Good Riddance, 2011.

The events that I woke up to this morning could not have brought into sharper focus what a massive pile of shit this year has been and how ready I am for it to be OVER...

In a way, I'd kind of forgotten how long I have been "sick".  See, the symptoms that should have been major red flags that something was drastically wrong with my body began just about a year ago.  Most of you reading this probably don't know that last December, I started having some super-weird irregular bleeding.  It scared the hell out of me, cause it wasn't just like having a period.  It was redder.  Thicker.  Often with blood clots the size of grapes.  I'd forgotten the exact timeline of it all until I busted out my old phone last night and looked through the app in which I'd been recording all of the symptoms starting last December.

On December 21st of last year, the bleeding began.  On New Year's Eve last year, I was calmly getting ready for Ryan's Boys from County Hell show at The Harp.  I went to pull my tights on, and I ended up on the floor in unbelievable pain.  My lower back hurt so badly, all I could do was crawl.  I was freaked out by this in and of itself, but with added weirdness of the bleeding in the same general area, I was terrified.  We decided the emergency room was our next step.  Ryan drove me to Fairview, and they got me all checked in.  After telling them about the pain and the bleeding, they did a pee test and left me to lie there.  When that came back normal, without any pelvic exam at all, I was told the two were "probably unrelated," that my back pain was most likely a sprain, was given pain pills and muscle relaxers and sent home.  Ryan made it to his gig before midnight and I rang in 2011 in massive pain, alone in my bed.

Looking back at the details I recorded in this app on my old phone, I am amazed at what I put up with and for how long.  And I'm appalled that none of the doctors I went to and none of the tests that were done indicated that anything was at all wrong, considering the following:

I was diagnosed on November 2, from tests done on November 1.  The year leading up to that looked like this for me:

January:  9 of 31 days

February: 20 of 28 days

March: 16 of 31 days

April: 11 of 30 days

May: 25 of 31 days

June: 25 of 30 days

July: 25 of 31 days

August: 30 of 31 days

September: 28 of 30 days

October: 31 of 31 days

That is how many days I was bleeding each month.  220 of 304 days.  72% of the time.

So, first, nothing was wrong with me according to the ER doctor last New Year's Eve.  Then, in March, my family doctor could not get a decent PAP smear due to all of the bleeding, so she sent me to a gynecologist - supposedly THE most coveted gynecologist in Lakewood.  3 month waiting list.  Yadda yadda.  But my doc got me an appointment with her the next day.  My doc also told me that she though she "saw something on my cervix".  I remember driving home from that appointment and calling my mum in tears - certain that I was going to die from some sort of gynecological cancer.  After she calmed me down, I had to go to another appointment my family doc set up for me - to have both external and internal ultrasounds done.  Again, neither of these procedures showed anything wrong.

The next day, I went to see Northeast Ohio's most beloved gyno, and she also told me I was fine.  I told her what my family doc said about seeing something on my cervix and she assured me there was nothing there - what my doctor saw was probably just a blood clot.  She told me that my heavy bleeding was a common thing among women my age - that like 10% have it.  Called it menorrhagia.  She put me on a low dose birth control pill for 3 months, which she said SHOULD regulate my bleeding.  And then she told me if it didn't help, I could have a procedure done called an "endometrial ablation" in which they basically cook the lining of your uterus to stop you from bleeding.  But this procedure means never being able to reproduce.  And even though I never had the desire, something about the permanence of that decision turned me off.  SO, when (of course) the pills did nothing to help after 3 months, I sought the help of a naturopathic physician.

Since Ohio does not recognize naturopathic physicians as "real" doctors, I had to pony up the cash to visit this woman myself.  But I immediately liked her.  There was no bullshit with her.  She was not all "woo woo" like one might expect a natural doctor to be.  No incense.  No peasant skirt with bells along the hem.  She went to real schools and got real medical degrees.  I felt good about seeing her.  With everything she could get from my regular doctor, all of the tests showing nothing wrong, she put the bleeding down to a hormone imbalance.  We worked out some diet changes and supplements to try to combat what she figured was a case of too much estrogen, and I went on my way.  I saw her a couple more times, and while I was still bleeding, I seemed to be bleeding LESS, so I finally kinda believed I was headed in the right direction.

And then in October, I had all this back pain again, and assumed it was a kidney infection or UTI or something.  So I headed back to my family doctor.  And once AGAIN, everything was "normal" but she did yell at me for not going back to the gynecologist for a 6 month follow-up PAP.  Which is when I called to try to make the appointment with the popular lady and was told I'd have to wait 2 months, and instead opted for the doctor who, a week later, saw the tumor and sent me to the oncologist.

