Quick blog is a good blog they say so this quickee comes to you post teaching an RPM (spin) class in Byron Bay exactly 1 week after my last grumble bum post. Welcome to the roller coaster ride of energy and emotions that is chemotherapy.
This time last week I could barely lift my head off the oversized couch pillow to moan about how bad I felt, today Sunday, I am feeling energised and bubbly and full of beans. I have basically two more days of improved health and well being before I burst my own bubble and extend my arm out for my toxic Cosmopolitan. Boom. Back to clawing my way from the deep dark poisoned tunnel. However, this time the light at the top is shining that much brighter and the climb, which is now so very familiar, wont be easier (it's an accumulation that means the worst is saved for last) but it will be mastered with a sure foot and a steady hand knowing its my final climb. Like the old Capricorn Goat, i will put my head down and steadily climb to the top, not stopping until i can only feel sunshine on my back and now very bald head (or flooding rain as the case may be!). Either way I won't care. Because I will be done with chemo.
I feel so strong at the moment that i wish i could piggy back some of those beautiful people inside that Oncology Unit and take them with me. But for many, a final climb sadly is a way off. I've talked about taking a small bottle of champagne into the final chemo on Wednesday and celebrating with John and the staff, but I am conscious that my situation would only serve as a painful reminder to others that they aren't there yet. And that just wouldn't be right. So as much as I'd like to get out of that chair Wednesday and do a Toyota 'oh what a feeling' tuck jump in the air, hug everyone that dares to be within arms reach, cartwheel out and dance down the hospital corridor singing loudly, I will actually quietly thank my base 2 Oncology Team, wish my chemo colleagues all my best and do my celebrating in private. But you out there, my bloggy friends, my beautiful amazing supportive incredible team had better get ready for a major punch in the air, twirly hug and big fat sloppy kisses from me. Sooooooon!
I have already had preliminary contact with my third base coach Michael. He's a surfer dude from Melbourne that 'commutes' to Lismore during week days and is based in Lennox Head. Talk about an arrangement that provides the best of both worlds. Coastal gorgeousness week days and bright lights big city weekends. An arrangement he grinned when indicating works well for he and his family. I really like him, he's kind of casual in appearance but when you dig into credentials, clearly knows his stuff. We have more appointments and discussion (official term "planning") to do which includes scanning and a tattooing process! Tadaaaa my first tatt ! And I always thought it would be on my hip and be something mysterious and sexy. Oh well ;-)
The weather continues to work well with my lethargy and crappy symptoms - flooding rain and winds that pretty much discount any chance for outdoor activities unless you are into 'tough mudder' which is apparently some new boot camp craze where Exec types sign up to be yelled at and made crawl through mud tunnels and climb slippery ropes army style all for a sizeable fee. And yes, I did google to see where the closest one was cause it kinda looks like fun :-) You get an "I am a tough mudder" free t shirt by the way if u sign up. Just saying.
My gorgeous colleague Silvana whom I will hug so tightly I'm going to make her squeal when I see her next, left me a quote in my last blog which Ive hung on to all week. She said 'Life is like a Grindstone - whether it grinds you down or polishes you depends on the material you are made of'. I love it and it spoke deeply to me this past week as I struggled through some of the harder symptoms of this treatment so far. I needed to look deep deep inside myself to remember the person i was or am capable of being. Every now and then i recognise Kym, the old Kym. Just this week in the throws of flooding rain and a little house in Wooloweyah near Yamba, i cranked a favourite song on and danced in the rain with these big fat droplets falling on my bald head. It felt amazing and i thought to myself 'how fortunate am i to experience this as a woman?!' - I was all alone (well Murphy thought it was a dumb idea) and I sang at the top of my lungs barefoot and bald....
Like a gift from the heavens, it was easy to tell
It was love from above that could save me from hell
She had fire in her soul it was easy to see
How the devil himself could be pulled out of me
There were drums in the air as she started to dance
Every soul in the room keeping time with their hands.....
I can confirm that no matter how tough its been i never lose sight of the fact I have every intention to emerge sparkley Kym at the end of this journey - with the hardest game of my life behind me and a whole lot of amazing life yet to experience. My grindstones working overtime right now cause I'm chipped, broken and a little cloudy but I'm also made of tough stuff that I have faith will polish up ever so well.......heading to third base, enter Sparkely Kym. X
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
What can I do?????
It's Sunday afternoon, day 5 of chemo hit three. It's a critical stage for me and based on how I've travelled in previous chemo hits, I know it can tend to be a low point. I am reluctant to blog on these days because they really are few and far between but I guess it wouldn't be an accurate journal of this process if I avoided talking about the occasional low day. I may write this then delete it and never share in some cathartic effort to shed my disposition. Or I may decide you poor suckers have to share some pain with me and go ahead and publish. My advice is if I have gone ahead and this is my blog, stop reading and go pour yourself a drink or go have a swim or something,anything other than subject yourself to my grumbly rantings. I have an oversized pair of cranky pants on and i cant find the shoestring to untie them right now. Even Murphy is over me today. And I knew it was going to be a hard day almost instantly after I opened my eyes this morning.
It's raining which doesn't help although in my own glumness, I am quietly relieved that my inability to get up and get out there is reflected in the weather also. It's so much worse when it's gloriously sunny and your blood count is so low you can't find the energy to look in the cupboard for your bikini let alone lather up and deal with sand. I feel for the last of the holiday makers, the stragglers and the hard core, still hanging in up here as the weather turns a bit so so which gives me hope i can still summons empathy for others instead of being so focused on myself. But enough about them....... :-) ahhh the weather, one minute its steamy and sunny, the next a downpour. Be nice to run in, if only I could. Baaaaaah.
I've tried not to blog much about the symptoms of chemo and there is a reason for that. I have hardly been whacked by them. I have really felt pretty happy with how Ive managed to work through each of the cycles with minimum pain and not THAT much inconvenience. But today it seems that chemo has decided to amp up its efforts against me and hit me with several whammys all at once. Of course, I need to embrace these signs as it clearly is my body confirming for me that the treatment is working. I'd yell 'go your hardest' but today, I think it is. I was starkely reminded by Boycey not that long ago when I asked about taking a muli vitamin to help build me up, that and I quote " we are trying to kill things here Kym" and so we are. And today, right now, I feel like chemo really is slowly killing me. My resilience and efforts in applying a positive mental attitude is being very much tested, right now, as i write. I have been lying almost comatosed on the lounge for hours watching the rain fall in between the sunny hits. There is a section on the back deck where the rain strikes more heavily than other parts ( fix-a-upper house this one) and I've been lying here watching the droplets fall noticing that the wood on that part of the deck has been worn down over time much more than the rest of the deck. And I feel the parallism with every drip drip. It's not one thing, we can all cope with one symptom or another, but the accumulation that is wearing me down. Over the past day or so I have experienced....from the top people,
Sensitive scalp linked to hair loss;
Stinging eyes which I fear has a link to eyelashes falling out (altho I am happy they're still here!);
Aching gums;
Metal taste buds;
Nose bleeds - due to platelet levels;
Sore mouth in general although I am soooooo happy to report no ulcers;
A cough and cold which has now been going on 22 days, quite frankly,just ridiculous;
Aching bones specifically in my chest plate
And a general lethargy which makes recognising myself almost impossible.
