Chemo 4, last AC
Had chemo 4 on Monday. Saw doc on Friday as she’s on vacation this week. I had a cold; she said “eh you look GREAT” including my blood counts. I feel pretty good. Due for a crash on Saturday, last one. Hopefully the next stage will be easier.
Have yet another fun vacation next Wednesday through Tuesday. The very next day I have many scans which will show how much this stuff has shrunk (which is a lot) as well as check my heart. Taxol and Herceptin next, it sounds like it will be easier.
Goody Two Shoes: Part 2
This was an… interesting… brain dump while I was on Chemo brain. Kind of random, eh?
It was my reaction to my own comment on Pamajama’s page about her high school hijinks.
It really does contain most of my memories from being at grade school, but I guess there are more memories of my childhood in my brain. Now that I think about Girl Scouts, I can kind of remember some campouts, tie dying the kitchen linoleum along with some shirts, stuff like that. My mom was really involved in this way, she was a Girl Scout and Cub Scout leader, was on the PTA, did the snack bar for Little League. Meanwhile, my best friend was surprised the one time my dad showed up *near* a campout (he waved from the top of a hill or something, he was fishing nearby) because she didn’t know I had a dad. This was during the period when he was not drinking, but he still was not very involved with us.
The thing about having a mom for a leader, or at least my mom, is that you don’t get away with anything. I was expected to behave better than the rest, while the rest accused me of getting favoritism (I really don’t think I did.) When I got to college I heard about girl scouts who explored drugs and sex on campouts, both with boys and each other, but none of that happened around me. I had to wait for college, when the Goody Two Shoes label fell off.
However, another memory that pops up now is when I was around 10, and my mom still was in the habit of washing my hair for me. At least one time, it went too long, I got made fun of at school, I begged her to let me start washing it myself, and she said no … and I don’t *think* she washed it that night. I got made fun of for stuff like badly maintained hems on my pants, too. So while she was involved publicly, in private we were neglected in some ways. I don’t remember a lot of affection, either.
She did make a lot of our clothes for a while, when she was not working, and she did a good job. She made the scraps into stuffed animals for some fund raiser, and kids would come up to me and say “I have a dog that looks just like that dress.”
After she started working, we were “latchkey kids” after school. We could have friends over on the porch, but not in the house, and for some reason we obeyed that. Kids used to hang on our porch a lot, in full view of the neighbors, behaving ourselves. W00t. Good times.
I got involved with a boy at age 13. He was 14. I started hanging with him in the back yard. We went down a progressive path of making out, to his benefit and absolutely none of mine, but never had any actual sex. I had to look up “orgasm” when I got to college, in the library (where I supposed to be taking a “take home open book” test and failing miserably.)
When I got to High School, my dad had been drinking, and beating my mom, again, for three years. My mom was too depressed and distracted, and she was working. She quit as the Girl Scout leader. I tried another troop, but they all sat around and smoked cigarettes at the meeting (wtf??) and there were no boys on the campouts. The church campouts had boys. So I quit the Girl Scouts. I went to church on Wednesdays and twice on Sundays, and sometimes went to watch Friday night church basketball games.
Somehow I learned to give hand jobs in a car, while being held up as part of a “Model Young Christian Couple”. My boyfriend was Junior Trustee of the church at that time. And he made me feel guilty every time he got me to touch him.
My parents never asked about any of this stuff and I never told them. My mom used to come in my room, crying, from fighting with my dad. Then when I would cry about something, she told me to grow up. So we didn’t communicate much about anything other than keeping out of my dad’s way.
What I think about Breast Self Exams
I’ve seen the news stories lately, about the value of these. My take is: the procedure given out is too complicated and daunting.
I say: get familiar with your breasts, so you will know if anything changes. Feel yourself up often. Don’t worry if you follow the procedure to the letter.
As to being scared of finding something: Believe me, it’s much scarier to find it when you can’t ignore it anymore.
Tiring
Saturday morning, right on schedule, my big-time meds wore off and I had a little puking. Nothing really came up though. I felt so very very tired and just bad all day.
Sunday was just a bit better. I slept a lot all weekend.
Then I had to go back to work on Monday. It was a strain to sit up all day and keep working. I accidentally stayed up til 11:30 reading, though.
I woke up at 3:30 am today, and was apparently finished sleeping. I laid there until 5:20 and then got up. I felt good enough to rotate the dishes. I managed to get to work at a semi decent hour.
Now… I’m just “regular” tired.
The good news is I’m now on vacation. We are going to visit my boyfriend’s brother and family for a few days. I’ll be back on Monday to do all the work no one did while I was on vacation, have a “good” week, and then one last AC chemo.
I start Taxol/Herceptin some time in August, weekly, for 12 weeks.
Goody Two Shoes: Part 1
I don’t actually have a lot of memories of my childhood.
I think I remember showing up for kindergarten and being the only kid not crying. I was like “let me at those toys, see ya ma”.
I remember I liked blocks. I remember they had some kind of thing where you pretend to cut something and I thought it was lame.
I remember worksheets being easy and getting me lots of easy praise, probably a first for me.
At some young age we were all in the library. We may have had a substitute teacher. I had to pee and told her so. She told me to wait. I sat down. I could not wait. I peed my pants, the chair and the floor. I think someone else told her. She told me “why didn’t you tell me if you really had to go?” I was thinking “I did…?” I don’t remember if I said it. My first disappointment by public authority figure.
In around the second or third grade I was asked to help some slow readers. We sat outside in a circle. I enjoyed it. At home on my own instigation I made them badges that said “improved reader”.
