I am sorry, so very sorry Carla is gone. I will miss her as I have never missed a patient. She will never be forgotten, never ever. Carla, you have made me a better doctor, as you make all those you have touched better.Bonni Guerin
June 3, 2012
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Tribute
June 3, 2012
Poem
By Danny Cupo
All of the time with you Carla, you continued to amaze us
However strong the power of your love your strength could be
And all of the time with you Carla you would just simply courageously take our breath away
We would watch you grow as a child
Sometimes gentle and sometimes mild
But all of the time with you Carla, you would just simply take our breath away
And it was all too good to let slip by
And just too good to lose
Too good to be there...just to use
We are all going to join hands and stand on a mountain top
And tell the grand news
That, that you would simply courageously take our breath away
And at all times it would just amaze us
How strong the power of your love, and courage was
And when we felt your eyes on us as we do now and forever
Carla you would simply, continuously and courageously take...our...breath...away...
All of the time with you Carla, you continued to amaze us
However strong the power of your love your strength could be
And all of the time with you Carla you would just simply courageously take our breath away
We would watch you grow as a child
Sometimes gentle and sometimes mild
But all of the time with you Carla, you would just simply take our breath away
And it was all too good to let slip by
And just too good to lose
Too good to be there...just to use
We are all going to join hands and stand on a mountain top
And tell the grand news
That, that you would simply courageously take our breath away
And at all times it would just amaze us
How strong the power of your love, and courage was
And when we felt your eyes on us as we do now and forever
Carla you would simply, continuously and courageously take...our...breath...away...
Saturday, May 11, 2013
"Of two sisters one is always the watcher, one the dancer."
One of my coworkers sent me a card with a beautiful quote by Louise Gluck;
A few months ago, Carla, Sam and I were in the car driving in a funeral procession and Carla, in true Carla style, said to us; "Cremate me and have a party, I don't want any of this shit." So on behalf of myself, my parents Cathy & Nick and my husband Sam, I would like to welcome you to Carla's party. No matter how you knew Carla you are here because you loved her and because she loved you. To put it bluntly this whole situation just sucks, at this point there is no reason to try to justify it or find a reason as to "why" it happened in the grand scheme of things. Every one of us would give anything to have Carla back with us: to hear her sarcastic comments, to watch bad TV with her, to text her silly things, to have a dance party with her and sing at the tops of our lungs, to have her read our children a book. But we can't, so we'll have to settle for celebrating her in the best way we know how---with stories, laughter and love. Thanks to all of you who helped make this celebration of Carla's life come together....you have our heartfelt thanks and undying love and devotion. We would like to invite you all to do some of Carla's favorite things--eat, drink and laugh.
I think that this accurately sums up this celebration of a life:
We show up, burn brightly in the moment,
live passionately, and when the moment is over,
when our work is done, we step back and let go.
Victory to our spirit, peace to all beings.
"Of two sisters one is always the watcher, one the dancer."Whether you have known Carla and I for years or you just learned more about her in the last half hour, you know that this quote is true on so many levels. I think that in our respective roles as watcher and dancer we complimented each other and found the perfect balance for us---the perfect twosome. I will miss Carla more than I can even fathom right now. I don't know how to exist in this world without her, how to be alone. I have a feeling that I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to figure it out. But I do know this: I know in my heart-- she will always be there watching me as I attempt to dance through life and that I, will ALWAYS, be dancing for her.
A few months ago, Carla, Sam and I were in the car driving in a funeral procession and Carla, in true Carla style, said to us; "Cremate me and have a party, I don't want any of this shit." So on behalf of myself, my parents Cathy & Nick and my husband Sam, I would like to welcome you to Carla's party. No matter how you knew Carla you are here because you loved her and because she loved you. To put it bluntly this whole situation just sucks, at this point there is no reason to try to justify it or find a reason as to "why" it happened in the grand scheme of things. Every one of us would give anything to have Carla back with us: to hear her sarcastic comments, to watch bad TV with her, to text her silly things, to have a dance party with her and sing at the tops of our lungs, to have her read our children a book. But we can't, so we'll have to settle for celebrating her in the best way we know how---with stories, laughter and love. Thanks to all of you who helped make this celebration of Carla's life come together....you have our heartfelt thanks and undying love and devotion. We would like to invite you all to do some of Carla's favorite things--eat, drink and laugh.
I think that this accurately sums up this celebration of a life:
We show up, burn brightly in the moment,
live passionately, and when the moment is over,
when our work is done, we step back and let go.
Victory to our spirit, peace to all beings.
"Every exit is an entrance somewhere else."
Sameer's remembrance June 12, 2012.
I would like to start tonight's memorial celebration with a story of a beginning. The story of how Carla and I first met. There are thousands of entrances and exits in our lives, some of them have little impact on us but others leave a mark for eternity. The story of Carla's entrance and exit in my life is one that has left a mark and will have an impact on everything I do for the rest of my life.
I met Carla on July 15, 2008, her 27th birthday. Some friends and I (many of whom became Carla's friends and are here tonight) were meeting down at The Tavern in Scotch Plains to watch the All-Star game. As Brad and I walked in I noticed this girl (Marisa) at the bar whom I had met a few weeks prior. I went up to say hi and it turned out that she was there celebrating her sister's birthday with some friends. As she introduced us, Brad and I both noticed a pair of crutches leaning on the bar, and we asked if either one of them had hurt their leg. Carla, in a non-dramatic smooth tone responded, "No, I have breast cancer and it spread to my bones." That was my first introduction to Carla's special way of just laying it all out there.
From that night on, a bond formed between the two of us and over the next few years it grew stronger and stronger: from harassing Marisa, to acting silly at parties, to creating amazing Halloween costumes, to serious conversations about the things going on in our lives. Carla and I became more than friends---we became siblings.
Being around Carla for the last few years showed me what real strength is and I hope I was able to reflect that back to her in the last weeks of her life. I hope that my actions showed her how much I loved her and how important she was as a sister to me. I found a quote by Tom Stoppard that I thought was appropriate: "Every exit is an entrance somewhere else."
Carla, although your exit was too soon, I hope that you are making a grand and rocking entrance to the next phase and I know that wherever you are, you will continue to make a lasting impressions on those you meet just as you made on everyone in this room and beyond.
I would like to start tonight's memorial celebration with a story of a beginning. The story of how Carla and I first met. There are thousands of entrances and exits in our lives, some of them have little impact on us but others leave a mark for eternity. The story of Carla's entrance and exit in my life is one that has left a mark and will have an impact on everything I do for the rest of my life.
I met Carla on July 15, 2008, her 27th birthday. Some friends and I (many of whom became Carla's friends and are here tonight) were meeting down at The Tavern in Scotch Plains to watch the All-Star game. As Brad and I walked in I noticed this girl (Marisa) at the bar whom I had met a few weeks prior. I went up to say hi and it turned out that she was there celebrating her sister's birthday with some friends. As she introduced us, Brad and I both noticed a pair of crutches leaning on the bar, and we asked if either one of them had hurt their leg. Carla, in a non-dramatic smooth tone responded, "No, I have breast cancer and it spread to my bones." That was my first introduction to Carla's special way of just laying it all out there.