I am tired. Really tired. Not just in the physical sense but mentally. This treatment is wearing me down. So what to do? Well, rest is not even an option but an obligation. I have no choice, my body refuses any other remedy. I am also reading. At the moment I am reading Andre Agassi's autobiography Open. It's been great because (a) Andre's bald like me and (b) he talks a lot about his demons, his mental attitude, his vulnerability, his pain and his search. It's been great to read into the psyche of someone whom presents in their peak form but in fact, has the greatet battles mentally within themselves. Command and control. Shouldn't it be that easy?
Apparently not.
I am laying low today although Bert in her magical way still managed to get me out briefly (a thousand loves to you) and I will return the check up calls and texts tomorrow to the other beautiful people I have missed today, I know I will.
I also know today will pass and tomorrow I could well wake at 5:30am and think about a walk and a swim, a gym class, popping into the office or a goal or 7. Therein lies probably the number one all blazing symptom of chemo for me.....I just won't know until tomorrow. Above all I will work hard at exercising patience and acceptance that this is what 'normal people' experience as part of chemo and that it's all ok. I need to resist viewing rest as a sign of weakness or laziness.
There is a quote I've discovered in my search to boost my inner strength and resilience and it's from a British Politician and novelist that says
" Patience is not passive, on the contrary, it is active because it is concentrated strength".
Concentrated Strength. I like it. That's what I'll do.....K x
It's raining which doesn't help although in my own glumness, I am quietly relieved that my inability to get up and get out there is reflected in the weather also. It's so much worse when it's gloriously sunny and your blood count is so low you can't find the energy to look in the cupboard for your bikini let alone lather up and deal with sand. I feel for the last of the holiday makers, the stragglers and the hard core, still hanging in up here as the weather turns a bit so so which gives me hope i can still summons empathy for others instead of being so focused on myself. But enough about them....... :-) ahhh the weather, one minute its steamy and sunny, the next a downpour. Be nice to run in, if only I could. Baaaaaah.
I've tried not to blog much about the symptoms of chemo and there is a reason for that. I have hardly been whacked by them. I have really felt pretty happy with how Ive managed to work through each of the cycles with minimum pain and not THAT much inconvenience. But today it seems that chemo has decided to amp up its efforts against me and hit me with several whammys all at once. Of course, I need to embrace these signs as it clearly is my body confirming for me that the treatment is working. I'd yell 'go your hardest' but today, I think it is. I was starkely reminded by Boycey not that long ago when I asked about taking a muli vitamin to help build me up, that and I quote " we are trying to kill things here Kym" and so we are. And today, right now, I feel like chemo really is slowly killing me. My resilience and efforts in applying a positive mental attitude is being very much tested, right now, as i write. I have been lying almost comatosed on the lounge for hours watching the rain fall in between the sunny hits. There is a section on the back deck where the rain strikes more heavily than other parts ( fix-a-upper house this one) and I've been lying here watching the droplets fall noticing that the wood on that part of the deck has been worn down over time much more than the rest of the deck. And I feel the parallism with every drip drip. It's not one thing, we can all cope with one symptom or another, but the accumulation that is wearing me down. Over the past day or so I have experienced....from the top people,
Sensitive scalp linked to hair loss;
Stinging eyes which I fear has a link to eyelashes falling out (altho I am happy they're still here!);
Aching gums;
Metal taste buds;
Nose bleeds - due to platelet levels;
Sore mouth in general although I am soooooo happy to report no ulcers;
A cough and cold which has now been going on 22 days, quite frankly,just ridiculous;
Aching bones specifically in my chest plate
And a general lethargy which makes recognising myself almost impossible.
I am tired. Really tired. Not just in the physical sense but mentally. This treatment is wearing me down. So what to do? Well, rest is not even an option but an obligation. I have no choice, my body refuses any other remedy. I am also reading. At the moment I am reading Andre Agassi's autobiography Open. It's been great because (a) Andre's bald like me and (b) he talks a lot about his demons, his mental attitude, his vulnerability, his pain and his search. It's been great to read into the psyche of someone whom presents in their peak form but in fact, has the greatet battles mentally within themselves. Command and control. Shouldn't it be that easy?
Apparently not.
I am laying low today although Bert in her magical way still managed to get me out briefly (a thousand loves to you) and I will return the check up calls and texts tomorrow to the other beautiful people I have missed today, I know I will.
I also know today will pass and tomorrow I could well wake at 5:30am and think about a walk and a swim, a gym class, popping into the office or a goal or 7. Therein lies probably the number one all blazing symptom of chemo for me.....I just won't know until tomorrow. Above all I will work hard at exercising patience and acceptance that this is what 'normal people' experience as part of chemo and that it's all ok. I need to resist viewing rest as a sign of weakness or laziness.
There is a quote I've discovered in my search to boost my inner strength and resilience and it's from a British Politician and novelist that says
" Patience is not passive, on the contrary, it is active because it is concentrated strength".
Concentrated Strength. I like it. That's what I'll do.....K x
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
It's the official half time call to second base :)
This blog is coming to you live from the chemo chair! Yep, I am tilted back, comfy cosy, under a blanket as it pours outside punching out a one handed blog. My other arm is strapped to a big bag of toxic fluid and I'm choosing to pay it no attention. I still do my visualisation with the giant mop throughout my body but I am less hypnotised by it these days and a bit more matter of fact. Chemo shmemo, Cause Ladies and Gentlemen.....I am half way through this chemo business!!!!
So to describe the Oncology unit and process - I have discovered that an early arrival is highly beneficial. Firstly it is much more peaceful and feels like a more controlled environment. In an hour it will be full of patients like me, along with support people, all needing attention in some form or another. It just means the staff move faster, chat less and the noise level rises. Right now I am only one of 4 being treated and to my pleasure, I am hooked up first and on my way. They warm up my arm with a wheat pack to pump up my vein and then in goes the cannula. It hurt a bit today as the vein they chose was right on the side of my wrist with not much between vein and bone. Ouch! I then get a saline flush, an injection of steroid with the nickname Dexy (as in the midnight runner) and then my giant syringe of Cosmopolitan gets manually injected through the cannula and in to me. The cranberry mop. It looks toxic and as I watch it travel along the plastic tube into my arm, I visualise it racing to every inch of my body - from the tip of my skull to my toe nails and all points in between, seeking out any rogue cancer cells and snuffing them out - obliterated, expunged, eradicated, stamped out and swept away. Gonski.
