There have been several moments in life since (and during) treatment where I have been asked to help "spread the word" or purchase a specific product/therapy that is said to aid in either the treatment or cure of cancer.
I've heard things like...
This product will help treat the side effects from treatment.
This product will cure your cancer without any other medical intervention.
This product will help you keep your hair in during treatment.
This product will help you so much, you'll have better "numbers" than people who aren't even going through treatment!
This camp will cure you through a combination of prayer and only organic food.
The list goes on and on. And strangely enough, the people offering these cures were 99% of the time selling them. What a coincidence!
To the person claiming to fix my side effects or cure my cancer via a product: You are preying on my physical condition. You are preying on the nausea, the low energy, the bloating, the puking, and the multitude of digestion issues. You want to tap into the part of me that believes I can beat this sickness--and do it while living like a queen, without side effects and maladies. If you truly convinced that this product will help me, offer to buy me a bottle and we'll see what happens--but don't send me the link to your promotional page, where I can sign up for automatic monthly deliveries for the low price of….
To the person who thinks they can keep my hair from falling out during treatment: You (although sadly misinformed) are trying to prey on my womanly vanity. Do your research. There are studies indicating that 10-15% of people who undergo chemotherapy treatment will keep their hair. I was one of these. And although it thinned, it still grew fast enough I had to cut it every week or two.
To the person who claims to have a product to increase my numbers: Do you even know what numbers you're talking about? No, but you were nice enough to send me a link to a generic video that is in turn, linked to your promotional page where I can purchase for the low price of….
To the person who believed that my lack of faith in God and lack of organic food in my diet was the cause of my illness: F*** you. God giveth and God taketh away. Job went through very hard times and throughout it, his faith was not shaken, yet God didn't reach down and release him from his tribulations. And although he may have had more organic options in his meal plan than I do, I believe that God has more power to heal than any farm-grown, hand-picked avocado. At the point in time that I heard this one, I was so fed up with life I actually wished cancer on a child of the all-organic eater who was expressing her opinions--just so she would know first-hand that eating all-organic didn't exempt anyone.
If you really want to help, ask if there is anything you can do. Sit beside me, even if I'm sleeping (having people near me was one of the most comforting things during treatment). Cook for me. Talk with me. PRAY FOR ME.
But don't try to make money off me.
*Also, a HUGE thank you to those who just endured with us. We needed you and you were there. Thank you!
Showing posts with label cancer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cancer. Show all posts
Nov 11, 2013
Oct 25, 2013
Update!!
There has been a lot going on in our world lately! Our little nugget is growing and growing....
It's hard to wrap my mind around the fact that there is a HUMAN inside of me, first off--and secondly, get used to the fact that I'm going to get BIGGER.
Like a lot of ladies, I've always had to watch my weight. I try to eat healthy and work out, but even with that, sometimes my pants start to get tighter and tighter until they're no longer comfortable. Typically at that point, I'd start being more intense at the gym until my weight was back where I considered it "acceptable."
Now, getting bigger is part of the program. I'm not complaining, just saying it's going to take some getting used to.
On top of that, the season of giving thanks is rapidly approaching, so I wanted to take a second to ask you to partner with me in either Walking for St. Jude's and/or contributing financially. If you've kept up with my blog for very long, you're more than likely aware of Isaac and I's journey through cancer and although I don't worry about it now, I still like to remind myself that there are other people who are just experiencing the freshness of a diagnosis, the nausea of their first chemotherapy treatment, or mourning the death of a friend or family member who passed during their treatment.
I'm planning on offering my hair cutting services for the month of November in exchange for donations toward St. Jude's. I would love to raise $1500, but was actually going to only write $500 as my goal because I dislike "failing" so much. However, I'd hate for someone to decide to give less because my goal was so small, so I put the true amount on there. Now I'm nervous I won't make it, but... we'll see!
If you feel led to do so, click here to donate or sign up to Walk for St. Jude's in your state.
It's hard to wrap my mind around the fact that there is a HUMAN inside of me, first off--and secondly, get used to the fact that I'm going to get BIGGER.
Like a lot of ladies, I've always had to watch my weight. I try to eat healthy and work out, but even with that, sometimes my pants start to get tighter and tighter until they're no longer comfortable. Typically at that point, I'd start being more intense at the gym until my weight was back where I considered it "acceptable."
Now, getting bigger is part of the program. I'm not complaining, just saying it's going to take some getting used to.
 |
| Here's our little nugget!!! |
On top of that, the season of giving thanks is rapidly approaching, so I wanted to take a second to ask you to partner with me in either Walking for St. Jude's and/or contributing financially. If you've kept up with my blog for very long, you're more than likely aware of Isaac and I's journey through cancer and although I don't worry about it now, I still like to remind myself that there are other people who are just experiencing the freshness of a diagnosis, the nausea of their first chemotherapy treatment, or mourning the death of a friend or family member who passed during their treatment.
I'm planning on offering my hair cutting services for the month of November in exchange for donations toward St. Jude's. I would love to raise $1500, but was actually going to only write $500 as my goal because I dislike "failing" so much. However, I'd hate for someone to decide to give less because my goal was so small, so I put the true amount on there. Now I'm nervous I won't make it, but... we'll see!
If you feel led to do so, click here to donate or sign up to Walk for St. Jude's in your state.
Apr 11, 2013
Do People Announce These Things?
Fact #1. We want kids.
Fact #2. I'm a scaredy-cat.
Fact #3. I'm a control freak.
Which brings me to today's blog... we're no longer preventing pregnancy. We're not TRYING, (because there's apparently procedures, etc. for that) but we're not making effort to stop it anymore.