At some point, around third grade, I was a playleader for younger kids. I remember some younger kid calling “hey playleader!” in the grocery store. I don’t recall much about it though.
In around the third grade, someone answered a question with some extremely lame answer, I rolled my eyes, and the teacher yelled at me.
In the fourth grade, the teacher got mad at the class, and made us all write sentences 200 times or whatever. When I handed mine in, she said “oh YOU didn’t have to do it.” So the next time, I said something to her like “Well?” and then she made me do it. Wtf. That’s pretty much all I remember about her.
In the second half of the fourth grade, I was moved to a mixed 4/5 class. There were only about 8 4th graders. I had the same teacher the next year, and then she moved up to 6th and I had her *again*. I loved her at first and was sick of her by the end. She lurved me the whole time.
During my time in her fourth grade class, I was called out of class and they didn’t tell me why. Someone walked me across campus, towards the principal’s office… I’m thinking WHAT DID I DO cause I never did anything… and then right on past the the principal’s office, to some room where they gave me what turned out to be an IQ test. Which led to getting to hang out in the auditorium and cut out advertisements of types of propaganda, and play go maku on graph paper. This was “special class” for what my mom called the “gifted schmifted.” This is all I remember of it. My mom remembers more about PTA meetings with squabbling on the subject, than I do on the class.
In the sixth grade, I don’t know what possessed me, I heaved a wad of paper over the fence into someone’s yard and got yelled at by a teacher and I thought I was gonna pee my pants and die right then.
Also in the sixth grade, I was called out to meet for a fight. I ran past the spot and claimed she didn’t show. She claimed the same and we forgot the whole thing.
My bro used to get chased home every day. He was 1.5 years younger. Somehow this was my fault but I never even saw it happen.
My friends and I became pets of the vice prinicipal, which horrified even us. She used to line everyone up and search purses for markers used for graffiti, and impose dress codes. But she “let” us file papers in the library during recess. We didn’t like playing on the field, preferring to read books. We used to pull papers *out* of the file drawers, read library books, and if someone came in we chucked the books in the back of the drawer and started filing the papers back in. This skill set has served me well.
At home, I remember watching TV, or reading in the other room while people watched TV I didn’t like. All in the Family made me mad because I was overly literal. Hogan’s Heroes confused me because I didn’t understand why they didn’t just escape and go home. I watched Bewitched and tried the nose twitch… nothing. I watched Jeannie and tried the eye blink… nothing. We used to discuss the Brady Bunch at school every Monday.
I remember our yearly vacations, sort of, as a conglomerate… doing massive yard work for the only time all year, right before we left… camping for two weeks and fishing, the only time my parents liked each other and the only time we really hung with my dad… and then a week at the beach in a hotel with my mom and grandma every year.
Pretty much the only thing I ever did wrong during this time that I can think of is physically fight like a dog with my brother when we were left alone at home or at grandma’s. But no one really noticed cause hey, we were alone…
That is all for the current brain dump.
Chemo 3
We had a fun time on Thursday night with a few friends. I hung out at home Friday while the boyfriend cleaned the kitchen and got tired, and thus we skipped friday’s party. I was fine with that. We could see fireworks from our kitchen though. Saturday we went to a slightly larger party and had a really good time. I talked to a lot of folks and got to hold a two month old who would not stop crying. For me this was a good thing although I wish I could have helped the poor thing more. (Actually she did not cry for the first 15 or 20 minutes that I had her, but then she needed a diaper but mom wanted to finish her hot dog. And I do believe I’ve still never changed a diaper or maybe I would have thought to ask.)
Sunday, the day before chemo 3, I was in a funk all day and could not shake it. I did read all of Running with Scissors in one day, mostly in the hammock.
Monday, today, I woke up cranky and whiny and all “I don’t WANNNA go” even though I didn’t really feel that way in my head. It was my inner child whining in my ear loudly. I shed about twelve tears. A similar thing happened last time but it was longer and more pathetic. It was turned around 180 degrees that time when the doctor said it was smaller and she was surprised and pleased.
This time she also cheered me up. It’s still shrinking. Also I asked her some long overdue questions and she told me in her own words that she would have done the same thing (take the aggressive chemo in spite of possible small spread) and that it would probably benefit me greatly even if it doesn’t totally knock it out.
All I have to do is hang on til they cure all cancer completely. I’m hoping that will be soon.
Oh yeah and she said my bloodwork was very good, like you could not tell they had even done anything to me.
I feel a bit nervous about going on about how well things are going.
Also my heart goes out to certain other bloggers, you know who you and they are, and their families. I’m learning a lot about grace from all of the blogs I am reading. I hope I never have to face such situations but thank you for sharing your wisdom.
After all I was raised by wolves, but it’s never too late to learn.
still here
I can’t think of anything to say, lately. I feel okay. My eyes won’t stop watering. I took bendryl and they stopped itching, but kept watering. I guess this happened last chemo about this time too. It makes my face raw and red around my eyes.
I’ve been reading a lot of fiction and obsessively surfing blogs.
Next chemo is Monday, since Friday is a holiday. This means I get an extra, three day weekend, to feel okay. I’m planning to make the most of it. There are a couple of parties. I don’t like parties usually but I think these might be exceptions due to the people involved…
Work is boring. I’m starting to get caught up.
Today one of the customers complained about something I neglected to proactively take care of in April. I bit my tongue (fingers? it’s email) and didn’t tell him why I might have been a bit DISTRACTED. Sigh.
I’m now officially as dumb as my boss always thought I was.
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