Letting Go...

Okay, here's the deal. You (and when I say "you", I mean me) have a choice. You can either hold on to an ideal and be sad and angry and waste all sorts of energies mourning the loss of what was never to be. You can fight to the figurative death trying to get a square peg into that round hole. Or you can embrace what is concrete and have gratitude for the way that it is... right now. That is the ultimate in "letting go". I'm not very good at this. I will get better at it.

I had a great weekend. For the first time in probably 10 years, I was alone in my home. And I mean alone. Okay, the cats were still here, but that's it. Mark took the kids to Missouri to visit relatives. This was a trip we had planned before I got the news about my cancer. So, we decided they should still go. I do not feel the least bit guilty in saying this...I love my family, and I wouldn't want this for an extended period of time, but being alone was glorious! I woke leisurely, ate what and when I wanted, watched horribly bad television, visited with friends, chatted on the phone...it was heavenly. It was like being at a spa, but sleeping in your own bed. Perfection. The best recipe for recuperation I could have conjured up! I turned HUGE corners in getting better this weekend. Thank you.

However, the one thing you have to be careful of when dealing with someone that has a life-threatening illness...don't let them think you can get along without them! Seriously, the last thing I need to know is that you all will all be perfectly okay if  I wasn't in your life! So, when Mark did fabulously this weekend as a single parent, I had a nervous breakdown! You must let me think you are function just well enough so I don't worry, but not so well that I'm insulted! Go ahead...walk THAT tightrope! I never said this ride would be without bumps!

Speaking of bumps...I hope I have a nice head shape. (How about that for a transition!) I spent some of my "alone" time researching chemo hair loss. Who knew my head is going to get cold at night so I need a sleeping cap? I really think I'm okay with all of the baldness issues. I happen to be able to rock hats. I have decided I will not be doing any Norma Desmond turbans though. They are just not my thing. Hats. Lots of different hats. My mother in law is an amazing knitter, so she's going to hook me up with some cool ones. That's very exciting. I must admit the process is a bit fascinating to me. Maybe that's the 20 years of hairstyling coming through. I'll keep you posted.

So, as I look into the next couple of weeks getting ready to start chemo, I will be working on letting go (of hair and expectations) and I will be embracing and accepting what is. I'll let you know how it goes...

Not a Guinea Pig...Just Yet.

"I could have just died." Didn't you want to kill him?" It was a phrase or two like these that really hung me up when my dad was first diagnosed with his cancer. For those of you that don't know, I do not come from a long line of familial cancer survivors. My dad and I are going to be the first and only (we always did like to be special). Within 6 months of each other, he has pancreatic and I have ovarian. Weird. Anyway, along with ovarian cancer, I also have "Foot in Mouth" disease. When he was diagnosed, I felt odd saying things like, "Isn't that sick?" to someone who actually was. I have to tell you, please don't feel weird. I don't even think about it. I am still the same person I was before and when I'm bald, I'll still be that person...just not a cute. Now, I shouldn't say that. There is a small possibility that I could be a very hot looking, 44 year old bald woman...we'll just have to wait and see.

Speaking of all that, I went to the doctor on Friday. It was time to get the staples out. Did I mention that there were 35 of them! You ask, "Did it hurt?" Well, she used these scissor kind of things and she would put these scissor thingies under the middle of the staple and squeeze. That would bend the staples sides out and release it from my skin...35 times. No, I can't say it hurt for the 3.5 minutes it took, but I wouldn't want to experience it all day! I can say they are out now, my belly feels much less itchy and I have Steri Strips across it for one more day. Looking much less like a train track and more like...well, someday I'll post the pictures...or not.

Before I had my staples removed we did our phase two talk with my doctor. We had to get going on a post-op plan for chemo. Not just surgery for me. I couldn't get off that easy. And quite frankly, I don't want those potential microbial cancer cells to think that there is any room at the inn, so next stop...Chemo Station. (okay, enough with the train references, OY!)

The biggest question was whether to enter into a study or go the traditional route of treatment. That's a little misleading, because even in the study, I would get traditionally approved/used chemotherapy. The study is looking at which of the 3 ways of administering the chemo (just IV, IV plus drugs directly into your belly, or just drugs into your belly) works best. Plus, they are looking at after chemo, administering another type of drug. This drug is approved for use with other types of cancer, and they want to see if it works on ovarian cancer if given after treatment is complete. Long story short...The study follows me for 5 years offering me care I would not get in a typical treatment scenario. It was a no brainer...I'm in the study. Now for all of you that are wondering, I will not get a placebo and I am not some sort of Guinea Pig. The chemo they use... all works. The drug they give me after has show some benefit to ovarian cancer survivors in a recent study. This is a phase 3 study for "efficacy". They will follow me for 5 years and I will get CT scans every 6 months among other things. Great care with the doctor I know and trust.

So that's the plan. I have to go in next Friday and get worked over...CT, Chest X-ray, EKG, blood work. All baseline stuff for the study. Then the following Friday...my life continues to change...forever.

