Where were we?
Last I wrote was the morning of Chemo #11. It’s kind of weird to say, but it was a good one. I’ll tell you why:
It’s nearing the end of this chemo treatment. My oncologist visit was good, with Hot Onc telling me how great I was doing through chemotherapy and that once chemo is done he’ll still be watching me closely - every three months for three years! On one hand, that seems awful, right? But on the other hand, it makes me feel safe-ish…knowing that I’ll be in good hands and watched.
The nurses were buzzing with excitement around me, telling me that I’m so close! Do you know how nice that is to hear? That infusion room is the closest thing to hell I think I’ve ever stepped foot in, and yet, it’s also saving my life. I love that the nurses are so encouraging and caring - it truly takes an incredible heart and soul to be able to walk into that infusion center day after day and take care of the scared and sick. It’s like they are part caregiver, part bartender (bringing patients their “poison” and delivering it with a smile and usually a story, joke, or simply quick wit), and part angel. Through nearly 12 poisonings, I have found a kind of love for this group.
And the other patients! Oh my gosh, every time I go to chemo I meet another incredible person. This last time, I was sad that I didn’t get a window seat, but I got as close as I could and found myself talking with the two ladies who did get the windows, one of them going through my same colon cancer treatment (FOLFOX). She was 84 years young! And she was ROCKING! We had such a wonderful talk and as she was leaving she told me that she had a whole lot of life left to live!
That’s the stuff that keeps me going.
Needless to say, Chemo #11 was the easiest torture yet - even with the horribleness of The Disco (disconnect) on Friday.
Yeah, Disco Days are always the roughest. I sometimes imagine it’s the closest thing to death that I’ve ever felt (even beating out two killer flus I’ve had in my life). My blood pressure drops, my throat feels closed and dry, and the fatigue sets in, giving me heavy arms, legs, head, soul. I describe it to friends as 10,000 hangovers in one. Once home, around 2pm, I literally fall into my couch, turn on the TV and vegetate/sleep until the next morning (but fitting in a necessary dog walk, which is probably life-saving as it gets me up and moving a little).
ONLY ONE MORE DISCO TO GO!
And then Saturdays after Disco are usually not too bad.
Last Saturday, I’d scheduled myself a haircut in the morning and I wanted to run some errands downtown so I’d also scheduled for Martini to go to her old doggy daycare to see her old peeps.
That meant I needed to get up super early and get the dog out for a good walk.
So I threw on a little sundress and my hat (no makeup and I forgot to put my tooth in…do you remember, before cancer dx I was in the middle of getting an implant and have a flipper for that space in my mouth) and ran out the door with Martini and who should I see almost immediately???
Yep. The Donut Cowboy and his dog, Toby!
Ugh! I should have known.
It was great to see him and he seemed really happy to see me, but I was so self-conscious and tried not to smile very much.
We walked and talked a little. He knew I was fresh off of my chemo, so I think he cut me a lot of slack, ha! But I had to cut our visit short because I needed to get ready for the day and get my hair washed before I ran downtown and to the salon (also remember, I can’t put my head back in a salon sink anymore since my carotid artery dissection, so I have to wash my hair at home in the shower and then put it up in a towel turban before I get haircuts).
I made it to daycare and to my hair appointment, but I 100% ran out of steam during errands so I went and got the dog early and went home and crashed.
That was all she wrote for Saturday.
Sunday was a lovely day and I slept in a little and then went to take Martini on her long walk. I made sure to look extra cute, but alas, I never saw the Donut Cowboy the rest of the weekend. Boooooo.
Honestly, the rest of my long weekend was spent watching YouTube videos of home decor DIYs, making faux flower arrangements (succulents and tropical for guest bathroom) taking walks, eating, sipping tiny bits of bubbly, napping, instagramming, and writing notes to friends.
I had a bout of pretty severe loneliness/jealousy after getting a text from Best Bud telling me all about how she was partying with friends all weekend. I suppose it was more jealousy than loneliness, because honestly, I am so in love with hanging out in the Treehouse. But man, it just hit me hard to get joyous drunk texts about things in which I can’t participate.
Cancer during Covid is a tough pill to swallow. I know it sucks for everyone, and I’m sorry about that, but being extra, EXTRA cautious is almost maddening. I’m so angry at anti-vaxxers and anti-maskers and anti-anythingers, but there’s not much I can do about it except bitch.
I told you I got my booster vaccine, right? I’m so glad I got that. But a booster doesn’t help get me out and about to socialize with so many vaccinated people still getting Covid. I have no idea how Covid would affect me right now.
I told a story on social media about a neighbor of my parents who was such a super anti-vaxxer that he actually wrote a book about how anyone getting vaccinated is going to DIE within the year! I mean, what the actual???
The guy went so far as to ask my dad to help finance the publishing of this book. Of course, my dad declined, but uhhhh - the audacity!
Well, guess what? Dad told me on Tuesday that he’d died…from Covid. Neat, huh?
I mean, can the 2020s get any weirder? I can’t imagine, but nothing really surprises me anymore.
OK. Better get a move on. It’s been a productive morning for me at work so far, but I’ve now taken enough time writing this entry. Gotta get back to other stuff. Don’t get me started on the stuff going on at work - it will make me feel worse than a disconnect day :(
But just know that ILYSM!!
GS
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