10 months.  1 ER doctor.  1 famliy doctor.  2 gynecologists. 1 ultrasound tech. 1 naturopathic physician.  At least 5 pregnancy tests.  More than a dozen pee tests.  2 ultrasounds.  1 thyroid test.  Various antibiotics, birth control pills, pain killers and muscle relaxers.

And then finally - an answer.  A shitty answer, but an answer all the same.  Which is all I really wanted this whole time.  And here, I've been so busy the past couple months just doing everything we needed to do to fight this, I barely had the chance to celebrate the fact that I stopped bleeding like a week into treatment!  After almost a year.  And yeah, these treatments will most likely render me incapable of having children just like the endometrial ablation I was so against would have done.  And something about that, no matter how certain I have always been that I had no interest - something about it stings.  Just having the option taken away is so... final.  So sad.

But it's been a sad year.  Aside from ringing 2011 in alone after an evening in the ER, the first thing I truly remember about this year is the death of one of the dearest friends I have ever had - one of the best people I have ever known.  It was unexpected, yet not entirely shocking.  But it hurt.  And it still hurts.

Over the last 12 months, some pretty shitty things have happened to more than just a few of the people I love the most in this world.  And while, yes, there was  lot of good in 2011, the bad parts were just SO bad.  It's hard, at times, to remember the good parts.

I'm just ready for it to be the fuck over with.  Horrible year.  Stupid, sad, horrible year.  The remaining 7 hours and 23 minutes cannot go by fast enough.

I'm not sure how I will spend the rest of this crappy last day or this crappy past year.  I'm not sure if I'm feeling up to going to Ryan's show tonight, but I also don't want to ring in another new year completely alone.  Hopefully I will sort something out, and with the changing of the clock/calendar/whatever - so will start the changes that will begin the newer and better life we are ready to begin.

Fuck you, 2011.  Fuck you cancer.  Fuck you drugs and alcohol and disease and pain and assholes and everything that has hurt anyone I love this year.

I'm ready for a new year.  A better year.  A healthier year.  A happier year.  With good friends and wonderful family and the most amazing husband in the world by my side ready to kick the ass of any stupid crap that tries to mess with our 2012.

Happy New Year to you all.
Love, Phoebe

Things That Suck About Fatigue #2

I have not been able to put away laundry or deal with the pile of clothing mess in my closet since this began.  Now that I'm feeling more alive, I thought I might finally tackle my closet disaster today.  I literally managed to hang up three things and weed out 12 empty hangers before I was pouring sweat and had to give up.  Suck.

3 Down, 2 to GO

Yesterday was my third of five brachytherapy sessions.  And it went WAY better than the last one.  Maybe I've healed more.  Maybe it was just better without all of the waiting for CAT scans and whatnot, but whatever the reason - I am very grateful.  I was definitely 10 kinds of loopy when we left there.  I honestly don't really remember pieces of my time there.  But again, I'd rather be mush-brained than throwing up from the demerol, so again - I'll take it.  I saw the nurse we met the day of our first visit to Dr. Flemming's office yesterday, too, and she said that I'm hitting the point in the recovery from the external radiation and chemo where I should be turning the corner on the crappy side effects, and I definitely feel like that's true.  Aside from the general exhaustion, I do feel so much better.  All I can hope is that as my body is feeling better, that stupid cancer is getting smaller and smaller and going away!

Tonight, Ryan and I are going back to see my naturopathic physician.  She tried so hard to help me when the traditional doctors all told me there was nothing wrong with me.  And even though they ALL ended up being wrong, I felt like the naturopath really had a better grasp on how to help.  We're going to ask her about nutrition and various ways to get healthier and REMAIN healthy post-cancer.  I feel good about it.

Xxo, Phoebe

Things That Suck About Fatigue #1

Putting new sheets on the bed and then going from the second floor down to the basement to throw the comforter in the washer, switch the old sheets to the dryer, and coming back up to the second floor... and I am utterly wiped out.  Like I feel like I just did an hour of yoga or rode my bike 5 miles.  This is some crap.

I'm Back!

In more ways than one.

Sorry about the lack of posts (from me - although Ryan's from a few days ago was just lovely!!)  It's been such a crazy week and now that so much time has gone by, I really have no idea where to begin.

