Irobec

I had a really interesting and happy dream last night. I dreamt my sisters and I took a road trip to a North American town (no idea where...somewhere in Canada or the US), and then we went for a walk. We ended up sooooo far from our hotel and I insisted we could walk back, so we did, but it was so very very far. We decided to do it anyway, and we walked across a really pretty university campus, and the field looked too big, but we found a shortcut through a hole in a fence. Then we ended up in more fields which were really on top of roofs of a museum, but the museum was housing live African animals, and there were dangerous animals like panthers, tigers, lions, etc. everywhere. We quickly realized we didn't need to go on the roofs so we took another path that was street-level, and that's all we had to do to be safe from the wild animals; it was so simple. Then I noticed that the museum had craaazy-ass barbwire fencing all around it so the wild animals couldn't get off the roofs and hurt anyone anyway, so I realized we were super-safe. We kept walking and walking and looking for the street our hotel was on, which I vividly remember was called Irobec. We walked for so long that it started to get dark and then we found a park with two paths, both paths went the same way, they were parallel to each other. But one went through the park and the other was the sidewalk through town. I lead us on the path through the park because I thought it would be different and more fun. Finally we got to the next street and it was Irobec! We found our hotel and we were so happy. Overall, it was a very happy dream. I hope it's a good omen.

??!

Boy am I glad to be home.

In other news...bleh. I find that I can be totally cheerful or OK for very long stretches of time. And all of the sudden, the fact that I might die hits me, and it's the most horrible feeling I've ever felt in the whole world. It's not a paralyzing-with-fear feeling the way an anxiety attack is, not even remotely close. It's a feeling of such....bitterness and sadness. I don't even know how to describe it.

From the bad...to the GOOD. The oh-so-very good. :)

This chemo was tough. Really tough. I got a bad fever and apparently was twitching from it, I was in and out...sleeping sucked, I'd sleep for twenty-minute intervals which felt three hours long each, while having icky bad trippy dreams I would only wish on murderers, child molesters, and Hitler. The chemo tired me out to the point that one day all I did was get up to go the bathroom and that was enough to give me trouble breathing, and send my heart rate up to 120-125 or something like that (it's usually around the 80s for me) and OMG, that was awful. It HURT. Having my heart slam against my ribcage like that....euuuurgghhhh. It felt like I was running up and down stairs as fast as I could while I was just lying in bed, ach what a sensation! Anyway, that was all crap. Chemo's done though and now they've just been keeping me for observation and antibiotics, and it turns out today that they need to give me 2 blood transfusions, so, wohoo! I'm gonna be bouncing off the walls later. I'm getting benadryl right now, so I'm going to be BUUUZZZZZZZZZED soon.

Having a roommate while going through chemo has been...it's been awful. I feel SO MUCH GUILT typing that that I'm not even going to go into detail about it now; I'll wait until I get home for that (I'm getting discharged tomorrow, barring any infection or problem with my health or whatever). That's right, I feel so much shame in complaining about having a roommate (because she's off sooo much worse than me) that I can't even type about it when she's in the same room as me. How absurd is that.

Now that the complaining is out of the way, an AMAZING thing happened. While being stuck in here, I had to miss my favourite band, Muse, perform at the Bell Centre (Montreal's huge center for hockey and concerts). My husband and some friends of mine bought our tickets last fall and had been looking forward to going for a very long time, so I was heartbroken that I couldn't go. I gave my ticket to another one of my friends, told him to have fun, figured they'd tell me Muse's set list afterward, and that was that.

Little did any of us know, one of my friend's aunts was up to some kind of awesome. She contacted the band's manager to tell them about me. Well, lo and behold, they ended up dedicating a song at the concert to me. (Starlight, for those of you who are Muse fans.) That's right, Muse performed at the Bell Centre and dedicated a song (and one of their rather old-school extreme popular ones, too) to ME. Matthew Bellamy said MY NAME. And he said it correctly, which blows my mind, because most people do NOT pronounce it correctly the first time! To say I am in awe and totally shocked and grateful and happy and amazed by all this is the understatement of the century. I can't even explain how I feel. I think I need to invent a new words to explain how I feel. Actually, lol, FWIW, I've been telling people that I'm STARlight struck. ;P HAR HAR. Bad pun, I know.

Anyway, the night of the concert, I got a lot of texts and Facebook messages about that, lemme tell you! And the next morning...wow did I wake up to a lot of messages and comments and general love from all my awesome friends. One of them even found a video of the moment (along with the whole song) on Youtube, so I got to experience it for myself.

I'm still absolutely beside myself with WTF in the best way possible. It's incredible, just absolutely and positively out of this world. And the night this happened, I slept soundly and had the happiest dream I remember having since being diagnosed with cancer. What a load of AWESOME. <3

Round 2, here we go!