The staff are dressed in chemical warfare gear from head to toe. Bright purple rubber gloves (and I've noticed my file is purple, my hospital arm band is purple and the big plastic bags they dump everything into is purple so I can only assume it is the official cancer colour in the NSW Hospital system). Either that or the staff have a fetish for the purple dinasaur Barney. Knowing a special Barney myself I can completely understand ;-) But it is certainly in stark contrast that in some weirdly lopsided partnership you sit together, one team member looking like they are entering a nuclear plant holding a giant syringe of something dreadful while the other sits in Lorna Jane pants and singlet top with an exposed arm and gives permission to be injected with it.
There are Volunteers that wander around the room asking if you want a tea, a bun, a biscuit, a tea, a blanket, a chat, a tea. They are generous women who generally have their special volunteer day and they get to know you on a personal level. Occasionally on the quiet, they morph into pseudo nursing staff although to my nervous amusement, they tend to have to lean in close and whisper their medical recommendation or observation to you or alternatively they talk out of the corner of their mouth so as not to be caught crossing the obvious boundary. Its probably incredibly annoying for the qualified nursing staff but i find it comical to watch in a slightly disturbed kind of way.
But really, everyone in this room has your best interest at heart and as you glance around and catch the eye of a fellow patient, there is an immediate connection of empathy and understanding and a shared respect for the staff and volunteers scattered and busy throughout this ice cold room. I may have blogged about this before but one of the surprising aspects of an oncology ward is that it is completely devoid of privacy. There is no quiet space for consultation and as I write this two of the staff are discussing the nausea and diarrhoea concerns for the frail woman sitting two chairs up from me. I want to cringe on her behalf but she seems fine having the conversation - perhaps she has been in that chair long enough she has become immune to the fact her personal health issues are being openly discussed in the presence of strangers. For me, I was horrified the first time I was exposed to an oncology unit and even more petrified during first chemo when i realised my cancer and my treatment and any side effects would be openly discussed in a forum such as this. So much so I asked lovely Kylie from last treatment did she know why the set up is like it is. It seems the overriding reason is the capacity of the nursing staff to monitor multiple people at any one time and so having us all lined up in plush chairs allows that to happen. And given I have been one of those 'problem children' turning a deep shade of purple (I was just trying to fit in with the corporate colour!) during the administering of my treatment, I was grateful to have several staff at my side in a skinny second turning machines off and sorting me out.
So here I am celebrating the half way mark between first and second base by blogging to you. The optimist in me wants to say that when they pull this giant needle out of my arm and I wave goodbye to the lovely staff and leave, I am in fact three quarters done. And I am in terms of chemo treatments. But the realistic Kymmy acknowledges that I still have to endure this cycle and all that is packaged in it (and who knows what that might include) before I can actually say I've only a quarter to go. So, today, I sit at the half way mark and I feel a sense of renewed energy for the back end of the chemo push.
It has been a nervous lead up to this point. I've been battling a cold and cough since New Years Day that I just can't shake. On top of that I had a game plan huddle with Boycey last Friday and he told me my bloods (taken the day before) were "disappointingly low". Oh no, I can't bare to disappoint my base coach. In that same conversation he indicated if my white blood cells didn't throw themselves a major regeneration party between now and the day before chemo - Boycey would be calling time out on the game and benching me for another week. I was gutted to say the least. One week delay just pushes this whole experience further from my reach. So i took the initial emotional energy of disappointment and turned it into a personal mission. How do I regenerate blood cells quickly and how can I ensure my chemo proceeds as planned? Well, first of all you tell every person that will listen to you that for the next three days they are to send positive thoughts and if that includes 'a soft shoe shuffle white cell dance' in their lounge room, then so be it. Then you eat lots of good stuff and you drink vegetable juices, exercise (moderately) and you conduct yet another visualisation. For me this consisted of a good white cell kind of wobbling to dance music and as it vibrates, brushing against a dormant white cell, bumping the dormant cell into action so that they both vibrated to music together - multiply that visual by thousands and my whole body is alive with dancing white blood cells. Like one giant rave party that lasted for three days. And it worked!
Yesterday after I gave blood, I figured my fate was sealed. I couldn't change the outcome and I wouldn't know until that afternoon what it was so I would push a new boundary with my first 'run'. It was technically a run/walk really as I'd decided I would run for 10 minutes, walk for 5 minutes, run ten, walk five until I'd kicked over 1 hr. It hurt. A lot. My lungs felt like someone was squeezing them - hard to know whether that's chemo and low cell count or deteriorated fitness. I'd guess both. But what I am happy to report is that there is nothing wrong with my mind. I feel strong, determined to make this happen and as I was running I set small goals and achieved them. Just run to the next corner and you can stop. Now your almost there, just run until track 6 ends, now run until you pass these people etc etc. so that actually I ran longer than 10 min intervals and walked less. During my run/walk two cars passed me and beeped, sticking arms out with the thumbs up sign. I have no idea who either of the drivers were, my sunglasses were splattered with misty rain but also my focus was so sharply tuned to my breathing and my internal conversations. However if your reading this blog and it was you my friend, thank you from the depth of my heart. Your simple act of recognition and support physically boosted me as I ran and I hope you saw my smile in your rear vision mirror.
The rain grew heavier as I got closer to the end almost like Mother Nature knew I needed a lift in intensity to get through the last 15 minutes. So I whipped off my Nike Skull cap (because baldness should never compromise cool factor :-)) and I ran the last section with my exposed egg head and rain beating down on it. It is an amazing feeling. Despite my ailing fitness, I am very happy with my internal strength. You see I am a Capricorn and I am surrounded by Capricorns, my Poppa was one, my Mum and Dad are both Capricorns, my sister is too along with my Fairy Godmother and mentor Wendy, my sister in chemo Nel and my beautiful mate Xanthe who in her late forties is still representing the state for dragon boat racing in a boat full of chicks half her age. So proud of you - go girl. And one thing about us Capricorns is that we never never never give up. Like an old goat, we just keep climbing and we always find a way to our goals. As I ran yesterday I played an old RPM (spin class) release and the final track is aptly named 'Cry For You'. Of course it is about a breakup but as I ran I felt like the song was speaking just to me about my cancer "Forever and ever, life is now or never. You'll never see me again! So now who's gonna cry for you? You'll never see me again, no matter what you do." I cried as I ran the last section but it was a happy empowered cry. And this morning I played the same song for my early morning spin class (love that team) and instead of crying there were cheers as i whipped my dry-fit red bandana off (because baldness should never compromise cool factor - hehe) we climbed a mountain together knowing 2 hours later I would be strapped to this chair. Again, so so grateful for the solidarity, love and support.
I intend to train my body to meet my mind over the coming months. My chemo is officially done for today and the cannula is out of my arm. Half way. Second base just doesn't seem so far. :-)
What the human mind can conceive and believe, it can achieve.
