The Little Patient That Could

Very late last night, a home health pharmacy delivery a bumper-crop of medical supplies and an IV pole and said my very own nurse would be here this morning.

This is Jae. She’s funny as hell and already not taking my shit. I’m gonna like her.

I’m actually kinda stoked and relieved. No more random trips to the hospital. I can lay in my own bed like a lump and get fluids and meds. This’ll be interesting.

“Here I am using my legs, like a sucker.”

– Homer Simpson, upon finding out hospitals have wheelchairs

Magenta Dye Is Thicker Than Chemo

Earlier today was bad. Stupid bad. I felt like it was already over. All I wanted to do was let the bed swallow me and just be.

But that’s not me. Since I have never been one to give up or quit anything, I’m trying very hard to pick myself up. So, I have dye on my hair.

My daughter came in and asked me how I was going to wash my hair out when I just got out of the hospital this morning? With one hand, of course.

I made this hurdle my bitch. Fuck you, cancer. I win!

When Life Gives You Lemons…

This. Fuck.

Didn’t Dr. K say something about “close margins”? Yeah. Too close.

I had been feeling crappy for about a week or so and just ignored it. All the while my left chest is looking more and more like a mistreated orange.

On Sunday I went to the ER for a low grade fever that was steadily climbing and my chest had gotten warm to the touch and quite sore. After 3 hours of waiting (thanks a heap for the mask. My tumbling white count and I will be over here among the plague rats. Dicks) I was taken back. My temp was 102 and my blood pressure and heart rate were erratic. After being there and being tested a million times, I was given antibiotics and told to come back if things didn’t get better. WTF?!?

A week later, I went back to the ER and I was admitted immediately and re-excision surgery was scheduled for the next morning.

The night of surgery, again, not feeling much pain. But I was fairly hostile at being sliced and diced for the 4th time in 7 months.

They found a bit of a spot that crossed the margin along with 2 benign tumors; 1.8cm and 2.3cm. I wasn’t even scared this time. I was outraged. This is bullshit. This traitorous body needs to get its shit together and stop screwing with me. I know, illogical, but I’m pissed.

Over the next 7 days, I got 2 dense doses, a shit load of ondasatron, and more narcotics than you can shake a stick at. Truly, I wonder if they were using the drugs as a way to mellow me out? I was being a raging bitch, but after a dose of dilaudid, I was as docile as a kitten.

By the next morning, I was back to my charming self. I truly do put the “ass” in “class”.

By that afternoon, I was in a chair and enjoying the afternoon sun.

Oof. My bitty hairs had seen better days. I could have waxed a small car with the oiliness on my head! Plus, the hot flashes! Ugh, I think I had maintenance in there every hour adjusting the thermostat. Yeah, they hated me too.

The next few days were a blur of chemo, various antibiotics and meds, and those glorious drugs! Holy bejeezus, I don’t even remember taking this!

Even neutropenic, I was still happy to blow that popsicle stand. This was the last picture before the doctor took the dressing off on that last day. I finally got a good look at my re-excised chest. He had to remove all the muscle down to my chest wall. The new incision is 14″ long. My chest is concave and I can feel my heartbeat thru my chest. All that’s covering it is skin and ribs. My good mood shifted and I fell apart. All that positivity, fight, and sass was gone with one lift of a bandage. The surgeries, chemo, tests, procedures, and everything else too numerous to mention came crashing down and I broke into a million pieces. I just don’t have it in me anymore.