I think we should be called Im-patients...

A week ago (and one day) I had my belly opened up. My awesome doctor removed all of my girl parts and a bunch of little scab-like tumors. (That is my choice of words, not hers) I had one on my bladder, one on my rectum, one on each ovary, a couple just floating around and that fatty layering (the omentum) was covered with growths so they just took that sucker out. I am now closer to the Brittany Spears abdomen I've always wanted minus the swelling and the Thomas the Train tracks/staples running from my nether region, up around my belly button and stopping somewhere short of Tidmouth Sheds.

And nobody told me about the fluctuating internal body temperatures. I ventured out yesterday to watch my wee little 3 year old continue his week of  "first ever" swimming lessons. Yes, that was me in the polar fleece jacket...in JULY! I'm hot. I'm cold. I'm hot. I'm cold. Enough already! I'm scaring the other parents down at the pool with my middle-aged striptease. Yikes!

Yep, a week. And I want to feel more normal than I do. Okay, you people that say I've never been even close to normal so why try now. I get it. But I am impatient. I know I should be thankful that things went well. I am. I'm even really happy with the fact that I am sitting here typing this with very little discomfort. And I do believe that it will get better. I'm just a little more Veruca Salt these days. I want it now! Don't care how...I want it NOW!

Clear down to the wire...

I have 17 minutes until no food or water. 16.

As the time sifts away and it is midnight and no longer my birthday, but the day of my surgery, I have to tell you something. I took pictures of my belly tonight. I wanted one last set of photos before it is permanently altered. I say this like I have a series of belly photos. I do not. This is the belly that I hated as a teenager and would exercise to death and even cover/sleep in Saran Wrap in hopes of shrinking it via skin suffocation. Oh, that flat stomach that remained just out of reach. I'm not sure why I took a picture of it. I guess for, "Old Time sake"? Maybe I was hoping this one would be my "before" shot. My surgeon and I were discussing how rich she'd be had she done plastics too. This is one of the many reasons I love my surgeon. She gets me.

Working backwards, before the Belly Picts, I ate a few Popsicles (Thanks, B).

Warning!! Spoiler Alert. Next we will be talking briefly about poop.

The dreaded Bowel Prep. Who in their right mind would make something like that, let alone call it "Lemony". It is like a small, Sweet Tart monster crawled up inside of me and died. His carcass is currently rotting from my insides out. Anything else you want to know? Here's something like The Law of Nature. Every single time I say, "There can't be anything left in there." I find myself sprinting for the bathroom. Pardon me, just writing about it has caused me to... have to...you know...

Okay, I'm back.
Tomorrow. We leave at 6 am. Arrive and report around 6:45 am. Surgery at 8. Rumor has it I am her first case. She's been out of town for the holiday, she got back today. I'm feeling that she is rested, fresh and ready to tackle me, so to speak. There has been a public out cry for a morphine laced blog. We will see. I make no promises. I admit, it would probably be quite a good one. Know that I will be writing when I can and filling you in on the goings on of me...in hospital...

Should You Really See Through Your Food?

Is anything worth eating really transparent? I think...steak? I think cake? The answer is, no.

So, this is the end of the first day of a two day prep before my surgery on Thursday. In less than an hour it will be my 44th birthday. Wow. How do I feel about that? Actually, I haven't really thought about it. I've been too focused on the prep. Let's get that out of the way and then I'll answer that other question.

Day two is pretty much like day one, clear liquids, except that at 2 pm I have to drink this small but mighty bottle of stuff that evidently isn't as bad as the colonoscopy stuff, but almost. What are the chances of me getting to Two Gentlemen of Verona tomorrow at 7pm? I'm already planning on giving the tickets to my mom and dad. My mom loves Shakespeare almost as much as I do...almost. After I drink my stuff that is supposed to be "Lemony" (I doubt it) I sit and wait. The next step I hadn't heard about  before, it's this special anti-infection super-de-dooper adult baby wipe x 2 that I'm supposed to scrub myself down with 1 hour after I shower. Maybe I'll be able to leap small microbes in a single bound. I'll let you know. When the clock strikes, "Your Birthdays Over", I get nothing more to eat or drink. They say that like the crap I've been doing for the last 48 hours is so hard to let go of. Please.

Sorry to disappoint you, but I probably won't be blogging on Thursday. It says to leave all valuables at home on the day of your surgery and since the big computer is in the shop (Thanks, Scott Cannon for fixing it) all that is left is Mark's laptop. Can't bring it...it's valuable. Oh, and I'll probably feel like a building fell on me...that too. I promise to fill you all in as soon as my thoughts can actually get to my fingertips an aren't lost somewhere in Morphine Land.

I leave you tonight with my self-posed question. How do I feel about 44? I feel focused. I feel present. I feel optimistic, I feel ready. I feel like I want a pizza.

The Last Supper.

It's 12:03 am. I am officially on a clear liquid diet for the next 48 hours...Yikes!

