Chemo 2, and an open letter to my cancer.

It is absolutely insane how fast time will fly by, regardless of anything you do to try and stop it. This week started with chemo 2, and that was a hell of an experience on its own. I was very very lucky to have Marsha (my amazing mother in law) come with me to my chemo appointment. We spent time that could have been a really crappy experience together, and had fun instead.

After chemo 1, I described the nausea that had me curled up in a ball on my bed. I talked to my nurses on Monday when I went in for my next appointment and got a bit of a talking to for not calling them when I was going through this. Because I had such a strong reaction on the first night --the night that should have been the best for me with the amount of anti-nausea they had pumped into me earlier in the day-- they decided to double my steroids and beef up my at home medications as well. Things seemed to be business as usual, they sprayed my port with the freezing spray and hooked me up as usual, then pulled back to check the amount of blood return they were getting, which is where the problems started. Apparently my port was not going to cooperate. On Friday, when I had gone in for my port flush and blood draw there had not been an issue, but now when they pulled back on the syringe they were not getting a decent flow of blood. As I've mentioned before, chemo drugs are incredibly toxic, and in fact if they are not properly administered can destroy all tissue that they come into contact with. My nurse, Josie, tried flushing my port with saline (blech), and still minimal return. Josie said that likely my catheter was pushed up against a blood vessel, so she had me turn my head all the way to the left and tilted my chair back so that my head was actually lower than the rest of my body, which made the blood flow properly. Go figure!

So, after the initial premeds, (anti nausea and double steroids) I was tilted back and had one nurse holding my chair so my head was lower than my body, while Josie pushed in the first 3 chemo drugs. All in all, I spent close to 45 minutes that way. Talk about a head rush. My blood return went back to normal by the end of it, and I was allowed to sit normally for the dacarbazine drip.

I took an Ativan when I got home (per nurses orders) to counter the steroids, and to prevent nausea. I honestly don't remember much more of the evening, other than that I slept a loooong time! The next few days I spent in a similar fashion, exhausted beyond what I have ever really experienced before, but thankfully nausea free. The new symptom that I'm dealing with now is that I constantly feel like I've been beaten with an aluminum bat. Every part of my upper body is extremely tender to the touch, and I can't seem to get comfortable. Add to it that we had a crazy weather change (pouring rain out of nowhere, yesterday!) and I'm sick too. Fun times.........

Here's hoping the next few days are better, so that I'm not starting at a crazy low point for chemo 3.

I'm gonna switch to a different line of thinking now, mainly because I don't have much more to say about this round of chemo that isn't complaining, and I just don't feel like doing that. If you have any questions, as always, ask away!

Warning! The following is an open letter to Bob and all of his friends. I don't intend to make peace with him, and I'm probably going to curse. I will try to keep the whining to a minimum. You've been warned.

Dear Bob,

First of all, from the bottom of my heart, screw you. Here I am, minding my own business, and you decide to come barreling into my life? I have had enough. I suppose the warning signs were there that something like you was coming.... Life seemed to be falling into place. Wonderful husband, beautiful child, on the path for a career I can be proud of.... The list of blessings is endless. And then there you came, more apparent with each pound I sweat away, daring me to be happy.

I'm tired, and I'm sick, and I hate you. Today, when I lacked the strength to drag myself out of bed, I cursed you so so many times. I can't wait until you're gone from my life for good.

If there is one thing that I am thankful for, as far as you are concerned, it is that you are my burden. I couldn't bear to see my husband, my family, G-d forbid my daughter dealing with you. It is a thought that makes me feel physically ill. But right now, I don't want to be thankful. I want to be angry. GET OUT!

When you're gone, I'm going to have a party, that everyone but you is invited to. Maybe I will even make a cake and say rude things about you on it.

I know I will beat you. If my past has shown me anything, it is that I have a strength that shines strongest when I have obstacles to overcome. I will never forget the tears I shed when I crossed the finish line of my first marathon, soaking wet, after 8 hours in rain and a body "too big" for marathons. I won't cry when you're gone. I might run another marathon though.

I'd keep going, but for tonight I refuse to dedicate even one more minute to you.