Isaac let me know several months ago, he would be thrilled if a little wiggle worm dropped out anytime now. I, on the other hand, have been much more hesitant. For several reasons--some of them legitimate, others not so much.
What if I'm a horrible mother? What if Isaac's residency ends up being in Michigan and I go through a severe round of depression again? What if I end up feeling alone because he's gone at the hospital all the time? What if I become suicidal? What if I don't love them good enough? What if the chemo did something crazy to my body and I have mentally challenged kids? Will I have enough patience for that? Will I even have enough patience for a normal child? What if my cancer comes back while I'm pregnant? What if I get really huge--like, monstrously huge? What if my acne acts up while I'm pregnant and I get pizza face again?
Ugh.
Obviously, some of these aren't as important as others. Isaac says my mom genes will kick in and it will all be okay, regardless of the circumstances. And he's probably right.
Through my cancer experience I learned I better handle things when I don't know what to expect. Whoever first said that ignorance is bliss was my dispositional twin; I can roll with the punches as long as I can't tell where I'll get hit next.
So I'm lowering my guard and leave myself open for a beating that will probably rip me apart physically and exhaust me mentally.
I heard the payoff is definitely worth it.
Fact #2. I'm a scaredy-cat.
Fact #3. I'm a control freak.
Which brings me to today's blog... we're no longer preventing pregnancy. We're not TRYING, (because there's apparently procedures, etc. for that) but we're not making effort to stop it anymore.
Isaac let me know several months ago, he would be thrilled if a little wiggle worm dropped out anytime now. I, on the other hand, have been much more hesitant. For several reasons--some of them legitimate, others not so much.
What if I'm a horrible mother? What if Isaac's residency ends up being in Michigan and I go through a severe round of depression again? What if I end up feeling alone because he's gone at the hospital all the time? What if I become suicidal? What if I don't love them good enough? What if the chemo did something crazy to my body and I have mentally challenged kids? Will I have enough patience for that? Will I even have enough patience for a normal child? What if my cancer comes back while I'm pregnant? What if I get really huge--like, monstrously huge? What if my acne acts up while I'm pregnant and I get pizza face again?
Ugh.
Obviously, some of these aren't as important as others. Isaac says my mom genes will kick in and it will all be okay, regardless of the circumstances. And he's probably right.
Through my cancer experience I learned I better handle things when I don't know what to expect. Whoever first said that ignorance is bliss was my dispositional twin; I can roll with the punches as long as I can't tell where I'll get hit next.
So I'm lowering my guard and leave myself open for a beating that will probably rip me apart physically and exhaust me mentally.
I heard the payoff is definitely worth it.
Sep 13, 2012
Anna
This past weekend I was working at Nordstrom, like usual. I had made a bunch of really cute foundation samples and was handing them out in the aisles when my manager pulled me to the floor and asked me to help a customer who was searching for a good foundation.
Of course, I happily took on the task, since matching people in foundations is one of my favorite things to do--right up there beside giving people complete makeovers. There is an artistic aspect to doing this that requires a keen eye for color, and my eye seems to have developed quite well in that area.
My customer's name was Anna. I've helped her find a mascara before, but hadn't ever had a chance to sit down and talk with her for more than a couple of minutes.
Anna is a beautiful Philippino woman. Her natural hair color is a soft charcoal that fades in the popular ombre style toward a mid-level caramel brown on the ends. It lands a little past her shoulders and I've noticed she likes to wear it curled in a wave. Her eyes are a deep brown that glint gold when the light hits them, and you can tell by their shape that she smiles quite a bit. Her skin has a strong gold tone with very few imperfections, which I found amazing once I learned about the last few years of her life. Most people wear their stress on their face.
Before you start thinking I'm a creeper, know that these are the things I pay attention to when I'm searching for what color to use on people. I can tell you these details about almost any person that I've put foundation on. I'd probably also be able to recall the depth of color and thickness of their brows, if they had any distinguishing marks on their face, and if they had strong cheekbones or not.
Somehow we got on the topic of cancer. I think she thought I'd noticed her scar on her neck. Being someone who has a scar from cancer, I can tell you that sometimes I'm self-conscious of it and sometimes I think people notice it. Oddly enough, though, I don't usually recognize them on others. I mean, I'll notice them, but my mind doesn't stop and think, "This person has a scar. I wonder what it's from?" I guess I my assumption is that everyone is scarred, but only some of us have them on the outside whereas others carry them only on the inside.
Turns out she's had thyroid cancer. She was diagnosed a few years ago and has been through several surgeries and multiple rounds of radiation. Her journey has been long and difficult. During one of her surgeries, one of her laryngeal nerves was clipped, and consequently, her right vocal cord is now permanently paralyzed. Did I mention she's a professional singer?
At one point, she was completely unable to speak, or even whisper. In her book, My Lipstick Journey Through Cancer, she talks about how she had to grieve the possibility of not being able to sing again. Possibly ever. However, she's been in therapy for quite some time now, working on restoring strength to her working vocal cord so she can continue singing.
Every time she's visited the cosmetic counters at Nordstrom, Anna is always smiling. Always. I was thinking about it while reading her book, and I hope that I have a positive effect on people like she does. I hope that I am a little ray of sunshine for people who meet me on a daily basis, that I smile, and that people feel a little more cared for and respected because they met me.
***Update, 3/16/13: Anna isn't doing so well now. It is believed that the cancer is coming back and has spread to different areas, but she has no insurance to pay for a PET scan that would reveal more.***
Of course, I happily took on the task, since matching people in foundations is one of my favorite things to do--right up there beside giving people complete makeovers. There is an artistic aspect to doing this that requires a keen eye for color, and my eye seems to have developed quite well in that area.