I got called at 10:30 this morning to be re-admitted for round 2 of chemo...for 12:30! That's right, two hours' notice. Never mind a DAY'S notice, which I thought I was gonna get (and which I thought would be too short notice as it is), but two hours. And the call woke me up; I was sleeping in and felt like shit as I had nearly an entire bottle of wine last night, and my body is NOT used to having alcohol. I REFUSED to get out of bed until Mike came home to take me to the hospital as they called him as well, and he called them back and managed to negotiate and extra hour for me to get ready. I felt like crap and indulged in my hangover rountine, which involves weed, greasy food, and lots and lots of coffee. So I then had less than three hours to gather and pack my stuff and mentally prepare myself for another hospital stay, all while hungover and high as a kite. Good times. As I wrote on my Facebook, ca commence bien (we're off to a good start!).

When we got to the hospital we found out I didn't even have my own room. I have a shared room with a lady who's waaaaayyyyy off worse than I am. I recognize her from when I was here the last time, actually. She seems to be in really bad shape and seems really nice and much more friendly than I am. It's too bad I'm so anti-social or I'd find out what her story is. Anyway, I'm not going to be neutropenic during my stay so I don't need a private room, so I understand why I'm here. I feel bad complaining 'cause honestly, this lady is in baaaad shape. She can't even get out of bed or walk or anything. Omg. I feel so sorry for her. But I bet the fucking last thing she wants is pity.

Anyway, it's 11:42 PM and I've been getting chemo for a little over an hour now. They're doing it through a vein for now but apparently I'm getting a pic line tomorrow. I hope they do it through the arm again and not the chest (called a hickman)! I don't want a chest one. I already know I have to one for the transplant and that's blah enough.

But yeah, my vein. OK, so, apparently the chemo from last time really weakened my veins (and apparently this isn't too unusual), because the nurse, J, could not find a spot to insert the IV. I was stabbed with needles over and over again as she tried over the course of a half fucking HOUR to find a spot of my vein that could stand it; she had to be super certain that my vein was all right as this was chemo going through it, not just saline or some crap. So I lied there for a half hour as inserted a needle into different parts of my arm over and over. It hurt like a BITCH. Things got worse when I heard her start muttering under breath, and when the "fucks" and "...shits" started, that's when I started to worry a little.

Eventually another nurse, D, came in to try to help her, and D was told me how J was the QUEEN of IV inserts and if she couldn't find a good vein, then nobody could. And--here comes the gross part---they tried to force their way into a part of a vein that just couldn't take it and it broke and blood spurt out all over my arm. That too hurt like a bitch, and was really quite gross.

After a good half hour they finally found a spot on my wrist that withstood the IV, so huzzah. Now I'm getting chemotherapy that's quite different from last time. Some of its potential dangers include brain damage and kidney failure, but I'm not scared. Just the opposite; I'm pumped up! It's almost like a kind of training for my transplant, since I'm so scared of getting it due to all the possible dangers involved. So chemo is kind of like practice for that. I don't know if that makes any sense, the way I'm explaining it, but that's how I feel. It's hard to put into words. Anyway, I'm in the type of mood in which I feel like I can tackle anything, so I guess that's good! :)

Worst doctor appointment ever!

On Monday I had an appointment with my doctor, I have to see him every Monday now, it seems. I still don't have a date for my next round of chemo, as it all depends on when a bed in the ward will be freed up, and who's next on the list. As they're looking for room for me asap and it's April 17th right now, and the Muse concert is April 23rd, it looks like it's almost certain that I'll be missing the concert. I'm not giving up my ticket until I know for 100 percent sure, but it's looking more and more certain. I'm so heartbroken over this. I had been looking forward to this since last fall. This sucks so much.
I also have a ticket for Sherlock on May 5th, and I doubt I'll be able to go to that, either--even if I'm out of the hospital by then (they're not keeping me in for observation this time, they're kicking me right out after the chemo's done, unless I have an infection), I'll be neutropenic so I won't be allowed to go to a fucking theatre, of all things.
And I'll most likely be missing my husband's birthday, too (May 4th).
Fuck fuck fuck. This on top of missing my OWN birthday, Nuit Blanche, and St Patrick's Day. Fuck you, cancer. Fuck you so hard!
I swear, this summer I'm going to throw the biggest party EVER. Like, HUGE. It's going to be a combination of a FUCK cancer party, belated birthday celebration for myself, and making up for missing all those other cool things that I waited months upon months for. Maybe I'll even rent a hall, I don't know. Cuz I don't wanna just have it in a bar or something, and my apartment is too small to hold more than 3-4 people at a time. I don't have money to rent a hall, but IDGAF. I'm gonna go all out. I'll figure something out.

The appointment bummed me out in multiple ways. My doctor felt the need to remind me that I only had a 40-50% chance of beating this thing, reminding me that neither chemo nor a transplant would necessarily save my life. He told me this right when I finally, finally, FINALLY got the stupid statistics out of my mind, which took so long to do. Now I'm feeling down and kind of deflated all over again. I don't know why he felt the need to tell me that. I don't wanna hear that shit. I ALREADY KNOW THAT. Now I'm home and finally feeling good...fuck you. Apparently he hadn't known that I had already signed the consent forms for the transplant, so I guess he was trying to tell me that a transplant wasn't a guaranteed failsafe solution or whatever. But still. Fuck you doctor, for bringing me down. You're a nice guy, but fuck you!

