Crab Ass Wendy Whiner

I have just had my next-to-last chemo. My CA-125 is back up to 20 from 12. I try not to get hung up on the numbers- it's still totally within the "normal" range (less than 35) but I'm not liking the spike. I have so much going on with side effects- all separate things that, by themselves, are irksome, distressing, painful or intolerable- all together are really fucking me up.

These days, everything I do (or want to do) requires deep consideration. With all the meds I'm taking, I have to be very careful. Should I take Xanax for anxiety, or narcotics for pain? Can't take 'em both, or even close to when I go to bed. Ambien or Seroquel to sleep? Ambien doesn't work for long and Seroquel is supposed to help with "sleep anxiety" and hot flashes. It's not helping. My Prozac was upped to 60mg a day to help with the hot flashes. That's a lot of Prozac. And it's not helping.

Chemo plays HELL with your GI tract, starting with your mouth. Bleeding gums, mouth sores- fuck that. Got some new mouthwash- it's called Magic Mouthwash, and the pharmacy actually had to compound it for me. It's got a LOT of Lidocaine in it, some antibiotic, antacid and something else. I have to make sure I've eaten first because I'm a total mush mouth after using it.

When it comes to eating, I have to consider what will taste the best when throw it up. Or if it's even gonna pass through. Gross, right? All my cancer/chemo buds know exactly what I'm talkin' about. Laxatives? Sure. Bring 'em on. They're not working. When I need to take a Vicodin after using the bathroom: I AM NOT HAPPY CRAPPER.

I even got some anti-nausea patches called Sancuso. Good shit, Maynard. Especially when they STICK like they're supposed to. They last for 5 days, and in combination with Zofran, Compazine and some steroids, they work great. But I've had 2 patches fall off after 1 day (yes, I put them on right- I'm not a total dipshit).

The sinus thing is driving me crazy. It's been dripping for a year since I started chemo- apparently because my nose hairs are gone, and bleeding and scabbing for about 6 months. It's not going away and feels like it's going deeper.

Thanks for lettin' me share my list of woes. Doesn't make it any better, but maybe y'all know something I don't about fixing them (besides stopping chemo and all meds). I see a lot of doctors now, but see an ENT and a GI doc in my future. Fuck.

Herbals, anyone?

The countdown begins... (again)

Only 3 more chemo infusions to go. I'm getting #1 right now. I had to call out my cheer leading squad to help me through this next month. When I did chemo last year, the last month was the worst/hardest/had more side effects. 4 weeks after the last chemo I'll get the PET scan and see what we see.

I'm so tired of all this. Thank you to my docs, nurses, girls, friends, family, and everyone else that prays for me, distracts me, makes me laugh, brings me chocolate, and helps me find my Zen. Thank you. I love you all.

Where do I even start?

I was actually feeling good enough to go out for a little while on Saturday night to see the band. I spent a lot of time on my 38 hairs and makeup, and drew on my best eyebrows EVER. Cute boots, jeans that fit, jewelry, perfume, the whole 9 yards. I don't get out much any more, and besides, it was my birthday. It was about 9:30 and I'm ready to go, just had to run the dog out first.

So I take the dog out. It's a nice night. The neighborhood is quiet. No cats to chase, so the walk is pretty uneventful. I come back home and hang up the leash, and I get this weird pain in my left ribs- like when you're running and get that stitch in your side? I thought "WTF?", and gave the dog his cookie (everything is cookies to him). Suddenly, I felt like someone had put the Vulcan Nerve Pinch on me. I gasped, and couldn't draw a deep breath.


Well, shit. Stabbing pain in my ribs. Vulcan Nerve Pinch on my neck. That could only mean one thing. Well, it could mean several, actually, but it really meant that I was all dressed up and had only the E.R. to go. Of course, I drove myself- the hospital is only 6 blocks away and by the time I called 911 and EMS got here I coulda died (I know, I've seen them try to get into my apartment complex at night when the gates are closed). Called my dude, told him I wasn't gonna make it to the show tonight, and said "but don't worry! I'm fine! It's probably a pulled muscle or something. Do your show, do your thing, then come up to the hospital, I'll still be there in a few hours. I'm fine! I'll call you if anything happens." I'm a frequent flyer at my local ER so I know how long it takes to do a cardiac workup and find out it's nothing (about 4 hours). Yeah, yeah. I know.

Workup shows I have PULMONARY EMBOLISM, or blood clots in my lungs. Can you believe this howdy doody? It feels like my ribs are broken! Needles, needles, needles, port access, heparin, dilaudid, morphine. Don't remember much after that. To be continued. . . .