My last post was on December 20th, and that was pretty close to my lowest point through this entire process.  I was miserable Tuesday and Wednesday, and then Thursday was my second brachytherapy.  And it was a nightmare.  Ryan did a pretty decent job of describing how NOT ok I was in his last post.  It really was terrible.  I was already in so much pain from the external radiation that everything they were up to INSIDE was just unbelievably painful.  But as Ryan also mentioned, Dr. Flemming is awesome.  During all of this painful procedure, he was really fantastic about describing exactly what each pieces-part that they were sticking in there is going to feel like and how/where it would hurt/create pressure or cramping/etc.  After he had installed the new apparatus while I sobbed hysterically in pain, he insisted on more Demerol.  He is what a doctor should be, and you can tell that all of the techs and nurses and whatnot feel that way, too.  He is clearly well-liked and respected by his staff, and that is pretty fantastic.

Through all of the pain of that afternoon, Ryan was right there with me and he was just... there are no words.  Incredible doesn't cover it.  My dad was amazing, too.  I could tell it was difficult for him to see me in so much pain.  He got me safely home where, thanks to the extra Demerol, I  puked my guts out.  But considering that was my FIRST puke of this entire cancer shenanigan, I suppose I can't really complain.  And I ended up sleeping for like 17 hours that night, so that was kind of a plus...

...and when I woke up, I  felt... GOOD!  It was so weird.  That was the day that I rallied and made it to my company Christmas party AND to Ryan's band (Boys from County Hell)'s Christmas show at the House of Blues.  I figured if their fiddle player could make it there AND play after having just had flippin' brain surgery a couple weeks ago, then who was I to stay home whining about my silly cancer.  I'm SO glad I went.  Not just because getting out of the house was great or that seeing friends and watching a really fun show was so healing, but because it meant so much to Ryan.  He more than deserved to have me there cheering him on from the side of the stage.

Saturday was uneventful.  I was tired and Ryan and I spent a lot of the day just getting ready for Sunday.  He hit the market for food and I wrapped the very few presents we were able to afford to buy.

And then it was Christmas.  And Christmas was wonderful.  I had not spent an ACTUAL Christmas with my parents in... I'm not even sure how long it's been.  Close to 15 years, easily.  Eating egg casserole and opening stockings and gifts with mum and dad and Ryan and my Auntie Beth in the morning and then having roast beast and cookies and other yummies and opening more presents with Ryan's parents, aunt, brothers, sister-in-law, niece (and half-cooked nephew).  It was all so different to what we've all been used to, but I think it went really well.  I feel like as displaced as we all were, it was a lot of fun and that everyone had a good time.  Which means a lot to me - I can't even tell you.  Even though regular traditions were missed, it was a really nice day overall.

"But, Phoebe..." you ask, "how are YOU doing?"

Oh yeah.  That.

Well... how I feel is like sometime in the last few days, I finally turned a corner.  I hit a point where, instead of feeling worse every day, I am slowly beginning to feel BETTER every day.  The burns on my front are almost all healed.  My skin is crazy and splotchy and I'm still mostly bald down there, but the gray blisters gave way to fresh skin, which is no longer and angry bright red, but a calm, pale pink surrounded by the deep brown of a real (read: non-fake, non-spray, non-ORANGE) tan where the skin was not torched enough to peel.  My sore butt is healing, too.  A similar color pattern is happening along my previously distressed ass-crack, but the peeling/flaking skin thing is still happening back there.  I no longer have cracks in my skin ANYWHERE - those seem to have healed (including  the really painful ones that were in and around my most delicate bits).  My nausea and pain have mostly subsided and I stopped taking the nausea and pain meds, which has made the constipation go away (thank god!).  There still seems to be that lingering hemorrhoid business which causes a little bleeding when I have to "go" - but aside from that and constant itching where the skin on my butt is healing... I feel good.

Oh... and the stupid fatigue thing.  I'm having trouble sleeping, so I'm tired in general, but the fatigue.  It's different and it sucks.  And apparently it's going to last a WHILE once all of this is over.  Today, I literally worked up a massive sweat doing one lap around the Target looking for a pair of nice pants (for Ryan) and some waffle mix (for the new CIRCUS shapes waffle maker Ryan's mom got me for Christmas!!!).  But as tired as I was from that, I still pulled it together to go out to dinner tonight with Ryan and my parents.  Today was their 30th wedding anniversary.  And I really wanted to be there, because I helped my dad out with an awesome surprise gift for my mum and I wanted to see her reaction!  I was completely exhausted by the time we were finished, but it was great to just be OUT.  To feel a little normal.  To wear regular clothes!  (I'm back in lady underpants, by the way.  And I can even wear PANTS again - although with the weight I've lost, my pants seem to have gotten a bit bigger...)

Anyhow.  I know that's a lotta babble, but hopefully I did an ok job of playing catch up and will be more on top of this through the rest of this business.

