thisismydisease.com

i feel like seagull poop. no, i feel like seagull shit. smelly.

last time I saw Cannibal, he told he was starting infusing me with zometa - and i should google it (favorite thing to say to me, but who can blame him as most of his clients are over 80 and don’t have internet access) to see if it’s for me. well, it’s not for me, no more so than alcohol is for alcoholics. do the nursies listen to me? not “no” but “hell no”. i got the zometa despite not wanting it. and they didn’t weigh me so they, most likely, gave me enough for someone of much more weight (like, 50 pounds more weight). so i’m falling all over the place and scaring olivia. and messing myself up to boot. (can you say “blood everywhere”???)

i’m glad i got laid off (although it was illegal for them to do that - bossie didn’t know the laws, especially considering i was working at least 42 hours every 4 days).

and i’m glad my neighour phoned social services! maybe now i can live out my life - and littler dog can live out a part of her life - in peace. hey, maybe i can learn how to use that rangefinder before i die.

i’m tired - and my hands are frozen due to the zometa.  even B’s blanket won’t warm them up. Littler Dog is doing her best to keep me entertained.

my head hurts.

…and giraffe slippers. that’s what fits. and they’re cute - they’re CUTE!!!!!

update on me:

close to c-mas i ended up in the er thinking and writing (very slowly) in english but speaking in what i found out was french. my friends on the east coast got me an ambulance. the head male thought i was drunk. the head female knew i was not (where did i hear that before???). net-net: i had a small stroke which required 15 very, very short sessions of radiation.

i have brain cancer.

i’m having a very bad reaction to something. i think it’s the arthro - which i had to take to get over the pain of the port removal -  and residual pain - because everyone in oly and lacey was out of oxy. since, like ibuprofin, it’s an NSAID and has the same side effects, i’m taking ibuprofin now - weeks later. don’t ask.

chemo (finally) tomorrow. senior doc being more doc-like.  junior doc being a futz. (she didn’t even remember to put the arthro in the computer. must have a new girl.)

i *heart* my boots and slippers (but my slippers more cuz they’re funny - and warm).

little dog died late in january. nothing to say, other than i’m going through a depression and he’s not here to help out. i miss him terribly and wake up crying from missing him. almost 17 years. tears. random tears.

i can’t get clean. my skin looks and feels like fish - and it’s everywhere. cannibal says it’s another reaction. all i know is baby oil only makes things worse. just call me pigpen.

i woke up on c-mas day completely bald (hair everywhere!!!) and 25 pounds heavier - seriously. thank goodness i wore something loose to sleep. when in doubt, eat cookies - and after i finished off mum’s cookies (which were sooooooo good)  i made my own. coconut, brown sugar and a few choco chips. so there!!!  and they were also so good. not as good, but pretty damned good!

everything tastes like salt.

the doc who put the port in had to be convinced to remove it. i did not know that the argument went so far. all i know is they hardly ever used the port because it was always infected. the taxi driver didn’t even want to take me to the grocery store - despite the fact it meant more money for him. he just wanted to take me home to sleep.

my sleep cycle is strange.

so is my dream cycle.

i keep dreaming of aw. it’s b&w. and brown. and green. mucky green.

mucky green.  why in the hell am i dreaming of him?

upon having the port removed i, immediately, felt much better. the following day, though, i had to get the packing removed. s tried - to much screaming on my part. b tried with lidocaine with more success - but not without some screaming.

i’m not a screamer. really. not. a. screamer.

all in all it went ok. on saturday i did have to take 3 arthro to get through the pain, but that’s it. some days one. some days none. now i get ibuprofin. we’ll see.

for now, that’s it. more later. tomorrow. a week from now. a month from now. whenever.

i miss you.

i’m not dying.

today.