Much love xxx
So to describe the Oncology unit and process - I have discovered that an early arrival is highly beneficial. Firstly it is much more peaceful and feels like a more controlled environment. In an hour it will be full of patients like me, along with support people, all needing attention in some form or another. It just means the staff move faster, chat less and the noise level rises. Right now I am only one of 4 being treated and to my pleasure, I am hooked up first and on my way. They warm up my arm with a wheat pack to pump up my vein and then in goes the cannula. It hurt a bit today as the vein they chose was right on the side of my wrist with not much between vein and bone. Ouch! I then get a saline flush, an injection of steroid with the nickname Dexy (as in the midnight runner) and then my giant syringe of Cosmopolitan gets manually injected through the cannula and in to me. The cranberry mop. It looks toxic and as I watch it travel along the plastic tube into my arm, I visualise it racing to every inch of my body - from the tip of my skull to my toe nails and all points in between, seeking out any rogue cancer cells and snuffing them out - obliterated, expunged, eradicated, stamped out and swept away. Gonski.
The staff are dressed in chemical warfare gear from head to toe. Bright purple rubber gloves (and I've noticed my file is purple, my hospital arm band is purple and the big plastic bags they dump everything into is purple so I can only assume it is the official cancer colour in the NSW Hospital system). Either that or the staff have a fetish for the purple dinasaur Barney. Knowing a special Barney myself I can completely understand ;-) But it is certainly in stark contrast that in some weirdly lopsided partnership you sit together, one team member looking like they are entering a nuclear plant holding a giant syringe of something dreadful while the other sits in Lorna Jane pants and singlet top with an exposed arm and gives permission to be injected with it.
There are Volunteers that wander around the room asking if you want a tea, a bun, a biscuit, a tea, a blanket, a chat, a tea. They are generous women who generally have their special volunteer day and they get to know you on a personal level. Occasionally on the quiet, they morph into pseudo nursing staff although to my nervous amusement, they tend to have to lean in close and whisper their medical recommendation or observation to you or alternatively they talk out of the corner of their mouth so as not to be caught crossing the obvious boundary. Its probably incredibly annoying for the qualified nursing staff but i find it comical to watch in a slightly disturbed kind of way.
But really, everyone in this room has your best interest at heart and as you glance around and catch the eye of a fellow patient, there is an immediate connection of empathy and understanding and a shared respect for the staff and volunteers scattered and busy throughout this ice cold room. I may have blogged about this before but one of the surprising aspects of an oncology ward is that it is completely devoid of privacy. There is no quiet space for consultation and as I write this two of the staff are discussing the nausea and diarrhoea concerns for the frail woman sitting two chairs up from me. I want to cringe on her behalf but she seems fine having the conversation - perhaps she has been in that chair long enough she has become immune to the fact her personal health issues are being openly discussed in the presence of strangers. For me, I was horrified the first time I was exposed to an oncology unit and even more petrified during first chemo when i realised my cancer and my treatment and any side effects would be openly discussed in a forum such as this. So much so I asked lovely Kylie from last treatment did she know why the set up is like it is. It seems the overriding reason is the capacity of the nursing staff to monitor multiple people at any one time and so having us all lined up in plush chairs allows that to happen. And given I have been one of those 'problem children' turning a deep shade of purple (I was just trying to fit in with the corporate colour!) during the administering of my treatment, I was grateful to have several staff at my side in a skinny second turning machines off and sorting me out.
So here I am celebrating the half way mark between first and second base by blogging to you. The optimist in me wants to say that when they pull this giant needle out of my arm and I wave goodbye to the lovely staff and leave, I am in fact three quarters done. And I am in terms of chemo treatments. But the realistic Kymmy acknowledges that I still have to endure this cycle and all that is packaged in it (and who knows what that might include) before I can actually say I've only a quarter to go. So, today, I sit at the half way mark and I feel a sense of renewed energy for the back end of the chemo push.
It has been a nervous lead up to this point. I've been battling a cold and cough since New Years Day that I just can't shake. On top of that I had a game plan huddle with Boycey last Friday and he told me my bloods (taken the day before) were "disappointingly low". Oh no, I can't bare to disappoint my base coach. In that same conversation he indicated if my white blood cells didn't throw themselves a major regeneration party between now and the day before chemo - Boycey would be calling time out on the game and benching me for another week. I was gutted to say the least. One week delay just pushes this whole experience further from my reach. So i took the initial emotional energy of disappointment and turned it into a personal mission. How do I regenerate blood cells quickly and how can I ensure my chemo proceeds as planned? Well, first of all you tell every person that will listen to you that for the next three days they are to send positive thoughts and if that includes 'a soft shoe shuffle white cell dance' in their lounge room, then so be it. Then you eat lots of good stuff and you drink vegetable juices, exercise (moderately) and you conduct yet another visualisation. For me this consisted of a good white cell kind of wobbling to dance music and as it vibrates, brushing against a dormant white cell, bumping the dormant cell into action so that they both vibrated to music together - multiply that visual by thousands and my whole body is alive with dancing white blood cells. Like one giant rave party that lasted for three days. And it worked!
Yesterday after I gave blood, I figured my fate was sealed. I couldn't change the outcome and I wouldn't know until that afternoon what it was so I would push a new boundary with my first 'run'. It was technically a run/walk really as I'd decided I would run for 10 minutes, walk for 5 minutes, run ten, walk five until I'd kicked over 1 hr. It hurt. A lot. My lungs felt like someone was squeezing them - hard to know whether that's chemo and low cell count or deteriorated fitness. I'd guess both. But what I am happy to report is that there is nothing wrong with my mind. I feel strong, determined to make this happen and as I was running I set small goals and achieved them. Just run to the next corner and you can stop. Now your almost there, just run until track 6 ends, now run until you pass these people etc etc. so that actually I ran longer than 10 min intervals and walked less. During my run/walk two cars passed me and beeped, sticking arms out with the thumbs up sign. I have no idea who either of the drivers were, my sunglasses were splattered with misty rain but also my focus was so sharply tuned to my breathing and my internal conversations. However if your reading this blog and it was you my friend, thank you from the depth of my heart. Your simple act of recognition and support physically boosted me as I ran and I hope you saw my smile in your rear vision mirror.
The rain grew heavier as I got closer to the end almost like Mother Nature knew I needed a lift in intensity to get through the last 15 minutes. So I whipped off my Nike Skull cap (because baldness should never compromise cool factor :-)) and I ran the last section with my exposed egg head and rain beating down on it. It is an amazing feeling. Despite my ailing fitness, I am very happy with my internal strength. You see I am a Capricorn and I am surrounded by Capricorns, my Poppa was one, my Mum and Dad are both Capricorns, my sister is too along with my Fairy Godmother and mentor Wendy, my sister in chemo Nel and my beautiful mate Xanthe who in her late forties is still representing the state for dragon boat racing in a boat full of chicks half her age. So proud of you - go girl. And one thing about us Capricorns is that we never never never give up. Like an old goat, we just keep climbing and we always find a way to our goals. As I ran yesterday I played an old RPM (spin class) release and the final track is aptly named 'Cry For You'. Of course it is about a breakup but as I ran I felt like the song was speaking just to me about my cancer "Forever and ever, life is now or never. You'll never see me again! So now who's gonna cry for you? You'll never see me again, no matter what you do." I cried as I ran the last section but it was a happy empowered cry. And this morning I played the same song for my early morning spin class (love that team) and instead of crying there were cheers as i whipped my dry-fit red bandana off (because baldness should never compromise cool factor - hehe) we climbed a mountain together knowing 2 hours later I would be strapped to this chair. Again, so so grateful for the solidarity, love and support.