From that night on, a bond formed between the two of us and over the next few years it grew stronger and stronger: from harassing Marisa, to acting silly at parties, to creating amazing Halloween costumes, to serious conversations about the things going on in our lives. Carla and I became more than friends---we became siblings.
Being around Carla for the last few years showed me what real strength is and I hope I was able to reflect that back to her in the last weeks of her life. I hope that my actions showed her how much I loved her and how important she was as a sister to me. I found a quote by Tom Stoppard that I thought was appropriate: "Every exit is an entrance somewhere else."
Carla, although your exit was too soon, I hope that you are making a grand and rocking entrance to the next phase and I know that wherever you are, you will continue to make a lasting impressions on those you meet just as you made on everyone in this room and beyond.
ACME
Elizabeth, Carla's friend wrote this remembrance of friendship.
My first memory is seeing Allison as an infant. My second is seeing Carla. These memories couldn't have been too far apart, since they were babies at the same time. When I met Carla, I was 2 years old. I was besotted with Carla, and named my doll after her---naturally, Marisa, who was closer to my age and wildly jealous of my love of her little sister, never really forgave me for it. She still brings it up occasionally. I believed that Carla the doll could see at night, and although she was silent around other people, she did speak to me when she had something to say.
As a mostly silent child, the real Carla also spoke when she had something to say. Sometimes she had a patch on one eye, like a baby pirate; for a while she had Smurf's on her glasses (which was very impressive to me); always she was sucking on her fingers and paying close attention to what was going on around her. But when Carla had something to say, we all leaned in real close and listened. More often than not, Marisa was her voice----"Carla wants to stop playing this now," or "Carla says she's hungry and we have to go home."
I loved my three friends---they were my sisters, my constant companions, and I was theirs. Any two of us could have fun, but three was weird (someone was always left out) and the four of us all together was what felt right. Marisa and I were constantly rolling our eyes at the foolishness and naivete of Allison and Carla, who were in turn usually annoyed at our bossy older-sister attitudes.
We did ridiculous things together, like buying 2 pounds of candy corn and eating it until we were sick, dropping Cadbury eggs off bridges onto moving trains, and lying on our backs in the field across the street, looking at the stars and listening to "Tennessee" on a walkman with a splitter for the headphones---one ear apiece. We saw our first PG-13 movie together---"Peggy Sue Got Married"--- and our first R-rated ones too---"The Shining," and "Do the Right Thing," because we were film snobs even then.
And when we went to high school, we were still there---down one, the year Marisa went to college, but I still picked Allison and Carla up every morning for school (Allison always late, Carla always on time). We got together, all four of us, every time Marisa came home, and compared notes on how and why we were different. How things had changed. But we were still all there.
I look at my daughter, and I think, with whom will she catch fireflies? With whom will she play Spit and Bullshit for endless hours, and whom will she call first on snow days? Will her childhood friends be the kind that mine are---the kind whose lives may follow different paths---but whose loyalty and commitment is never ever in doubt, even 30 years later?
It's unlikely. I know that. Most people don't make their friends for life at 2 years old. And yet I keep hoping, because Saidy is young and because we don't live far from where Marisa, Carla, Allison and I made up a quartet of friends who faced things together: bullies and sneaking candy, bad haircuts, stupid arguments and ones that really hurt.
We are not ACME any more. Our C is gone. But in my memory, which will have to suffice, Carla will always be with us. My three friends and I will be eternally diving under bushes when the UPS truck is spotted, because Marisa has convinced us that it stands for United People Snatchers and we are pretty sure that it doesn't, but not totally.
The view from the Impalli front porch will never be the same.
My first memory is seeing Allison as an infant. My second is seeing Carla. These memories couldn't have been too far apart, since they were babies at the same time. When I met Carla, I was 2 years old. I was besotted with Carla, and named my doll after her---naturally, Marisa, who was closer to my age and wildly jealous of my love of her little sister, never really forgave me for it. She still brings it up occasionally. I believed that Carla the doll could see at night, and although she was silent around other people, she did speak to me when she had something to say.
As a mostly silent child, the real Carla also spoke when she had something to say. Sometimes she had a patch on one eye, like a baby pirate; for a while she had Smurf's on her glasses (which was very impressive to me); always she was sucking on her fingers and paying close attention to what was going on around her. But when Carla had something to say, we all leaned in real close and listened. More often than not, Marisa was her voice----"Carla wants to stop playing this now," or "Carla says she's hungry and we have to go home."
I loved my three friends---they were my sisters, my constant companions, and I was theirs. Any two of us could have fun, but three was weird (someone was always left out) and the four of us all together was what felt right. Marisa and I were constantly rolling our eyes at the foolishness and naivete of Allison and Carla, who were in turn usually annoyed at our bossy older-sister attitudes.
We did ridiculous things together, like buying 2 pounds of candy corn and eating it until we were sick, dropping Cadbury eggs off bridges onto moving trains, and lying on our backs in the field across the street, looking at the stars and listening to "Tennessee" on a walkman with a splitter for the headphones---one ear apiece. We saw our first PG-13 movie together---"Peggy Sue Got Married"--- and our first R-rated ones too---"The Shining," and "Do the Right Thing," because we were film snobs even then.
And when we went to high school, we were still there---down one, the year Marisa went to college, but I still picked Allison and Carla up every morning for school (Allison always late, Carla always on time). We got together, all four of us, every time Marisa came home, and compared notes on how and why we were different. How things had changed. But we were still all there.
I look at my daughter, and I think, with whom will she catch fireflies? With whom will she play Spit and Bullshit for endless hours, and whom will she call first on snow days? Will her childhood friends be the kind that mine are---the kind whose lives may follow different paths---but whose loyalty and commitment is never ever in doubt, even 30 years later?
It's unlikely. I know that. Most people don't make their friends for life at 2 years old. And yet I keep hoping, because Saidy is young and because we don't live far from where Marisa, Carla, Allison and I made up a quartet of friends who faced things together: bullies and sneaking candy, bad haircuts, stupid arguments and ones that really hurt.
We are not ACME any more. Our C is gone. But in my memory, which will have to suffice, Carla will always be with us. My three friends and I will be eternally diving under bushes when the UPS truck is spotted, because Marisa has convinced us that it stands for United People Snatchers and we are pretty sure that it doesn't, but not totally.
The view from the Impalli front porch will never be the same.
The Letter
Amy, Carla's friend and colleague from Valley View shared some excerpts from the letter from Carla's class moms. These moms created a quilt with the help of Carla's students and friends. They presented this quilt to her in February of 2012.
"[A quilt] is literally warm and comforting. It's made of a collection of little patches of love from a variety of people. It's a connection to you from people who you have touched and changed. People who love you in their own way, and want you to know it, to feel it, to find comfort in it.