people are so excited i’m finally wearing footwear other than randomly purchased slippers come on, folks, you didn’t just love those toggle red fleecy things - or the ones with the lumberjack lining) that pictures have been demanded. since all of this has happened pictures haven’t been at the top of my list of things to do (breathing comes first, followed by eating something that tastes remotely not yuk) - but i have the following to offer:

black toemales are simple

pumpkin mary janes are keen

i’m still extra pleased with the simple shoes - but the keens kinda hurt - which is so odd considering they’re the fourth pair of keens i’ve ever purchased, and none of the others ever needed break-in time. oh well, i’m sure they’ll be just fine if i keep wearing them. it’s only my left big toe - so maybe a little soaking of said shoe in bubble-filled water is in order? ok the bubbles are selfishly for me - but if i have to put a shoe-clad foot in water, it may as well be bubbled. meanwhile…

i purchased sesame sticks and aminal crackers (among other things) in the fm organic bulk bins. the sesame sticks are extremely salty - and the aminal crackers have this odd sense of maple. now granted i do like maple syrup (pure only - none of that mrs. butterworth’s stuff, although she is cute on the geico commercial) - and i don’t dislike salt (sea or kosher only - no substitutes), but it has to be in very small quantities. i might have to have amber taste these. it might be me - or it might be what things actually taste like.

i’m tired. it’s been a long day. i’m feeling good - but a little sleep  might be in order.

i tried to open my sil’s package today. i know, from yesterday, it was going to require a garbage bag for the peanuts alone - and gods know what for the packing paper. i geared up for it. i planned for it. i got about 1/3 of it done before i had to both abort the mission and crawl into the wedge to relax it all off. at the rate i’m going, i might have the whole thing done and fully open by sunday night. i hope there’s nothing melty in there. or alive. that would stink. actually, it should, so i guess i’m back to only melty.

it’s beddy bye time. i need to breathe into my little tube, finish my drink, and nod off into sleepy land.

oh and speaking of drink, all this milk can’t be good for me. oh well. the gogi berry ended up across the room with a substantial amount of force. milk has never done that. what’s a little full fat, weight gain and whatever else organic milk has to offer?

nighty folks.

so i bought some socks meant for diabetics (to compliment the cool katy socks). they have no discernible elastic in them. they don’t bind or tug. they’re lightweight, but warm enough so i don’t suffer from frozen feet as i usually do (and did severely while on the zeloda). but after the first wash, they stink.

they’re supposed to be antimicrobial and repel various substances like bacteria, viruses and the like - and they might well do that. but after the first wash i’m convinced the repellent is the sheer stench of the fabric. its smells like the old, heavy drapes found in a very old house. but without the charm.  i keep looking to make sure my mum’s attic in summer didn’t suddenly fly this way and land itself in my bathroom or something. now don’t get me wrong, i heart my mum’s attic, but i don’t want to wear it on my feet - especially when the only time i get to have naked feet is when i get cleany.

so here i sit on the  part of the wedge i can sit on somewhat comfortably smelling my stinky feet and looking forward to getting comfy with the six new books i got today. they’re kiddies books and part of a prototype package i’m getting together. well, that’s what i tell myself anyway. truth be told, they’re nothing but fun to look at and read. and dream about designing. i just have to remember to keep them away from the socks. books don’t wash up well - and i doubt i’d be able to get a foul odor out of them. but they would be germ-free!

it’s so funny. a lot of people ask me how i stay upbeat and face the world with such a definant, f**k you attitude. well, thank you. i’m glad you asked. here are your answers:

(1) what purpose would be served by my being all morose and wheepy? things like that accomplish nothing but red eyes and runny noses.

