Put on a Happy Face

I have found my happy place again. Not sure how long I'll get to reside in this mindset but I will enjoy it as long as I can.

The weather has changed and I am occasionally wearing scarves and hats indoors. Yesterday I played with my Rachel Welch wig and decided it would make a good furry hat if I can only figure out how to keep the bangs out of my face. How did I deal with long hair pre-chemo? I cannot remember but now I don't want anything in my face. 

My eyes are bugging me. Super dry. Sometimes I feel like my lids are sticking to my balls (hehehe... she said balls). I'm an eye drop addict. I broke some blood vessels in my left eye. Looks weird but I'm not too concerned. People can break blood vessels in their eyes by just sneezing. I probably did it blowing my nose. My sinuses feel jacked up and I get a bloody nose at least once a day so there is a lot going on in eyes/nose zone. 

Yesterday I received a phone call from a Wells Fargo customer service rep asking me about my experiences visiting my local branch. I KID YOU NOT! I was able to relate my stories about overly chatty tellers while stating that I understood they are trained to be friendly and up-sell at every opportunity (see previous post for the full story). All I ask is they read my body language. When a bald, sick looking person comes in and does not engage they should read the customer's body language and act accordingly. The CS rep was totally understanding and it felt good to report my experience. The timing was uncanny and I got a slightly creepy feeling that "big brother" was watching. 

I'm planning on going into the office on Tuesday. I should probably wait until I get my final blood counts but there will only be a couple of people there so it doesn't feel too risky. I'll check in to make sure no one is feeling ill just before I leave the house. 

I'm looking forward to establishing a new routine. Remember nap time in kindergarten? We should incorporate that back into our work week.

Chemotherapy and Mood (ANGER)

I did a search for scholarly articles relating to chemotherapy and anger. My search returned pages of results, however, after digging deeper it appears there is a researcher out there with the last name Anger so my search was totally bogus. Now I'm pissed. Again.

You know what else pissed me off today? The bank teller at Wells Fargo (again).

Teller: What are your plans for the day? 
Me: Nunna
Teller: *tilts head like a dog*
Me: Nunna Business

Teller: Have you been in this branch before?
Me: *Nods head*
Teller: I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting you before.
Me: *blank stare*

Teller: Is this your home branch?
Me: Yes, I don't know.

Teller: blah blah blah blah
Me: *Turns and stares out window into parking lot*

Seriously she went on and on with the questions. What? Do they train them to ask these questions? READ MY BODY LANGUAGE! I don't feel like chatting. I'm a bald woman in a bad mood just count out the cash and no one will get hurt. Then on the way to my errand I has two road rage incidents. Well rage is a pretty intense word but I did feel my blood get hot and I used the bird in one instance. Totally justified I assure you. 

So I'm pretty sure I have anger issues. Which feels good and bad all at the same time. Good because I don't have anger in my normal state and it feels like a release to let it flow but bad because I am experiencing these flare ups and I prefer being in a relaxed-go-with-the-flow mood. 

The complaint list:
I am tired. My hormones are unstable. Sleep disturbances are routine. When I see my reflection it reminds me of Darth Vader without his helmet on. When I try to read all I do is reread the same paragraph. I feel isolated. I'm anxious about returning to work. I'm road kill by late afternoon. The list goes on...

On the upside... ya right, you really think I'm going to go all Polly-Anna right now? I'm on the downside and I am embracing it. 

What was my errand you ask? A visit to the medical marijuana dispensary. I bellied up to the bar and asked for their best mood elevator. I told them that I was at the end of my treatment and needed something to relieve nausea and anger. They were understanding and acknowledged that treatment wears you down and it is normal to feel the way I do.

I came home with a little bag full of things to try and a slightly better mood for having someone tell me it's okay to feel the way I do. 

Cognitive Rehabilitation Improves Brain Function in Cancer Survivors

http://www.washington.edu/news/2013/09/19/cognitive-rehabilitation-improves-brain-function-in-cancer-survivors/

Infusion 4 of 4

Last Thursday was my final infusion. Infusion day isn't that bad. I get 3 different anti-nausea meds that hold me over for a few days and my chemo buddies are a great distraction from the fact that poison is being pumped into my body. 

They had a little trouble accessing my port and ended up injecting an enzyme that breaks down fibrous tissue that collects at the end of the port-a-cath. See Infusion 1 of 4 for more info regarding port-a-cath.
 
My blood counts are great and I've been given the status of Gold Star Patient. No actual gold stars were given.

It's been 24 hours and I feel pretty good. Taste buds have gone dead, sleep patterns are all messed up, and I'm slightly dizzy due to the steroids. Also, I am having some trouble regulating my body temperature but that is most likely due to fluctuating hormones. 

It Has Gone By So Fast. Barf. Pow!

When I tell people when my last infusion is many of them say with enthusiasm, "Wow! It has gone by so fast!"

Yet for me it has been dragging on. Some moments have been in slow motion. Some days are cut up into units of time marked by medication, nausea, sleep, snacks, television shows, showers, barfing...

Tomorrow is my last infusion. Each one has been different. This last one brought the nausea. Lots and lots of nausea. At the start of week three (the good week) I barfed. I FUCKING BARFED! I hate barfing. As I was barfing I kept thinking... is this really happening? Week three and I'm barfing?

This whole process is wearing me down mentally. I'm impatient and critical. My internal dialog is nothing like my external dialog. I've been using little tricks to keep myself in check. It's sort of like when you get nervous before giving a presentation and imagine the audience in their underwear. 

For example:

• A few days ago someone said that they were praying for me. I mentally decapitated them.
• Facebook friends that complain about their jobs, the weather, or the government have all been hidden. 
• The bank teller that asks what I am up to this afternoon only receives the death stare. (Look we both know she is only trying to up-sell me so if you sit in judgement you can climb down off your high horse right now.)
• The know-it-all clown that declared the latest Star Trek movies as full of war, fist-fighting, and explosions and not keeping to the true essence of the original series received a mental smack down that Khan himself would have been proud of. 
• That friend whose husband keeps acting like a jerk has been tied to an imaginary post and screamed at like a drill sergeant.
• Don't even get me started on the neighbors with the barking dog!

Generally I am a mild mannered person and not at all violent, loud, or quick to judgement. The barfing brought it out in me. Or maybe... I am all of those things and the chemo is allowing me to purge these traits along with the contents of my stomach. 
 

Horse Tail

You know how horses use their tails to swat away flies? I used to use my long hair in the same manner. Now here I sit outside with a bowl of cut up watermelon enjoying the last dregs of summer and a pesky fly is annoying me. Said fly dive bombs my face and I intuitively snap my head to flick the fly away with my hair... except there is no hair and I feel momentarily silly.