For each child we sat quietly, and asked them about you. We asked each of them to think of you and tell us what they wanted on their square. They each chose the color of their square, and the designs, some stars, some hearts, some trucks. Louise wanted to give you a bouquet of flowers, and Gavin wanted to say, 'I love you Ms. Impalli.' I was asked, 'How can I draw a hug for Ms. Impalli?' and 'If I kiss the square, will she be able to feel it?' So pure and warm those squares are! They understood that you don't feel well and this thing that they have done will help you feel better.
[From your friends,] I received an outpouring of love and appreciation, who each made you a square. These are people who know you and miss you and love you so completely. Because of you, I have hugged and talked and cried with these friends of yours. Although we have not known each other before this project, we've connected to each other on a completely human level, far beyond the trivial matters. We are now connected because of you, just like the squares on your quilt.
So Carla, please accept our love and warmth and kindness, as it is stitched into all the parts of your quilt. Thank you for being our friend and for being a loving, warm and patient guide to our children and ourselves."
"[A quilt] is literally warm and comforting. It's made of a collection of little patches of love from a variety of people. It's a connection to you from people who you have touched and changed. People who love you in their own way, and want you to know it, to feel it, to find comfort in it.
For each child we sat quietly, and asked them about you. We asked each of them to think of you and tell us what they wanted on their square. They each chose the color of their square, and the designs, some stars, some hearts, some trucks. Louise wanted to give you a bouquet of flowers, and Gavin wanted to say, 'I love you Ms. Impalli.' I was asked, 'How can I draw a hug for Ms. Impalli?' and 'If I kiss the square, will she be able to feel it?' So pure and warm those squares are! They understood that you don't feel well and this thing that they have done will help you feel better.
[From your friends,] I received an outpouring of love and appreciation, who each made you a square. These are people who know you and miss you and love you so completely. Because of you, I have hugged and talked and cried with these friends of yours. Although we have not known each other before this project, we've connected to each other on a completely human level, far beyond the trivial matters. We are now connected because of you, just like the squares on your quilt.
So Carla, please accept our love and warmth and kindness, as it is stitched into all the parts of your quilt. Thank you for being our friend and for being a loving, warm and patient guide to our children and ourselves."
Robin
Robin, Carla's friend since high school wrote this remembrance of Carla for her memorial service.
When faced with the task of reading through Carla's blog and choosing just a handful of her entries to read today, it seemed impossible-she's there speaking to us in every entry, each one a reminder of how hilarious and strong she was, how much she went through, every new piece of terrible news she received, every chemo and radiation treatment, every horrible pin prick, port insertion and stupid side effect.
We all know how hard Carla fought, every single moment of every day-that's why she entitled her blog "F*ck Cancer".
"My mission is to kick cancer's ass (if it has one, let's assume it does). Since I have yet to go to therapy, I figured I could talk to the inter web. I can only hope that my witty sarcasm will translate....well, who cares, I'm just her to f*ck cancer."
My hope is that through these chosen entries we can hear Carla's voice and her laughter as she's relaying these stories to us, and not focus on the fact that she died from cancer or think that cancer beat her, but that while she was alive she really did say Fuck You Cancer! I'm going to live my life to the fullest--no matter what you throw at me. Only Carla could make cancer this funny.
Robin chose the entries : Narcotics and Me and Happy Fuckin' New Year!!!!!
(written July 29, 2010 and January 2, 2011 respectively)
Thursday, December 20, 2012
My Best Friend
Ruth's remembrance of her best friend, Carla.
It was friends at first sight when I met Carla at freshman orientation. Who knew that a random meeting would lead to such a meaningful friendship? We had an unspoken connection from the start.
Carla and I had a lot in common right from the start. Peanut butter was part of our daily diet, along with trash magazines and Lifetime movies. As our friendship grew, Puma sneakers became a must have and singing obnoxiously in the car was a constant activity. We even fulfilled our adventurous side by traveling to South Africa together. Carla was the kind of friend where you could have a serious conversation about school politics one minute and the next minute have a "serious" conversation about the latest People magazine. She made you want to be around her.
We also shared a love of children. Carla had a beautiful and unique way of connecting with and teaching children. More recently, we shared a love for my son Graham, her godson. Before he was born I told her she was his second mom. And immediately after his birth, she was the person I called after my Mom ad Dad. Carla and Graham had their own magical connection. It was beautiful to watch. Graham, no matter how cranky he was (and boy was he cranky the first five months) gave Carla, the baby whisperer, smiles and hugs each and every time he saw her. It made my heart smile seeing them together.
Carla mentioned to me that she was thinking of getting a hummingbird tattoo, which is fitting because the hummingbird's continuous wing beats make the symbol for infinity. Carla's influence on all of us will continue forever.
Ruth then read: The Very Hungry Caterpiller by Eric Carle
A special thank you to Ruth and her family for all their love, support and remembrance.
Posted by Nick and Cathy
Monday, October 29, 2012
"99 reasons", but a Gorilla ain't one!
The following is an excerpt from the eulogy given by Carla's Uncle TJ on June 12, 2012 at her "Celebration of Life" memorial service.
[Now for me personally], I will always treasure the hug and kiss that Carla always gave whether in greeting or departure. And the feeling of her so warm, soft, clear skin against my cheek. In the past year I would focus on the feel so that I could store it and keep it alive somewhere deep within. When she got the tattoo, "Don't delay the happy" on her forearm it allowed me a chance to feel that smooth soft of her arm. But I have on problem with that quote though. I embrace the concept of not delaying the happy, but I wish we knew how to fill the empty. Shortly after it was discovered that the cancer had moved to the lining of the brain, Carla would embrace and hug you a little longer and a little closer. And I could linger and take in the feeling of that warm soft, clear skin. You would think that the lingering hug was because she was frightened of what was to come but I believe it was something else. This hug wasn't for her, it was for us. It was her way of saying, "I'm so sorry for you and what you must be going through."
On Carla's last visit to my home, prior to her visiting her students for the last time, we talked and laughed as usual but I asked her "how are you dealing with everything." She said there was a 900 pound gorilla intruding on her life. I thought she might want to talk openly about it but my own fear made me stop. I regret that but at the same time I don't really feel Carla wanted to introduce the gorilla into our lives, not yet at least.
So I would like to conclude this eulogy with how that conversation, with Carla, about the gorilla, would have gone.
"Is the gorilla here Carla?"
"Oh yeah, big time."
"What's his name?"
"You know his name, don't shit me." "And what makes you think it's a him?"
"Well describe gorilla then."
"Well, it has this Grandma Frances' head of hair. It's da bomb."
"It has Aunt Mary's cheekbones, and Aunt Dee's laugh."
"Oh, and it's a Giant fan."
"How do you know that?"
"Can't you see his Giant tee shirt? Like the one Grandpa Scollan wore."
"OK" "Anything else?"
"Not really, but it's weird. As big as this freak is I'm not afraid. There's something familiar about gorilla, but I just wish someone else could see it."
