Chemo 101

So, here I am. I've gone through the surgery, staples are gone that looked like a zipper on a pair of jeans. I'm left with a line and dots on each side, sort of a strange tattoo leading from my belly button down to my pp's (private parts.) I have a few smaller places where the laparoscopy was done. Oh, and a neat little saucer shaped port on my right side of my chest just above my bra line (I made sure my surgeon saw where to put it by wearing my fav bra into surgery, which mystified all the nurses.) I am healed, so to speak, and onto chemotherapy where every 3 wks I sit in a recliner and watch the drip of drugs ministered through the port that will help me tolerate the 2 chemo drugs that will follow. This is my protocol which is defined as correct procedure, but in this case its the combination of drugs specifically designed for "my" type of cancer, ovarian. For some reason, I feel a need to run and hide the morning before this all begins, but I don't and now I've done this 5 times with 1 to go in May. I watch the people in adjoining rooms and get scared. Will that be me someday? They are so sick, ematiated, pale, bald, a cold stare on their faces. I can't relate. Maybe I'm a fool to be so silly, but I just have to find some humor to hide the stark reality of this terrible disease. I am constantly reminded of how I have it so much better than most of these people I meet here. Some are unable to continue chemo for health reasons, they wish they could be having the nausea, constipation, diahrea, hives, anemia, and all the side effects I go through every 3 wks. I am humbled. Yet I want people to know this is not a piece of cake. I must be honest, explain not complain, because there are lots of us going through this and trying to stay "normal." Because our lives have been turned upside down, our families lives have been as well, our friends want to help and some do and some don't and some just forget you exist. But, its part of the nature of the beast, the boogey man, the devil disguised as rogue cells attacking the good ones. I didn't chose to have this happen, I wouldn't wish it on anyone. But, it is what it is and it's happening to me. So there.

After surgery, chemotherapy

So, I'm on a path I know so well as a caregiver, not a survivor. My experience is on the side of the hospital bed, not in it. But, hey...I'm not calling the shots. The Universe sees fit that my life needs a new wrinkle. At 58, I'm still learning how I am NOT in control. However, I refuse to go down without a fight. I'm pissed! This is such a nuisance. I was just getting the hang of being a senior and enjoying those fabulous discounts.
Once I recuperate from the surgery where they took out a bunch of stuff (and I still didn't loose any weight) the name of this game is wait. Wait for 3wks until UCSF checks out my biopsy. They find traces of cancer cells in my abdomen and pelvis. The visit with my oncologist is not a happy one. I'm still peeved, but now a bit scared. He really puts it into perspective. Dr. Palchak says this is "serious" and I believe him. I try not to sink, my Bridgett's eyes are so big and full of tears. My Tommy is clearing his throat and quiet.