My Roses Are Dying

I have to apologize before I even get into this one.  It's probably going to be a little bit of a downer.  I just don't feel good.

I have a snotty nose, my ears feel hot (like I'm probably getting sick), I've been sneezing all day long, my left nostril has been slowly leaking blood since about a month after I started chemo, I got poked with a needle SEVEN times today in order to get my blood drawn for my MUGA scan, and my husband hasn't said a word to me since I got home.

I have no idea as to why I might be getting sick--especially since I'm still essentially on lockdown in the apartment.  Okay.  So it's not really lockdown, but I don't go anywhere because I don't know people.

Timeout.  That's a lie.  I know Kim.  And hopefully I'll get to know her better.  However, I'm unfortunately one of those people who takes about three to five years to cement a solid friendship and until it hits about that time, I feel like I'm imposing.  And I hate doing that.  I know people have their own stuff going on.

And my left nostril.... I waxed my nose hairs not too long after starting chemo and ever since then every time I blow my nose there is blood in my mucus.  I know, I know.  It's my fault.  I feel like it should probably be healed by now, though.  I mean, really, it's been four months!

Whatever.

I'm not sure what the heck was going on with the people who were drawing my blood today.  The girl who tried it the first three times in the crook of my right arm said that, "she doesn't usually have a problem with sticking people."

I'm not convinced.

Lee, the tech who tried after the girl, poked me another four times.  Twice in the same spot as the girl had tried, once in the crook of my left arm, and then he finally got it in my rookie vein on my left arm.  Of the seven times that I got stabbed, they "fished" for my vein four times.  Ouch, ouch, ouch.  It hurts to even bring my right arm up all the way, not to mention that the bruises from my battle are probably going to make me look like I've been shooting up crack or something come tomorrow.

As for my husband, I threw out his brown pit-stained white undershirts earlier today and replaced them with some new ones that I bought him over a month ago.  He's upset because apparently he wore them to work out in.  He asked me why I tossed them and I told him that personally, I think that pit stains on white shirts are very un-sexy and I find him more attractive in stain-free tees.  We got into a semi-heated text message conversation after that and I apologized.

I'm not even sure why.  Probably because I don't like it when he's unhappy with me.

I find myself getting irritated, both with Isaac and with myself, because I feel like whenever we get into an argument, I'm the one who ends up apologizing.  And he's perfectly fine with doing what he's doing today--not talking to me--until I initiate.

Marriage is a LOT harder than I thought it would be.  I found that I was pep-talking myself a lot today.

Love him like God, Ashley.  Love him like God.

Oh it just kills me sometimes, though!  That moment when I feel so hurt by him is usually when I start thinking crazy things.  I debate just walking out and driving back to Ames because at least I feel wanted there.  Or filing for divorce.  It's easy to understand why the rates for it are so high.  But then I remember I don't believe in divorce.  And that's where the semi started entering the picture.

Today I was reading Jessica's blog though.  It was one that she wrote a while ago.  One where I kind of had to smack her in the head about how she was acting, and if I remember correctly, the phrase that I used with her was "Put on your big girl panties and do it anyway."

Re-reading it felt like a two-by-four to the head tonight.

Because if I sit down and think about it, when I was being a pickle, God didn't just quit loving me.  He didn't say, "Well, Ashley, you're being kind of an asshole right now, so I'm going to check out."  Nope.  Sometimes I kind of (but not really) wish He had, so then I wouldn't feel so bad if I did it to someone.

Dear God, help me to love unconditionally.

The Next Step

Hallelujah!  I am finally done with chemotherapy!!!

Next up: radiation!  I'll be going in this Thursday to get mapped.  I'm not entirely sure what that consists of, other than my doctor said they'd be making a cast of my upper body so that I lay exactly the same each time, tattooing me with little dots, and possibly (if needed) creating something to lock my head in place each time too.

I must confess, I really didn't pay all that much attention to what was being said while my radiation doctor was talking.  He seemed to be a really sweet guy, but I was trying to figure out if he'd had a nose job.  I'm just about positive he is primarily African American in descent, but the bridge of his nose was WAY too narrow and straight for it to be natural.  Plus, the tip was thinner as well, which leads me to believe he's had surgery on it.  It does seem to show all that much in this picture, but in real life--trust me.  Looks like rhinoplasty.

I asked Isaac if he thought it was rude to ask doc if he'd had surgery.

He said "Yes.  Don't do that."

Fine.

I guess I'll never know for sure.  I could try one of those beat-around-the-bush conversations and be like, "so, I'm looking for a good facial surgeon... do you know any?"  But that'd probably be really awkward.  I'm guessing he'd pick up on what I was really asking.

I really have no reason to NEED to know either.  I'm just nosy.

Anyway, so yes.  Radiation stuff starts happening on Thursday.

I'll also be getting another MUGA scan on Tuesday.

I've been having odd sensations in my heart area, and I'm a tad concerned that the chemo drugs might have done something to it.  So I'm getting it checked out.

The first time I noticed it was probably right after my fifth session.  I was sitting on my parents couch and all of the sudden it felt like my heart was floating inside itself.  Like it was trying to swim, but it was drowning or something.  It's very hard to describe.  Since then my weird heart feelings haven't been as obvious or intense, but I still do get them.

It very easily could just be the cord from my port flapping around in my Superior Vena Cava (big vein that going straight into the heart).  And if that's the case--I'll be elated, because that means once this port comes out, my heart things will stop.  But if that's not the case, I guess I'd rather know sooner than later.

I'm also going to a counselor on Tuesday.  I actually feel much better now than I did last week, but this intense fluctuation of emotions... I'm not sure how to manage it or what to do with it.  So I'm going to talk to someone about it.

