Waiting for Savasana

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Good Day

I saw my Oncologist on the Monday before chemo.  It’s funny, my blood draw was at 1:30 but I wasn’t seeing her until 5 and it seemed pointless to go home so I drove over to Target.  I was walking around like I love to do and I got really, really tired.  Really, really fast.  And my hips started to hurt and then my back started to hurt and then I needed to sit down.  I bought some dresses and clothing and I picked up some Advil.  I feel like an old lady but my brain feels like me.  The disconnect is disconcerting.

So I got to my car, downed the Advil and drove to a coffee shop where I ordered a double shot Americano and a raspberry crumble and I sat down with a book and read and ate and sipped coffee for a long time until it was time to visit my oncologist.

I like my oncologist.  I’m not sure how she feels about me but considering the fact that she is trying to save my life, I guess we don’t need to be bosom friends.  And anyway, I always care too much about what people think of me and a long time ago, back when i was still in my twenties someone told me that by the time a person reaches forty, they don’t care what people think of them.  “Well then, I can not wait to be forty.” i exclaimed.

I’ve been waiting and now I am forty one and I still care what people think of me.  Darnit.

I think we may have had our first disagreement.

My Plastic Surgeon has been on vacation so I have been getting my fills done by his Physicians Assistant whom I really like.  Yep, I’m still getting fills.  What’s a fill?

After my mastectomy, the plastic surgeon came in and put in tissue expanders in my chest under the muscle of my chest wall.  At the time of surgery, he filled them each with 100 cc’s of saline.  Those 100 cc’s didn’t do much.  I emerged from surgery with the very flat chest of a ten year old girl.  Ever since, I have gone in regularly for fills.  There is a dock in the tissue expander that they find with a magnet.  They insert a syringe of saline and blow me up in small increments.  Eventually, I will have a second surgery in which the tissue expanders will be removed and silicone implants will be put in.  I hear the implants are much more comfortable than the tissue expanders.  I hope so.  Unfortunately, I have to wait six months after radiation to do the exchange.  So for now I’m stuck with fairly nice looking rock hard Foobs aka Fake boobs.

And when I say rock hard, I mean it. It’s embarrassing giving people hugs.  As in “Oops sorry you got poked in the chest by my foobs!”  Yikes.

So there is a little problem with the expanders and that is the unforseen lymph node involvement and the fact that I need radiation.  One of my foobs could fail during radiation, in fact, I was told that there is a 30% chance it can fail.  But I was also told that the clinic I use has a much higher success rate and to stay in Palo Alto and not go to the satellites.

So guess what happens?

My oncologist recommend that for my convenience, I use a satellite office that is closer to my house.  But I don’t want to and I tell her so.  But she explains that the doctor she wants me to see is from the main clinic and just moved over.  But I still want to stay at the main clinic.

I went in for my neulasta shot and while I was there, I made an appointment with the head of the department whom I have heard good things about.  I even made a friend yesterday in chemo who had radiation with a tissue expander with that specific doctor and it was a success!

And BTW, yea for me!  I made a friend at chemo!  It’s not as easy as you think it would be.  People tend to keep to themselves, can you blame them?

I got home and about twenty minutes later I got a phone call…from my oncologist.  She was questioning why I was using this other doctor.  I explained that I just wanted to stay with the main place and that I felt more comfortable there.  And then the people pleaser in me apologized.  I apologized!  Of course she said I didn’t need to apologize.  But you know me, I still felt badly for going against her recommendation.  She already thinks I’m a weirdo.  Oh well.

Anyway, it’s just a consult.  I could decide I don’t like the guy and check out the one she recommended.

Needless to say, my husband is a bit exasperated with me.  He thinks I should follow the doctor’s recommendation.  I just think I need to cover all my bases using the information I have.  I mean, they are my fake breasts.  I really want them to be successful, you know!

Because if it fails, it means more complicated surgeries and a lot more pain and I am already feeling like the walking wounded over here.

