Cancer Scares Me

There.

I said it.

It's the truth.  I mean, I got the beast out of my breast, but it can be lurking anywhere.  Do I live in fear of the lurker?  No.  However, I do live with an eye open at all times and if I become aware of something, I take note and react.

Due to my last PAP showing crap in my cervix, I'm going to have to have a procedure done next month.  These pre-cancerous cells showed up, most likely (according to my doctor), due to having the chemo.  Isn't that shitty?  I had chemo to kill the beast in the breast and ended up getting a parting gift in my whoo-haa.  My first question was, "Wouldn't the chemo kill all the bad cells?"  Um, the answer would be "no".  The chemo that I received was breast cancer specific.  How does it know where to go?  It makes my head hurt trying to think about it.

So what is a girl to do?  Well, THIS girl takes action.

Here's the story.  Of a lovely lady...that was living with two dogs and a man... (any other Brady Bunch fans?)

My hair stylist extraordinaire (we'll give her the fictional name of KettleOneBeauty) had recommended a book to me when I first presented my cancer diagnosis to her.  "Crazy Sexy Cancer", by Kris Carr.  I bought it, took it home and after flipping through it, thought, "eh...not my thing".  Her story was about having a cancer that couldn't be cured or treated...no chemo...no radiation.  Well I was getting treatment.  No connection.  The book was tossed into "the cancer drawer" and I went on with my chemo.  And radiation.  And now, Tamoxifen.

Fast forward to June.  I take a trip to NY to visit my Cool Aunt and am treated to a Goddess! Girl Event.  The lovely women of G!GE comped me my session since I just beat the beast.  They made me feel like a Goddess and the pictures that I've seen so far are stunning.  Stunning?  Yep.  I think that would be the right word.  The photographer, Tamme Stitt Photography, did an awesome job at making me feel super comfortable.

Photo by Tamme Stitt Photography

Okay, so I did the event and then had the rest of my vacation hanging out with my CoolAuntJo.  While there, I received a call from my doctor...which went to voicemail since she came up as a "restricted" number.  She needed me to call her back the next day because I had an abnormal lab result.

Shit.

Double shit.

Emotional breakdown.

You see, the last time I got a call from this doctor, it was to tell me that I had breast cancer.  A flood of fear, angst and panic hit me as the memory came back.  The words.  The tone.

I call her the next day and find out that I've got issues with my PAP and that I need to see the specialist.  She says, "the worst case would be that you have to have a hysterectomy".

Shit.

Double shit.

Emotional breakdown.

There wasn't anything that I could do while I was there, other than panic and worry and fret and get more grey hair...so I put it out of my mind.  I'd deal with it when I got home.  CoolAuntJo took me to Woodstock, the Hudson River and to many cute little shops where she lives.  It was a wonderful vacation, even though the crappy news was in the back of my brain.

After booking my appointment with the specialist to deal with this new issue, I had a flashback to KettleOneBeauty's recommendation of "Crazy Sexy Cancer".  I pulled it out of the drawer and started flipping through the book.  Wait a second...Kris Carr, the author, lives in Woodstock.  What a coincidence that I was just there.  Coincidence?  I don't think so.  I think that the Universe was slapping me in the head.  I went out and bought another book of hers, "Crazy Sexy Diet" and learned about her way of living and most of all, how she took back her power.  Diet is the way that I can ease some of the fear.  Her change in diet after getting her cancer diagnosis was all about organic and vegan.  She has successfully stopped her cancer from growing.

I am going to be okay and this whoo-haa issue is going to be fine after I get a procedure done next month.  It's a pain in the ass (don't laugh), but it's fixable.  The realization that cancer can be anywhere laying dormant in my body (or yours) is a very crappy reality.  I don't want to live in fear.  I want to take my power back.  So I'm going to apply all of my will to following the vegan diet, along with juicing and taking a variety of supplements.