Right now, I am going to try to go to sleep.  Tomorrow, one of my very dear old friends from Denver (who happens to be in Pittsburgh for the holidays) is renting a car to drive out and see me.  We had it planned pre-cancer, so I am SO glad that the timing has worked out and I am feeling so much better.  And then Wednesday morning is brachy #3.  I'll admit, I'm scared.  While so much of my pain seems to have passed, I can tell things inside there are still extra-tender, not to mention that whole shrinking thing.  Just getting a speculum in there at this point is pain like I cannot describe.  God... I do NOT want to have to buy a vaginal dilator.  Embarrassing.

Xxo, Phoebe

and on Dec 23...

My wonderful wife went to the christmas party at her job (where everyone just about fell over when she walked in), went christmas shopping, then went to the Boys From the County Hell christmas show and hung out until one in the morning... then drove my drunk ass home.

For the last two months I have had a fucking laundry list of concerns and worries... but mostly, and perhaps selfishly, I miss hanging out with my best friend. Tonight I got her back for a minute. I am beside myself. I could not be happier... one day after one of the hardest treatments and worst days of this entire ordeal she found the strength to visit with dozens of our friends and talk at length with most of them about how she is doing. She is amazing.

... and yesterday WAS rough. For real. All of the side effects seemed to be peaking. They gave her demerol. They set up a new and different apparatus to perform the second internal radiation, requiring a long wait for another cat scan and calculations... a LONG wait. Like more than two hours total. Doesn't seem like long? You have no idea. At one point a nurse walks in and says "what is your pain level one to ten"... Phoebe says nothing which makes the nurse look her in the face. She then says "OK. So that's a nine or ten then". More demerol. It's not helping. I feel helpless. Finally they cart her off for treatment. When she returns she feels a little better, probably mostly because it's over.

After the treatment I pulled one of the nurses aside and asked to speak with Dr. Fleming. I was worried about how much pain she was in and was hoping for some positive news... He said that everything that was happening was very normal for someone undergoing brachy so soon after external radiation (normally they wait at least a week, but because of the holiday it ended up only five days apart)... but he also said the internal radiation is most effective immediately after the external. He is still very hopeful about the outcome of the whole course of treatment. I like this guy and, to be honest, I don't like a lot of people. Dr. Fleming is a great example of someone who SHOULD be a doctor. He is warm and personable, intelligent and passionate... on top of this he is clearly a gifted technician. This guy is a rare, rare breed. I'm glad we ended up with him on our team.

That was yesterday. This is today. Her dad, who has beaten cancer more than once, keeps saying "Every day is different. Every day you learn something new". Godamn right. Today was awesome. Tomorrow will be better.

If I'm not in hell...

...then hell is in me.  In my ass, to be precise.  At least, that would explain the fire going on back there.

Yeah.  Remember when I was bitching up a storm about my "legpits"?  Well that was an effing cakewalk compared to this.  Somehow I guess I thought that once external radiation was done, things would start getting better down below.  Oh, Stupid Phoebe.  How you could not have been more wrong.  Since that much anticipated day a week ago, things in the side-effect area have gotten nothing but a bazillion times worse.  The raw red skin and weeping gray blisters that once tormented me up front have now taken up residence in the crack of my ass.  And, uncomfortable as it may have been in the front, I could at least make some effort to cool off/dry out the legpit blister-thon by laying like a starfish, limbs splayed as wide as possible in every direction with various and sundry pillows propping up this or that.  But you know what?  And this is something I've never really taken the time to consider in the past... there is NO functional way to air out your asscrack. So I spend my days (and nights) with my the raw red parts of the insides of my buttocks rubbing up against each other.  The weepiness of the surrounding blistering combined with standard issue butt sweat slowly stinging the raw skin all day... it's hell.  It burns.  It aches.  And there seem to be no products in existence that can help.

Aside from that, there is this whole fatigue business.  Which is different that just tiredness.  It's friggin' consuming.  There have been days over this past week where I have slept, no exaggeration, more than 20 hours a day.  (Then there are other days where the pain and discomfort are so horrid that I only sleep 3 or 4 hours, so I guess it evens out...)  Walking downstairs to go to the toilet is exhausting.  I can't make a sandwich. I can barely get through a shower.  Part of all that is the pain, too, so it's hard to say which is more difficult.

But it is definitely that.  Difficult.  I had no idea, and I really do feel like nothing any of the healthcare providers told me did anything to prepare me for this.  Which sucks.

I dunno.  I'm pretty much too beat and sore now just from sitting in this chair to write any more... and I have no much more I want to say.  Guess it'll have to wait.