One good thing that happened on my visit with my oncologist (whom BTW I adore and respect and would recommend to anyone going through this) is that when I told about the lobster pinches, she recommended I take my old friend gaba pentin.  I had to take it after my surgery because for three weeks, the back of my right shoulder felt like it was on fire.  So I was given this stuff and it worked great.  And then when my shoulder stopped hurting, I stopped taking it cold turkey because no one told me to do it otherwise and that was very bad.  I cried for like four days straight.  Cried for hours, inconsolable.  We didn’t know what the heck was going on.  My husband was worried.  And then we figured out it was the going cold turkey from the drug.  Never doing that again.

So hopefully, this stuff will keep the lobster pinches away.

I really like taking gaba pentin so far.  It makes me chatty and happy and sleepy.  But this time around the pharmacist gave my husband a sheet saying that it could turn me suicidal. (WHAT?!!! I don’t think so.  I haven’t come this far just to off myself now!) And she admonished him to keep an eye on me.  Uh oh.  Well, for now I do not feel suicidal at all.  Just happy and chatty and fairly loosey goosey.  And for the first time in weeks, my right arm isn’t hurting, so that’s a good thing too.

All of this is not easy. And I do not enjoy being a patient.  I found out the reason I got so tired walking around Target is because my red blood cell count is officially low and that means I’m going to be a slow mover until they come back up.  My hemoglobin has crossed the threshold to low too.  Personally, I’m glad to know there is a reason for all this fatigue and that I’m not just lazy.  Some days it is hard to move.  So I lounge a lot which is ok because I like to lounge but then I feel guilty.  Well I’m not feeling guilty anymore.

I put on my pajamas and am in full lounge mode.  And I am very ok with that.

Only two more chemo sessions to go and then I get to ring a bell and get the heck out of there.  Hopefully forever!

ETA: Man! This is a long post!  I told you that drug made me chatty!


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Good Things

It’s the morning before Taxol #2.  I want to talk about good things in my life.

My Husband and boys are first.  They love me, protect me, care for me.  I could not ask for better.  I think back on that day in February when I met my dear wonderful shy husband.  The first words I ever spoke to him were, “Where’s the food?” and now it’s 15 years later and I love him more and more every day.  I never thought that was possible.

Then there are my friends, old and new.  They bring us food, they send us cards and presents.  They call and text and email to see how I am doing.  Yesterday, I was in a bind.  I needed a ride to chemo since my husband has to take my little one to camp at the same time.  I posted one Facebook asking for a ride and not 30 seconds later, my dear friend texted me offering to help.  And then, five minutes later, four more people had offered to get up at dawn and take me 45 minutes away from my home to the doctor’s office.  I cried.

I can’t name my friends because someone will be left out because I forgot and oh my, I would never want to forget any one of them.  The first person I told sat with me while I cried.  They all take care of me.  Watch my kids for me.  Get my house cleaned for me.  The bring me orchids (that I always kill, please stop the madness!).  They send me cupcakes and Chicago pizza.  I don’t know how I got so lucky.  Friends I love you, you are a good thing.  And this is coming from a girl who didn’t have a lot of friends growing up (boy was I a pistol!).  I love you.

My family. All of them.  All of them.

My brother’s visit brightened our whole weekend.  My Aunt’s cards, presents and kind comments are a Godsend.  She’s been through this in the worst way with a child.  I was in a coffee shop before all this madness really got started and the owner asked how we were doing and O said not great and he asked what was going on and I said, “The worst” and he looked at my son sharply (who is named for my cousin). And I quickly said, “Oh no it’s not him.” And he said, “Then it can’t be the worst because when it’s your child it’s the worst.” And I thought of my Aunt and agreed with him.  And then I hugged my son a little too hard for a coffee shop.

I love my cousin Kyle.  Always have, always will.  I think of him all the way along this horrible journey.  I like to think he has my back.

My uncle who picks people up at airports and drops them at my house and never complains.  Yeah…he’s a good thing.

I love all of the other cousins too.  I appreciate their kind words and thoughts and prayers.