(2) what purpose would be served by my being all morose and wheepy *and* relying on the susan “corporate amerika” komen foundation folks to feed me the information they think i need instead of doing my own research, taking charge of my own life and *not* buying into the morose and wheepy (among other things) crap they spew and subsequently, i spew, all the while making it seem to the average north american that they’re truly an authority that “knows” and “cares”. (note: this is going to be my last explanation of my feeling about susan komen. i do not believe she was as afflicted by “self imposed ignorance” as some people imply. i also don’t believe she was either as educated or ignorant as other members of other “camps” have implied. i also don’t believe she believed the komen foundation would become an organisation that would take her name and use it to “sell the drama”. and i’m going to reserve my opinion about that cow-faced, scarier than pennywise, fame-seeking despot sister of hers until a later date. all i’m going to say is she’s scarier than the monsters that hang out under kids’ beds - and has far less of a fashion sense.)

(3) what purpose would be served by my dressing head-to-toe in j&j baby lotion pink (and who in the hell came up with the idea of making the breast cancer “ribbon” j&j baby lotion pink? coincidence or planned action? you be the one to decide) clothes and being interviewed while being morose and wheepy and, probably, wearing some sort of fake hair (not a wig, but fake hair parts as sold by various “cancer is pretty” stores) under a stinky-butt ugly head covering (read “something that the cat buried in the dirt because it was so offensive”) and spewing the burnt shit they serve up and eating it intentionally, just like the dumb as a box of puffed wheat but not nearly as tasty good little breast cancer victim i’m supposed to be?

open your damned eyes - especially you “women” (and gods know i hate, hate, HATE being associated with you wussy-assed beings who do nothing but pollute the world with your vileness and self-imposed ignorance) who whisper in loud tones, look away from me - and tell your children not to stare at me - or ask you (the one they trust to be nothing but honest with them) why i look the way i do and act the way i act.

(4) if you’re a us or canadian born and bred female over the age of 30, you have a 1 in 7 percent chance of looking like me sometime during the course of the rest of your lifetime. do you want your offspring to do to you what you’re teaching them to do to me? do you want them to fear you the way you’re teaching them to fear me? when your hair falls out and you get skinny, to you want them to think you’re as ugly as you think i am (or imply that i am, i guess i should say) and are teaching them i am?

(5) you don’t know me. but maybe you should. because that upbeat, defiant, f**k you being i show to you is me, not what someone tells me i should be. you’ve got a better chance of being afflicted with cancer than you have surviving the rest of your life unscathed. so maybe you should eschew the susan “corporate amerika” komen foundation bullshit, rub the bleach off your teeny bleached braincells and THINK for yourself.

i’m glad you asked. aren’t you?

notes for cannibal and/or cannibal junior: check.

notes for nurses: check.

grocery list for post-treatment shopping.

cheesy magazine: check.

ikea 2009 catalogue: check. (i need new coverings for my patio door - the fussy sheer curtains just aren’t doing it for me and, frankly, look out of place in an otherwise mid-century modern house.)

instruction book for vidcam that’s been sitting here for one day shy of three weeks while i hid (or should i say continued to hide) in my cave and dealt with mental stress: check. (jezuz christ on a cracker i have literally had no recovery time in a month because of this bullshit.)

extremely extraordinary book: check.

tissues to go with extremely extraordinary book: no-check. they will be pilfered from the nurses’ station.

cereal bars: check.

extra socksies (so i don’t have to walk around on ookey floors in the same socksies that actually touch my feet): small-check. they’re in the laundry basket and just need to be picked out.

hat: check.

dwight or candi: no-check. they’re still vying for position, and i’m still trying to decide which to bring along. (basha, meanwhile, is just sitting here resting up against my laptop and not wanting to do anything but that. [i moved her to a new location for less than 30 minutes, in fact, and she was so miserable she kept trying to squirm back. so i move her back. she’s happy where she is.] zola’s sleeping in the bedroom. shelly’s hiding in the closet and making her escape plans [she wants a new mummy - and i want to make her happy - but i’m having a lot of trouble finding someone that wants her and is willing to live with my rule - which is no sale, ever, no matter how much she ends up being appraised at] and the little ones are having what’s either a party or a brawl in their box - i’m too afraid to look. all the real stuffies are where they like to be and all cozy and happy. except, that is, for the cows and winkie. aw, who they were gifts for over the years, shoved them in my garage in the bottom of a box. they’ll be going for a ride in the washing machine and dryer tomorrow - then picking out where they’d like to hang out for the immediate. )

blankey for keeping warm and snuggling up with: small-check. it’s on the back of my desk chair right now. i’ll grab it on the way out.