My customer's name was Anna. I've helped her find a mascara before, but hadn't ever had a chance to sit down and talk with her for more than a couple of minutes.
Anna is a beautiful Philippino woman. Her natural hair color is a soft charcoal that fades in the popular ombre style toward a mid-level caramel brown on the ends. It lands a little past her shoulders and I've noticed she likes to wear it curled in a wave. Her eyes are a deep brown that glint gold when the light hits them, and you can tell by their shape that she smiles quite a bit. Her skin has a strong gold tone with very few imperfections, which I found amazing once I learned about the last few years of her life. Most people wear their stress on their face.
Before you start thinking I'm a creeper, know that these are the things I pay attention to when I'm searching for what color to use on people. I can tell you these details about almost any person that I've put foundation on. I'd probably also be able to recall the depth of color and thickness of their brows, if they had any distinguishing marks on their face, and if they had strong cheekbones or not.
Somehow we got on the topic of cancer. I think she thought I'd noticed her scar on her neck. Being someone who has a scar from cancer, I can tell you that sometimes I'm self-conscious of it and sometimes I think people notice it. Oddly enough, though, I don't usually recognize them on others. I mean, I'll notice them, but my mind doesn't stop and think, "This person has a scar. I wonder what it's from?" I guess I my assumption is that everyone is scarred, but only some of us have them on the outside whereas others carry them only on the inside.
Turns out she's had thyroid cancer. She was diagnosed a few years ago and has been through several surgeries and multiple rounds of radiation. Her journey has been long and difficult. During one of her surgeries, one of her laryngeal nerves was clipped, and consequently, her right vocal cord is now permanently paralyzed. Did I mention she's a professional singer?
At one point, she was completely unable to speak, or even whisper. In her book, My Lipstick Journey Through Cancer, she talks about how she had to grieve the possibility of not being able to sing again. Possibly ever. However, she's been in therapy for quite some time now, working on restoring strength to her working vocal cord so she can continue singing.
Every time she's visited the cosmetic counters at Nordstrom, Anna is always smiling. Always. I was thinking about it while reading her book, and I hope that I have a positive effect on people like she does. I hope that I am a little ray of sunshine for people who meet me on a daily basis, that I smile, and that people feel a little more cared for and respected because they met me.
***Update, 3/16/13: Anna isn't doing so well now. It is believed that the cancer is coming back and has spread to different areas, but she has no insurance to pay for a PET scan that would reveal more.***
Mar 12, 2012
Doing the Side Stroke Upriver
We are so boring.
Seriously.
Brother Isaac always used to make fun of me for it and I would just laugh, but now, it's getting serious. Or, rather, more serious. Basically, I work. And basically, Isaac Jordan studies. And eats Skittles from the five pound bag that Mom sent him...
My non-salon job is going better. I don't feel that I'm probably the best sales person on the planet, but I do what they ask of me at 200% effort so nobody can say I don't try. The biggest thing that amuses me about my job is the type of expectations people can place on a facial cream. I was on the phone the other day with a lady for over an hour and a half discussing which skincare regimen would benefit her the most. She wanted hydrating, lifting, tightening, firming, wrinkle-fixing, de-puffing, pore-shrinking, acne-curing, dark-circle-ridding magic. I ended up telling her that if things are really headed that far south, the best product would probably be a face lift. Creams and serums can only do so much.
Things are going along pretty well at Ken Paves Salon too. We're having an event on Sunday, April 1st to raise money for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. I figured since so many people went out of their way to help us when we needed it, the very least I can do is donate what I can and encourage others to do the same. The relief that we felt once the financial burden lift during chemo was immense. I didn't even realize how heavy it was until afterward.
Here's a flyer for the event, in case you hadn't seen it yet:
Seriously.
Brother Isaac always used to make fun of me for it and I would just laugh, but now, it's getting serious. Or, rather, more serious. Basically, I work. And basically, Isaac Jordan studies. And eats Skittles from the five pound bag that Mom sent him...
My non-salon job is going better. I don't feel that I'm probably the best sales person on the planet, but I do what they ask of me at 200% effort so nobody can say I don't try. The biggest thing that amuses me about my job is the type of expectations people can place on a facial cream. I was on the phone the other day with a lady for over an hour and a half discussing which skincare regimen would benefit her the most. She wanted hydrating, lifting, tightening, firming, wrinkle-fixing, de-puffing, pore-shrinking, acne-curing, dark-circle-ridding magic. I ended up telling her that if things are really headed that far south, the best product would probably be a face lift. Creams and serums can only do so much.
Things are going along pretty well at Ken Paves Salon too. We're having an event on Sunday, April 1st to raise money for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. I figured since so many people went out of their way to help us when we needed it, the very least I can do is donate what I can and encourage others to do the same. The relief that we felt once the financial burden lift during chemo was immense. I didn't even realize how heavy it was until afterward.
Here's a flyer for the event, in case you hadn't seen it yet:
Mom and Jessica will be coming up for it, which will be really sweet. They're going to be our greeters, welcoming people in with warmness and smiles and asking how they've become connected to the event. We hope to do lots of makeovers for women who are currently in treatment or who have recently finished treatment. There is something therapeutic about putting your makeup on every morning. Especially after chemo. It's kind of... stabilizing. If that makes sense. Like.... even though everything else in your world has been shaken, at least you can still take a shower and put your makeup on.
We'll also have wigs for women who have gone through treatment and lost their hair. Ken was super sweet and has not only offered the wigs, but has given us full and complete support, which is awesome. We're hoping to be able to raise over $5,000, and honestly, I'd be thrilled if we could hit $10,000.
I would probably cry.