My sister-in-law is a very good thing.  Love her.  He hubby isn’t bad either.  Thanks for checking in.  We are almost through what I perceive as the worst.

My mothers, both of them. And that’s all I am going to say about that.

My sister and brother and my new baby niece.  Babies bring a smile to my face every time.

I was teaching this preschool class and for unforseen circumstances beyond my control, I did what I consider the unthinkable, I had to leave them.  No worries, they were well cared for to the end of the year by a wonderful person.  But it hurt to leave them.  Two weeks after I left, I was diagnosed with breast cancer.  Hindsight makes it all seem like the right choices at the time, even though it broke my heart.  And I’ve seen some of those glorious kids from that wonderful class. They have brought me dinners.  Made me cards that make me cry.  One parent sent me a wonderful yearbook.  Each and every one of those families was and is such a blessing in my life.  Every year teachers fall in love with their classes.  I am so grateful to have been in the lives of these small children.  They are such a good thing.

What else?  Ice packs are a good thing.  Medicine is a good thing.  My oncologist thinks I’m an absolute weirdo but boy is she a good thing.  My Plastic surgeon is a miracle worker.   The nurses an P.A.’s are good things.

Shoes are a good thing.  Wigs are a good thing.  Lipstick is a really good thing.  It’s so good I went to Sephora and bought my old college standby, “Brown” by Bobbie Brown.  Its the first Lipstick color in her line and it looks good on everybody.  I need that lipstick!  I got it.  Good thing. Hats and having lots of them are a very good thing.   I bought two new cute ones at Target yesterday.  Wigs are itchy but still a good thing. T.V. is a good thing.  I watched every season of Gilmore Girls all through AC chemo.  My boys would run in my room and sing the theme song with me till Hubby and I were so annoyed.  They would yell it me if I tried to fast forward it.  I know GG was on the WB but it’s a fabulous show.  As much as I dislike Lauren Graham as Sarah Braverman is how much I adore her as Lorelai Gilmore.  I guess that means she must be a really good actress.  If you haven’t seen it, watch it.

Shop therapy is good.

Air conditioning is a fabulous thing.

My son’s garden that he planted with his grandmother is a good thing.  We got a bumper crop of tomatoes, people.  Whew!

My dog is a good thing, when she’s not getting in trouble for sneaking candy bars.

The nurses in the infusion room are a good thing.  Most chipper people you would ever meet in a roomful of grim.  I can’t do that job.  My hat is off to them.  My shiny bald head salutes them.

Food is a good thing.  Mmmm…food.  Love it.  The steroids give me munchies.

Books, magazines, T.V….all good things.  My house is a good thing.  Messy but comfortable.

Movies are great.  I watched Pitch Perfect at my last chemo.  Soooo funny and good quality.  One of my older son’s friends recommended it to me.  Even my husband liked it, and he didn’t like Silver linings Playbook which I adored.  Watching lots of movies over here.

My ipad is a good thing.  I spent my entire Saturday researching David the Bubble Boy.  When he was alive he was always protrays as this normal kid living in a habitrail since birth.  As a kid, I would read about him in my weekly reader and think this kid lives in a bubble and is happy but I am a mess, what gives?  He fascinated me and saddened me.  His life brought great breakthroughs but at what price?  Sad.

Well, it turns out the poor kid was fairly miserable even borderline psychotic.  It seems his one true friend was a therapist whose office was across from his room.  She says he made her promise to tell his real story.  So she did and she told everything and his parents got it blocked and tried to say she barely knew him.  But it’s funny.  In almost every picture, even the one where he received the bone marrow transplant that sadly killed him, that woman, Mary was there.  She was there with him when he died.  Now you can get her book on Kindle.  It needs an editor and is a bit of a plow but from my research, it appears she is telling the truth or at least the truth as she saw it. I read it in a day laying in bed fatigued (my RBC”S are low).  You can see the documentary on YouTube.  The whole story is quite tragic. It’s not a good thing to know what happened to David but it is a good thing to know the truth and for the first time in months actively need to know and do research. Here is part 1 of the documentary orginally run on PBS:

I told you.