One of the challenges that I face is my gastric bypass.  It's been years since I had it done, yet I still have the malabsorption issues.  Do I still need to consume mega amounts of protein?  Is the juicing going to even be effective?  How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop???  So many questions.  No answers.  I'm just going to have to experiment with it all and see how I feel.  There isn't a prescription for this and I'm on my own.

For now, I thank my KettleOneBeauty for putting Kris Carr into my life.  I thank MyMan for putting up with my emotional breakdowns and loving me no matter how many supplements end up in the pantry.  I thank the Universe for slapping me.  And I thank my body for trying really hard to do it's best with what I've done with it.

I love my life.

Pooper, not a Puker

I have moved my FaceBook notes over to this blog.  Mostly because I wanted the two things to be separate.  FaceBook is a daily thing for me and I somehow have accumulated a friend list that includes folks that maybe don't want to read about the hazards of chemo.  By creating this blog, those that WANT to read the guts and glory words that come from my head may choose to subscribe.

Basically, consider yourself warned.

My third round of chemo has by far been the worse.  I knew that this was going to be, but didn't really understand how it would manifest itself.

Basically, I pooped myself into dehydration.  Shat myself dry.  Yup.

See?  This doesn't belong on a FaceBook timeline.

For whatever medical/physical reason, I don't puke with chemo.  It could be because I'm a gastric bypass patient.  I don't know if that's the reason why, because there are too few of us out there to pay for a study.  Komen does the three day walk to raise money for breast cancer, Avon has a two day walk find a cure, Ford even gets in on the Warrior thing...but nobody cares about the former obese girl that ends up with cancer.  I swear, I'm constantly telling the staff at the clinic that I'm "gastric bypass".  It's almost like turrets for me.

"Kimberly, are you diabetic?"
"No, I'm gastric bypass."

"Kimberly, I'm going to give you a prescription for the pain."
"I'm gastric bypass."

Unless you're a gastric bypass patient, you won't understand any of this.  I swear, you sign up to lose weight and then are tied to a future full of stipulations/modifications/questions.

Okay, so on to pooping and not puking.  I had horrible diarrhea following this treatment.  (we will now refer to diarrhea as the icky-poops...I hate the word diarrhea)  No sooner than I would eat or drink, it would come flying out of my backside.  I had a fever (which I had to call the emergency line about during the big game on Sunday) and spent the night Sunday sitting on the toilet with a thermometer in my mouth and two dogs at my feet.  They really are the best friends during this sort of ordeal.  They find it to be something that they can relate to.

I went in to the clinic to have blood drawn, following the on-call oncologist's directions first thing Monday morning.  I dragged my sore ass in to the clinic...in the rain.  As they took the blood, I started to get hot (fever) and then all sounds were muted.  I looked around and blinked really hard.  Why it is that I thought that blinking would help my hearing, I don't know.  I took a deep breath, took my coat off...which got tangled in my purse strap...which got me sweatier.  After this passed, I thought, "this is probably a good place to share this sort of information".  I made note to tell the nurse if it should happen again.

After I was seen and issued an order for a few tests, a bag of IV fluids and some Zofran, the desk manager came over to me and said, "I need you to give me a urine sample.  The cup is in there."  She pointed to the bathroom.  What a relief that she didn't expect me to give it here in the infusion area.  Then she comes over to me, hands me an envelope, and says, "Have you ever done a fecal test?".

I blink again.  Apparently, blinking seems to be my solution to all things bad.

"Uh, no.  Well, maybe a long time ago, but I'm sure that I mentally blocked all of it.  What do I need to do?"

She pulls out FAR too many pieces to this little kit and tells me something about putting a tissue into the toilet and then using a stick to scrape two different areas.  Three separate times.

I say, and I promise you that this is verbatim, "Okay, but what if the poop is flying out of my ass with the pressure of a fire hose?"

Poor thing.  Now she was blinking.  And shaking her knee a bit.  She thought about it, while twirling one of the scraper sticks, and finally says, "I don't know how to answer that."

End scene.