Thank you all for your continued love and support,
Xxo, Phoebe

Pardon the silence

Sorry for the lack of updates since radiation finished. The pain, discomfort and fatigue make doing ANYTHING a far more monumental task than it should be. Including just sitting up.
I promise to back more normally once I have even a little more energy.
Love love, Phoebe

I wish I had more energy...

...because this post deserves it.

I am DONE with the external radiation.  Done.  Brahytherapy starts next Monday, but for now, I am done.  4 days off to start healing.

I really wish I had more energy right now, but I will just have to postpone gushing about the awesome folks at Radiation Oncology until I'm feeling less shitty.

But I'm done. Done.

Done.

A Short One.

I feel like hell today. But tomorrow is my last external radiation! And today is my last after-chemo-sickie-Tuesday!
So I feel awful. Exhausted. Burnt.
But at this time tomorrow, i'll be done with this part!
Wow.

Chemo. Is. OVER!

Finally. My first last.

Today was it.  Chemotherapy number 6 - the final one.  I cannot express how thrilled I am to have even one small part of this behind me.  It is a thrill, to say the least.  Especially after my Misery Guts Weekend.

I learned a very important lesson this weekend, though.  Or rather, I applied a very important lesson that I learned when my fears that something really was wrong with me for the past year were true.

LISTEN TO YOUR BODY.

And what my body was telling me, as I cried out in pain this past week, was this: "Hey you friggin idiot.  You realize that you can't even put most lotions on your skin, right? That there is no facial moisturizer, no matter how delicate, that does not make you turn red with rash. That even "sensitive skin" soap wreaks havoc on the skin of your hands, your armpits, your body.  Even just a quick change in air temperature will give you hives on your extremities for hours!  So what the F%&# made you think you could go rubbing Aquafor, A&D, Aloe, Monistat AND Lidocaine all over your most sensitive of areas without consequences?!"

So, after not really sleeping Saturday evening, Sunday morning after I showered, I put NOTHING on all of my aching skin folds and legpits and buttcrack and whathaveyou.  And you know what?  NO MORE PAIN!!!!  The horrendous stabbing pains of the previous week just disappeared.  Incredible!

Incredible what such a revelation does not just for the body but the MIND.  I felt 1000x better.  I actually SLEPT almost all day Sunday, after having not been able to the previous several nights.  I ate.  I smiled.  I felt OK again!!  *Huge Sigh of Relief*

I got so many wonderful words of encouragement the past several days.  Truly astounding, how much love is out there in this world.  You guys are just amazing.

Loads of love to everyone reading,
Phoebe

PS - I almost forgot... I got this, today, as I was leaving chemo...

This is really happening, isn't it?

When I first started this blog, I said something about feeling like this wasn't even happening to me.  I began this journey detached, not to mention completely unaware of what I was in for.  Well, at this point, there is no denying that this is 100% happening to me.  For the last two nights, I haven't even been able to separate from it all enough to just... sleep.  Every bit of "that area" feels like it is either on fire or just, like, disintegrating.  Literally.  My skin seems to just be falling off.  The blisters I've written about look almost gray in color.  At yesterday's appointment, the nurse examined me and decided that what it may be, rather than blisters, is a yeast infection.  Not in the traditional location, but just there in the folds of my skin.  Gross.  So, now I've added Monistat to the list of seemingly useless goops that I am smearing around my groin, none of which have helped in the slightest.  I also finally relented, yesterday, to accept a prescription for pain meds.  But just as I expected, the negative outweighed the positive, as the Oxycodone made me far more nauseated than it did pain-free.

And then there are the constant fears...

I'm afraid that the nasty, weird, peeling gray skin down there will get infected.
I'm afraid that infection or my own inability to continue will delay the last few treatments.
I'm afraid of ending up in the hospital.
I'm afraid the side effects will kill me.
I'm afraid that if they don't, this pain will go on for months after treatment is over and I will go insane.
I'm afraid that the treatments won't get all the cancer and that I will have to go through this AGAIN.
I'm afraid of spending the rest of my life worrying about the cancer returning, or ending up with secondary cancer FROM the treatments.
I'm afraid that all of this is getting too hard on my family.
I'm afraid of never feeling "normal" again.
I'm afraid to poop, because it hurts so much with my new friends, hemorrhoid and fissure.
I'm afraid NOT to poop, because I don't want to end up constipated again.
I'm just afraid.  Of everything right now.

It's difficult not to feel isolated and alone, even though I know I am neither.  But when I can't really leave the house, and at this point can barely leave my BED... I am definitely struggling.  And even though I have an amazing husband who brings me Mexican Coca-Cola in the glass bottle and a beautiful mother who comes and takes all of my towels to the laundromat, I'd much rather be able to go do these things myself.

