A Quick Two Years

It’s been two years since my cancer was excised from my right boob.  Excised.  I really like that word…sort of brings Linda Blair and her spinning head with green vomit scene to memory.  And THAT my friends is what going through breast cancer treatment is like.  An exorcism.

Two years later, and I am in full on menopause.  I've been tested and it is scientific fact that I’m all dried up.  I think that is exactly what the lab results had printed out.  Hormonal diagnosis:  all dried up. 

My hair is thinning to the point of needing a comb over.  You know how the smart balding men just shave their heads to hide/own the fact that there is an issue?  Brilliant in my opinion and so I've joined the company of Dr. Phil, Gandhi, Telly Savales and Elmer Fudd.  Oh, and let’s not forget Brittney Spears during her freak out moment. 

Memory issues, also known as “Chemo Brain”, are my main concern.  At least it is when I remember that it’s a problem.  There are times when I can’t comprehend a Dr. Seuss book, let alone my boss’s direction.  “Tell me again” is a phrase that I use often, which is sometimes followed by, “again…say it again”.  My least favorite part is when I get the eye roll in response.  I know it’s frustrating to talk to a floating balloon, but sometimes that is what my head is.  Sadly, I have to say, “get used to it” because according to my doctor, it’s a slow process to recover from.  I've got another year of this brain fog.  The chemo kills off the cancer cells, but it also kills off the healthy cells.  Healthy cells that used to make sense of the words Green Eggs and Ham, now just scramble up and leave me thinking, “I should buy eggs.”

I'm also very fat.  I am putting some of this on the chemo brain, because I honestly think that I forget that I need to diet.  I'll be 100% focused and then *poof* a piece of chocolate is in my mouth.  Shit...I'm on a diet...shit...where did these cookies come from?  Oh, who wants birthday cake?  Me!  Shit, no...I don't.  Why don't I?  Sure, cut me a slice.  It's a battle that I have to conquer.  My mother tells me that I'm fat.  I see it in the mirror.  My primary care doctor tells me that my GERD will go away if I lose 20 pounds and the workplace biometric screener lady told me, just yesterday, that I need to lose 4 inches off of my waist.  Okay, okay, okay...I get it.  I'll focus!

Do I smell bacon?

Surely, I’m thankful to just be here free and clear of the BigC and I know that had it been 75 years ago, my sisters in this fight would be thrilled to have a dried up uterus, chrome dome and vague memories of what just happened 10 minutes ago.  

See you back here soon if I can remember my log in information.

FINAL CHEMO!!!

I couldn't even sleep last night.  I was too darned excited about being done with this step of my journey.

Prior to going in to my Club Chemo visit, I stopped at the best donut shop in town.  Well, it's the only donut shop in town.  I picked up two dozen lovely fried dough balls, along with some croissants and pastry.  You see, I'm such a regular at Club Chemo, I know that Nicole doesn't like donuts, but she loves croissants.  My brain makes room for stuff like this, but sadly, this bit of information about Nicole pushed out something that was likely important...like paying the PG&E bill or feeding the fish.  Anyhow, I got my donuts and took off for the Club.

I needed to see Nurse Practitioner Christine before going back to the Club.  Being super smart, I asked if I could go back to the Club first and drop off my party donuts.  As I was going back, I announced to every person that I passed, "IT'S MY LAST DAY OF CHEMO!  EAT A DONUT!"  Seriously.  I shouted it.  Heads turned.  I just couldn't seem to help myself.

I walked into the Club and told Nicole that I brought party donuts.  She made a face like, "ew...nice...ew".  Then I said, "And there are croissants in there..." with a lilt in my voice.  Her eyes lit up and her face changed to, "YOU ROCK!"  Yes, I do.

Then I looked over to my right and lo and behold...MY chair was open.  I asked if I could leave my bag while I went to my appointment and, well heck...I was holding a big giant pink box of goodness...how could they say no???

The sheer amount of giddiness that I had about achieving my goal of having the same chair for all four visits was ridiculous.  I practically skipped over.  Okay, so I actually skipped over...with my free arm waving to the other guests in their cabana chairs.  "I brought donuts...it's my last chemo!!!!"  A man and his wife was leaving the Club and he said, "Life is easy after this."  I shot him a smile and then tried to shove a donut into his hand.  I'm such a food pusher, even in an environment such as the Club.

My visit with NP Christine, aka the Dog Lover, went well.  She did everything that she needed to do and checked all of my labs.  Then we talked about my BodyMedia that I wear on my arm and about her dog and how he played tug-of-war with a piece of linoleum in her husbands shop.  I'm sure that the next patient was waiting with a foot tapping wondering where in the hell Christine was.  Sorry fellow cancer patient.

This is Christine with her 9 month old Golden...she rocks him in a chair every night for 20 minutes.

Kelly, the medical assistant that takes my weight (she's been sworn to secrecy...pinkie swear...it is legally binding), brought her scarf with her so that I could show her how to do a turban.  She planned on spending her lunch break with me in the Club so that we could do a lesson.

My fancy turban wrap.

After my time with Christine, I went back to the Club and guess what?  My chair still had my bag in it and there were more people that had arrived...and they were eating my donuts.  Sheer bliss.  And when every new Club member walked in and said, "Who brought donuts???"  I announced, "ME!!!  IT'S MY LAST CHEMO!!!"  Big smiles, thumbs up and congratulations came at me left and right.  It was such a big difference from my first visit to Club Chemo.  I remember thinking that it was very doom and gloom.  Now I knew what kind of donut Edna preferred.  Glazed old fashioned.  I also learned that Edna is a messy eater, because Nurse Sandra complained of the crumbs that she left behind.  I made a mental note to double check my chair when I left.

See that chocolate old fashioned?  That was mine.

The cocktail was the same as always, but it seemed to go by faster.  I still had to unplug and go to the bathroom half a dozen times, but it just didn't seem to be an issue any longer.  Sandra looked at me each time I walked past her station and smile.  I'm going to miss her.  She was the first to put the cocktail in me and, as it turned out, she was the one that drained the last bag.

Nurse Sandra with me...love her.

This was an experience that I'll never forget.  Good bye Club Chemo.  I'm changing my vacation spot to somewhere warmer...Destination Radiation.

The next chapter to come!