IT'S OFFICIAL

finally enough fell out, I couldn't take it anymore...

AS THREE QUARTERS FADES IN THE RAINY DUSK

treatment number 9 has concluded!
only 3 left,
such a tiny, manageable number...

I owe a post for number 8, also.
as that one finished up on Thanksgiving, I thought it fitting to make a list of all that I am thankful for.
as I formed the list in my mind, it grew longer and more formidable, and my great of leaving any thing or any one out grew.... I think it is important to shout your thanks into the wind, so that
list is coming....

for now I head into the busy, yet enjoyable holiday season, counting the days until this road is done for me, and I can go back to being a person, to leave being a cancer patient behind, move on to that honored club of cancer survivors, and hopefully leave that behind too.

I am a person, with a bump in his road, almost behind him,
and so much ahead.

THANK YOU, WHOEVER, FOR CUTTING ME SOME SLACK....

So, number 7 is over.
and for some reason, it was relatively easy.....
which is a surprise. Last treatment was a bear.
And not a nice cuddly bear,
but a mean ugly bear.

And this time around, I'm not saying it was fun,
cause spending 2 days in bed because even your hair feels poisoned
isn't fun.... but come friday night this time,
I felt okay to join the family on a dinner outing.

I'm sort of surprised,
I thought I was going into this round pretty wiped out.
Parent teacher conferences last week,
as much fun as they were,
they were also exhausting......
I'd much rather put out the energy with thirty 8 year olds,
than to hang with their parents for 8 hours, two days in a row...
no offense, folks.

This, I'm thrilled to say, is the first time I've felt like
there's not many of these left.  I've done 7, and I only have 5 left...
I've got more behind me than in front,
and that feels good.

I've changed my work schedule a little.
I'm going to be taking a little more time off,
which I think is going to help.

So here's to 5 more easy treatments.......

so, truth be told, Maya deserves this drink more than I do.  She has taken over so much responsibility, is working triple hard to keep this ship afloat, and so, raise a cup for her, please!

Chester was pretty interested in my cup right before the Big Smashola....

...yes, that's the top of the compost bin.

MINI UPDATE

as I head into treatment #7,
the beginning of the downward slope,
I wanted to share:

my MRI on Monday was totally clean.

good good news,
phew.

okay, that is all.
back to bed.

THE VIEW FROM THE OTHER SIDE....

I now officially have as many treatments ahead of me as I have behind me.

This is a major landmark.

HALF WAY.

and it's good, because my seeming-endless supply of positivity seems to be flagging a little.
I'm tired.

This whole business is not fun.

Two weeks ago, when I ended up in the hospital with a relatively scary road bump
(ie. pulmonary embolism x3, seriously, 3 pretty largish blood clots in my lungs), I started thinking,
"Hmm... maybe this whole thing isn't going to go as smoothly as I thought!"

And for the last few weeks, I spent days giving my self injections of blood thinners into my stomach,
thank goodness that's done, I've gone to the anti-coagulation clinic at least twice a week to check the levels
of how thin my blood is (more needle pokes.... often having to have two or three because the calluses on my finger tips are so beastly from rock climbing... TAKE THAT!) and had to take pills every night to keep my blood thin so no more clots.... this means lots of bruises, it means small cuts bleed for a long long time (shaving is a treat, thank goodness I only do it once a week...) it means I have to be super careful about
bumping my head (uh... rock climbing??) it means that I have ONE MORE THING TO WORRY ABOUT.

Well, I've just about had it with worrying about stuff....

I'm feeling like a fraction of my former self... I'm not dealing with stress very well, little tiny things feel like major major things... and hanging with 30 8 year olds every day (sorta, seems like I'm in the classroom less
and less) there are a bazillion little things that crop up every minute.  By 2 o'clock, I...am...spent.
Then dash dash to the anti-coag for more needle pokes, or quick scribble out some sub plans (thank all that is meaningful that Monica [my awesome sub...er, co-teacher] is totally amazing, totally on top of things, totally helpful and supportive.... just one more of the long list of people keeping it all from crumbling away.

And so, I missed posting after the last treatment.... I owe you a number 5 as well as this number 6.

For some reason, number 5 was pretty easy.... comparatively pretty breezy....  maybe it's because I spent two days laying in a hospital bed, only taught 1 day in two weeks, plenty of down time? maybe.
Well, at least it felt easy.... but then the week or so afterward was a slow, creepy, tired out time.... the
treatment didn't hit me so hard DURING, but after? yipes, I didn't really recover... then the next treatment
comes along, I'm super tired, not sleeping well, not feeling well, and number 6 was pretty rough. Saturday night and I'm still feeling beat up.

Right after number 5, I got the crazy idea that it was time to make a pie. Apple Pear Ginger... yum. my first butter crust.