The love I'm getting from all of you is incredible.  And I apologize for not being able to give appropriate thanks in a lot of situations.  I am exhausted.  Physically AND mentally.  It's taken me nearly ten hours to write this post.  And I haven't really slept in two days.  I'm going to try that now...

All my love to all of you,
Phoebe

Keeping the faith.

I'm really trying to...

I have to keep telling myself that if these side effects are kicking my ass so brutally, then the treatment itself MUST be bashing the living hell out of the cancer.  God, I fucking hope it is.  It better be.

Here's where I am today: swollen, cracking skin in places you really don't want to have swollen, cracking skin. Round two of blisters on top of blisters in that un-named 'legpit' area - these are so horrid that just the act of walking makes the blisters pop (very painful) and seep, and the resulting moisture seems to make MORE blisters happen. And more pain. And more, just, YUCK.  And then, on top of all that, I literally screamed and cried in pain just from going to the bathroom.  I'm not normally a screamer - it was almost frightening to hear the sounds coming out of my own mouth.  Again, I had to shower after because I could not cope with the pain of wiping my own butt.  Sobbed through the entire thing.

I'm sure that this is NOT the type of stuff that you all signed up to read, but I can't really apologize.  It's what I'm going through, and I think that in some tiny way, getting it out there helps me cope.  Unlucky for me that I could not have a less horribly located cancer with less grisly side effects.

But it is what it is.  And as miserable as I am (and trust me... I am MISERABLE) I know that each day I'm getting closer.  After today's radiation I only have three more.  I will get through this.

Oh, my aching... areas.

With 20 radiation treatments down and 5 to go, I am really trying to stay upbeat and positive.  I mean - I'm almost there.  A week from today will be my first day of being DONE with part one of this treatment.  That's pretty awesome.  But it's hard, at certain moments, to stay positive.  I can't help thinking how much easier this would be if I'd managed to get cancer in a less humiliating area...
Somehow, when the doctor told me that the side effects of this radiation would be mostly localized, the fact that everything "down there" would be in misery didn't really penetrate.  Somehow, it never occurred to me that I would have to take a shower after pooping, because the simple act of wiping my poor, fried butt would just be too painful to bear.  Or that just walking down the stairs would bring a tear to my eye because my "legpits" would be filled with blisters.  Or that I would be in possession of so many ointments and salves and goos to smear on various parts of my undercarriage.  It's humiliating and horrid and it REALLY makes me appreciate how friggin' awesome the human body is when everything is working properly.  I have apparently been taking that shit (no pun intended) for granted for years.
It's difficult.  It's painful.  It's embarrassing.  And it's more than half over.  I can do this.  I can do this.  I can do this.

And I CONTINUE to be floored by your love.

I just had to share this here.  My husband's band-mate and an incredibly dear friend, if not straight up BROTHER, to us both - Rocko - just posted on facebook that his online t-shirt shop is donating ALL of their holiday proceeds to my cancer fund.  I can't even believe that.  Well, no.  I CAN.  Because Rocko is the kind of friend that would give you his house if you really needed it.

Anyhow, I figured I would share the link to his shop here.  It's pretty funny.  Good stuff.  Rocko rules.

Scumbag Cobra Apparel

This is my favorite:

Love love LOVED, Phoebe

Chemo 5 (Yesterday)

I got some good news and some bad news yesterday during my 5th chemotherapy session.

We'll start with the bad to just get it out of the way.  What I was hoping might be my LAST chemo yesterday, was actually number five of SIX.  They originally told me it was 5 to correspond with the five weeks of radiation, but because of scheduling, my radiation sessions were split up into 2 short weeks and 4 regular ones. So yeah.  One more chemo.  I mean, I guess that's not REALLY bad news.  I'm getting to be a pro at managing the nausea and am actually getting BETTER at making myself eat even when I don't want to (though I'm still dropping weight - but not TOO much, luckily).  The worst part is... [WARNING: this is where the humiliating nature of the location of this cancer and the surrounding areas and their functions have become SUCH a ridiculous part of my daily life, that I've lost all decorum when it comes to what may or may not be considered "TMI".  So if you don't want to read about my unpleasant side effects, I suggest skipping ahead to the next paragraph.]  Ok, what was I saying?  Oh... yeah.  The worst part.  The worst side effect of the chemo that I cannot seem to sort out is constipation.  My poor butt has never been this unhappy.  I'm trying softeners and laxatives and even some "Smooth Move" tea.  And while I DO "go" - the goes are the size of grapes and come with the pain of  mangoes. Sucks.

But yeah.  That is really the only side effect of the chemotherapy that I completely hate hate hate.  The other stuff has been manageable and, while it's ALL unpleasant, it is all fixing me.  And THAT is worth every last wince and grumble and cry.  

