Calling Out Sick

I’m not very good at being sick. I’m worse at calling out sick from work. Over the years I’ve mostly used my sick days for appointments or when my own child was home sick from school. When I was teaching it was more of a nuisance to prepare a lesson plan for a sub. Easier to just work through the coughs and sneezes.

I don’t believe that having cancer is a license to call out sick. My friend Cathy keeps yelling at me and says to stop being a martyr. Over the past few months I HAVE called out sick a few times and I know there will be several more times before this is over. The chemo side effects were/are so uncomfortable that I can’t be at 100%. Working in retail requires me to be at the top of my game all the time. Customers don’t care if your jade plant wilted, if you have a toothache or if you’re going through a life change. And guess what? They’re right. The customer has the right to my 100% attention focused on them. I treat my customers the way I myself like to be treated when doing a little retail therapy.

And so, unless I can’t stand up to do my job or at least perch in a visible place, I will continue to work. I may not have a license to call out sick, but once in a while I’ll pull a temporary permit.

Have a good week, all!

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

“Oh, my hair”-Goldie Hawn in Overboard

Self-denial is a wonderful thing. Lose my hair? No way. Uh. Let’s rethink that.

For the most of my life I’ve had long, thick, beautiful hair. At the present I have non-existent hair, which is freaking me out a little. Yes, I know it will grow back, but what to do in the meantime?

When my long strands started molting I made an appointment with my hairstylist for a short pixie cut. I left my long hair to be donated to kids with cancer. Within a few days I got used to that look. Swiped my son Spencer’s hair gel and I was rocker girl.

A week later I was shedding worse than my cats. Between the two of them and myself I could have hooked a rug. One evening as I was cooking, I noticed my hair all over the kitchen counter. No good. I took a deep breath and said to my husband, OK, it’s time. We waltzed into the bathroom and buzzed it all off. I wept. I screamed. I laughed when Spencer gave me a mohawk. I cried again. I cried all night.

Then I pulled up my big girl bloomers and popped on the wig I had purchased the week before. Not so shabby. Aside from the fact that I looked like a soccer mom it would do in a pinch. Not the most comfortable thing in the world, but at least I wouldn’t scare anyone.

A few weeks ago I went to a workshop for women going through chemo. It was all about makeup, hats, wigs and scarves. We all received a beautiful bag of products. The product junky in me swooned. But the best part was learning how to make turbans from scarves and tee shirts. Yes, that’s right. A plain old t-shirt. Cut off the bottom half and voila! Following the workshop I drove right over to Marshall’s and purchased a beautiful melon green men’s t-shirt. What? Of course I did! Check out the sidebar.

Isn’t it cute? I added a floral scarf to make it tropical. Pina colada anyone??

I don’t walk out of the house without makeup and therefore I won’t walk out of the house without something on my head. I may have lost all my hair but I’ll be sportin’ some fabulous new head coverings this summer. Carmen Miranda eat your heart out!!!

PS: A big shout out to my big sis Linda who sent me some fab turbans! Love you sis!

To Share or Not to Share IS that the Question?

“ I may have cancer, but cancer most definitely does NOT have me” ~Ellen Garfield

Just exactly how does one share the news of positive biopsy? I was reluctant to say anything to anyone barring my immediate family. It’s kind of a surreal situation.

I told my co-workers first. Then a few select friends. I didn’t want to make a public announcement but I knew sooner or later the cat would be out of the bag. I didn’t want my larger circle of friends to feel bad that I didn’t disclose the fact I have cancer. What? Why didn’t you say something? So I knew something had to be done.

I did a subtle photo thing on Facebook of me with short hair. I commented that pretty soon there would be no hair. My friends are so clever. They got it. Phew.

I did two or three updates but I didn’t want to shove my issues into people’s faces. This is why I’m doing the blog. Easier to say all of this in a post rather than in daily fb updates. Status updates can be obnoxious.

What amazed me is that I learned about how many people I know went through all of this. Women. Men. Old high school friends. People from my community. It’s like an elite club. Totally eye opening. Different people, different experiences. Everyone has a story and every story is unique.

I’ve received some cool advice from some more than cool people. My support system is so strong that I couldn’t break it if I tried.

I didn’t ask for this to happen, but I know I will become a stronger and more caring person by the time I am free from this poison.

I MAY HAVE CANCER BUT CANCER MOST DEFINITELY DOES NOT HAVE ME!!

Have a great week all!

My Very Own Pharmacy!

The other day I was looking in my linen closet and I realized I have enough pills and other assorted cancer related concoctions (mouth washes) to open up my own pharmacy.

My Dr. (Erica Linden) is the most awesome person. If one pill doesn’t work, she orders another. I’m still holding out for the medical marijuana but I don’t see that happening anytime soon. Besides, what good is it in pill form? I mean come on.

Some pills work. Some don’t. It’s good to have a back up. What’s not good is that each RX is a co-pay. Hmmm. As far as I can figure, I have spent enough in co-pays to buy a new spring wardrobe. Talk about putting it into perspective. OK, I did buy some new head wraps. I don’t think that counts.