Anyway... I've got to sign off for the night... I open tomorrow morning and I need to be rested so I can put 200% in all day again tomorrow!
Enjoy your life. Every day is faster than the next and at some point, you run out of days.
Feb 25, 2012
Yuck
I feel like dealing with life after cancer has been WAY harder than dealing with life during cancer. Sure, I pooped myself a few times, was constantly tired, made several trips to the ER, and felt like I was suicidal toward the end. However, now that the drugs have worn off, I'm having a hard time dealing with the fact that I was looking forward to things going "back to normal," when "normal" isn't what it used to be.
I hate going to church on Sunday because it reminds me that "normally" I would be spending time with my Iowa family and friends afterward. I don't feel I'm very good at my sales job, because instead of doing something I love, I'm graded on how much stuff I can sell people. I still have plenty of days where I feel I wouldn't mind if someone shot me or crashed into me and I died, but now I can't blame it on the drugs. Now it's just me.
Once upon a time it felt like life was fairly simple and straightforward. Now it's complex and confusing.
But... what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. Right?
I hate going to church on Sunday because it reminds me that "normally" I would be spending time with my Iowa family and friends afterward. I don't feel I'm very good at my sales job, because instead of doing something I love, I'm graded on how much stuff I can sell people. I still have plenty of days where I feel I wouldn't mind if someone shot me or crashed into me and I died, but now I can't blame it on the drugs. Now it's just me.
Once upon a time it felt like life was fairly simple and straightforward. Now it's complex and confusing.
But... what doesn't kill you, makes you stronger. Right?
Jan 29, 2012
C'est La Vie.
Work, work, work. That's what this past week has been.
The funnier part is that the amount of work I did wasn't even really that much. I used to put in anywhere between a 40-60 hour week without thinking about it, but this week 30 was pushing my limits.
I know I'm going to get a lecture from my "cancer moms" telling me that I shouldn't try to push too hard, too fast. But believe me, I've already picked up on that. When I'm tired after working for only 7 or 8 hours, I have no other option than to believe it's a residual effect from the chemo and radiation. 'Cause normally, that'd be no problem.
Some women I've talked to told me it might take up to a year for me to get "back to normal." Whatever that may be.
For now, though, I find myself yawning at 8pm. Granted, I rarely go to bed that early because there is still a part of me that feels like coping out that early is just wussy. And I don't like to be a wuss.
The plan for today is to make it out to either Lakeside Mall or The Somerset Collection to hand out my cards and strike up deals with the pretty faces behind the counters so that I can get my name out there.
I was talking with one of the girls that I work with last night and asked if she wanted to go with to hand out cards at Somerset soon and I'm not sure I understood her response. It seemed she was worried that we would be stepping on someone else's turf or that maybe we were inferior to the resident mall salon. I was confused. Actually, I still am.
Either way, I'm not worried about it. If their work is better than mine, it will show and their clients will stay. However, if it's not... well, that's how the game goes. I won't badmouth another stylist or salon to gain their clientele, but I'm not going to sit back and just hope people appear in my chair, either. I'm going to get my hustle on and let people know that if they'd like, I'm here: talented, able, and willing. (And in a lot of cases, more budget friendly, too!)
The ubiquitous "they" say that if you gain about 50 clients in a year, probably expect to lose about 10-20% of them in that same year. Some people just like to jump around, while others die, move, go off to college, etc... Regardless, your client's lives are not static, so they won't be either.
Anyway, that's enough of that.
Isaac has been studying like a madman, making sure that he's ready for everything that his Cardiology class can throw at him. He's definitely a little bit stressed, but I suppose a little fire under everyone's behind does some good.
I've been getting little love-notes from him recently, which I adore. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I'm working a little bit now. Or maybe it's because I've been conscious for a couple of consecutive months instead of doped up on the chemo drugs. Whatever the cause is, I'm a fan.
I've been enjoying my time at Nordstrom so far too. It's a very interesting place.
Dad got home from Africa today!! I haven't talked to him yet because I think everyone is together hanging out, talking about how the trip was over lunch and stuff, but I'm hoping that I'll be able to chat with him soon.
It's weird, not being home in Iowa for his homecoming. I can picture in my head what's probably gone on and I can remember what the emotional atmosphere was last time he got home, but it stinks, not being able to be there and share it with them.
I've been having weird dreams, too. Really weird, and REALLY vivid. Almost every night. Even weirder, Jessica and I both dreamt that I was pregnant a couple of nights ago. Glory, I hope not. I know, I know, His timing is perfect. I have complete trust in that; I just would be extremely curious how it would work with our present life situation.
C'est la vie.
The funnier part is that the amount of work I did wasn't even really that much. I used to put in anywhere between a 40-60 hour week without thinking about it, but this week 30 was pushing my limits.
I know I'm going to get a lecture from my "cancer moms" telling me that I shouldn't try to push too hard, too fast. But believe me, I've already picked up on that. When I'm tired after working for only 7 or 8 hours, I have no other option than to believe it's a residual effect from the chemo and radiation. 'Cause normally, that'd be no problem.
Some women I've talked to told me it might take up to a year for me to get "back to normal." Whatever that may be.
For now, though, I find myself yawning at 8pm. Granted, I rarely go to bed that early because there is still a part of me that feels like coping out that early is just wussy. And I don't like to be a wuss.
The plan for today is to make it out to either Lakeside Mall or The Somerset Collection to hand out my cards and strike up deals with the pretty faces behind the counters so that I can get my name out there.
I was talking with one of the girls that I work with last night and asked if she wanted to go with to hand out cards at Somerset soon and I'm not sure I understood her response. It seemed she was worried that we would be stepping on someone else's turf or that maybe we were inferior to the resident mall salon. I was confused. Actually, I still am.