I intend to train my body to meet my mind over the coming months. My chemo is officially done for today and the cannula is out of my arm. Half way. Second base just doesn't seem so far. :-)
What the human mind can conceive and believe, it can achieve.
Much love xxx
Sunday, January 15, 2012
Gee, I'm running pretty fast for a 29 year old........
Okay, I'm going to just come straight out and say it. I turned a year older this week. So bloody what. What's a year? If you talk to my new best friend Boycey, I'm young. And he's really really smart so dont even bother arguing with him because he'd out debate you in his quiet talker kind of way AND he has access to nuclear weapons of mass destruction. So there.
Yeah yeah, 43, I'm even prepared to fess up about that in case you were wondering. It got me to thinking, as I often do these days horizontal on my new daybed (have I mentioned I'm in love with that thing?) just what amazing things have been achieved by someone my age. I think Im needing to focus on what lies ahead for me as opportunities, new adventures, living the extraordinary because right now, im feeling very ordinary. I look unwell, even though im actually feeling pretty good for someone on massive doses of toxin. But being bald kind of sticks you in the sick corner whether you are sick or not. Its like being unjustly punished and sent outside in school for something you laughed at but didnt instigate.
My fitness is slipping away from me, even though i try to do something physical daily. But the reality is, i cant go hard at anything. My lung capacity and low blood levels just wont allow it. I got a bit of a cold and a bad cough on New Years Day and basically i just cant shake it off. Again a sign my body is idleing at low gear and no matter how much my head wants to push into fifth and burn it up the hill, it's not shifting.
In saying all of that, and following on from my last blog, the new cocktail of chemo has in fact been quite good for me and I am pleased to say I feel incredibly grateful as ive hardly been sick at all. I have had comments from friends that I am 'glowing' (could that be a result of the nuclear plant gurgling away in my veins???) and look great etc. This is why you surround yourself with beautiful friends who know just the right thing to say when you feeling the most vulnerable. I do feel vulnerable. And I do feel like I am in a continual battle between my head and heart which want to remain positive, happy, cheerful and my body which feels at times like its completely given up on me, picked up stumps and is taking the slow walk home with its head hanging low and the occasional kick at a stone in the gravel. It's actually kind of tiring at times having to have the internal conversations to keep your spirits up, remember this is a short time in the grand scheme of life and that this will pass. And I do have them and I'm pleased to say, for the most part, my head and my heart win out every time and I can almost always find reasons to smile and remind myself why I am so fortunate to be who I am and doing what I am, right now.
So, I consulted Dr Google on successes at 43 for others and actually discovered something incredible. JFK was in fact my age when he became the US President! Now THAT is pretty impressive! Given I am only 4 days post my birthday, there's still time for my political career! And geez, the campaign tours in full swing RIGHT now for our US counterparts so if I just grow some hair quickly, decide on a platform, get some cash backing (readers?) and head on over, I could become the female equivalent of the identical achievement! Twins with JFK. :-)
How was your birthday i hear you ask? I woke early on the morning and wondered how the day would unfold. It was a divinely sunny day, even at 6am and the summer heat that had been steadily rising with every day on the far north coast, was reaching breaking point. It was also a full moon so night time equally spectacular. It was too hot to even have coffee on the deck early and so between telephone calls and social networking I had a busy morning chatting. John had indicated he would take the day off to take me to lunch 'out of town' where I could feel comfortable knowing no one would recognise me if I wanted to just whip my hat off and dine hard boiled egg style. I have to confess that I assumed John would wing it, not having the time to actually organise anything and that we would just drive and choose a spot to eat based on availability and view. And I am here to concede I completely underestimated him on this occasion. Because in fact he HAD booked a gorgeous restaurant in Burleigh Heads (1 hr north) and when we arrived, out on the deck overlooking the very clear ocean (nice right hand breaks for you surfers out there) were sitting Lyn, Ash and Julia! A coordinated effort by the A Team for a birthday surprise! It was a fabulous present - to spend hours chatting over good food with people that I love and that I know love me. Our friendships span almost two decades and are like food for my soul. The Woodies had taken the 2.5 hour drive south to be there which essentially meant a long 5 hour round trip and no time for guru business for lunch and Julia (aka Woman of Science/Crazy Lady) had boarded a plane from Sydney and would fly home that afternoon having taken a prescious day off work to be there. Thank you thank you thank you......love love love. And special thanks to Johnny the accidental CEO who planned and coordinated the day, also took a day off work to support me on my birthday, and who knows me well enough to know how much a gesture of this nature means to me. You are extraordinary. Oh and a special mention to my mum who ensured Murphy was looked after at home and undertook storm watch duties as the afternoon heat rolled on.
So I had a gorgeous birthday whilst simultaneously running to second base. Yep, the game continues and even while chowing down on prawns and sashimi, my body is hurtling towards a declaration of safe on second and the end of chemo. I'm close to half way.
In the list of amazing achievements for people at aged 43 was also a woman named Annie Taylor who was a widowed school teacher. I'm not sure why her profession or her marital status was important enough that the web site needed to state it? But, what is important, is that Ms Taylor climbed into a barrel and chucked herself over the 160 foot Horseshoe Falls in Niagara. Now having the privilege of visiting Niagara Falls myself i can tell you that when you stand on the edge of the falls you actually have to scream at each other just to have a conversation because the noise and power of the water cascading a very loooong way down over the rocks is so incredibly loud. So to think some woman my age decided she would climb into a barrel and have someone push her over the edge, what for, to see what would happen? For the thrill? To make some record? Well, it's impressive in a stark raving mad kind of way and I get it. Maybe Annie had just gotten to the end of a health scare and felt the need to do something extraordinary. It's not running the free world I grant you, but I still think its an amazing feat and in fact, I relate more closely to Annie Taylor than I do with JFK. So if you drop by my house and find me hammering away at an odd shaped vessel, start gearing up for some bizarre and out there event. However it could just be me showing you how I can roll down Survey Street with high heels on????!!!!! Hehe.
You see readers I haven't forgotten I am emerging as a new Kym once all of this is over and that includes doing things that are extraordinary. Making a difference. Living an enviable life. And being grateful that I had this opportunity to know the challenge, every raw and edgy piece of it, and that I still managed to take it on and beat it. I have the desire and the embers are burning inside.......sparkly Kym is on her way.
Much love always xxx
Yeah yeah, 43, I'm even prepared to fess up about that in case you were wondering. It got me to thinking, as I often do these days horizontal on my new daybed (have I mentioned I'm in love with that thing?) just what amazing things have been achieved by someone my age. I think Im needing to focus on what lies ahead for me as opportunities, new adventures, living the extraordinary because right now, im feeling very ordinary. I look unwell, even though im actually feeling pretty good for someone on massive doses of toxin. But being bald kind of sticks you in the sick corner whether you are sick or not. Its like being unjustly punished and sent outside in school for something you laughed at but didnt instigate.
