So a husband gets to give his wife shots and . . .

As a former domestic violence prosecutor, I spent much time and energy fighting abuse. And that said, I certainly know plenty of people who would be happy to be allowed to inflict pain on their significant others, fortunately my husband is not one of them. But in coming through the surgery and its aftermath, we learned that I would have to be taking shots for more than 30 days of an anti-clotting drug, every day. As D. is an MS patient and self-injects his medication, I immediately nominated him to give me the shots. I was definitely not into doing it myself in my depleted state, post-surgery. So, I gave him a license to inflict pain, although he tried not to, some nights it was horrible, as the medication burned going through my legs, and leaving me black and blue. He was rather relieved when it was all over.

Kemosabe

In contemplating chemotherapy the irony and dichotomy of it is so strong to me, as posted earlier about living healthy organic life, and allowing someone to put poison in my veins to keep me alive. Is this really therapy? What does it do? Chemical therapy? who came up with this concept? But trying to find something I could live with, and I keep thinking of kemo-sabe, in part because it is amusing, and in part because it allows me to think of Tonto and the lone ranger, on their horses riding into the sunset, not sitting in the hospital surrounded by other horribly sick people trying to stay alive. Is this a trusted friend? Isn't that what kemosabe is supposed to mean? It isn't really from native american languages. When I research it, it comes up from a summer camp the writer of the lone ranger series went to as a child. At least camp is happy and safe and even fun (at least I found them that way), not like hospitals which are tiring and scary. This will be a learning process to find that this is a trusted friend who will save my life.

So they're filling me with poison to save my life

That's a weird irony of cancer. I've lived for so many years (about 30) with organics, and no red meat since 1978, not smoking since 1984, not drinking since 1988, no caffeine, and everyone says how wonderful I look, so young, so healthy and here I am with stage 3 cancer. Dying. And I've battled all these years to fight my family history of hypertension, heart disease etc, which I don't have. Using natural cleaners for my home and laundry. No soda. and on and on. But here I am not just allowing but welcoming and thanking the medical community while they put poison into my body to save my life. To kill the bad cells and the good to keep me alive. Maybe the healthy living I've done all these years will result in a better outcome when its all done, but who knows. There's no science on it. I'm certainly thankful that the science exists to keep me alive because a few years ago, it was not the case. So, round 2 tomorrow.

Cancer jokes?

As always, trying to find some humor in this. As I ask the nurses, are we having fun yet? can there be fun in cancer? D. and I are joking all the time, what's it going to do, kill me? Give me cancer? when I consider whether to eat that deadly french fry or other bad food I normally would never eat but now is the only thing that is appetizing to me. Oh wait, already got that. Researched on the internet for something to make me laugh, but can't find much if anything. Yes, Fran Drescher is amusing with cancer schmancer but it doesn't really give you a belly laugh. so, if you're reading this, just send em my way.

BC DC AC

Keep thinking about those letters: BC - before - what was my life before, full busy, healthy, cooking, working, traveling, caring for my husband and son, helping my clients. DC - during - still figuring this out. That I get up in the morning with no purpose but to get through the day with whatever I am facing, be it hospital, home, paperwork that has to be done or whatever. Looking in my closet and drawing a blank. Instead of dressing for court, office, meetings, or going out with my son or husband, now I just draw a blank on what to put on. Why am I bothering? Do I just live in sweatpants? Do I put on any makeup? Can't let myself go as it would just be too demoralizing, even more than I'm facing with everything else? AC - after - who knows where I'll be in five months, after 16 more rounds of treatment. Can't think about it. Living in the day.

Wheelchair travel

One of the few positive things in this mess has been traveling where I had to fly and arranging for a wheelchair through JFK. Wow what a difference. Don't think I realized that I would be whisked through security to top of the line, through customs etc. At least I get something out of feeling like crap every day.

This is definitely not the way to lose weight

While I am not unhappy that I've lost so much weight due to this illness, surgery, loss of appetite etc, it would be so much nicer to be fat and healthy, or to say that yes I lost weight through diet and exercise, the right way. This is definitely not the good way, to get into clothes I haven't worn for a few years thanks to menopause. I could live without nausea, constipation, fatigue, etc. I could live without being declared disabled, knowing that my time may be very limited, that I have maybe a 35% chance of surviving 5 or more years. So many better things to do with my time and energy when I have it. Instead, I am stuck watching daytime television, (yes, 257 channels and nothing on) hanging with my dog (who is quite content) and worrying about my husband and son. Definitely not a way to live.