Also, Isaac and I are going to go through "The Five Love Languages" by Gary Chapman.  He doesn't like to read (because he already has to read so much for school) so I am going to read it to him.  We want to learn how to love each other better, because after this week, I came to realize that maybe I haven't been doing that great of a job at speaking to him in a language that is most natural to him.

Dear Uterus

It's been going pretty good!

We went to see the doc on Wednesday and unfortunately, it sounds like six months is the least amount of time I'll have to be in treatment.  That was a bit disappointing.  I was really really hoping to hear that four would be enough.  Come September, we'll repeat my succession of tests to determine how much longer I'll have to endure for sure.  It sounds like it will realistically be anywhere from six to eight months.  Barf.

Isaac and I were talking yesterday and I mentioned that this whole thing is a lot more involved than I thought it was going to be.  In my mind I'd made the process something like: "Four months of chemo was enough.  The lymphoma is gone.  Congrats!  We'll see ya later!"

I guess that's not how it works.

I had to quit taking my birth control for the duration of the process too.  It's been quite a change, letting my body adjust back to what it naturally wants to do for my period.

I'd started taking it pretty young... probably fourteen (correct me if I'm wrong, Mom) because I get such infernally bad cramps.  Over the past nine years, I'd kind of forgotten what it was like to wake up in the middle of the night wishing I was dead because my abdomen was chewing on itself with razor sharp teeth.  I got a lovely reminder today.

Dear, Uterus.

Thank you.  Because of you, I was awakened this morning after only five hours of sleep.  Because of you, I've already downed four ibuprofen and have a heating pad set on blast trying to boil you away.  I'm sure you think it's funny.  Well, just you wait.  When I get older and you've already done the ONLY positive thing you can do (hopefully), I'm having you removed just because I can, you Judas piece of flesh.  Take that.

Sincerely, Ashley

I don't even feel bad about saying that.

Another undesired side effect: my skin breaks out SUPER easily.  I have to treat it like a spoiled Manhatten brat just to get it to behave.  We're talking washing twice a day at specific times, a topical cream, two types of moisturizers, pumice peels, clay masks, extractions, and hydrating gels.  Ridiculous.

Thankfully I learned these things in cosmetology school.

Mornings like today, I have to remind myself to chill.  These disruptions in the pattern of my life will only register as a little bump in the road when the whole story is told.  Nothing lasts forever.

At least, not here.

On a very random ending note: Happy Birthday to my little buddy Caleb Badger!!! You're one!!  :)  I know it's really not until Wednesday, but I'll be drugged and it's pretty likely I'll forget to say anything then.

Haha!  I found this other uterus picture later.  Keep those ovaries away from your children, ladies!!

Laughter is Good Medicine

Since my little incident in the shower, I've been able to hear very little out of my right ear.  I've grown rather accustomed to it by now and Isaac and I have started calling it my "bad" ear.  The other night he just died laughing because we went to bed at the same time (a rarity when you're married to a med school student) and I sleep on the right and he on the left.  I was turned on my side facing him, which meant that the bad ear was facing up and my good ear was smothered in pillow-ness.  

I was just starting at his oh-so-handsome face as he started to talk.  A millisecond into whatever he was saying and I realized I couldn't hear it because my bad ear was the one up.  Then, as yet more proof that I am really an old lady, I had to speak those dreaded words you hear from the 90-somethings in retirement homes.

"Heh?  What are you saying?  Hold on... my good ear is in the pillow."

He. Just. Died.

I hope by now you realize I'm learning to laugh at myself because the alternative lately is probably to cry or get angry, and so as he continued his guffawing, I joined him.  Really, if you think about it, I am just a miserable mess.  My body has been started more drama in the past month than I care to admit.  Let's see what we've got a count on so far (you can click on some of the following for the full scoop if you're behind):

• Excisional Biopsy Surgery
• Diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma IIA
• A million blood tests, PET/CT scan, MUGA scan, and a pulmonary function test
• Fever/headaches/sore throat/wry neck
• Ear erruption that resulted in early anesthesia at my Mediport Surgery, a visit to Urgent Care, AND a visit to the ER
• Mediport Surgery
• Tightness in my neck that Isaac had to crack out (yes, CRACK)
• Nausea and a 3-day nap due to chemotherapy
• Crack-addict-like behaviors from either chemotherapy or compazine (to be determined after the next chemo cycle)
• A yeast infection from the million antibiotics I've been on
• Claw-hand and spastic tongue muscles from a compazine reaction--aka: another trip to the ER

We can add another one after my visit with the ENT yesterday, too: surgery to put a tube in my right ear.  Yep.  Apparently there is fluid built up behind my eardrum that is behind held in place because my adenoids are swollen (lymphoma being the likely culprit of the swelling) and are holding it up there.  They're going to knock me out on July 18th, cut a hole in my eardrum, suck the fluid out, and put a temporary tube in that will fall out on its own within a year or so.

This is why we laugh.  

That, and the fact that my husband and mother figured out every loophole in my insurance policy.  Not only did we figure out how to work the "guest" status, we also ended up getting a refund of what we had paid for the month of June because my mom figured out I shouldn't have had to switch plans.  I bet the insurance people are pissed.

They told her to quit reading the policy.

All in all, when it rains, it pours... and so long as I don't have my hair and makeup done, I'm fine with splashing in the puddles.

Oh, and Em Fedderson, if you're reading this: I had to cut a little over a 1/2" off my hair yesterday to knock it back to where it was when I first cut it.  Just sayin'.