Acupuncture, Reiki and Hypnotherapy are good things.  Moxa sticks are good things.

That’s all I can think of right now and I need to go get dressed because my friend is coming and I don’t want her to see me in my p.j.s.

Thank you.

All videos courtesy of youtube.


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Well, That Sucked

Man.  Taxol is rough.  It is rough in a different way than AC chemo.  But it sucks all the same.

Sucks.

Really sucks.

Tuesday and Wednesday were ok.  Then on Thursday I got body aches like when you have the flu.  These aches soon turned to a pinching feeling in all of my joints.

I was laying in bed and it felt like lobsters were pinching me.  It started in my right shoulder and then worked it’s way down my right side all the way down to my toes and then it worked it’s way up my left side.  And then is was a flurry of random pinches all over.

Advil couldn’t touch it.  Neither could Aleve.  Eventually I pulled out the big guns but that made me sleep in 13 hour shifts.

Aches pain and fatigue throughout the week off and on.

And my eyebrows are falling out.

And I am going to do this three more times.

Good thing is there has not been much nausea and I have been sleeping a lot but not loopy.

I am still getting cards from people and I can tell you it brightens my day.  I never knew the power of the U.S. Postal Service.  I plan to reciprocate with cards when I feel better.  Right now it is hard to do much of anything.

Thank you, thank you to all of you who have kept me and my family in your thoughts and reached out to us.  It means so much to all of us to know that you care.

And now back to me…

Yesterday,  my husband and I were playing a board game with our youngest.  We played it in my bed.  I could barely lift my arms so on my turn, I rolled the die and the child move my piece for me.  That is how fatigued I am at times.

Sometimes I lay in bed for hours just not moving a single muscle.  It’s like being in a coma.

This stuff is rough.

Once again, I just don’t understand how people who have jobs handle cancer treatment.

I’m unemployed and I can barely handle it.

 


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Still Standing

Gosh steroids are great.  I was so scared to take five of them but let me tell you.  They are helping so much.  My right arm is still tender and it often aches.  I do my lymphatic massage several times a day and my arm is still achy.  Steroids take that all away.

The day I went shopping, I was appalled my the three way mirror.  My arms and legs are so swollen, so inflamed from chemo that they looked full of cellulite.  My skin has been stretch so taught because I am just inflamed.  Every inch of me is inflamed.  I told my acupuncturist that my skin feels like it’s been dipped in pepper spray.

Steroids took care of that.  It takes the inflammation away.  My arms are still chubby but they don’t look like bags of cellulite.  Gross.

And my arm is almost pain free- yippie!

The “bone crushing Pain” is supposed to arrive tomorrow.  To combat that I am taking L-Glutamine powder, Benadryl and Claritin as well as some B6 and B12 all oncologist approved.  I will let you know if it helps.

My birth mother went through this a year ago, and during taxol, she iced her hands and feet and eyes to prevent neuropathy and nail loss and to try to keep her eyebrows and eyelashes.  Her brows and lashes fell out on her last treatment.  I opted to ice my hands and feet. So we brought our cooler full of ice packs.  The nurses scoffed at us a bit but went along with it.  I was only allowed to ice for 10 minutes at a time because she didn’t want me getting frostbite.

I watched movies and also began to watch Game of Thrones.  I have listened to the first book on audio and wasn’t in love with it but I found the first episode to be much faster paced than the books so I seem to like it for now.  Not sure I want to invest in the entire series.  I kept myself entertained.

Today I have my Neulasta shot.  Chemo destroys white blood cells, Neulasta makes your bones create more white blood cell so i get a shot the day after each chemo session.  So far my WBC’s have held strong.  I wouldn’t be able to do this dose dense chemo without Neulasta.

My husband was looking over our bills (everything has been covered by our insurance that I used to complain about but now am so grateful for) and discovered that one Neulasta shot costs $8000.

