned she was having trouble with her two 20 year old daughters, (I use the term, mentioned loosely, since she actually gave me her entire life story on the first meeting, pointing out how hard her life was, and how her kids don't appreciate how easy they have it). So feeling like I could help having taking so many self-development courses myself, I wrote in the card a contact for a course she could look into for her daughters. She kept referring to them as, "2 daughters who aren't getting their shit together and are making her want to ring their necks!" So I thought, it couldn't hurt.  

On the 3rd day when she returned, she greeted me and she said that her daughters have taken all the courses in the world, and nothing has helped, so she doubt this would either. (I never mentioned the course other than in the card, I didn't discuss it and didn't want to tell her how to raise her kids) All I could muster was a shrug. It was not the fact she didn't want to look into the courses, I could care less, it's what she did next that threw me. When I sat down for her to put in the IV she reached out her hand and before I knew what was happening, she proceeded to RUB MY HEAD!!! and said, "Thanks anyway." (Insert blank stare here please). I didn't even realize what had happened until it was over! How was I suppose to respond to that?? What I wanted to say was, "Bitch no you didn't just rub my fucking head!" Who the fuck, rubs another grown ass woman's head? Let alone the stranger cancer patient who's head is shaved for fucks sake??? She is so lucky I had no energy to compute what the hell was going on (or that track record of never slapping an old person was about to get broke). Instead I just sort of sat there stunned. I didn't even have the energy to respond, so I didn't.

Maggie was nice enough, don't get me wrong, but it was time for her to hit the road.  On her way out she said, "I wish you all the best, and maybe I'll see you in a couple of weeks." (I was thinking it may be time for a new nurse), But I just smiled and proceeded to shut the door. Then she turned around and said, "You know your face is so familiar, I just can't place it." Me: "I have that sort of face," Why was she still here? I am thinking. Her: "What high school did you go to? Me: "Agincourt," please leave, I think to myself. Her: "Oh my God, me too! That must be it, what year did you graduate?" Me: Ummm I can't remember right now (I really couldn't, I was exhausted I can barley remember what day it was!, I am tired can you pleassssssse leave. Her: "I graduated in 81'" Me: "Ummmm I was born in 81'" PAUSE. Her: "Oh! Ok hahaha, that can't be it then, see you!" (Insert blank stare again please). HOW OLD DID SHE THINK I WAS?? If she read my chart she would know! I mean I know I looked a bit rough in my robe, sunglasses and caftan, but DANG!

I shut the door and looked over at Corey who had heard the entire conversation.

Him: "She's confused don't worry about it," kissed me on the cheek and smiled.

Me: "Hmmm, I kinda hate her now . . . Sorry."

P.S. she actually turned out to be my nurse again the next time around.  2 weeks later there she stood on my doorstep smiling. Maybe I overreacted? I did learn this time around, if I speak less, so does she. Lesson learned LOL! 

DIDN'T THEY WARN YOU?

First, I will apologize in advance if this post is not as coherent as the previous ones. The quickness I pride myself on, (and know myself to be), may be hidden under what they tell me is, “chemo brain,” a sort of fogginess that your mind endures while undergoing treatment. It has been 1 week since my first chemo treatment and today marks the day they tell me I will start feeling some what, “normal” again. Well those fuckers better be right because these last 6 days have been the worst days my body has ever experienced.

What I pictured I would be doing during this much-deserved time off:

1. Well resting of course (I have fucking cancer)
2. Reading books
3. Possibly learning a new language
4. Experimenting with new vegan recipes
5. Writing New York Times bestseller (of course)
6. Creating a new clothing line (I mean why not?)
7. Making my own line of #Fcancer emojis
8. Feng Shuing my bedroom (Note I mentioned this to Corey and his eye roll couldn’t have been more dramatic)
9. Doing my Taxes (that’s a lie)
10. Taking up yoga and start meditating (becoming all Zen and shit)
11. Binging on Netflix (of course)
12. Reflecting on the important things in life (you know like, #Fcancer emojis)   

The funny thing about chemo is it has a whole other plan that it never lets you in on. It sweeps in like a cloud and says something like, "You funny girl, this is not a vaca" . . . Fucker. 

The first day after chemo was fine, I mean I felt a bit tired but not too bad (you saw the last blog post I was ready to go!) By day two I thought maybe I would be, the one, who would beat all those adverse side effects chemo is so famous for:

Fatigue

Hair loss

Easy bruising and bleeding

Infection

Anemia (low red blood cell counts)

Nausea and vomiting

Appetite changes

Constipation

Fever (Just to name a few . . .)

I WAS WRONG! By day two in the afternoon shit went down. So yes I was warned, however it's like a mother telling a pregnant person that pushing a baby through your vagina, (sorry to be so graphic), is going to hurt like hell, are you ever really prepared for that? I'm just saying.

Let’s start with #1 FATIGUE. You know when I read that I was like, “OK I’ll be tired, no big deal, I know what that feels like, sort of like after a spin class, right?” HA! I KNOW NOTHING!!! I have tried to describe this feeling to people and the best comparison I could come up with is, it's sort of like being hit by a truck. How many people know what being hit by a truck really feels like? Not many. But one can imagine, right? WRONG!

It’s kinda like this . . .

• Walk down the stairs? Walking back up felt like I did an hour of CrossFit.
• Every conversation had a time limit, (one minute I’d be speaking the next I would feel like a hundred pound weight was sitting on my body).
• One minute I am staring at my husband so grateful he is here, the next I am wondering why is he taking so fast and so loud, (he later informs me was not the case), regardless it exhausted me and I need a nap.
• One minute I wish I was back in my old life, worrying about stupid shit like what to wear, the next I’m grateful that not combing my hair is a deal breaker because that would require lifting a brush.
• One minute I want to cry woe is me! The next? Well I am asleep to be quite honest, it takes way too much energy to even feel sorry for myself. LOL!

In short, my limbs felt like Jell-O, and every little movement took effort.

Then there is the nausea . . . one minute I’m famished and the next the smell or site of food is repulsive. Each day melts into the next, which I suppose is irrelevant when the only thing you have planned that day is to "keep you spirits up.” That's something people say to me, "keep your spirits up!" Or, “Monique it’s mind over matter,” (that one REALLY makes me want to take baseball bat to a knee cap). It’s like if I could have my mind tell my body to get it’s act together I would not have cancer, (AND my mind could alleviate, the constipation from hell, the 24-hour indigestion, the fluctuations in body temperature, the dizzy spells, metallic taste that pops up out of no where! The joint and muscle pain, the bouts of fever, and the chapped lips that stop shed a new layer of skin daily), all with the power of my mind! Wow I would be so powerful! Soooo I recommend not saying that to people undergoing chemo, just a tip.

**(Mood swings may or may not be a side effect as well, I can neither confirm or deny that).

In short CHEMO SUCKS! Not like in a getting a Brazilian wax, tattooing your face, ripping your fingernails away with pliers kinda sucks. More like . . . well like I said, unless you have done it, there really is no comparison. But hey today is better then yesterday, hooray for day 7!!!