port-appropriate shirt for bloodletting and chemo infusing: small-check. i know which shirt i’m going to wear - but have to unearth it from its drawer.

jacket to wear over teeny tiny port-appropriate shirt: small-check. it’s in the closet. i’ll put in on after the shirt.

well, isn’t that a lot of things to be toting around? i’m sure the average person would say “well, duh” - but the average person doesn’t have to spend up to five hours attached to a machine and, for the most part, sequestered to a horribly uncomfortable, vinyl-covered lounge chair. and with no wi-fi. how too old school for words. of course i hope to get in a nice fat nap while there - and if i do this will all be moot.

why spend thousands upon thousands of dollars on silicone or saline, post-bc titties when you can use a commonly found cheap drink and a retrofitted bra to fill the void:

from 0 to 2-cup sizes for $29.99

be sure to take the time to study the animated gif.

i want to say something pithy here. insert something pithy here. and while you’re at it, add a huge helping (up to 24 oz!) of liquid pity.

with only herceptin pumped into my body yesterday and no xeloda taken today, the body is going up and down like a balloon. it’s funny to watch. one minute my ankles are almost normal. the next they’re back to “little old lady sitting on a stoop in brooklyn with her stockings rolled down” fat and bloated. the tummy goes from 5 month baby bump to 2 month baby bump to a four month baby bump in a matter of an hour. and my legs go from shiny silly putty dimple texture to normal texture from second to second.

i should set my video camera up and just sit still in front of it for an hour or two - then download and speed up the footage and render it out for all to see. i’m sure i could find appropriate music to set it to. up and down and in and out and up and down and in and out. i’m a human accordion.

but i can’t complain. i had an entire afternoon of little swelling and very, very, very little pain. i was walking almost normally during my visit with jori and subsequent trip to the pharmacy. ‘even had to take care not to walk out of my slippers. gotta take the good with the bad. besides now i have an excuse to wedge myself into the wedge and read. it might not cause the ups and downs and ins and outs to stop - but at least i won’t be in the position (literally) to notice.

well would you look at that? it’s the weekend! we’re gonna be partying it up here in oly, that’s for sure. laundry. foot scraping. cooking a bunch of yummy veggies i purchased today. and getting new eyebrows.

i’ve got an appointment with jori tomorrow. the eyebrows arrived in the mail earlier this week. jori’s going to groom them, teach me how to apply them properly - then teach me how to make them look like my own. if all goes well, by 2:00 tomorrow afternoon i’ll not have to rely on the sparse little pencil-line lines above my eyes anymore.

since some people don’t have or know how to use webchat, and some are just curious onlookers who need to “see” for real, i’ve attached two piccies of me with those little pencil-line lines.

well at least they kept their shape.

this is dwight the dear deer hunter. i think there’s a close resemblance (in more ways than one).

so yes, new eyebrows are on their way.

i’ll be kinda sad to not look like dwight anymore, though. i’ve spent hours practicing - but without the eyebrows it won’t be the same.

(got the old keyboard out of the garage. it’ll do until i can get another. this time it won’t be apple brand.)

if you recall, in this post i pouted and groused (all in good fun of course - sometimes i’m not convinced my sense of humour shows through to those that don’t know me really well) over not having tokens or charms to commemorate my milestones like the aa folks do. well…

i do now. or i should say will soon.

thanks to the wonders of etsy and its artist piano bench designs (whom i’ve made two purchases from) i’m gonna get my charms. ‘keeping it quiet right now - but look for piccies sometime soon.

so take that you aa people! nah nah nah nah nah!!!