That is not a typo.  The little shot they give my in my chubby tummy costs more than the chemo (about $3000 a pop).

Thank goodness insurance covers it.  In fact, it looks like they get a discount on it.  They pay about $5000.

So what about the people who don’t have insurance?  What do they do?  How do they manage this?  Are they refused treatment?

I am horribly naive about all of this.  I didn’t even realize how expensive having cancer is until I got sick.

But what do people do when they can’t pay for this stuff?  Do they just lay down and die because of money or lack thereof?

$8000 a shot.  Yowza.  We’ve rack up $40k already.  And why does our insurance company get a discount?  I don’t understand any of this.

How do people without insurance survive?


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Update Taxol #1

I get Taxol today.  It’s made from Yew trees so it’s natural, right?  Ha!  Natural.  Lot’s of poison comes from nature.  But I will try to think fondly of Yew trees.  They may save my life.

Courtesy of Google images and wikipedia

Courtesy of Google images and wikipedia

Pretty eh?  Peaceful.  Lifesaving tree.  Mr. T may hate trees but i do not.  No sir.

I had to take 5 steroid pills at once last night.  I have been stressing about it for weeks.  Sheesh. 1 steroid pill 2X’s a day turns me beet red.  What the heck was going to happen?

Turns out nothing.

I did what my doctor told me and took an Ativan with the 5 FIVE steroids and I watched tv.  And then an hour later, I took another Ativan as prescribed and then I slept 5 hours.  And now I am getting ready to go.  I have ice packs to put on my hands and feet to try to protect them from neuropathy (tingling and numbness).  I have all kinds of medication and alternative stuff like vitamin B’s and L-glutamine which is also supposed to help with neuropathy.

I had blood work done yesterday and I got the results last night.  My blood is all kinds of messed up but apparently still good enough to get chemo.  Surprisingly for the first time, my blood sugar is elevated, which I find disturbing.  Never in my life have i had elevated blood sugars.  Oh yeah, and I havesome”ToxicGran” white cells which if Dr. Google is right explains why I am so achey and why it feels like every tissue in my body is inflamed.  But I will defer to my Dr. on all this.  She went to Harvard and she’s been in this biz for thirty years.  I trust her expertise.

I am getting “dense dose” Taxol.  It will be 4X’s every 2 weeks.  I asked my Dr. yesterday about people who get weekly Taxol because i heard the side effects are less with the lower dose.  She told me that if I did it weekly, it would be for 12 weeks.

What would you do?

4x’s over 8 weeks or 12x’s every week.

I’m sticking with dose dense for now.  I want to get this part over with.  4x’s over 8 weeks is the plan.

I hate all this.

When I feel sick IRL, I take vitamins.  I usually feel better.  I can’t do that now.  No multivitamin, certainly no Emergen-c.  Only approved vitamins.  No Antioxidants during chemo.  It defeats the purpose.  Isn’t that crazy?

Yesterday, between getting blood work and seeing my Oncologist, I walked over to a mall.  Very proud of myself for making it there and back without falling over.  Got a blister on the bottom of my foot from my flip-flop though.  Anyway,  There was a sale.  I got two cute skirts.  Size L.  Because of the steroids, I have now gained 10 pounds since beginning chemo.  I weigh more than I ever have besides when I was pregnant.  I don’t really care. Yes I do.  I’m bald.  Why shouldn’t I be chubby too.  I am channeling Molly Weasley and she is a bad ass.

Courtesy of google images

Courtesy of google images

So I bought 2 skirts.  I was wearing my curly short wiglet with a cute hat.  I am all about the cute hat.  The lady checking me out asked for my driver’s license and commented, “Nice hair” ( from my picture: curly, long, dark…awesome).  I thanked her.  Then I leaned in and said, “I’m actually bald right now.” and I smiled.  She looked at me and said she would have never guessed.  She got a little teary.

“Oh no. Did I bum you out?” I asked.

