flexin in the mirror

Ohhhh man, I've been pushing myself pretty hard and wow I can feel it.

Last week I went in for blood tests. (My arm is still bruised, can't imagine if they drew directly from my veins how that would look and feel.) My white blood cell count came back super low, .8. The doctor said he would like to see it between 2 and 4. Concerned that I'd get sick he started me on Levofloxacin, which is an antibiotic capable of treating multiple life-threatening bacterial infections. I'm taking it as a just in case'er. 

After two days of working out, beating brow, sweetin' to the oldies my glands became inflamed.  Now, don't  get concerned, I think the medication is working it's magic.  I couldn't let a little soar throat stop my routine.  I'm highly uninterested in being bone and flesh.  I love my muscles.  I love arm wrestling dudes and bring them to tears.  I love flexing in the mirror.  I dis-love Jen carrying in all the heavy stuff.  So, I spent two more days working out.  And although my glands are still swollen, I have my appetite, no fever, and I'm worn out but feeling the muscular love.

Chemo-Brain

still no wig

 I thought I'd leave a little just for laughs

I had my second treatment Thursday at St. Lukes, Boise.  Things went a little differently here than in Denver, but the basics remained the same: tests to ensure I'm me and I'm alive, bags of drugs dripping into my veins, and meetings with a financial adviser and counselor.

I found out my lump hadn't shrunken, I had no account of my white blood cells, and my insurance had expired.  (Time to turn this info into good news.)  As of today, I can see my nipple again. It had been eaten up by my enlarged breast prior to two days ago.  I never thought I'd be so happy to see my tit sag.

I have an appointment this week to get an accurate white blood cell count.  As for now, stay away if you're ill.  I wouldn't want to blame you for my death.  Also, that above mentioned adviser filled out the proper paper work for me to transfer my insurance.

AOkay, here's what it was like.  Hot and cold flashes all night, which was highlighted by constant bathroom breaks.  The cold doesn't bother me so much, it's 500 degrees outside.  But the hot are a little worrisome.  My temperature is not to exceed 100.5 or it could mean a trip to the emergency room.  My mouth dry and tongue swollen feels like someone pumped it up in order to use it as a floating device.  Nothing tastes good, everything except french fries grosses me out.  My bones feel like they're wagging a war against each other. And I have chemo-brain.  I feel slow and mindless.  I have all this time to be creative and I can't think how.  This silly little blog has taken over an hour.  But heck, there is spell check, and french fries, and I'm not passed out.  So, pretty much having a great day.  How about you?

a doctor, a breast, and a scarf walk into a bar...

So, it's been a minute since my last blog. This whole hair thing has some surprises. First off, we carry a lot, I mean, a lot of hair on our heads. Second, it stops growing evenly which is great for those that want to keep up the look for as long as possible. Falling out in chunks, so as to create bald spots isn’t pretty. Also, if you don't wash it and you keep a hat on it lasts a bit longer. I found a cool summer hat and a few web sites that I'll soon purchase chemo-specific head wear from. But every time I shower or sleep I'm shedding my winter frock. I mean it's everywhere. And hair tickles, it picks at the skin like little bugs.

All my hair has stopped growing. But not all of it is coming out yet. This I've also found to be beneficial. I'll keep my eyebrows, lashes, arm hair, and the other stuff for a bit longer... maybe even through the whole treatment. (I have another Thursday).

Okay, so I went to the surgeons today for a consultation. After a few questions reviewing my previous treatments, allergies, and surgeries we talked about removing my right breast, which has been recommended a number of times and seems to be the next line of treatment. Interestingly, I couldn't help but hear that Dr. said there is no hard evidence that links breast removal with a longer life span.

I got two things out of that. One: I have a choice in making this decision. Two: I need to do much more research.