So that's my imaginary conversation with Carla about the gorilla that she wrote about in her last blog. And I need to believe that on a night of torrential sheets of rain, on Russell Road, gorilla moved from the corner of the room where he sat as guardian over Carla and moved to her bed where he spooned in close to Carla to provide shelter from the storm. And like Pooh Bear and Piglet in "The House of Pooh Bear", Carla said,
"Gorilla?"
"Yes Carla"
"Nothing Gorilla," she said as she took his hand.
"I just want to be sure of you."
And when my gorilla arrives one day, I can now rest assured that when I embrace that gorilla, I will feel that warm, soft, clear skin against my cheek once again.
[Now for me personally], I will always treasure the hug and kiss that Carla always gave whether in greeting or departure. And the feeling of her so warm, soft, clear skin against my cheek. In the past year I would focus on the feel so that I could store it and keep it alive somewhere deep within. When she got the tattoo, "Don't delay the happy" on her forearm it allowed me a chance to feel that smooth soft of her arm. But I have on problem with that quote though. I embrace the concept of not delaying the happy, but I wish we knew how to fill the empty. Shortly after it was discovered that the cancer had moved to the lining of the brain, Carla would embrace and hug you a little longer and a little closer. And I could linger and take in the feeling of that warm soft, clear skin. You would think that the lingering hug was because she was frightened of what was to come but I believe it was something else. This hug wasn't for her, it was for us. It was her way of saying, "I'm so sorry for you and what you must be going through."
On Carla's last visit to my home, prior to her visiting her students for the last time, we talked and laughed as usual but I asked her "how are you dealing with everything." She said there was a 900 pound gorilla intruding on her life. I thought she might want to talk openly about it but my own fear made me stop. I regret that but at the same time I don't really feel Carla wanted to introduce the gorilla into our lives, not yet at least.
So I would like to conclude this eulogy with how that conversation, with Carla, about the gorilla, would have gone.
"Is the gorilla here Carla?"
"Oh yeah, big time."
"What's his name?"
"You know his name, don't shit me." "And what makes you think it's a him?"
"Well describe gorilla then."
"Well, it has this Grandma Frances' head of hair. It's da bomb."
"It has Aunt Mary's cheekbones, and Aunt Dee's laugh."
"Oh, and it's a Giant fan."
"How do you know that?"
"Can't you see his Giant tee shirt? Like the one Grandpa Scollan wore."
"OK" "Anything else?"
"Not really, but it's weird. As big as this freak is I'm not afraid. There's something familiar about gorilla, but I just wish someone else could see it."
So that's my imaginary conversation with Carla about the gorilla that she wrote about in her last blog. And I need to believe that on a night of torrential sheets of rain, on Russell Road, gorilla moved from the corner of the room where he sat as guardian over Carla and moved to her bed where he spooned in close to Carla to provide shelter from the storm. And like Pooh Bear and Piglet in "The House of Pooh Bear", Carla said,
"Gorilla?"
"Yes Carla"
"Nothing Gorilla," she said as she took his hand.
"I just want to be sure of you."
And when my gorilla arrives one day, I can now rest assured that when I embrace that gorilla, I will feel that warm, soft, clear skin against my cheek once again.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Topics to discuss while there is a 900lb gorilla in the room
My internet sources tell me that the heaviest gorilla is between 500 and 600 lbs. And since the internet is always accurate, my gorilla will just be an exception to the rule. I am pretty certain there is no cap on the weight of my gorilla.
Since the 'new normal' in my house involves this gorilla, conversations can lack in certain ways. Now that I am living with my parents, again for the third time, how charming, there is a special new dynamic we have to navigate.
There are several topics always up for discussion, whether they should be discussed, want to be heard, want to be spoken about or beaten like a dead horse.
Topics of choice:
http://hint.fm/wind/
Since the 'new normal' in my house involves this gorilla, conversations can lack in certain ways. Now that I am living with my parents, again for the third time, how charming, there is a special new dynamic we have to navigate.
There are several topics always up for discussion, whether they should be discussed, want to be heard, want to be spoken about or beaten like a dead horse.
Topics of choice:
- Who has allergies? Oh we all have allergies. We can carry on about benadryl, how we sleep, what comes out of our noses, the amount of pollen in the air, how the allergy medicine is actually not working but we are taking it anyway, and how the medicine really makes us feel.
- These allergies lead us nicely into the topic of the weather. The weather is discussed on a daily basis SEVERAL times. Actually, MULTIPLE times a day. Just in case someone isn't aware of what the weather is outside at the current time, someone in the house, will be able to tell you. The other day, my mom mentioned that it was misty 5 times in 45 minutes!
- The wind. The wind is constantly spoken about. New Jersey is very windy. It appears to be windy all the time.
http://hint.fm/wind/
- Sleep. Everybody's lack of sleep is discussed in the morning. I don't know why any of us even bother. Sleeping that is.
- The cats. And thank god for the cats! If the two cats weren't around constantly meowing for food in the kitchen, there literally would be silence at all times. We will always have the cats to talk about. In fact, I'm pretty sure that if the cats weren't around begging for food, we would all be faceplanted in our dinner dishes because of sheer boredom. I mean we actually have conversations with the cats......"Oh, here's Lola." "She wants food." "No, you can't have any food Lola." "And it's not even chicken." "Here comes Daniel." "Oh, oh, stop fighting!" "Go away." "She'll eat anything.""What are you giving her?" "Daniel, won't eat that." "Just watch."
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Loaded Baked Potato
Warning: This post is going to be LOADED. More loaded than a loaded baked potato.
First of all, the loaded potato. I want one right now. Sounds so gooooood! I am currently taking a steroid, which means I have "roid" rage, I am completely ravenous, I eat EVERYTHING, I think about food ALL THE TIME, I have an actual steroid baby in my belly, I watch only TV shows about food, I eat about every 2 hours, and I even eat meat. I don't eat meat. I mean, I watch Man vs. Food on a daily basis. I watch that guy, who should be dead the way he eats, eat 6 lb hamburgers, 5 lb grilled cheeses, which ultimately causes a bit of a gag reflex at first, but then since I'm on roids....I could totally eat that shit!! And win! It is insannnnnnnnn. I may even have to start using cocoa butter for stretch marks on this steroid baby.
On the flip side of 'gaining' this obsession with food, I have lost something very important to me. Something that I have grown to love, accept and embrace with pride. I have lost........my double wide booty. Gone. Flat. Non-exsistent. No where to be seen. I will even venture to say saggy:( It's like that True Life episode where people lose a shit ton of weight and have all that saggy excess skin! My sister would tell me to do but lifts, or lunges, or perhaps, take a walk. If I keep talking about it I actually might start crying. I guess my philosophy about cancer has always been to make it sexy because it's not, and what else do you have? But now that I literally have no control over my body, my face is getting fatter as I type this from the steroid and I am convinced it makes your feet fat too, I am not bringing sexy back, yet.