Either way, I'm not worried about it. If their work is better than mine, it will show and their clients will stay. However, if it's not... well, that's how the game goes. I won't badmouth another stylist or salon to gain their clientele, but I'm not going to sit back and just hope people appear in my chair, either. I'm going to get my hustle on and let people know that if they'd like, I'm here: talented, able, and willing. (And in a lot of cases, more budget friendly, too!)
The ubiquitous "they" say that if you gain about 50 clients in a year, probably expect to lose about 10-20% of them in that same year. Some people just like to jump around, while others die, move, go off to college, etc... Regardless, your client's lives are not static, so they won't be either.
Anyway, that's enough of that.
Isaac has been studying like a madman, making sure that he's ready for everything that his Cardiology class can throw at him. He's definitely a little bit stressed, but I suppose a little fire under everyone's behind does some good.
I've been getting little love-notes from him recently, which I adore. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I'm working a little bit now. Or maybe it's because I've been conscious for a couple of consecutive months instead of doped up on the chemo drugs. Whatever the cause is, I'm a fan.
I've been enjoying my time at Nordstrom so far too. It's a very interesting place.
Dad got home from Africa today!! I haven't talked to him yet because I think everyone is together hanging out, talking about how the trip was over lunch and stuff, but I'm hoping that I'll be able to chat with him soon.
It's weird, not being home in Iowa for his homecoming. I can picture in my head what's probably gone on and I can remember what the emotional atmosphere was last time he got home, but it stinks, not being able to be there and share it with them.
I've been having weird dreams, too. Really weird, and REALLY vivid. Almost every night. Even weirder, Jessica and I both dreamt that I was pregnant a couple of nights ago. Glory, I hope not. I know, I know, His timing is perfect. I have complete trust in that; I just would be extremely curious how it would work with our present life situation.
C'est la vie.
Jan 7, 2012
Oct 25, 2011
Kiss Him, He's Irish!
I start radiation in about twenty-four hours. It's 1:17am on Tuesday here, and I'll be getting my first treatment at 8:00am Wednesday. Speaking of, I'm not sure that I've filled you in on how my appointment went last Thursday. Let me fill you in.
To start, this was probably the first appointment ever that I've been to on time to at the Ted B. Wahby Cancer Center. I bet the staff in oncology is SO happy that I'm done with treatment, because now I can't jam up their scheduling every other week. Plus, they don't have to run up and down the stairs to bring the lab a new order for my bloodwork every time I forget mine--which, if we're being honest, happened probably half of the time.
Anyway, I was given the grand tour of the radiology department and then the nurse took me in to get my vitals and then ask me a million-and-one questions about how I was feeling, if I'd been having any unusual symptoms from chemo, did I have any questions about what's happened so far, etc... She was really nice. Maybe twenty-five, twenty-six years old with a kind of quirky, fun personality. Immediately, I felt comfortable talking with her. So comfortable, that I decided to ask her my secret question.
I'm sure ever since I posted my blog about my radiologist, you've all been debating if he's had a nose job too. Well, I asked my new nurse friend if she thought he had and she just busted out laughing. Really hard. I was a little bit confused because I didn't know if she was laughing because she'd been wondering the same thing, or if it was because a lot of people ask. She said I should ask him.
I decided I'd just ask him his ethnicity instead.
Now before some of you get your feathers ruffled about the ethnicity question, know this. I have been asked if I'm part Mexican, Spanish, Mulatto, Puerto Rican, Asian (?), and Mediterranean, among a sea of others. I wasn't asking because I'm racially biased in any way. However, because I find the different races so fascinating, I've spent a lot of time viewing material about the various facial structures and characteristics within regional groups. Therefore, I was pretty sure if I knew his ethnicity, I'd be able to make a pretty educated guess as to whether he'd gotten a nose job or not.
I'm not sure he's ever had anyone ask him that question before. He paused for a second and then responded that he was black. This was where the conversation got fun.
"No, no, no," I said. "What's your ethnicity, your bloodline?" He started laughing.
"Is it because of my accent?" His accent? Then it was my turn to laugh.
"Your accent?" I replied. "I don't even HEAR one."
I then took a moment to explain that I was pretty sure he wasn't straight up African American, simply based on the fact that he had a relatively light complexion with freckles--but I left out "and because the bridge of your nose is pretty narrow."
Turns out, he's mostly African American with a pinch of American Indian and IRISH. That's where the freckles probably come from. And the American Indian is probably a pretty strong contributor to the narrow bridge. Before he'd told me, I'd been thinking maybe he had some non-American Indian (think Dubai) in him, but Irish blood hadn't even entered my mind. It makes sense, though, really.
We talked for probably at least a half hour, if not forty-five minutes, about different races and how some people still see the world through color-siphoning lenses while others have made more progress in the area of racial equality. It was pretty sweet conversation. Also, I learned that around here, a good way to get to know people is to join interest groups. For instance, "sewing" group. Or "first time expectant mothers" group. (No, I'm not expecting. It was the example he gave of a group his wife had joined)
So I might try that. If I can ever figure out where these groups are, anyway.
End of story--I don't think he's had a nose job. And now I know where his freckles most likely came from.
To start, this was probably the first appointment ever that I've been to on time to at the Ted B. Wahby Cancer Center. I bet the staff in oncology is SO happy that I'm done with treatment, because now I can't jam up their scheduling every other week. Plus, they don't have to run up and down the stairs to bring the lab a new order for my bloodwork every time I forget mine--which, if we're being honest, happened probably half of the time.