My fitness is slipping away from me, even though i try to do something physical daily. But the reality is, i cant go hard at anything. My lung capacity and low blood levels just wont allow it. I got a bit of a cold and a bad cough on New Years Day and basically i just cant shake it off. Again a sign my body is idleing at low gear and no matter how much my head wants to push into fifth and burn it up the hill, it's not shifting.
In saying all of that, and following on from my last blog, the new cocktail of chemo has in fact been quite good for me and I am pleased to say I feel incredibly grateful as ive hardly been sick at all. I have had comments from friends that I am 'glowing' (could that be a result of the nuclear plant gurgling away in my veins???) and look great etc. This is why you surround yourself with beautiful friends who know just the right thing to say when you feeling the most vulnerable. I do feel vulnerable. And I do feel like I am in a continual battle between my head and heart which want to remain positive, happy, cheerful and my body which feels at times like its completely given up on me, picked up stumps and is taking the slow walk home with its head hanging low and the occasional kick at a stone in the gravel. It's actually kind of tiring at times having to have the internal conversations to keep your spirits up, remember this is a short time in the grand scheme of life and that this will pass. And I do have them and I'm pleased to say, for the most part, my head and my heart win out every time and I can almost always find reasons to smile and remind myself why I am so fortunate to be who I am and doing what I am, right now.
So, I consulted Dr Google on successes at 43 for others and actually discovered something incredible. JFK was in fact my age when he became the US President! Now THAT is pretty impressive! Given I am only 4 days post my birthday, there's still time for my political career! And geez, the campaign tours in full swing RIGHT now for our US counterparts so if I just grow some hair quickly, decide on a platform, get some cash backing (readers?) and head on over, I could become the female equivalent of the identical achievement! Twins with JFK. :-)
How was your birthday i hear you ask? I woke early on the morning and wondered how the day would unfold. It was a divinely sunny day, even at 6am and the summer heat that had been steadily rising with every day on the far north coast, was reaching breaking point. It was also a full moon so night time equally spectacular. It was too hot to even have coffee on the deck early and so between telephone calls and social networking I had a busy morning chatting. John had indicated he would take the day off to take me to lunch 'out of town' where I could feel comfortable knowing no one would recognise me if I wanted to just whip my hat off and dine hard boiled egg style. I have to confess that I assumed John would wing it, not having the time to actually organise anything and that we would just drive and choose a spot to eat based on availability and view. And I am here to concede I completely underestimated him on this occasion. Because in fact he HAD booked a gorgeous restaurant in Burleigh Heads (1 hr north) and when we arrived, out on the deck overlooking the very clear ocean (nice right hand breaks for you surfers out there) were sitting Lyn, Ash and Julia! A coordinated effort by the A Team for a birthday surprise! It was a fabulous present - to spend hours chatting over good food with people that I love and that I know love me. Our friendships span almost two decades and are like food for my soul. The Woodies had taken the 2.5 hour drive south to be there which essentially meant a long 5 hour round trip and no time for guru business for lunch and Julia (aka Woman of Science/Crazy Lady) had boarded a plane from Sydney and would fly home that afternoon having taken a prescious day off work to be there. Thank you thank you thank you......love love love. And special thanks to Johnny the accidental CEO who planned and coordinated the day, also took a day off work to support me on my birthday, and who knows me well enough to know how much a gesture of this nature means to me. You are extraordinary. Oh and a special mention to my mum who ensured Murphy was looked after at home and undertook storm watch duties as the afternoon heat rolled on.
So I had a gorgeous birthday whilst simultaneously running to second base. Yep, the game continues and even while chowing down on prawns and sashimi, my body is hurtling towards a declaration of safe on second and the end of chemo. I'm close to half way.
In the list of amazing achievements for people at aged 43 was also a woman named Annie Taylor who was a widowed school teacher. I'm not sure why her profession or her marital status was important enough that the web site needed to state it? But, what is important, is that Ms Taylor climbed into a barrel and chucked herself over the 160 foot Horseshoe Falls in Niagara. Now having the privilege of visiting Niagara Falls myself i can tell you that when you stand on the edge of the falls you actually have to scream at each other just to have a conversation because the noise and power of the water cascading a very loooong way down over the rocks is so incredibly loud. So to think some woman my age decided she would climb into a barrel and have someone push her over the edge, what for, to see what would happen? For the thrill? To make some record? Well, it's impressive in a stark raving mad kind of way and I get it. Maybe Annie had just gotten to the end of a health scare and felt the need to do something extraordinary. It's not running the free world I grant you, but I still think its an amazing feat and in fact, I relate more closely to Annie Taylor than I do with JFK. So if you drop by my house and find me hammering away at an odd shaped vessel, start gearing up for some bizarre and out there event. However it could just be me showing you how I can roll down Survey Street with high heels on????!!!!! Hehe.
You see readers I haven't forgotten I am emerging as a new Kym once all of this is over and that includes doing things that are extraordinary. Making a difference. Living an enviable life. And being grateful that I had this opportunity to know the challenge, every raw and edgy piece of it, and that I still managed to take it on and beat it. I have the desire and the embers are burning inside.......sparkly Kym is on her way.
Much love always xxx
Friday, January 6, 2012
Shoulder to Shoulder.......
There is a Kenyan proverb that says......sticks in a bundle, side by side, cannot be broken.
This blog comes to you from my gorgeous new teak daybed. It's yum. I am giving it a solid workout too! From here I get dappled sunlight and I can hear the birds and the occassional splash of a backyard pool. It's divine and the weather is simply stunning. I am so grateful for this new acquisition. It means I can give in to the chemo lethargy without feeling like I'm missing out on summer. It's not my usual summer time where I'd be out and about for hours on end coated in salt water and zinc and exhausted from the gym, surf, beach time and afternoon bob about in the lake with the gals. But I'm pleased to report I am actually still achieving a variation of the above when I can. The environment I am so fortunate to live in is healing just by being. I smiled yesterday when I noticed the Frangipani cutting my mum gave me a week ago that was essentially stuck in the front yard, is already flowering and the flowers are 'tropical fruit' in colour. As I've said, simply stunning.
So following on from last blog my heart stood up to the test and scored me a happy go ahead for chemo number two, version two. Life has an amazing way of turning what can momentarily feel like deep disappointment into a complete winner! I seem to be the recipient of such good fortune often I am pleased to report- always been kind of lucky. You see despite having to abort the original chemo and essentially embark on a new regime - which at the time was a double drat moment for a whole host of obvious reasons, it has absolutely turned out to have a number of benefits!
Here's just a few.....
1. Boycey (Boyce Boyce we give Joice) has decided I can cope with what is called 'dose dense' chemo - which basically means I have chemo every 2 weeks now and not every 3 weeks - yep less time for recovery but hey, who needs to recover??!! Let's get this game over and done with. It was getting boring. Now I'm running......hard. And I can hear the energy in the stadium heating up. Geez I love a good victory.
