Did She Just Call Me Old?

This past week during chemo, I was talking with the doctor about all the symptoms that I'm feeling. Or rather, not feeling since everything is going numb little by little. 

I started by talking about how I can't feel my hands, or feet, parts of my legs, sometimes my face...boy, neuropathy sure is fun. Then I was mentioning how I had been in excruciating pain before the trip. Probably an 8 out of 10 on their smiley-to-frowny face pain scale (which is pretty funny, actually. At some point I'll have to get a picture of it so I can post it here). My shoulder had been hurting so bad, I was considering stopping the chemo if it got any worse. 

Well, now my shoulder is just numb. I can't feel anything...pressure...temperature...not a thing. Super. So, the pain is gone for now, but the neuropathy is getting worse. Ugh.

And while I'm complaining, the doctor asks, "Is it possible that you're just old and that's why you're feeling this pain?" Did she just call me old? Did I just pay for that? As Keith pointed out, the teenage boy can tell me that for free...and does ALL THE TIME. Well, that sure got the doc laughing (which is now our goal each week). 

All this time you've been telling me I'm "so young and in good health" and now I'm old?! And if I am, it's only because chemo has aged me a thousand years during this process! 

Thank God there's only two more weeks of this to go. While the doc does think that the symptoms will just get worse over the next few weeks, and reminded me that neuropathy takes a LONG time to go away after chemo is done (and sometimes it never does), she did remind me that we are so close to the end/goal, that it would be a shame to stop now. So, persevere I will.

But I'm not sure that I'll stop complaining...

And I guess it's time to start getting religion with the glutamine (which is HORRIBLE, by the way. Makes every drink taste and feel like chalk).

Airplane Travel

If you're keeping up to date here, you will know that we recently went to Vegas for spring break. It was SO NICE to get away...and SO HARD to come home. I will be attempting to catch up with all the posts I've been making notes about in the next few weeks.

First, I want to mention how scary it is to travel while going through chemo, especially on an airplane. Here's what I looked like traveling:

Awesome, right?! And if you think that this garnered me any special privileges, you would be wrong. (Well, to be honest, I didn't ask for any). I dare you to travel through TSA security looking like this. It's fun, I promise! 

I was able to board early as a "person needing extra assistance," though I'm not sure this was the best strategy as you end up sitting on the plague-filled flying tube of death longer than anyone else, soaking up all those germs. The highlight? The toddler that SNEEZED ON ME while walking by. Literally. My jeans were soaked with his germs. EWWWW!

But the mask did save me from catching the plague. Other people got sick from the plane, but not me. I am considering wearing this anytime that I fly. When you see those people wearing them in the airport, you should probably not think they're as crazy as they look. Who knew that they were really pretty smart?!

Chemo, Week 18

Holy Crap! Who's idea was it to do chemo at 9 o'clock in the morning when coming home from vacation at 2am???? What moron thought that was a good idea? That could not possibly have been me, right?

Yes, I had to come back from a gloriously relaxing week of vacation directly to week #18 of chemo. Really tough to be motivated to do that. In fact, when the alarm (my husband and teenage son) went off at 8:30 to say "GET UP!" I rolled over, cracked one eye open, and said, "Hell NO!" Yep, I became that patient. There was no way that I was getting out of bed. In fact, it's possible that I said something like, "I double dog dare you to get me out of this bed." It had to be something like that because the teenager was laughing. I probably sounded like him when he's been woken up.

So, the loving husband, who could sense his life hung in the balance, called and moved the appointment to 12:45pm. So much better. Well, except for the fact that getting there after noon meant we didn't end up leaving the hospital until close to 6pm. It was a LOOOOONG afternoon.

Nothing eventful happened...

And guess what that means? Only 2 more chemo treatments left (which will now be on Tuesdays). It's almost unbelievable to think about. I might actually make it to the end of this first part of the journey.

Music Monday

Another student musical recommendation for your inspiration this week:

VEGAS!

Vacation is FUN and relaxing and I'm so glad to be on one after what seems like FOREVER. Yes, I know, it really hasn't been forever...I tend to exaggerate just a little. But it is nice to go somewhere and pretend you're not really a cancer patient.

A couple of notes about vacationing in Vegas when you are sick:

(1) Not the cleanest, most smoke-free city in the world by any stretch of the imagination. Have been trying very hard not to touch elevator buttons or escaltor hand rails. Also trying not to sit near anyone with obvious symptoms of the plague and/or smoking like a chimney (yeah, super easy to do here).

(2) Want to have some fun? Wear a mask through TSA security at the airport like I did.

(3) Having no taste buds means that your eating options are limited. Luckily Vegas has a million restaurants. But, I have to check out the menu first to make sure that there is something that I can eat before committing to a particular establishment, so we've become those annoying people that spend an hour blocking access to the menu posted outside the restaurant.

(4) There is no 5 second rule in Vegas. If it falls on the floor, it's over. 

(5) I am not supposed to sit in the sun (stop laughing). I had to borrow several hats so that I could hang out by the pool and soak up the warmth. No wearing the wig 24/7 since it tends to get a little sweaty.

(6) My neuropathy has gotten SO MUCH WORSE (will post more about this later). Currently I cannot feel my hands, feet, a big section of my left shoulder blade, and part of my chest. Since we've been walking most places, not feeling your feet makes for a really fun time. Especially when you have a cross between Vasco de Gama and Speed Racer for a husband. Now, the good thing? It's Vegas...everyone just assumes that I'm drunk.

(7) As the kids pointed out, "Mom, you fit in here." Meaning me and the Katy Perry wig look relatively "normal" here (for Vegas). People don't stare quite as much. It's actually kind of nice.