Anyway, I was given the grand tour of the radiology department and then the nurse took me in to get my vitals and then ask me a million-and-one questions about how I was feeling, if I'd been having any unusual symptoms from chemo, did I have any questions about what's happened so far, etc... She was really nice. Maybe twenty-five, twenty-six years old with a kind of quirky, fun personality. Immediately, I felt comfortable talking with her. So comfortable, that I decided to ask her my secret question.
I'm sure ever since I posted my blog about my radiologist, you've all been debating if he's had a nose job too. Well, I asked my new nurse friend if she thought he had and she just busted out laughing. Really hard. I was a little bit confused because I didn't know if she was laughing because she'd been wondering the same thing, or if it was because a lot of people ask. She said I should ask him.
I decided I'd just ask him his ethnicity instead.
Now before some of you get your feathers ruffled about the ethnicity question, know this. I have been asked if I'm part Mexican, Spanish, Mulatto, Puerto Rican, Asian (?), and Mediterranean, among a sea of others. I wasn't asking because I'm racially biased in any way. However, because I find the different races so fascinating, I've spent a lot of time viewing material about the various facial structures and characteristics within regional groups. Therefore, I was pretty sure if I knew his ethnicity, I'd be able to make a pretty educated guess as to whether he'd gotten a nose job or not.
I'm not sure he's ever had anyone ask him that question before. He paused for a second and then responded that he was black. This was where the conversation got fun.
"No, no, no," I said. "What's your ethnicity, your bloodline?" He started laughing.
"Is it because of my accent?" His accent? Then it was my turn to laugh.
"Your accent?" I replied. "I don't even HEAR one."
I then took a moment to explain that I was pretty sure he wasn't straight up African American, simply based on the fact that he had a relatively light complexion with freckles--but I left out "and because the bridge of your nose is pretty narrow."
Turns out, he's mostly African American with a pinch of American Indian and IRISH. That's where the freckles probably come from. And the American Indian is probably a pretty strong contributor to the narrow bridge. Before he'd told me, I'd been thinking maybe he had some non-American Indian (think Dubai) in him, but Irish blood hadn't even entered my mind. It makes sense, though, really.
We talked for probably at least a half hour, if not forty-five minutes, about different races and how some people still see the world through color-siphoning lenses while others have made more progress in the area of racial equality. It was pretty sweet conversation. Also, I learned that around here, a good way to get to know people is to join interest groups. For instance, "sewing" group. Or "first time expectant mothers" group. (No, I'm not expecting. It was the example he gave of a group his wife had joined)
So I might try that. If I can ever figure out where these groups are, anyway.
End of story--I don't think he's had a nose job. And now I know where his freckles most likely came from.
Sep 15, 2011
St. Jude's Walk
I've been thinking of ways that I can give back as soon as I'm better.
Oh Facebook. You DO know me too well! As I was browsing pages and pages of beautiful faces, searching for hair models to use in my leave-behind for out here in Shigan, I stumbled upon an advertisement for St. Jude's Medical Research Walk.
It will happen on Saturday, November 19, in various locations across the nation. I will be coming back to my roots to walk with as large of an army as I can gather in the Des Moines march.
If you are interested in joining, please sign up!
Visit Ashley Hinton's Page!
You can then choose to register to walk, or to donate. I believe it is free, but the goal is to raise money for these families who can't necessarily afford all their treatments--especially those who are uninsured!
If you choose to walk, you will need to register, then underneath "Participation Type," click the button beside "Join A Team." The team name is "Beat Cancer"
Thank you SO much!!!!!
Oh Facebook. You DO know me too well! As I was browsing pages and pages of beautiful faces, searching for hair models to use in my leave-behind for out here in Shigan, I stumbled upon an advertisement for St. Jude's Medical Research Walk.
It will happen on Saturday, November 19, in various locations across the nation. I will be coming back to my roots to walk with as large of an army as I can gather in the Des Moines march.
If you are interested in joining, please sign up!
Visit Ashley Hinton's Page!
You can then choose to register to walk, or to donate. I believe it is free, but the goal is to raise money for these families who can't necessarily afford all their treatments--especially those who are uninsured!
If you choose to walk, you will need to register, then underneath "Participation Type," click the button beside "Join A Team." The team name is "Beat Cancer"
Thank you SO much!!!!!
Jul 23, 2011
This is A First
Along with many other "first" experiences that chemotherapy has provided, I can now add to the list a "head/stomach disconnect," meaning, I can no longer tell when I'm hungry. I would have never thought this would be an issue.
In my pre-cancerous days, it was no big deal for me to sit down and eat at least four to six times a day. I made sure it was healthy (for the most part), but I just really enjoy eating.
However, since second round of chemo, I have discovered that my brain no longer registers when my stomach is hungry. I don't get that hungry feeling--very rarely do I even hear it growl. All of the sudden, I'll just be completely sick to my stomach.
After the first day of this, around midnight, Isaac thought to ask me if I'd eaten anything. Yes, I believe I had, I told him. He proceeded to ask what exactly I'd eaten. To my disbelief, I could only recall a taco and two slices of ham..... but I didn't feel hungry, I only had this sharp pain in my stomach. If food was the problem, I should have FELT hungry before getting these pains. ...right?
I tried eating and I did seem to feel better for a couple of hours. Then the pains were back again. It took a few times of doing this for me to understand that my hormones were so off-whack that my body could no longer signal to me when was the appropriate time to eat. Ridiculous.
So now, like a newborn babe, I have to set a timer for when I need to eat next.
I guess it just goes to show how fickle your body can be.
In my pre-cancerous days, it was no big deal for me to sit down and eat at least four to six times a day. I made sure it was healthy (for the most part), but I just really enjoy eating.