2. My new regime seems right to me - no allergy and no delay. It was in fact the original game plan and I'm completely comfortable with the change, the tactics and the plays. Second base in sight. And closer.
3. My old chemo required me to wear these hideous ice gloves for about an hour so as to try and reduce the chances of my fingernails falling out. This chemo does not. Nothing more to say here other than have you ever tried to make a decent scrabble move with ice gloves on???? Talk about a handicap.
4. The new chemo is cranberry juice pink and in this big syringe that has to be given by the nursing staff at slow pace pushed into your vein. I lovingly refer to it as my Cosmopolitan. It means I get to talk one on one with the gorgeous staff whom are normally moving at a speedy pace and this time I spent time chatting to Kylie. She's beautiful and has a best friend that works in the US consulate in Washington DC. She wants to go visit but has kids and responsibilities and is one of those mums I can tell that places her own needs always behind those she loves. I am sure it is why she is perfect as the chick on the other end of the syringe for me and I want to hug her every time I see her. She's just doing her job. She's also saving my life. I hope I get her next time so I can mount my convincing and encouraging discussion to at least consider an overseas plan sometime into her future. I am sure she would fall in love with Washington.
5. With the reduced recovery time and only two more chemo's to go - I seriously am at half way point and my finish date is sooner. Yeeeeeeee Bloody haaaaaaaaa. Number 5 is my all time fave.
So here I am 2 days post the chemo and I'm feeling just fine. I have to confess the first 24 hours were tough. Seems this one hits hard right off the bat and I've been dodging the ball ever since. But I'm still running. I am constantly reminded of the amazing support crew around me and as I type this I've had invites by Bert to hit the lake, Janine to cook a birthday dinner (coming up), Kez yesterday for beach time, Linda for ice cream and a walk, Gaye checking up on how I'm feeling, Bono for moral support, Jo's gorgeous text etc etc. My A team are a constant including Dr Maclean who administers drugs by text (is that unethical?) and the Woodies who are ensuring we all stick to New Year agreements despite the high end no fun factor. Just as I sit here I've had an ongoing text battle with Commander Love who has appointed herself (I don't recall an official ceremony?) GI Kym Recruit Training Commander and is not happy that I confessed to drinking a Red Bull while blogging. I mean, sometimes you need wings!!! Talk about bossy by distance! However despite the bossy boots nature of these exchanges, the under riding theme is clearly love, support and care. And it just keeps coming and coming and coming. How lucky am I?
This day bed and some down time has again led to lots of reflection and contemplation. I know I have mentioned special people along the way and I am today thinking about my little brother 'Biz'. Biz and I have a strong connection and have done for some time. You see, he and i have clung together through some thick and some thin. We both get each other and there is undying support that flows in both directions. You would need to know my little brother to understand how incredibly special he is. He has an open raw honesty that means you see all the way into his big heart and mind. He has a generosity of spirit that means if he was down to his last buck and it was his shout, he'd go sell his car to ensure he met his end of the deal. And if he's had a few drinks, he's likely to shout the whole bar.
Biz tells it how it is and what you see standing in front of you is exactly what you get. I love that aspect of Biz. It can also mean if you happen to be having a bad hair day, he's likely to point that out too. But then he will hug you and laugh with you and agree that his hair looks pretty ordinary too and hey, these days, who needs hair??? Bald is the new black for 2012! He is sensitive and sweet and when he witnessed my second head shave he was emotional and upset - just for me. Because I know he loves me lots.
Biz and I have a pact that we have maintained pretty much since my diagnosis. You see Biz is also fighting a battle related to his health that is no less easy than mine. We both have our demons to conquer. We have agreed to talk daily and daily we do. In fact, sometimes several times a day even if it's from isle 6 of Randwick woollies where he's stumbled across these great balsamic vinegar coated nuts and I should try them. But mostly it is a sincere and thoughtful check up call where I ask how he is managing and coping and he checks out how I am travelling and tells me how 'crap' this is that I got cancer. At times he has cried as he's said that to me. I love Biz loads. So at the beginning of this journey we agreed shoulder to shoulder we would support each other and that's what I intend to do. He is on a fitness regime currently that he is hugely committed to. On New Years Eve I asked if he had a goal for 2012 and he said yes. He wants to run a marathon. This week, during my second chemo hit, I decided that if he is willing to push a personal boundary and train for a goal like that, then so would I. So I called him up two days ago and said I would run a marathon this year with him. There. It's out there on the web and I can't retract. I am nervous about my capacity to actually pull it off. Forget the cancer and the treatment, i just hate running! But i feel like this is a year of evolution for me snd so run i will. Biz and I will run a marathon this year in recognition of the slamming of our demons and the overcoming of personal set back that has no hold over us anymore. So, who else is in????
In recognition of our commitment together I dedicate this blog to you my beautiful brother. Shoulder to shoulder. If my cancer creates the impetus for positive change in your life, a life I know you have so much yet to live, then I really will wear my scars with the greatest of pride. Sticks in a bundle, shoulder to shoulder, cannot be broken. K xxx
This blog comes to you from my gorgeous new teak daybed. It's yum. I am giving it a solid workout too! From here I get dappled sunlight and I can hear the birds and the occassional splash of a backyard pool. It's divine and the weather is simply stunning. I am so grateful for this new acquisition. It means I can give in to the chemo lethargy without feeling like I'm missing out on summer. It's not my usual summer time where I'd be out and about for hours on end coated in salt water and zinc and exhausted from the gym, surf, beach time and afternoon bob about in the lake with the gals. But I'm pleased to report I am actually still achieving a variation of the above when I can. The environment I am so fortunate to live in is healing just by being. I smiled yesterday when I noticed the Frangipani cutting my mum gave me a week ago that was essentially stuck in the front yard, is already flowering and the flowers are 'tropical fruit' in colour. As I've said, simply stunning.
So following on from last blog my heart stood up to the test and scored me a happy go ahead for chemo number two, version two. Life has an amazing way of turning what can momentarily feel like deep disappointment into a complete winner! I seem to be the recipient of such good fortune often I am pleased to report- always been kind of lucky. You see despite having to abort the original chemo and essentially embark on a new regime - which at the time was a double drat moment for a whole host of obvious reasons, it has absolutely turned out to have a number of benefits!
Here's just a few.....
1. Boycey (Boyce Boyce we give Joice) has decided I can cope with what is called 'dose dense' chemo - which basically means I have chemo every 2 weeks now and not every 3 weeks - yep less time for recovery but hey, who needs to recover??!! Let's get this game over and done with. It was getting boring. Now I'm running......hard. And I can hear the energy in the stadium heating up. Geez I love a good victory.
2. My new regime seems right to me - no allergy and no delay. It was in fact the original game plan and I'm completely comfortable with the change, the tactics and the plays. Second base in sight. And closer.
3. My old chemo required me to wear these hideous ice gloves for about an hour so as to try and reduce the chances of my fingernails falling out. This chemo does not. Nothing more to say here other than have you ever tried to make a decent scrabble move with ice gloves on???? Talk about a handicap.