“No,” she said, “Thank you so much for sharing that with me.”

And we smiled at each other.

Some people hide it all.  I can’t.  I never could hide who I am.  It’s just not me.

Wish me luck today.  I am expecting to be achey by Thursday.  Some people have described Taxol pain as “bone crushing’. I gotta stay off the internet, people.  Somebody stop me.

Ok, here goes nothing.


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When I Feel Good, I Make Stuff

Yesterday, out of the blue, I felt human.  For the first time in weeks.  I had a little energy.  I laughed louder.  I was social.  I went for a walk with my husband and even said hi to a neighbor.  It all started before the sun even came up.  I woke up at 6am feeling pretty good and got started on putting together and finishing a baby quilt for my sister’s soon to be new arrival.  My youngest and I did the preliminary work (he asked for a sewing machine for his 8th birthday and he got one).  I sat on the floor in the early morning light and started pinning squares together.  A few hours later, I had this:

IMG_1475

When my little one came home from camp, The Eldest and I exclaimed his name together. “HEEEEYYY!!!” He came in for a hug, grinning from ear to ear.  I haven’t seen that smile in awhile.

This morning I got up and made french toast for everyone.  “Mama’s back.” The Husband quipped.

For now.  In this moment. I am.

Today I called a friend, folded clothes.  I’m going to make a bag for my niece.

I hopefully have four more days of this feeling pretty good.  I hope to make the most of it.

It’s nice to be back.

 


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Fatigue

This round seems to have brought on a great deal of fatigue.  I am very sleepy.  I can barely move.  I’ve been sleeping a lot.

Not as much nausea so far.  I stay on top of the meds.

Today is a day to celebrate.  My eldest was born 12 years ago on this day.  He is a light…a wonderful boy.  We are so lucky to have him.  I just adore that boy.

And it is such a pleasure to see him grow into such a thoughtful, friendly, kind young man.  It’s just so great being his mom.  It is an honor.

I love you, Sweetie.

 

manda

IMG_1403


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No Pollyanna Here

I am hurting over here.  There is no way to sugarcoat it.  Every treatment seems to bring new challenges.  Each one is worse than the next.

I am barely functioning.

The boys are at day camp and doing well.  I’ve been lovingly calling them my daycare kids.  See, I have always been home for them at least part-time.  My kids have had a regular babysitters through their lives but mostly, especially in the summer, they are with me.  And that is how we like it.  That has been our plan.  Do I even need to say that this is not a judgement on others?  Because it totally isn’t.  I made a choice long ago and this is how I like my life.  Hanging out with my kids in the summer is one of my favorite things ever.  We cook, we garden, we go on minitrips to the beach and other glorious CA locals.  We have nice summers.  We watch tv.  We read books. We swim.  We roast marshmallows. They play tennis.  We ride bikes.  We hike.  We play.  Our summers are usually idyllic. And I am fully aware of how lucky I am to be able to spend the last 12 summers with my children.

And now I am barely hanging out with anyone at all.  I’m in my room, feeling like crap.

Extended care.  My kids are signed up for Extended Care at many of their camps.  Because Extended Care beats hanging out with hairless, nauseated, barely able to lift her head up sick mama any day of the week.

No cookies are baking in the oven.  The kiddie pool got put out on the street.  There is no fun happening at our house unless Daddy is facilitating it and Daddy’s got to work.

I am so very sick.  No kid needs to be around that.

I have to say though, both boys are exhausted.  They come home TIRED.  We chill in front of the tv for a bit and then it’s bed time.  Then they get up and do it all over again and I stay home in bed missing them.  Those two boys I love so much.

Feel sorry for me, not them.  So far, they are ok.

This summer, my boys are making comic books, going on animal adventures, learning to fish, making spaceships, doing science, having fun with physics. Heck, the oldest is even going to Band Camp.

These boys are busy.  And yes, it is costing us some dough but it’s cheaper than a nanny when you break it all down and my big hope is that those two monkeys can escape this summer relatively unscathed by my illness during treatment.