On February 3rd, I landed myself in the hospital, again. True to form, just like the first time, it was......a situation. I woke up the night before in excruciating pain. It was my knee. My knee? I was up every 2 hours popping liquid morphine, trying to just pass out. Finally, had to call my mom at 5:30am, or else I would have lost my brain. She came over, not that she could do anything, but I guess I did fall asleep at some point. Called the doctor and went to the office. Naturally, when I got there I had to vomit. And we all know my specific toileting vomiting rule. In the toilet is the only way to go, good thing my mom was 30 seconds too late with the little chemo vomit bag. I was sent for an x-ray and then had to go back up to the doctor to answer the inevitable question, should I be admitted to the hospital or go home? The x-ray came back clean, but I gave in and opted for the hospital to relieve the pain. Whisked away in a wheelchair by an old shaky totally trustworthy volunteer, off we finally go to the old oncology floor, 3AB.
I hop in bed and wait FOREVER for the nurses to come in and check me in, meanwhile vomiting again, this time in the little chemo vomit bag, worst. Where is the IV morphine??????? Oh, there it issssssssssssssssssssssss...................
Now I can be driven, in my bed, down to cat scan for a cat scan of my leg. Again, that comes back clean. And so begins the next 5 days of hellllllllllllllllllll. These days consisted of, being moved to a private room at some point for low white blood cells (score!), constant never-ending nausea and vomiting, while being pumped with 3 different kinds of anti-nausea medicine, which were clearly not working, and attempting to eat some foods, I think.
At the end of my stay, I was given my first dose of a new chemo called CPT 11. Side effects include: hair loss (so far I've been holding on to it!, especially since my mom seemed to imply that I prematurely shaved my head twice), and the most horrible diarrhea of your life. We will just call this side effect my 24/7 digestive dilemma. I was so out of it, I was not in the decision making process of this. But all I knew was that I soon as the last drop of that chemo was in, I was getting the hell out! Well, no surprise here, my doctor ordered the chemo at 8:30 in the morning and when do you think I actually got it....about 4pm. Coincidentally, that very day, my nurse happened to be the same nurse, I HATED, four years ago, when I was on that floor. My doctor actually confronted her about the chemo situation and asked her why I hadn't received it yet. The nurse did not respond and my doctor said, "That's your cue to speak." Awkward turtle. So glad I was "out of it" in bed for that one.
After the hospital, nothing remotely funny happens. This is where it gets really flippin' real. LOADED. With extra sour cream.
As soon as I was out of the hospital, I went to my parents and slept in bed with my mother for a month (until I couldn't take the cuddling anymore), continuing on my constant never-ending nausea/vomiting path for 2 full weeks. During this time I was also experiencing double vision, but I wasn't sure, because I was wearing my glasses all the time, which I never do. I was getting migraines and headaches, and the left half of my chin and lip went numb.
As soon as the words 'double vision' came out of my mouth at the doctor, I bought myself an MRI. Guuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhh.............
I smartened up and took 2 Ativan before that bad boy. Why did I never do that before?????
I go for the MRI, hoping the technicians aren't as crappy as last time. But luckily witness this most awesome situation in the waiting room.
You cannot make this shit up! Listen carefully for the deep snores. My father kept kicking the wall to see if she would wake up!
They call me in and we have to talk about why I am there. The tech asks why I am getting the MRI and I tell him I have double vision and headaches. So he says, "The doctor wants to check for mets?" My response, "Umm, I have double vision." He says, "So the doctor is checking for mets in the brain?" My response, "Uuuh, I have double vision." Thanks for that buddy. Anyway, I asked him to talk to me during the scan, and he said we would keep me updated, "2 minutes of noise," "3 minutes of noise," etc. But I was 2 Ativan in, so it didn't really matter at that point.
Two days later, at the doctor for the results. My doctor didn't have the results in front of her, so she left to check the computer. World comes crashing dooooooooowwwwwwwwwnnnnnnnnn. It was like the day I was diagnosed. But worse. Time stops. The cancer has spread to your dura mater. The dura mater is the membrane between your skull and your brain. The MRI shows activity, like a sprinkle of cancer cells all over the membrane.
?????!!!!!!!!?????!?!?!?!!??!?!?!?!??!!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!!!!!!!!??????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!?????!Hmmm???
Well, that is NOT what I was expecting. LOADED. It was like a hit and run. My doctor quickly explained things while I just sat there, cried and my parents listened. And then I went to get chemo. I sat in my chair just tried to act cool.
A week later, February 29th, Leap Day. Ironic how this day doesn't really exist. And this day I sat with my doctor to discuss this dura "matter." It was like and still is a bunch of phrases replaying in my head: quality of life, risks and benefits, limited options, respect your decision, no treatments, spinal tap, spinal infusion chemo, results aren't guaranteed, leaky chemo........NUMB.
WHY DIDN'T ANYBODY FUCKING TELL ME THIS WAS GOING TO FUCKING HAPPEN????
So that Stage IV Breast Cancer diagnosis was actually real, huh?
Well, naturally, since I am me, my only option...........is to KICK SOME MOTHERFUCKING ASS!
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Double Wide Booty
My front door locks automatically when you close it. I enjoy this because there is no hassle with locking the door behind me, etc. I do not enjoy this when I lock myself out of the house with a 5 month old puppy and a fresh, new cold at 9:30 in the morning. Panic sets in, well subdued panic sets in, because my brain is stuffed up, which is why I probably closed the door in the first place!
OK, these are my options:
1) I can walk to my parents house, but I'll never make it and neither will this sweet thing, Penny.
2) I can go to my neighbor's house, but there are 16 people and 3 families that live there and they insist on parking their fucking car in front of MY house, which makes me irate!
3) I can go to the other neighbor's house, Angie, but she gets mad at us when we leave branches that take up 1 foot of space in front of her house, in the road........one time! It was just one time!
4) I can go 2 houses down to Mr. Creepy McCreeperson's house. This is actually NOT an option.
So I vote for option 3. Angie it is. I hope she's ready for me. She opens the door hesitantly.............maybe it's because I look like one of Jesse Pinkman's degenerate hooligan drug selling friends, from 'Breaking Bad.' But then she must see Penny in my arms and decides it's safe. The reason she may think this is because I had a my hood up, nobody wants to see my scary bedhead, glasses, and my Ugg boots on with pants sloppily tucked in that say 'DOUBLE WIDE BOOTY', on the booty. It was like walking into your grandma's house. I used the phone to call my parents, they have an extra key. No one picked up. I called again, no one picked up. So Angie, offered me a cup of coffee while I waited. Oh sure, so I sat down in the kitchen and waited for the eternal pot of water to boil with Penny on my lap shaking with fear. Our conversation was like turning pages in a book, our topics changed that quickly. We talked about Angie's new computer which did not come with an instruction booklet. I suggested calling the number it came with, she said, "I'm not calling India!" She asked if I knew anything about computers....."Nope, nothing, I don't know anything about computers." Next up in conversation was the puppy, and when there were awkward silences we either mentioned the puppy or the weather. Finally my cup of instant Folgers coffee, with skim milk and sweet'n low, was ready. It took all of the strength I had left to drink that cup of coffee with a smile.
