Is it totally cliche that I am posting on New Year's Eve? And I'm going to be more cliche and tell you what I want for 2012. I would like to haaaaaaaaave, no bags of blood. I am getting another blood transfusion next week but let's pretend that it's happening in 2011.
At this point I have had over 10 bags of blood, so I am looking forward to maintaining a normal or close to normal hemoglobin in 2012. I am also looking forward to the start of some seriously trashy shows in 2012. My acupuncturist said I should eat red meat, I'll save that for 2012, maybe. I would like to learn how to play the guitar in 2012. I will learn how to dougie in 2012, for real. Oh, I guess I can kick cancer's ass in 2012......again.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 2, 2011
3 Bags and a Cancer Patient
I have a theory.........if you have cancer you can curse as much as you want and you get a free pass all.the.time.
I remember when I learned that cursing was a bad thing. Family car ride. We were going through a toll, on the Garden State Parkway, and the driver in front of us missed the basket. The driver hit the brakes, put the car in park and got out to run back and put coins in the toll basket. My father got really mad, "Blah, blah, blah, freakin'!!, blah, blah, blah!" I realize now that I have the worst memory ever and I can't blame it on the a a a a a alcohol...I mean chemo brain. So all I remember is my dad saying 'FREAKIN'!' I decided this would be a great time to laugh out loud and repeat what he said. BAD CHOICE.
I immediately got in trouble for that.
So now that I have cancer I drop the f-bomb double time. Sorry Mom and Dad. If it was appropriate to curse at select hospital staff, I would. I began my Thanksgiving with a Ct scan and ended it with an MRI, while suffering from a mysteriously 2 week long migraine. Which means the MRI was on my brain. Which means I was freaking the fuck out. You can make me drink bottles of barium sulfate, inject me with dye, radiate my body, access my port over and over and over again, pour toxins in my body, take my blood, give me blood, etc., BUT do NOT put me in an MRI machine. I can't describe the severe panic that sets in hours before getting an MRI. It's not just the horrifying sounds that come with an MRI but the the fear of having no escape and being closed in a small space. Oh right, that's claustrophobia.
So I noticed lately that the technicians or therapists that do scans treat me and probably others, like robots. I HAVE FUCKING CANCER! IT'S EATING MY HIP BONE, WHICH CAUSES ME PAIN, THEREFORE I CANNOT GET ON THE TABLE AND BE SHOVED INTO THE MACHINE IN A MATTER OF SECONDS!!!!! Is what I wish I said. But naturally I just nod my head, "OK," while clear plastic head gear is secured on my head, similar to this,
pads are smushed on either side of my head, just in case I doze off, an emergency bubble squeezer thing is placed in my hand and, off you gooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
Most traumatic experience ever. No wonder I feel the urge to curse at people.
As my cancer cells are being annihilated, my blood must be drowning. Hemoglobin is at a record low, 6.9. So let's pump my body with as much blood as we can!
A glimpse of a cancer patient's checklist of goals to accomplish:
15 radiation treatments, with no pants on, check. And radiation diploma obtained, check.
Clean Ct scan, sort of, check.
Clean MRI pictures, check.
Spending over 13 hours in the hospital in one day, check.
3 bags of blood transfused, check.
2 hospital meals left uneaten, check.
First day I have not been at the hospital since (I can't remember it's been so long), check.
I remember when I learned that cursing was a bad thing. Family car ride. We were going through a toll, on the Garden State Parkway, and the driver in front of us missed the basket. The driver hit the brakes, put the car in park and got out to run back and put coins in the toll basket. My father got really mad, "Blah, blah, blah, freakin'!!, blah, blah, blah!" I realize now that I have the worst memory ever and I can't blame it on the a a a a a alcohol...I mean chemo brain. So all I remember is my dad saying 'FREAKIN'!' I decided this would be a great time to laugh out loud and repeat what he said. BAD CHOICE.
I immediately got in trouble for that.
So now that I have cancer I drop the f-bomb double time. Sorry Mom and Dad. If it was appropriate to curse at select hospital staff, I would. I began my Thanksgiving with a Ct scan and ended it with an MRI, while suffering from a mysteriously 2 week long migraine. Which means the MRI was on my brain. Which means I was freaking the fuck out. You can make me drink bottles of barium sulfate, inject me with dye, radiate my body, access my port over and over and over again, pour toxins in my body, take my blood, give me blood, etc., BUT do NOT put me in an MRI machine. I can't describe the severe panic that sets in hours before getting an MRI. It's not just the horrifying sounds that come with an MRI but the the fear of having no escape and being closed in a small space. Oh right, that's claustrophobia.
So I noticed lately that the technicians or therapists that do scans treat me and probably others, like robots. I HAVE FUCKING CANCER! IT'S EATING MY HIP BONE, WHICH CAUSES ME PAIN, THEREFORE I CANNOT GET ON THE TABLE AND BE SHOVED INTO THE MACHINE IN A MATTER OF SECONDS!!!!! Is what I wish I said. But naturally I just nod my head, "OK," while clear plastic head gear is secured on my head, similar to this,
pads are smushed on either side of my head, just in case I doze off, an emergency bubble squeezer thing is placed in my hand and, off you gooooooooooooooooooooooooo.
Most traumatic experience ever. No wonder I feel the urge to curse at people.
As my cancer cells are being annihilated, my blood must be drowning. Hemoglobin is at a record low, 6.9. So let's pump my body with as much blood as we can!
A glimpse of a cancer patient's checklist of goals to accomplish:
15 radiation treatments, with no pants on, check. And radiation diploma obtained, check.
Clean Ct scan, sort of, check.
Clean MRI pictures, check.
Spending over 13 hours in the hospital in one day, check.
3 bags of blood transfused, check.
2 hospital meals left uneaten, check.
First day I have not been at the hospital since (I can't remember it's been so long), check.
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