I needed to get some supplies at the store yesterday so my son and I went. I usually get the generic brand of chicken broth to cook with. I decided that since it was now considered a meal, I deserved the Wolfgang Puck brand. Fancy. It will probably taste exactly the same as the cheap kind. Go figure.

I have two days...and counting... wow.

People have been inquiring as to how I got to this point. Forgive me for redundancy, but I was in the process of switching doctors and decided it was time to have my almost 2 years late exam, so I called the doctor that was referred to me in February and was told that soonest she could get me in was on June 24th. I had some slight things that were odd. Back pain,(like I thought I needed a new couch) a face breakout, (never before in my life have I gotten zits on my face, NEVER) but nothing that said, "Hmmm, I think I should really get in to the doctor. About 1 1/2 weeks before my appointment my abdomen felt like a medicine ball was in the bottom of it. So, I called and asked if I could get in earlier. I did and after many questions, a blood draw and exam, I was asked to get an ultrasound.

I was taken into the room at Mercy in Iowa City expecting to get an ultrasound like I did when I was pregnant: A little cold goo on my tummy and away I went. Not this time. Much to my mortification (having not showered that morning) it was from, shall we say, the "inside". So I have a slight panic and try to use hand soap and paper towels to maximize my cleanliness in a matter of seconds. After I'm finished with my "spit bath" (as my grandmother would say) the tech comes in and does her thing, goes out, comes back in, takes a few more pictures, and declares she is done and that the she will be stepping out of the room so I can get dressed. She also mentions that if the phone on the wall rings to answer it. It does, I don't hear it and she steps back in to tell me to answer it. I talk to my doctor and she lets me know that I've had a ruptured ovarian cyst, an abnormal amount of fluid in my tummy (hence the heavy feeling) and that my body will absorb it.She wants me to come over to the office for a quick blood draw to check hemoglobin.  Okay, I do, it's fine and I head on my merry way.

Fast forward to a few days ago.I get a call that they want to re pap because of insufficient cell gathering could I come back on last Monday for a re pap? Sure! After most of that week, I am not feeling bad, but I'm not feeling great. Mostly bloated. We went to Cars II and after eating my weight in popcorn...my belly felt so tight.  It did not feel right. When I went for my re pap I asked my doctor if it is normal to still feel this way and she asked if I wanted a CAT scan. I asked if it was something that would just continue to absorb and she said, "Let's get you a CAT scan". I will thank her for the rest of my life (which is going to be a long one, thank you!)  for making that call. It was with that CAT scan that they found nodules on my omentum which lead them to test the fluid in my belly that they believe to be ovarian cancer. We will find out for sure, on Thursday.

And now you know the rest of the story.

HOPE and Hodge-Podge...

Above the welcome mat at the front of our house will be a sign hanging that reads, HOPE.  I decided that I needed the letters to stand for Happy Optimistic People Enter. I believe that what energy you put out in the universe (I know, pretty new agey but hang in there with me.) you get back, so I'm committed to surround myself with really positive people.

Which brings me to my next topic. Information. I want it. If you have a distant 3rd cousin that has made it to the other end of this thing by eating Elmer's Glue...I want to know about it. I'm not sure I'll do it, but information is knowledge and I expect to hear from all of you.Can we be frank here, let's face it, I'd suck on tree bark if it would get me one step closer to healthier!  Call, email, you can text me, but I'm pretty sure my 99 year old grandmother is a faster texter than me! But I try...

As for me, right this minute, I'm tired. That is what I find to be the most evident symptom for right now. I have very little stamina. Other than that, I am in no pain. I have a slight what I call "weirdness" in my abdomen. It doesn't hurt, it's just bloatie pressure. Now, don't get me wrong. I did go to church, help Mark put up some boards on the ceiling of the kitchen, cook dinner for my parent's and family and have the neighbors over for a bonfire. So I'm not just sitting and waiting around for this stuff to get me! But for me, at the end of the day I usually feel tired, not exhausted.

Another thing I notice and which should have been the real kicker here is my appetite. When a Benesh can't eat...call 911! We eat through the flu, Strep Throat, even major surgery (If they'd let us, they won't.). I should have known that something was up when seconds were not on my plate. Gotta pay attention to those red flags a wavin'.

Speaking of red flags, how crazy is it that I am wondering how skinny I will get? What has this frickin' nation done to us, Girls? Cancer won't even make us give up our desire to fit into those "skinny jeans". Oy! I said to Mark just this morning, "It's probably a good thing I didn't get rid of the clothes I couldn't fit into at the beginning of the summer."  I joked with my surgeon that she could triple her salary if she also had her plastic surgery as well as gynecological/oncology specialty...then I flashback to the fluid being sucked out of my belly earlier this week and the reminder that this is SOOOO beyond vanity.

It's kind of crazy here in my brain today. Hence the Hodge-Podge part of my blog. Lots of thoughts not much organization. I guess that means I'd better find some sleep. g'night.