I know you are wondering why I'm blogging about this, just keep reading.
I was telling her that I was on medical leave, which is why I could take care of Penny. I could tell she was dying to know why, so I told her I had breast cancer. And the floodgates open..............
She told me she had breast cancer and pointed the breast that was gone from surgery. And then........she started to cry. This is my reaction, as I am sure it would be yours:
What just happened??
Next thing I know, she asks, "What's your nationality?" OK, I guess we are moving on. We spoke about being Italian, how long she lived in her house, when she sold tomatoes with her mother. We talked about what grocery store we shop at and how we both like the market down the street. We talked about how she strained her back moving her couch.
I decided to try calling my parents again, because it took me the whole time to remember what my mother's cell phone number was......what?, I have a smartphone to remember numbers for me!
My dad picked up and I whispered with gritted teeth for him to get over to my house NOW!
When I returned to the kitchen, Angie asked what was written on my pants. "Oh, it's something really inappropriate."
It was time for me to leave, so I thanked her very much for the coffee and the phone and I told her to put a heating pad on her back. As I was leaving my bestie, I heard her mumbling, "Ohhhhh, wide booty....haha."
OK, these are my options:
1) I can walk to my parents house, but I'll never make it and neither will this sweet thing, Penny.
3) I can go to the other neighbor's house, Angie, but she gets mad at us when we leave branches that take up 1 foot of space in front of her house, in the road........one time! It was just one time!
4) I can go 2 houses down to Mr. Creepy McCreeperson's house. This is actually NOT an option.
So I vote for option 3. Angie it is. I hope she's ready for me. She opens the door hesitantly.............maybe it's because I look like one of Jesse Pinkman's degenerate hooligan drug selling friends, from 'Breaking Bad.' But then she must see Penny in my arms and decides it's safe. The reason she may think this is because I had a my hood up, nobody wants to see my scary bedhead, glasses, and my Ugg boots on with pants sloppily tucked in that say 'DOUBLE WIDE BOOTY', on the booty. It was like walking into your grandma's house. I used the phone to call my parents, they have an extra key. No one picked up. I called again, no one picked up. So Angie, offered me a cup of coffee while I waited. Oh sure, so I sat down in the kitchen and waited for the eternal pot of water to boil with Penny on my lap shaking with fear. Our conversation was like turning pages in a book, our topics changed that quickly. We talked about Angie's new computer which did not come with an instruction booklet. I suggested calling the number it came with, she said, "I'm not calling India!" She asked if I knew anything about computers....."Nope, nothing, I don't know anything about computers." Next up in conversation was the puppy, and when there were awkward silences we either mentioned the puppy or the weather. Finally my cup of instant Folgers coffee, with skim milk and sweet'n low, was ready. It took all of the strength I had left to drink that cup of coffee with a smile.
I know you are wondering why I'm blogging about this, just keep reading.
I was telling her that I was on medical leave, which is why I could take care of Penny. I could tell she was dying to know why, so I told her I had breast cancer. And the floodgates open..............
She told me she had breast cancer and pointed the breast that was gone from surgery. And then........she started to cry. This is my reaction, as I am sure it would be yours:
Next thing I know, she asks, "What's your nationality?" OK, I guess we are moving on. We spoke about being Italian, how long she lived in her house, when she sold tomatoes with her mother. We talked about what grocery store we shop at and how we both like the market down the street. We talked about how she strained her back moving her couch.
I decided to try calling my parents again, because it took me the whole time to remember what my mother's cell phone number was......what?, I have a smartphone to remember numbers for me!
My dad picked up and I whispered with gritted teeth for him to get over to my house NOW!
When I returned to the kitchen, Angie asked what was written on my pants. "Oh, it's something really inappropriate."
It was time for me to leave, so I thanked her very much for the coffee and the phone and I told her to put a heating pad on her back. As I was leaving my bestie, I heard her mumbling, "Ohhhhh, wide booty....haha."
 |
| By the way, my college roommates and I made these pants as a joke years ago, to a song called, "Booty Man." I naturally got 'double wide booty', my roommates got 'wide booty' and 'wider booty.' |
Saturday, December 31, 2011
It's time to give cancer the bird
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
This is the woooooorrrrrst day of my life!!!!
This week was the 4th week from hell. I've developed a pattern of spending long hours at least 3 days a week at the hospital. This week was no different.
Monday: Radiation @ 10:30. Let's get this shit going! Oh, I can't get radiation? The machine that takes the pictures before the first session is broken? So I came here just to get pictures taken of my ladytown, I mean hip? How am I feeling? #%$@%#*(&@^%$@#, fine.
Tuesday: Radiation @ 10:30. Your pictures were printed and they look good. Oh, you mean the cancer is doing it's job by eating my hip bone. Let's get this shit going! I forgot how when they radiate you, there's a horrifying buzzing sound with no warning, that makes you jump out of your skin. Sweet.
Doctor appointment to follow. I have some freaky red rash type thing on my legs and another rash on my elbows on top of my severe dry skin problem from one of my medications........and I'm nauseous. We have a lot to talk about. My platelets are low which causes petechiae, which takes care of my leg problem. I have a fungus on my elbow. Gross. And now I need a bone marrow biopsy.
First, I get anti-nausea medicine and Ativan, to keep me calm for the biopsy, because I am trying very hard not to beeline for the exit. I also get an xgeva shot in my arm and a zoladex shot in my stomach. My doctor performs the biopsy in an exam room. I made her explain everything she was doing. She goes in through my lower back and numbs the first layer of skin. Then she numbs the next layer of skin and then numbs the bone. Then she starts tapping on my bone! I know, you can't believe it, right? I'll tell you again, she starts tapping on my bone! Can you feel that? Um, yup, I can. That's how numb you are! Oh, super....please stop! Then she uses some tool to crank a hole in my bone and then suck out the marrow. It's as horrible as it sounds. Weirdest sensation ever, but no pain. Just a sore back with a gaping hole in it.
I'm almost positive that that needle, was in my back.
Wednesday: Platelet transfusion @ 9:45. Luckily, my transfusion was only one bag of platelets and pretty uneventful, except when they couldn't find the right place to access my already bruised port and kept pushing, poking and prodding it. Ow. This is what platelets look like. Who knew?
Followed by radiation @ 1:15. Again, pretty uneventful, except when there was a communication breakdown between the doctor and the nurses because my platelets were low. I had to sit with a nurse and talk about everything that just happened. For no valid reason I could think of. Just wasting my time.
Thursday: Radiation @ 10:30. Laying on a cold, hard table hurts after a bone marrow biopsy. Just saying.
I stopped by the treatment room so the nurses could check the xgeva injection site because I noticed it was red, irritated, hot and bruised. And when I changed the biopsy bandage, it was still a gaping hole, so they checked that out too. Now I have to wait for a doctor to see me. An hour later, I am out the door with an antibiotic for the possibly infected injection site and a new bandage on my biopsy hole.