Fiona wanted to make her own pie.  This is a blueberry pear baked in a mason jar. awesome!

During the offweek we went to the coast to celebrate Maya's birthday..... not a bad view.

BUT IT'S NUMBER 6. halfway. phew.

WILL MY POOR BELLY EVER BE THE SAME??

twice daily injections of blood thinner are starting to leave their mark... yipes.

POT HOLES IN MY LAWN... or... I AM THE ZEBRA

things never go as planned,
there is no script here.

I'm in the hospital again.

this time it's those darn blood clots in my lungs... pulmonary embolism x3.

what started with a mild discomfort in my chest yesterday afternoon, became startling, breath-stealing pain last night.
but it was mostly gone when I woke up, but it was back soon enough. if I took a deep breath: sharp pain. if I breath shallow enough not to hurt: I'm panting.

well, my wife saved me again.

around 10:15 this morning, I was standing at the office copymachine, running off some packets, trying to control my breathing, our wonderful office staff says "your wife is on my phone."

and my wife says, "you're going to the ER, I'm on my way to get you."

um, okay. relief? panic? both?

scramble into action, get me a sub, scribble some sub plans, sit down, watch the door.

oh man, this is the second time I've abandoned my class to go to the hospital. the last time, I never came back...they're going to trade me in for someone else... and if they don't, their parents will.

a tip: if you are a young person showing up in an emergency room, the magic words are: cancer, chemo, chest pains. you don't get to sit in the lobby and wait, you get to sit right down in a wheelchair, zoom, off to a room.  then tell your story over and over (I heard "appendix cancer? wow, I've never heard of that" from no less than 6 people since noon today...) a botched port-access, start a regular IV, off to get a cat scan, wait wait wait wait wait... the doctor plays banjo in a band and has a splint on his finger so he shakes hands with his left in an awkward but somehow more personal way , and the nurse maybe is a little hard of hearing, then you hear blood clot. actually three of them and you get to spend the night, or probably two. 

BUT I'VE GOT THE GLOBAL CARDBOARD CHALLENGE ON FRIDAY!!! 
http://cainesarcade.com/cardboardchallenge/

does this new thing (pulmonary embolism) mean that the old thing (cancer) is showing its ugly face around here again? maybe. could it just be the chemo-poison-induced-sedentary four days I just spent? maybe. could it be something else? maybe maybe.  could it just be totally frustratingly random?? maybe maybe maybe baby.

and now I'll be on blood thinners for 6 months, and constant blood monitoring, and a that's not to clear out the clots, we let the body do that on its own, but to make sure it doesn't happen again.

I heard a guy once tell, or maybe it was his Grampa:

Enough is enough and too much is plenty.

Indeed.

DONE WITH NUMBER FOUR

this round has been much easier,
but easy is relative...
I wouldn't wish this on anyone
it's miserable and haunting,
and my heart truly aches for everyone
who has to go through it, so many
much worse off than me.
I have so much support and help,
and more importantly, I know I will make it
through, there is a healthy end in sight,
a better place is just 8 more of these awful trips away.

sometimes the speed the days fly by is a blessing... I'm unplugged before I know it, feel better before I know it, feel good before I know it...
but it's also a curse: the time in between goes so fast... just as I'm feeling better, normal...that sinking feeling of 'here we go again'

but it will be over before  I know it, just a blip, something to be strong and proud about, because I made it through, safely.

it's hard though.
work is feeling hard right now,
a stress I don't need.
and can't let get to me.
my good good friend who lost someone
very very close to this,
told me a story that she said she thought she may have recovered if she had had less pressure, less stress.
I hear this, loud and clear, I believe it, and take it very seriously.
I need to focus my strength, choose where it goes, be smart about it, take help when it's offered, and ask when it's not.
a good lesson for all of us.

I'm a third of the way through.
do what I've done two more times,
and I'm done. I know I can.

NUMBER 3 IS FINSHED

Going in to round 3, I was already a little warn out,
and it definitely showed....
It seemed like I wasn't hooked up to the pump for an hour and I was already a droopy-eyed zombie.
It's been a really gunky few days, and now almost 24 hours after unhooking the pump,
I still feel gross.

I got up, got dressed, trying to enter the world....
.... and had to sit down.

I tried to meet the family at the park for a picnic lunch...
... and I had to leave early.

But, today is a little better than yesterday, and tomorrow will be even better.

AND now I am officially 1/4 of the way through.  After the next round, I'll be a third finished.
12 has some cool fractions in it.

GEARING UP FOR ROUND 3

It's the eve of my third treatment,
and I'm feeling a little nervous about it.
Even though round 2 went a lot smoother than round 1,
it was still no sunny day at the lake.

