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!

I hate Pink Ribbons

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."

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.'

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. 

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.

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..............

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!