I’m still all about using kitchen remedies. Ginger tea helps with the queasy factor. In fact anything ginger is awesome. My friend Cathy says she hates ginger. Thinks it tastes like soap. I love it. Ginger cookies, ginger in stir-fry, ginger chewy candy from the Cambodian market, not fond of ginger ale but if it works I’m in.

I have one more session of the queasy infusions. Oh dear. What to do with all the pills? I wonder if I can sell them back to the pharmacy at half price. I think the answer to that is a resounding I don’t think so.

In the meantime, my evil spa attendant Rosemary will continue to pump me up. Just kidding. Rosemary is the greatest! And she’s a dancer. Near and dear to my heart.

My phone alarm just went off. Time for another pill!

Tests, Exams But No Spring Break??

When one has cancer, there are a multitude of tests to endure. These tests involve drinking strange liquids and having strange liquids pumped into your veins. Needless to say I’m not one for needles or strange substances that don’t taste delicious. Make that drink into a New York egg cream and I’m all yours.

CT scans. Bone scans. Blood tests. I was radioactive. I even had a little card that could get me through the metal detector at work being that I had nuclear fluids coursing through my delicate veins.

To make matters easier on my overworked veins I had a port installed below my collarbone. I named her Irma. It’s terribly convenient. My arms were beginning to look like modern art in purple, yellow and grey.

I didn’t know what a port was. It’s not something I would have seen before. So my doctor Googled port so I could get a visual. Of course when you Google port images, you come up with ships and sailors. Oops. Wrong port. But if sailors come with it….

We finally found the right port and it kind of looks like the Starship Enterprise. OK, cool.

Beam me up Scotty.

The one test that I would rather not repeat again was the dreaded breast MRI. Forty minutes in a squashed state of discomfort. I felt like a mozzarella panino oozing out at the sides. Either that or a Fluff sandwich. I hate Marshmallow Fluff. Breathing was difficult. A root canal is easier.

I’m very blessed to be a patient in a state –of- the- art facility here in the Boston area. All the newest technology is available and it gives me a sense of relief. Cancer is a terrible thing for everyone and anyone. Thank you MGH Danvers.

So, egg cream anyone???

3 down. 5 to go!

The Chemo Spa

“The unknown is not what to be afraid of, it’s only when the unknown becomes known that one can decide whether to be afraid or not.”
― Markus Peterson

I had no idea what to expect, my first time going into chemotherapy. Would it hurt? Would I die an agonizing death worthy of an Oscar? Would I crumble and cry and moan?

Well folks. It was none of the above.

I was in a room. A large bright room with a wall of windows and I got to choose my seat as there was no assigned seating. So I chose a window seat. Well? Why not? Sat down in the comfiest chair ever. Personal remote to control the chair. I could use one of these at home. Little side tables attached to the arms with cup holders built in. Personal TV with remote. Place to plug in my phone charger which I inconveniently left at the hospital the first time. Oops. Blame it on chemo brain. Oh, and I wear my clothes. No need to change into hospital attire. I like that part.

The infusions last about three hours. What to do with three hours of time? Of course knowing me, you’ll all say so? How many books did you read? Actually, so far, none. I had guests and visiting dignitaries (hospital personnel) and lunch catered by Henri’s and before I knew it the time was up. I had a little stack of books and mags on my side table and I didn’t crack a spine.

My spa attendant Rosemary donned a biohazard blue coat, hat and the matching gloves. When I asked why, she assured me it would keep the chemicals from touching her skin or clothes if there should be a leak. At this point my husband leaped up and backed away from all of us. Stuart tends to be a bit dramatic. Personally I thought the blue did nothing for Rosemary. I would have chosen a plum to go with her skin coloring. She agreed. I love my nurse.

The second chemo spa was pretty much the same. I was told all my blood levels are spot on except my potassium levels were low. Bananas, tomatoes, potatoes. What?? Potatoes?? Really? Only my favorite food group next to pizza. I immediately scarfed down a bag of Lays.

And so. Two down, six to go. The side effects are not pleasant but I’ll get to that in another post.

Happy Monday all!

Pull Up Your Big Girl Bloomers and Get On With It

Let’s face it. There really is no easy way to acknowledge having any form of cancer. It sucks any way you look at it.

So here I am with Stage 2B breast cancer. Stage 2B. Sounds like some sort of theatrical production. Except it’s not.

After the initial freak out, crying, whining “why me”, I took a good look at all the facts and what I would be facing in the next year. Yes, it’s going to be long. Yes, it’s going to be trying. Yes, I’ll feel sick. And yes, there will be days when I don’t feel like communicating with the world let alone my immediate surroundings.

I have a great medical team. This is important. But what’s more important is the support of my family and friends around the world. Without them I would be reduced to a blob on the couch, wallowing in self-pity. I don’t do self-pity very well. Therefore take note, friends and family. The minute you see me fall below the surface, make sure you grab me up by the roots and give me a good swift kick in the butt.

I was thinking of writing a book. Books about cancer can either be extremely depressing or totally inspirational. To tell the truth, I don’t really have the patience to write a book. Or the time. And besides, it’s been done so many times. Blogging is so much easier.

So here it is. The first post in The Chemical Diaries. Many more to come as I have lots to say. I mean cancer is where my body is at right now. I’ll take it as a learning experience. When I get to the final exam I’ll pass with flying colors. Head of the dean’s list!