Friday: Radiation @ 10:30. Status quo. Oh wait, no it wasn't. I got AMBUSHED by a social worker right before treatment. She pulled me into an exam room and wanted to talk and see how I was feeling. Really?
Week from hell complete. Thanks for reliving that with me. I have low, actually no, expectations for next week..............
Monday: Radiation @ 10:30. Let's get this shit going! Oh, I can't get radiation? The machine that takes the pictures before the first session is broken? So I came here just to get pictures taken of my ladytown, I mean hip? How am I feeling? #%$@%#*(&@^%$@#, fine.
Tuesday: Radiation @ 10:30. Your pictures were printed and they look good. Oh, you mean the cancer is doing it's job by eating my hip bone. Let's get this shit going! I forgot how when they radiate you, there's a horrifying buzzing sound with no warning, that makes you jump out of your skin. Sweet.
Doctor appointment to follow. I have some freaky red rash type thing on my legs and another rash on my elbows on top of my severe dry skin problem from one of my medications........and I'm nauseous. We have a lot to talk about. My platelets are low which causes petechiae, which takes care of my leg problem. I have a fungus on my elbow. Gross. And now I need a bone marrow biopsy.
First, I get anti-nausea medicine and Ativan, to keep me calm for the biopsy, because I am trying very hard not to beeline for the exit. I also get an xgeva shot in my arm and a zoladex shot in my stomach. My doctor performs the biopsy in an exam room. I made her explain everything she was doing. She goes in through my lower back and numbs the first layer of skin. Then she numbs the next layer of skin and then numbs the bone. Then she starts tapping on my bone! I know, you can't believe it, right? I'll tell you again, she starts tapping on my bone! Can you feel that? Um, yup, I can. That's how numb you are! Oh, super....please stop! Then she uses some tool to crank a hole in my bone and then suck out the marrow. It's as horrible as it sounds. Weirdest sensation ever, but no pain. Just a sore back with a gaping hole in it.
Wednesday: Platelet transfusion @ 9:45. Luckily, my transfusion was only one bag of platelets and pretty uneventful, except when they couldn't find the right place to access my already bruised port and kept pushing, poking and prodding it. Ow. This is what platelets look like. Who knew?
Followed by radiation @ 1:15. Again, pretty uneventful, except when there was a communication breakdown between the doctor and the nurses because my platelets were low. I had to sit with a nurse and talk about everything that just happened. For no valid reason I could think of. Just wasting my time.
Thursday: Radiation @ 10:30. Laying on a cold, hard table hurts after a bone marrow biopsy. Just saying.
I stopped by the treatment room so the nurses could check the xgeva injection site because I noticed it was red, irritated, hot and bruised. And when I changed the biopsy bandage, it was still a gaping hole, so they checked that out too. Now I have to wait for a doctor to see me. An hour later, I am out the door with an antibiotic for the possibly infected injection site and a new bandage on my biopsy hole.
Friday: Radiation @ 10:30. Status quo. Oh wait, no it wasn't. I got AMBUSHED by a social worker right before treatment. She pulled me into an exam room and wanted to talk and see how I was feeling. Really?
Week from hell complete. Thanks for reliving that with me. I have low, actually no, expectations for next week..............
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Diagnosis: 6/4/2008, BC, Mets, sarcastic, Rads, Chems, 10cm, likes peanut butter, single, Stage IV, loves sunsets and the beach, ER+
People who are diagnosed with breast cancer always write their diagnosis, like this: Diagnosis: 3/23/2010, IDC, 4cm, Stage IIIa, Grade 2, 5/18 nodes, ER+/PR+, HER2+
I don't know what the hell that all means. But what I am trying to say is, I am starting rads (radiation) again.
Well....it wasn't 5-6 hours...I was at the hospital for my platelet and blood transfusion for 8 1/2 HOURS. At this point they should name the cancer center after me! Not to mention they put me in the 'overflow' section, which happens to be in the corner of my normal chemo room. Except you feel like you're in time out. You didn't think that I would be fine after this transfusion, did you? I woke up with crazy intense leg pain, called the doctor. I had to get a doppler study, to check if I had a blood clot since I just had the transfusions. The pain was cancer, not a blood clot, but I'm not a doctor.
I showed up to get dopplered and waited an hour, listening to Rachael Ray's 'nails on a chalkboard' voice and looking at her ugly face on T.V. in the waiting room. Yeah, I'm a Rachael Ray hater.
I've been dopplered before so I knew what to expect but somehow forgot about the level of awkwardness. A doppler study is an ultrasound of the veins in your legs to see if there is a clot. So it's not enough that a man has to do the study, but he has to get all up in my groin with ultrasound goo. Uncomfortable..........and messy.
Later that day, I saw my doctor who prescribed me liquid morphine, just maybe, maybe this one will work. I was also sent to get a Ct scan at 4:00 (been there since 10:00). I didn't need to drink anything, get any sort of injection and they let me keep my clothes on! What a way to end the day......
I spent the next 4 days in my parents bed high on liquid morphine and in pain.
Now that I have been seeing my doctor on a weekly basis, this week we decided to go for radiation. She was able to get me an appointment that day with the radiation oncologist, naturally on the complete opposite side of the hospital. Ah the memories of being wheeled down that hallway in a wheelchair.....not pleasant. All the nurses and therapists down there recognized me and were really happy to see me but really bummed that I was back. Right back at ya. Well, not the really happy part, just the really bummed part. But I knew this all meant RELIEF............
Back the next day to get mapped for rads. I will be getting 15 treatments on my left hip everyday for 15 days. Since I have the unfortunate luck of cancer cells attacking my hips, I also have the unfortunate luck of dropping my pants for radiation. Doesn't get any less awkward the second time around, similar to my doppler experience. Ultrasound goo on the underwear, eww.
"Can you pull down your pants and underwear?" Now, I don't get asked that question often, or ever but the therapists are so respectful about it, it makes it more awkward! So instead of someone making a joke, how could you not, we just talk about my new sneakers. At least they cover my ladytown, with a napkin, while they take Ct scan pictures and then draw Xs and Os on my bod with permanent markers and cover them with little stickers (that won't stay on more than a day).
Now I am ready to be radiated and have been asked several times, maybe too many, if I am sure that I don't want to give consent for anyone to get information about my radiation. So if they accidentally radiate my eyeball instead of my hip, no one will know.
This is what it looks like! But my pants are around my ankles!
I don't know what the hell that all means. But what I am trying to say is, I am starting rads (radiation) again.
Well....it wasn't 5-6 hours...I was at the hospital for my platelet and blood transfusion for 8 1/2 HOURS. At this point they should name the cancer center after me! Not to mention they put me in the 'overflow' section, which happens to be in the corner of my normal chemo room. Except you feel like you're in time out. You didn't think that I would be fine after this transfusion, did you? I woke up with crazy intense leg pain, called the doctor. I had to get a doppler study, to check if I had a blood clot since I just had the transfusions. The pain was cancer, not a blood clot, but I'm not a doctor.