Now, yesterday's GOOD news.  While I was sitting in the chemo chair, I received a call from the internal radiation office with my treatment dates!  We did not think I'd get those dates for another couple days, so I was very excited.  There are 5 treatments, and the first is on Monday the 19th (just five days after my final external radiation).  But the best date is the LAST treatment, which is January 3rd.  An end date!  A countdown!  Something to truly look forward to!  

I cannot wait.  

Xxo, Phoebe

Is "Legpit" a Word?

And if not, what the hell do you call the leg-crease-liner equivalent of the armpit?

Well... whatever it's called, mine are my new enemy.  Thus far, my side-effects have been mostly vague things like nausea and fatigue.  Well that's all changed now.

I was told from the very beginning that (aside from fatigue) the radiation side effects would be "localized".  The bladder and bowels would be irritated and I'd end up losing hair (not the sort one needs a Sammy Hagar wig to cover... but rather would send one merkin shopping instead) and having a sunburn-like thing going on.

Yeah.  That was putting it mildly.  Aside from the free brazilian and the four-alarm fire in my entire nether-area, I also now have horrid blisters forming in the aforementioned "legpit" area.  Painful ones.  Like, walked around Disneyworld for twelve hours in a new pair of Doc Martens ones.  Some of the blisters have blisters.  I'm not even exaggerating.  The magic Aquafor is no longer doing the trick.  I am IN PAIN.

At the suggestion of my dad, I have switched to slightly-too-big-for-me men's boxer brief style underpants.  They are pretty perfect, as none of the seams hit me anywhere terrible, and all of that extra space up front that I have nothing to put into leaves my sad, toasty areas un-chafed.  These new drawers are great for sitting still, but even the slightest bit of walking equals "ouch!".  And since I refuse to give up on my daily walks with Ryan, I can now be seem hobbling around Jefferson Park looking like I have a giant stick up my butt.

Oh, cancer.  I had no idea how humiliating you would be.  You are an asshole.  A fiery, blistery asshole.

Xxo, Phoebe

For Better or Worse.

It's getting harder and harder to keep up to date over here.  But I promise not to give up.  Just might need a little extra time in between posts from here on out, and when they come, they will probably be LONGER.  Bear with me.  :)

Now, let's rewind to Thursday...

I started out the morning talking about how tired I have become.  And then I headed off to work.  Where I had a panic attack over the fact that there was a client up in the gallery sniffling and coughing.  See, I totally cannot get sick right now.  Not only would that end up delaying my treatments, but because my white blood cell count is so low, the flu at this point could literally kill me.  That's more than a little scary, no?  In the midst of worrying about that, I sort of realized that this whole putting on a brave face and working through this whole thing is just not in the cards for me, no matter how much I had hoped it would be.

That afternoon, after my radiation appointment, I completely broke down during a chat with my mum in the hallway of the cancer center.  After much crying, we came to the conclusion that I would go in to work on Friday, tie up whatever loose ends I could, and then accept the fact that I was officially out of commission until this is over.  (Or at least has moved on to phase two.)  It was a difficult decision for me to come to.  I wanted to be so strong.  I wanted it to be effortless and to glide through the entire thing graceful and powerful and, I dunno... ethereal or above it all or some shit.  Well, no.  Not this time, Ms. Nelson.

As mum and I sat there sniffling, one of the Radiation Oncology nurses, Jennifer, came out.  I love Jennifer.  She is always smiling, always sweet.  She's like a little ball of sunshine dressed in white.  She is everything that a nurse should be (and I'm not just saying all of this because we told her about my blog and I know she reads it [Hi, Jennifer!]).  When we told her what we were talking about, her response made my day.  She said that it was ok to be wiped out.  That it did not mean that I am not strong.  "Look at you," she said. "You're beautiful."  Hearing that from this sweet (and beautiful, herself) woman while feeling as dumpy and scuzzy and awkward as can be... it really did turn my day around.  So, a big thanks to Jennifer.  And a big hug to all of my friends who either are nurses or are working toward becoming nurses.  You are all SO amazing.

Soooo.... after all this, I wake up Friday morning - and I realize there is NO way in hell I can make it to work.  I feel terrible.  I'm exhausted.  Vaguely nauseated.  In all manner of pain and discomfort.  It breaks my heart to call my boss and try to explain to him that I have to throw in the towel for a while.  His response?  "We'll be here whenever you're ready."  I cried for a good half hour after I hung up the phone.  Every day, I am amazed. Every day I feel more and more grateful.  If I worked at some bullshit framing chain like Pat Catan's or something - I'd probably already be unemployed.  Applying for Cobra.  Terrified.  Instead, I work at an amazing place where I am truly part of a family.  Where I am cared about and loved and understood - not just as an employee, but as a person.  Pretty incredible.