I'm not really attached to these lumps under my chin. If they disappeared tomorrow I wouldn't notice for a day or two I'm sure. However, this kind of surgery is not to be taken lightly. I'll be much weaker since it's scheduled to happen days after I'm finished with my last chemo. Suggested recovery time is close to a month which will inhibit exercise. Oh, and that's where my tattoo is. <----- very important.

Going Going..

I just thought I'd share that today I noticed my hair is falling out.  Shit.  Jen thinks I have a cone head, so that wrapping it up will be easy and look nice.  Yvonne thinks I should cut it in disgusting styles as it falls out.  I just want to find some fairly attractive scarfs or beanies or something.  Well, here are some photos.  This is just the beginning but I have a feeling it's going to go quickly.  I'll continue to post pictures for those of you who just HAVE to see this.
Oh, and I know, I know, it'll grow back.  But seriously, it's my hair.

This was just one brush bushel.

Oh, and I'm not going with the spotty look.  One bald spot and the whole thing goes.

The Normal Holiday Me

Like I've stated, there's not a lot different about me today than there was three weeks ago.  A few new scrapes and scars, a little weight loss, and the mediator voice in my head repeating what sounds like a countdown: ten, nine, eight...  But really, nothing seemingly different.

The joke here is that so much has changed and this July 4th reminded me of that.  I mean, the real me would have been working at some restaurant. Thanksgiving, Christmas, my birthday, all normal work days for me.  But not this year.  Heck, I guess if I want I could have every holiday off.  I could go to each family event on time, with a date, lookin sharp.

This fourth, Jen and I went to her parents (two hours early).  I borrowed a bikini (oh ya) from my sister, (one tit fit well) and dove right in.  Sure I swam, snacked on finger foods, grilled up some salmon, caught up with the fam, and watched fireworks.  But it was weird not asking for orders, sulking with coworkers about working, dressing in all black with a tiny logo at the neckline of my uniform.  I had ol' fashion holiday fun.  Nothing was missing except my normality.

While the day was coming to a close, saying our goodbys which involved multiple hugs, "I'll see you soons", and bagging up last minute goodies, I realized that as much as missed unlocking the front door and putting down chairs, coming up with the holiday special, and buying a round of shots for those that braved the work day with me, this new kind of normal was going to be just as meaningful.  But that if I wanted it to feel like me, like me normal, I'd have to start my own tradition for these shared events. 

I wasted too much time doing the 'not'-doing things, that I didn't come up with anything.  But if you have something you tradionalize yourself as: the baker an infamous dessert, the bringer of the best pool toys, the entertainer of children, even the really snooty and slobbery ones...  please share.  All ideas are welcome.  I am going to find the normal holiday me.

C.O.T.

This is the second time I'm living in the City Of Trees, Boise Id.  It really is a beautiful city and surrounding.  Filled with parks, hot springs, a natural river running through the heart of a cheerful petite urban escape, Boise is an outdoor-lovers paradise.
On any given day grown men frolic in butt comfy spandex shorts and clickety-clack cycling shoes re-hydrating with a "local" bew (anything from Oregan or Seattle) on one of our many covered tavern patios. Spirited colors of orange and blue line the streets... goooo Broncos!  and my past favorite (no longer my favorite pastime) the dive bars.  Living beyond conformity, Boise still allows smoking in bars. 
(Coup Clothing image by Will Hay)

Up until three weeks ago I conformed to their nonconformity.  A beer in one hand, one cold sitting idly aside, and cig in the other, this was my Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday night (even I needed a day off.)
Well, at this time, I haven't yet found the spandex shorts but I am putting my bike to much use.  As soon as my arm heals, hot springs will be my backyard jacuzzi, and I'm going to raft that river so hard.  I'm still going to patron those hole-in-the-walls, I do have friends that aren't freaks, but I've noticed I have a two hour maxim (I feel a headache coming on or I need to take my pills, both usually being true-ish).
As for the other hundred hours of free Boise time I'm taking on a little restaurant project, getting excited about writing stories again, and taking time for the little things (a garden, my dog, camping, yoga, soccer, family and friends).