I showed up to get dopplered and waited an hour, listening to Rachael Ray's 'nails on a chalkboard' voice and looking at her ugly face on T.V. in the waiting room. Yeah, I'm a Rachael Ray hater.
I've been dopplered before so I knew what to expect but somehow forgot about the level of awkwardness. A doppler study is an ultrasound of the veins in your legs to see if there is a clot. So it's not enough that a man has to do the study, but he has to get all up in my groin with ultrasound goo. Uncomfortable..........and messy.
Later that day, I saw my doctor who prescribed me liquid morphine, just maybe, maybe this one will work. I was also sent to get a Ct scan at 4:00 (been there since 10:00). I didn't need to drink anything, get any sort of injection and they let me keep my clothes on! What a way to end the day......
I spent the next 4 days in my parents bed high on liquid morphine and in pain.
Now that I have been seeing my doctor on a weekly basis, this week we decided to go for radiation. She was able to get me an appointment that day with the radiation oncologist, naturally on the complete opposite side of the hospital. Ah the memories of being wheeled down that hallway in a wheelchair.....not pleasant. All the nurses and therapists down there recognized me and were really happy to see me but really bummed that I was back. Right back at ya. Well, not the really happy part, just the really bummed part. But I knew this all meant RELIEF............
Back the next day to get mapped for rads. I will be getting 15 treatments on my left hip everyday for 15 days. Since I have the unfortunate luck of cancer cells attacking my hips, I also have the unfortunate luck of dropping my pants for radiation. Doesn't get any less awkward the second time around, similar to my doppler experience. Ultrasound goo on the underwear, eww.
"Can you pull down your pants and underwear?" Now, I don't get asked that question often, or ever but the therapists are so respectful about it, it makes it more awkward! So instead of someone making a joke, how could you not, we just talk about my new sneakers. At least they cover my ladytown, with a napkin, while they take Ct scan pictures and then draw Xs and Os on my bod with permanent markers and cover them with little stickers (that won't stay on more than a day).
Now I am ready to be radiated and have been asked several times, maybe too many, if I am sure that I don't want to give consent for anyone to get information about my radiation. So if they accidentally radiate my eyeball instead of my hip, no one will know.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?
Ok, I have been home for a week and two days. I decided to take a leave from work. Great decision Carla! Blah, blah, blah.....I know, I know. HARDEST decision I have ever had to make in my 30 years on this earth, well ever since my brain was fully developed and I could actually make decisions, well non-stupid decisions, well, ok that's probably only been in the last few years.
Turns out, it really was a good idea. Last week, I had a doctor's appointment and found out I needed another blood transfusion and I had an infection. Boooooooooooo! My hemo (hemoglobin) was 7, no wonder I felt so miserable. Ouch, that's loooooooow. 'Drop it drop it low girl, drop it drop it low girl.' At least this one only took 5 hours............and just when I decided that the 'dayroom' where I get my transfusions was the 'ghetto' room, bam! they bring out a blanket...that feels like it just came out of the oven! *sigh*
Anyway, the next day I spent in bed and the next day I finally saw a pain management specialist. I chose the medication over the 'small' procedure; a needle in my spine. Ummmm, NO. So week 1 turned out to be just the way I was expecting it to be........
I have been watching SO much T.V. that when I have conversations with people my responses are like, "Oh my god, that is a Law and Order episode." Or, "Whoa, I saw that on CSI!"Or, I start speaking like moronic reality T.V. stars, "Staaaap, Stap it!"~Sammi Sweetheart, the sweetest bitch I know. Or,"Oh.my.god. That.is.ba.na.nas."~Rachel Zoe, thank you Rachel.
Things can only go downhill from here.
Aaaand, I can surf Facebook alllllll day long. And from what I can tell, nobody works! And I can't forget to mention the Lifetime Movie Network. Brilliant.
So far I have to say that it feels really good to take a break, it feels.....right. I hope I don't become a diner regular with the 80+ population.....and my parents.
After reviewing the 16 things with my doctor, we decided to try a hormone drug, aromisan, which works by decreasing the amount of estrogen produced by the body. This medication is paired with a medication for kidney cancer, everolimus. I know, weird right? But, studies show the strongest data ever with estrogen receptive cancer. Google it.
Let's hope this shit works!
Now if you will excuse me, I just bought a huge bag of Halloween candy and I'm about to break that bitch open! Party, party!
_______________________________________
Yooooooooooooooo, I just found out I have to get another blood transfusionnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. (That's how Aziz Ansari would say it.) Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?
I also have to get platelets, they are 'dangerously' low. So back to the 'dayroom', where I will NOT be ordering the disgusting hospital food and spending another 5-6 hours of my life I doubt I will get back.
Turns out, it really was a good idea. Last week, I had a doctor's appointment and found out I needed another blood transfusion and I had an infection. Boooooooooooo! My hemo (hemoglobin) was 7, no wonder I felt so miserable. Ouch, that's loooooooow. 'Drop it drop it low girl, drop it drop it low girl.' At least this one only took 5 hours............and just when I decided that the 'dayroom' where I get my transfusions was the 'ghetto' room, bam! they bring out a blanket...that feels like it just came out of the oven! *sigh*
Anyway, the next day I spent in bed and the next day I finally saw a pain management specialist. I chose the medication over the 'small' procedure; a needle in my spine. Ummmm, NO. So week 1 turned out to be just the way I was expecting it to be........
I have been watching SO much T.V. that when I have conversations with people my responses are like, "Oh my god, that is a Law and Order episode." Or, "Whoa, I saw that on CSI!"Or, I start speaking like moronic reality T.V. stars, "Staaaap, Stap it!"~Sammi Sweetheart, the sweetest bitch I know. Or,"Oh.my.god. That.is.ba.na.nas."~Rachel Zoe, thank you Rachel.
Things can only go downhill from here.
Aaaand, I can surf Facebook alllllll day long. And from what I can tell, nobody works! And I can't forget to mention the Lifetime Movie Network. Brilliant.
So far I have to say that it feels really good to take a break, it feels.....right. I hope I don't become a diner regular with the 80+ population.....and my parents.
After reviewing the 16 things with my doctor, we decided to try a hormone drug, aromisan, which works by decreasing the amount of estrogen produced by the body. This medication is paired with a medication for kidney cancer, everolimus. I know, weird right? But, studies show the strongest data ever with estrogen receptive cancer. Google it.
Let's hope this shit works!
Now if you will excuse me, I just bought a huge bag of Halloween candy and I'm about to break that bitch open! Party, party!
_______________________________________
Yooooooooooooooo, I just found out I have to get another blood transfusionnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn. (That's how Aziz Ansari would say it.) Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?
I also have to get platelets, they are 'dangerously' low. So back to the 'dayroom', where I will NOT be ordering the disgusting hospital food and spending another 5-6 hours of my life I doubt I will get back.
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