However, since second round of chemo, I have discovered that my brain no longer registers when my stomach is hungry. I don't get that hungry feeling--very rarely do I even hear it growl. All of the sudden, I'll just be completely sick to my stomach.
After the first day of this, around midnight, Isaac thought to ask me if I'd eaten anything. Yes, I believe I had, I told him. He proceeded to ask what exactly I'd eaten. To my disbelief, I could only recall a taco and two slices of ham..... but I didn't feel hungry, I only had this sharp pain in my stomach. If food was the problem, I should have FELT hungry before getting these pains. ...right?
I tried eating and I did seem to feel better for a couple of hours. Then the pains were back again. It took a few times of doing this for me to understand that my hormones were so off-whack that my body could no longer signal to me when was the appropriate time to eat. Ridiculous.
So now, like a newborn babe, I have to set a timer for when I need to eat next.
I guess it just goes to show how fickle your body can be.
Jul 16, 2011
Fun-Filled Friday
Yesterday was probably the most exciting day I've had this week so far. I spent the entire morning calling around to get deferment on my student loans, filling out hours worth of on line information to apply for disability, and trying to gather up the appropriate paperwork to apply for financial assistance from the hospitals that I've visited recently.
It's probably not the average person's idea of "fun," but for someone who went from being busy eighteen hours of the day to a professional couch bum, having anything to do falls into the "exciting" category.
Isaac and I also went to the beach yesterday with some of his med school friends, which actually contributed more to the fun factor than the paperwork. This was the first time I'd met most of them and I was a little nervous. I haven't had to make friends for several years now, and I'm really not even sure how that whole thing works anymore.
Don't get me wrong, I've made friends over the years just by being involved at Cornerstone, Bootcamp, Salon 101, and other things I was deeply rooted in... But how do you go about making friends when you don't actually DO anything?
I have no idea.
I'm not about to be the creepy person on Facebook or Skype who goes around adding people they don't know. That's just weird.
Anyway, they were all pretty sweet. I got asked to join in on a game of soccer, which ended up proving to me that although I'd like to believe the chemo doesn't have any effect on my body, it really does.
The "field" was somewhere between a quarter and a third of the length of a true soccer field and the game wasn't really all that competitive. Nevertheless, I was huffing and puffing like a 400-pound life-long smoker after maybe thirty minutes. Sad day. I honestly didn't even move that much.
We watched The Green Hornet last night, too. It was horrible! I was impressed that it wasn't littered with half-naked women, but the overabundance of swearing completely filled the "crap-o-meter" anyway. Not to mention the complete absence of a well-developed plot.
Unfortunately, I thought The Green Lantern fell into the same category as well. It might have actually been worse. Sure, The Green Hornet was lacking quite a bit, but at least the action scenes were somewhat redeeming and the acting was so-so. One of its biggest problems was that they tried to turn it into a comedy and miserably failed.
The Green Lantern, however, had a complete disaster of a storyline for someone who hadn't read the comic books, and the only person who should have gotten a paycheck for their acting was the guy who played Hector. I'd definitely vote it an all-time-low for Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively.
I wouldn't recommend either.
The night ended with me going to bed "early" (around midnight) and Isaac staying up to watch some of his lectures online. I dreamt of soccer and woke up this morning to sore legs--my cue to go to the gym later and work them out.
Hopefully I'll get invited to play again sometime. Maybe next time I'll drag an oxygen tank with me. Who knows? I might last longer that way...
Jul 13, 2011
Chemotherapy? No Thanks, I'm Good....
Today was supposed to be my second treatment. As it were, Isaac and I arrived at the office only to discover that my white blood cell count was low and my neutophil count extremely low.
I guess we know the chemo is doing its job.
This means a couple things. One is that I am extremely prone to getting really sick right now. Honestly, I'm a little surprised I didn't end up in the ER after my visit home this past weekend. I disobeyed the "no little kids" rule, the "no hugging" rule, the "limited sun exposure" rule... probably a few others, too. I'm sure if the doc had known exactly how low my counts were going to dip and how disobedient I'd be, he wouldn't have let us go. Secretly, I'm glad he didn't know. (Although, I'm not sure I'd feel the same way if I were hospitalized right now.)
Also, this means that my chemo was delayed a week... which reduces its effectiveness... which means I might have to be in treatment longer.
It also means that the day after my session next week, I have to get a shot that it supposed to make my bone marrow pump out white blood cells like crazy.
I'm not particularly excited about this shot.
I've come across it while reading up on my specific type of treatment and over and over again I see two things about it repeated. First, it's expensive. One man's wife needed them and they weren't insured. It cost them over $12,000 a week. I can't even image--thank goodness for insurance! As much as people gripe about ObamaCare, I'm very thankful for it right now, or Isaac and I absolutely would have declared bankruptcy already.
The other thing I read about this shot is that it apparently makes your bones ache like you have a fever.
Oh, joy.
Thankfully, the chemo will probably knock me out for a few days anyway, so I'll be able to take care of all my miserableness at once, rather than stretching it out. That's one upside.
On another note, my hair is still in tact. I often find myself running my hands through it, like I'm petting a dog--except I'm petting myself. It just feels cool. Occasionally, I'll reach up and pinch some of it and pull to see if any will come out. The most I've gotten was two hairs at once. I was under the impression that it would have fallen out by now--although, since shaving it, I've learned that about 3% of people undergoing my treatment keep their hair.
I'm sure that'll be my luck--but only because I already shaved it. And because I was looking forward to it coming back different. Maybe red and curly...
I'd be game for anything.
I guess we know the chemo is doing its job.