PMS and cancer together. GOOD TIMES.

I haven't posted in awhile as after only being home for barely two days, I got a fever and had to go back to the hospital. I spent four days in the ER and the "short stay" ward. It was not pleasant. Also, there was no wi-fi there so I didn't have the internet to disctract me (or update anyone with). BLAH. On top of it all, I'm getting my period now. I didn't get my period last month because the doctors stopped it with Lupron, but I'm no longer getting Lupron, so this will be my first time getting my period while cancerfied, so this should be quite the awful adventure. I get awful, AWFUL periods. As in, I throw up, I get migraines, have to miss several days of work (when I'm working), can't stay far from the bathroom and end up in there 20 minutes at a time several times a day, etc...it's so bad that I actually had an ultrasound scheduled in early March to check for endometriosis before I got sick, but then once I got diagnosed with cancer, well...that was that. I actually got an ultrasound whilst in the hospital and they didn't find anything endometriosisy, so I'm not sure what's going to happen with that. Usually at this point of the month I pop a dangerous amount of anaprox and smoke a shit ton of weed, and lately this has been bothering me a LOT because, well, I'm 32 and I kind of care what happens to my liver and lungs. Now it's even more of an issue because my liver and lungs specifically have to be in good condition for my transplant. But what can I do?! I've seen like thirty doctors about my periods and we've just about run out of options at this point, so...*sigh*. I saw a private doctor in January and he prescribed me a type of birth control that supposedly will stop my periods called Micronor, but I have to wait until I'm actually bleeding to take it. My periods are like 9 days of bloating and horrible pain and only a few random days here and there of bleeding, so I have no idea when I'll be able to start the Micronor. For all I know, my period might end up coinciding with my next round of chemo, but the doctor told me if that happens, they'll send me to the ER and give me a shot of something (I forget what) that apparently stops my period within hours. Why can't they just give that to me all the time? I'm never having kids so...yeah. Plus I'm finally probably going to be infertile, especially with the transplant, so YAY. No asshole doctor can use the stupid asshole excuse of "I might change my mind" (seriously, who changes their mind at fucking 32???? I'm not 20, for fuck's sake!), so rip my damn uterus out or do whatever ya gotta do already.

In the meantime, thank the gods for grass.

So yeah, remission...

So I'm home now, and omg is it ever weird. In both good and bad ways.

Yesterday morning I woke up in the hospital and my doctor came in and said they didn't have the biopsy results yet. Then he went, "Oh wait. Wait a second!" and ran out of the room, came back a minute later, and quickly said, "I made a mistake. We DO have the results, and you have less than 5 percent blasts, you're in remission, congratulations!"
My response involved a lot of swearing--I couldn't help it, I was so happy!
I believe my exact words were, "holy shit, are you fucking kidding me???????"
Btw, my mentioning my doctor's mistake is NOT my rolling my eyes at him or saying "look how stupid he is!". Quite the opposite! I love my doctors, particularly that one. He's a little goofy, and I mean that as a compliment. He's quite loveable.

Anyway, so I got discharged and I'm at home. I have an appointment with another doctor of mine on Monday and some blood tests, and then in a month I have to be re-admitted for my next round of chemo. I'm really disappointed about that, because originally I was told I was going to be a day patient for the chemo, but now I find out I'm going to readmitted so I'll basically be in the hospital for the same amount of time all over again. I'll be in and out of the hospital for the rest of the summer. Sigh. The good news is (and this is REALLY good news), I found out today that Mike got a theatre-related job in the city for the summer, which means he'll be around! He doesn't have to go to Ontario to work now! Originally he was going to have to, and that thought terrified me--of all people, I want my HUSBAND to be around when I'm going through cancer and chemo, ya know?!

Guess what?

REMISSION!!!!!!! <3

Fingers crossed!

I should be finding out the results of my biopsy tomorrow...pleaaaasssee let it be good news! Luckily it feels like my sleeping pill is starting to kick in, so hopefully I won't have to anxiously lay awake wondering much longer...

The nights are the worst

I feel the stupid sleeping pill kicking in...it's time to shut off the laptop and hope this damn thing works. I hate sleeping pills, but I hate nights even more. Nights are the worst. During the day, I'm pretty good at keeping myself distracted, but at night all there is to do is lie in bed in think. And all I can think about is dying and what if I *do* end up dying soon, what if I *don't* make it, what if I get a call for a transplant in a few weeks and my body rejects it or it rejects my body or any of the other 398 potentially-lethal things my doc's boss listed happens and I end up being dead two months from now. It's not an impossibility, and that's FUCKED-UP.
My heart hammers against my chest about 5999 times per minute at this point and I can't sleep cuz I'm paralyzed with fear and horror and yeeeeeah, this is why I take sleeping pills.
FUCK being alone with your thoughts; maybe it's one of those things that can kill you in the end.