Anyhow, in addition to Friday being day one of my no longer being able to work... it was also the one month anniversary of my diagnosis.  That's it.  Just one month, and all this has happened.  One month, and I'm more than halfway through my treatments. Pretty crazy.

Friday was another anniversary, as well... it was Ryan's and my 2nd wedding anniversary.  I know that when I stood there, in the corner of the Happy Dog with just a few close friends, and I uttered the words "in sickness and in health"... I had no idea what those words would ultimately mean or how incredibly lucky I would be to have Ryan by my side "in sickness".  Because he has been completely amazing and I could not be more in love with or more in awe of him every single day.

Oh!  And one MORE thing to celebrate on Friday...  there's a woman who has been on the same treatment track as me.  We see her every Monday at chemotherapy and my folks, who arrive early to radiation to wait for me every day, see here there about a half hour before my appointment each day.  Her name is Carla, and Friday was her last day of external radiation before she heads downtown, as I will, for brachy therapy.  My folks see her more than I do, and having interacted with her almost daily over the past several weeks, they wanted to acknowledge her on her last day of treatment.  So they got her a pretty little vase of red and white gerber daisies and berries.  Very Christmas-y and sweet.  We all showed up early and waited.  She came in and went back for her last treatment, and then when she came back out, we all stood and clapped and I gave her the flowers.  I probably cried a little, too.  I could tell it meant a lot to her and that the staff was all really touched by what we'd done, too.

My parents are truly amazing people.  My mum joked a week or so ago about how she and my step-dad needed to do something fun with me to make it into the blog.  I had to laugh and shake my head.  Every single entry in this blog is in some way about them.  About how inspiring they are, how helpful, how loving and supportive.  Every entry is about the person I have grown up to be BECAUSE of them and of who they have always been to me.  If I did not have them in my life, I have no idea how I would be getting through all of this, or to be perfectly honest, through ANYTHING I have struggled with over the years.  I keep thinking of all of the incredible people I am meeting on this journey - the ladies in green, the Jennifers, the Carlas... and I forget that for some - the incredible people THEY are meeting on their journeys... are MY parents.

How lucky am I?

Xxo, Phoebe

I Have Never Been So TIRED!

Good grief, Charlie Brown!  I am friggin' EXHAUSTED!  Through this whole process, I have definitely felt more fatigued, more worn down, whatever.  But yesterday - it REALLY hit me.  I woke up at 7am, after a good night's sleep, and I felt pretty decent.  Jumped in the shower.  Cleaned myself up a bit.  Came back upstairs.  Started checking in on the world via my computer... and then BLAM!  I was exhausted.  I'd been awake for approximately 45 minutes, and I could not function.  I had to take an almost 2 hour snooze before I could get it together to go in to work!!
Once I got there, I had the worst time focusing.  The minute anyone in the room was talking, my brain seemed to short-circuit.  I spent 4 hours, mostly sitting down, trying to get all of the paperwork from the past week-plus back in order.  I didn't even do any real framing, and I was ready to fall asleep.
Somehow, I made it across town to radiation, and then I dragged my sleepy butt home and took up residence on the sofa.  Where I slept from around 4pm til Ryan got home at around 10pm, waking up briefly to force myself to eat some dinner.  By 11, I was upstairs in bed and there I stayed until 8 this morning.  I don't even want to do the math to figure how how much I slept yesterday - I know it's a ton.
It's just so shocking to me.  I think on some level I truly believed I was going to be able to just breeze through this whole thing and remain mostly unphased.  Guess I'm not quite as tough as I thought I was.
But that is not defeat you hear in my voice.  Just acceptance.  These treatments make me tired.  Nauseated.  Loopy.  And I am completely ok with all of that.  Because these treatments are also kicking the shit out of this stupid cancer.  And if they have to beat me up in the process to better get the job done, then I surrender!

Hell, just writing this right now has made me feel like I need a rest.  But I wanted to make sure I was keeping everyone up to date and explaining why it had been a few days since I wrote anything, why I haven't answered the phone, why I seemed to have vanished.  I was just sleeping.  That's all.

I also wanted to say thanks again for all of your support.  Thank you for following along on this journey.  Thank you for sharing the link and getting this out there.  Thank you for your donations, your etsy and imagekind purchases!  Thank you.  I will never be able to express my gratitude and my love to all who have been so supportive through this.  You are ALL amazing!!!

Love love, Phoebe