This means a couple things. One is that I am extremely prone to getting really sick right now. Honestly, I'm a little surprised I didn't end up in the ER after my visit home this past weekend. I disobeyed the "no little kids" rule, the "no hugging" rule, the "limited sun exposure" rule... probably a few others, too. I'm sure if the doc had known exactly how low my counts were going to dip and how disobedient I'd be, he wouldn't have let us go. Secretly, I'm glad he didn't know. (Although, I'm not sure I'd feel the same way if I were hospitalized right now.)
Also, this means that my chemo was delayed a week... which reduces its effectiveness... which means I might have to be in treatment longer.
It also means that the day after my session next week, I have to get a shot that it supposed to make my bone marrow pump out white blood cells like crazy.
I'm not particularly excited about this shot.
I've come across it while reading up on my specific type of treatment and over and over again I see two things about it repeated. First, it's expensive. One man's wife needed them and they weren't insured. It cost them over $12,000 a week. I can't even image--thank goodness for insurance! As much as people gripe about ObamaCare, I'm very thankful for it right now, or Isaac and I absolutely would have declared bankruptcy already.
The other thing I read about this shot is that it apparently makes your bones ache like you have a fever.
Oh, joy.
Thankfully, the chemo will probably knock me out for a few days anyway, so I'll be able to take care of all my miserableness at once, rather than stretching it out. That's one upside.
On another note, my hair is still in tact. I often find myself running my hands through it, like I'm petting a dog--except I'm petting myself. It just feels cool. Occasionally, I'll reach up and pinch some of it and pull to see if any will come out. The most I've gotten was two hairs at once. I was under the impression that it would have fallen out by now--although, since shaving it, I've learned that about 3% of people undergoing my treatment keep their hair.
I'm sure that'll be my luck--but only because I already shaved it. And because I was looking forward to it coming back different. Maybe red and curly...
I'd be game for anything.
Jul 6, 2011
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
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'.
Jul 2, 2011
Like a Crack Addict
If you've ever wondered what the after moments of chemotherapy are like, I'll do my best to explain that for you now. It varies from person to person, so I'm told. This is my personal account.
I feel like a crack addict. Literally. I twitch. I cry for no reason. My toes and hands can't quit moving. I pace the house. I can't focus. I can't even read five sentences (that's why it's taken so long for this blog to come out). I sleep all day. Literally. ALL day. When I am awake, I'm tweaking out. That's when I decide it's time to go back to sleep.
I hate it.
I've always been able to focus. To keep my cool and remain collected even when I'm going crazy on the inside.
Not anymore.
Now I pace around like I'm searching for my next "fix." If only I knew what that was. Then maybe I could have a moment of sanity for myself. For my husband.
No. Instead, he has to watch me. Sometimes we can laugh about it. Other times I cry.
I despise this. I debate whether or not it is worth fighting this cancer. Maybe it would be better to live a shorter, fuller life, than be like this.
I don't even know if it will go away. What if I'm like this forever?
The silver lining is that today is better. Today I can focus enough to write a few short sentences.
I feel like a crack addict. Literally. I twitch. I cry for no reason. My toes and hands can't quit moving. I pace the house. I can't focus. I can't even read five sentences (that's why it's taken so long for this blog to come out). I sleep all day. Literally. ALL day. When I am awake, I'm tweaking out. That's when I decide it's time to go back to sleep.
I hate it.
I've always been able to focus. To keep my cool and remain collected even when I'm going crazy on the inside.
Not anymore.
Now I pace around like I'm searching for my next "fix." If only I knew what that was. Then maybe I could have a moment of sanity for myself. For my husband.
No. Instead, he has to watch me. Sometimes we can laugh about it. Other times I cry.
I despise this. I debate whether or not it is worth fighting this cancer. Maybe it would be better to live a shorter, fuller life, than be like this.
I don't even know if it will go away. What if I'm like this forever?
The silver lining is that today is better. Today I can focus enough to write a few short sentences.
Jun 28, 2011
Chemotherapy Tomorrrow!
A few brief notes before tomorrow comes.
It's not like this has snuck up on me or anything, but it just kind of hit me today that my first chemo session is tomorrow morning. I've intentionally not asked people about what it was like because as the saying goes, "ignorance is bliss." Maybe. We'll find out at 11:00am, Michigan time. I'll be armed with a book, lemon drops, and my cell phone.
Also, I added my husband to my blog account so if you read something that is grammatically incorrect and sounds nothing like me, its him. It's a trial run... we'll see how he handles it. I'm hoping that it will be easier for you guys to get the whole feel of what's going on in our lives if you can read from him too. Just be forewarned, writing is not his forte. He's a critical thinker and natural analyzer; his brain is like a computer that catalogues, stores, and recalls on command. Artistic expression of any type is just not in his blood.
Well, that about wraps things up. Tomorrow, my cancer is real. Tonight, I just have an ear infection.
It's not like this has snuck up on me or anything, but it just kind of hit me today that my first chemo session is tomorrow morning. I've intentionally not asked people about what it was like because as the saying goes, "ignorance is bliss." Maybe. We'll find out at 11:00am, Michigan time. I'll be armed with a book, lemon drops, and my cell phone.
Also, I added my husband to my blog account so if you read something that is grammatically incorrect and sounds nothing like me, its him. It's a trial run... we'll see how he handles it. I'm hoping that it will be easier for you guys to get the whole feel of what's going on in our lives if you can read from him too. Just be forewarned, writing is not his forte. He's a critical thinker and natural analyzer; his brain is like a computer that catalogues, stores, and recalls on command. Artistic expression of any type is just not in his blood.
Well, that about wraps things up. Tomorrow, my cancer is real. Tonight, I just have an ear infection.
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