The real trouble here is this:
before round 1, I was coming back from Aruba,
I was about as strong and energized as I could get.
Then, for round 2, I was just heading back to work (no kids yet, right? just getting ready for the first day of school) and the adrenaline and excitement of starting the school year kept me afloat
but now? eek.  I've been with students for 6 days, one more to go before treatment,
and I'm pooped.
Completely warn out.

I'm a little worried about going in to this without being close to 100%.
not even close. 70%? maybe. If I'm lucky.

I have to trust

that all of the support is in place,
that I've got a massive brigade of people looking out for me,
that it's only 4 or 5 days of feeling lousy
that the end is not far away...
that treatment #3 out of 12, that really means I'm a quarter of the way done.

that I can do this.

chemo #2: fin

broke my second cup today...
still feel pretty gunky
was in bed all day
but better than last time...
still not fun.

Chemo #2: too early to tell...

So, I'm strapped to the bag again...
a little different this time.
After last treatment's rollercoaster ups and crashing downs,
due to the pre-treatment of steroids,
we've changed the cocktail a bit this time around:
namely, we ditched the steroid.

Two weeks ago, at this time, I was feeling great... feeling like it was all cake,
and then the next morning, after a sleepless night, I was feeling like I was on speed.
Then of course, the crash came in the afternoon.

This time, I'm already feeling the glunk slurping into my body.  Feeling a little wobbly.
Just a little, a little fuzzy around the edges.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I've been back in my classroom OFFICIALLY since Monday,
although I unofficially put three days in last week.
It's a bit of a relief being there,
it's also a bit hard.  Tiring doing the work,
tiring being in public again, telling my story,
breaking the news to people who haven't heard yet,
or
being glad bumping into people who don't know, and being glad not telling them.
maintaining normalcy.

It will be a whole different animal putting out the energy to 29 kids.
We'll see what that's like soon enough.
I'm grateful to have a great class.

climbing is good

not sure where the energy or stamina came from,
but had a great climb yesterday...

ONE DOWN...

...in celebration:

TREATMENT NUMBER ONE: COMPLETE

At a few minutes before 2 this afternoon my poison pump started beeping.
This meant that my first treatment was over. Press stop, go to the doctor, unplug.
WHAT A RELIEF.

A quick recap, then nap.

Before administering the actual chemo on wednesday, they gave me a big dose of steroids.  They warned me it might give me a burst of energy right before bed.  It didn't. But at 1 am I was wide awake, and didn't go back to sleep. Felt kind of wired for most of yesterday.  Then around noon a giant safe fell off the building I was walking next to, and squished me into the sidewalk.

Actually, I was riding in the car.  But that's what it felt like.  I took a 2 hour nap.  When I woke up
I felt great again, cut out and sewed a replacement pump-bag, had dinner, watched a movie, then slept 12 hours.....

Upon waking, I felt like a chemo patient.  Groggy, tired.  Poisoned.  My whole body felt like
gunk.  Maya brought home the most delicious Portland style savory pastries.  I'm not sure where they came from, but I will certainly find out, because when I feel better, I will eat there every day.
Today, I took two bites, then had to go lay down on the couch. I had to ask my daughter to stop having fun, it was too loud. I went to lay down in the bedroom.

Going to the "disconnect appointment" perked me up again.  It was a relief to be finished, to have a nurse who didn't treat me like a mush-brain, to get unplugged.  Drank a protein shake, crashed again.

I tried to be out, and see people.  Maya had to drive me home.  To pooped.
I'm going to take a nap now.

Tonight, my big celebration, smashing tea cup #1.

Only 11 more times to go...

I can do this.

A LITTLE PROJECT

I have a little project I've been cooking up, and with the gracious and talented help of my brother-in-law (BIG UPS JUSTIN, WOOT!) I've been able to put it in motion:

Justin made me a series of twelve tea cups (actually he made like 39!!! and I got to choose the twelve I like best WOOT AGAIN!)...the tea cup long being a personal symbol in my work

as a rough stand in for the self... I've numbered the cups 1-12, and arranged them on a shelf. to begin the parade, I have a mason jar filled with an inch of lovely white Aruba sand. At the end of each treatment (there are 12. 12 treatments, 12 cups....eh?) I will enjoy a celebratory glass of whiskey from the appropriately-numbered cup, and THEN SMASH BLOODY HELL OUT OF IT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREET. yes! then I'll collect the debris and layer it in the mason jar on top of the sand. as treatments go by, the cups dwindle until the end, and the jar of rubble fills... my chemo-interactive-countdown-clock! I'm excited! ............................................................... chemo update: still this morning I feel fine... spent the morning so far in the clay studio... last night was weird: I woke up at 12:50 and never went back to sleep....no pain, no anxiety, no spinning head, just wide awake.... Maya says its the steroids they gave me before the actual chemo...