And all of you who are like me.  Don’t judge the Daycare Kids.  I don’t.  But I never did.  Sometimes, it’s the only thing a Mama can do to keep everybody sane.


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Crabby

IMG_1472

Can’t you tell?  I did not want to go get more chemo today.  It sucks.  I hate it.

This morning when I woke up is the best I’ve felt in two weeks and now I am filled with this chemo crud all over again.

It makes me crabby.

The wig.  Isn’t it awesome.  My son and his friends bought it for me with one of my dear, dear friends who I am so honored to know.  I love my friends.

My son was so excited to give this to me and today is the first day I have worn it.  He was so happy and proud, he made me walk him in to his camp to show me off.

Here is what I have learned about wigs: they itch, they make you sweat but you just need to ignore it because as I (and Fernando) have said many times, It is better to look marvelous than to feel marvelous.

So I ignore the itch.

I got many complements in the infusion room.

And I do look marvelous even though my double chin is showing.

Stupid steroids.

Nom nom nom.  I get hungry on steroids.  HULK SMASH!!!  And eat.

A great deal of the weight seems to be water retention because I can’t taste anything, I have been salting everything.  Not the best move.  I am stopping today.  I am already less puffy than I was before.

We like to say that I look like a big Jigglypuff:

Do you know what Jigglypuffs do?  They sing and it makes people fall asleep and then they write on their victims’ faces with Magic Marker.  You know I would totally do that!

I am trying to think of myself as a Jigglypuff and not this guy:

I know, right?!
And with that, I am off to bed.


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Hey! Guess What I got For My Birthday?

Mouth sores!!!

Oh yeah.

Awesome.

My tongue hurts.  It feels like strep throat in my mouth.  I can’t even really talk.

But, I promised my son I would play Legos with him and I actually did it for a good ten minutes.  That is a big deal.  To show what a great Mom I am (ha ha) I have to tell you that even at my best, I do not enjoy playing Legos.  Blech Legos.  But it means a lot to my kid so I fake it till I make it when I can…and it made him really happy.

So, I played but then the oncology nurse called (BTW she called within 10 minutes of me emailing my oncologist with my concerns; Seriously, my oncologist ROCKS) and filled me in on how to treat my poor sore mouth. And I got a Lego reprieve. Apparently this mouth stuff is a 10 day effect of Adriamycin and it is indeed ten days since my last chemo.  I got some rinses and whatnot but what helped the most was a good old pain killer.  Next time they will give me less of The Red Devil.  So that’s kind of good.  Silver linings.

In other news, I am looking for a summer camp for the little guy for the week of July 8.  I have him on two wait lists.  I actually cried to one of the camp customer service people and used the chemo card and I wasn’t trying to be manipulative or anything.  I’m just so upset that I have to farm my kids out so they are not stuck hanging out with terrible me.  And talking about going to get chemo makes me cry anyway.  Anyway, my kids have been going to this particular camp for seven years… that’s pretty loyal in my book so I am hoping the camp can help me out.  I found an awesome camp for the eldest that week in which he goes to a different animal themed locale every day: a horse ranch, an aquarium, a zoo, etc.  I can’t find anything like that for the youngest that doesn’t have a waitlist.  I am getting frustrated.  Let me know if you have a lead…he’s going to be a third grader.  He needs to be in camp that week.

We are hanging in there as always.  And I am glad to be 41.  Very different from last year.  Although last year I was in Paris without my children so that was good.  Still, last year, I was bummed to be turning 40.  I can tell you right now, that feeling will never happen again. I also don’t think I will ever be without my children again on my birthday if i can help it.  Breast cancer has put all that into perspective.  Every year from here on out is a gift.  And when I blew out my candle tonight my one and only wish is that I get to blow out another next year, surrounded by my three wonderful boys.  I just want to be 42.  I just want to be 48.  I just want to be 50, 57, 63, 100!  I promise you, TIME, it’s what I want.  In fact,  it’s the only thing I will ever wish for again.