4. The new chemo is cranberry juice pink and in this big syringe that has to be given by the nursing staff at slow pace pushed into your vein. I lovingly refer to it as my Cosmopolitan. It means I get to talk one on one with the gorgeous staff whom are normally moving at a speedy pace and this time I spent time chatting to Kylie. She's beautiful and has a best friend that works in the US consulate in Washington DC. She wants to go visit but has kids and responsibilities and is one of those mums I can tell that places her own needs always behind those she loves. I am sure it is why she is perfect as the chick on the other end of the syringe for me and I want to hug her every time I see her. She's just doing her job. She's also saving my life. I hope I get her next time so I can mount my convincing and encouraging discussion to at least consider an overseas plan sometime into her future. I am sure she would fall in love with Washington.
5. With the reduced recovery time and only two more chemo's to go - I seriously am at half way point and my finish date is sooner. Yeeeeeeee Bloody haaaaaaaaa. Number 5 is my all time fave.
So here I am 2 days post the chemo and I'm feeling just fine. I have to confess the first 24 hours were tough. Seems this one hits hard right off the bat and I've been dodging the ball ever since. But I'm still running. I am constantly reminded of the amazing support crew around me and as I type this I've had invites by Bert to hit the lake, Janine to cook a birthday dinner (coming up), Kez yesterday for beach time, Linda for ice cream and a walk, Gaye checking up on how I'm feeling, Bono for moral support, Jo's gorgeous text etc etc. My A team are a constant including Dr Maclean who administers drugs by text (is that unethical?) and the Woodies who are ensuring we all stick to New Year agreements despite the high end no fun factor. Just as I sit here I've had an ongoing text battle with Commander Love who has appointed herself (I don't recall an official ceremony?) GI Kym Recruit Training Commander and is not happy that I confessed to drinking a Red Bull while blogging. I mean, sometimes you need wings!!! Talk about bossy by distance! However despite the bossy boots nature of these exchanges, the under riding theme is clearly love, support and care. And it just keeps coming and coming and coming. How lucky am I?
This day bed and some down time has again led to lots of reflection and contemplation. I know I have mentioned special people along the way and I am today thinking about my little brother 'Biz'. Biz and I have a strong connection and have done for some time. You see, he and i have clung together through some thick and some thin. We both get each other and there is undying support that flows in both directions. You would need to know my little brother to understand how incredibly special he is. He has an open raw honesty that means you see all the way into his big heart and mind. He has a generosity of spirit that means if he was down to his last buck and it was his shout, he'd go sell his car to ensure he met his end of the deal. And if he's had a few drinks, he's likely to shout the whole bar.
Biz tells it how it is and what you see standing in front of you is exactly what you get. I love that aspect of Biz. It can also mean if you happen to be having a bad hair day, he's likely to point that out too. But then he will hug you and laugh with you and agree that his hair looks pretty ordinary too and hey, these days, who needs hair??? Bald is the new black for 2012! He is sensitive and sweet and when he witnessed my second head shave he was emotional and upset - just for me. Because I know he loves me lots.
Biz and I have a pact that we have maintained pretty much since my diagnosis. You see Biz is also fighting a battle related to his health that is no less easy than mine. We both have our demons to conquer. We have agreed to talk daily and daily we do. In fact, sometimes several times a day even if it's from isle 6 of Randwick woollies where he's stumbled across these great balsamic vinegar coated nuts and I should try them. But mostly it is a sincere and thoughtful check up call where I ask how he is managing and coping and he checks out how I am travelling and tells me how 'crap' this is that I got cancer. At times he has cried as he's said that to me. I love Biz loads. So at the beginning of this journey we agreed shoulder to shoulder we would support each other and that's what I intend to do. He is on a fitness regime currently that he is hugely committed to. On New Years Eve I asked if he had a goal for 2012 and he said yes. He wants to run a marathon. This week, during my second chemo hit, I decided that if he is willing to push a personal boundary and train for a goal like that, then so would I. So I called him up two days ago and said I would run a marathon this year with him. There. It's out there on the web and I can't retract. I am nervous about my capacity to actually pull it off. Forget the cancer and the treatment, i just hate running! But i feel like this is a year of evolution for me snd so run i will. Biz and I will run a marathon this year in recognition of the slamming of our demons and the overcoming of personal set back that has no hold over us anymore. So, who else is in????
In recognition of our commitment together I dedicate this blog to you my beautiful brother. Shoulder to shoulder. If my cancer creates the impetus for positive change in your life, a life I know you have so much yet to live, then I really will wear my scars with the greatest of pride. Sticks in a bundle, shoulder to shoulder, cannot be broken. K xxx
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
The Umpire needs to go....
My last blog seems like forever ago but was in fact posted last week after Boxing Day. So much has (and hasn't) happened...
I spent last Wednesday mentally gearing myself up for round two of chemo. It's a strange place to find yourself when you have spent the previous 21 days clawing your way back to some vague sense of 'normal' - celebrating the return of taste or of an energy level you recognise as something you used to feel. By mid week I was able to face a coffee again after almost 3 weeks of hating the taste and smell. Its small but significant when so much of your life is being flipped on its side. A simple cup of coffee but symbolic ( for me ) of my regular life - of happy coffee dates and catch ups and coffee cuddles with my stinky dog first thing in the morning. It was back! For a moment. And then, the chemo countdown begins. And you literally do count the hours left before next treatment. My little brother asked me on the drive to the hospital on the Thursday how I was feeling and I described over the phone to him the bizarre mix of dread and excitement. I am no longer scared - that emotion was reserved for surgery and the first hit of chemo. Now that i know what to expect the pervading sense is of sheer dread kind of wrapped in a bundle of excitement that this takes you that little bit closer to the finish line. In fact I was getting bolshy enough to start making comments to the tune of celebrating a half way mark. A lesson I've always known but sharply reminded - play each point, not the match. And for me this time,it was not meant to be. The Umpire strikes again.
It seems the chemo regime (I'd prefer to use the remote tropical island term of 'cocktail')causes me to have an allergic reaction that is not the most relaxing while being pumped with toxic chemicals. So while my chemo buddies are kicking back in their wiz bang chairs drinking cups of tea and watching the cricket, I'm coughing and spluttering and turning a nice shade of purple. So last Thursday when I should have been wrapping up round two and heading to Noosa for New year celebrations, I actually limped home all sad and disappointed filled with phernergin (damn that stuff is goooooooood) but no chemo. Treatment temporarily stopped. No half way mark. Back to Boycey for a change in game plan and possibly a protest that this umpire needs to go - I need some calls going my way.....pul-ease!
So with cycle two still hanging in the air, we packed up and headed North for a few days of Planet Noosa and New Years celebrations. It was clear from the hospital staff that nothing would happen with all the public holidays looming and so refusing to leave the plushy chemo chair would get me nowhere. What better way to get over the disappointment! In typical indulgent style, NYE really just turned into an extension of Christmas in a different kitchen! Fun times had by all although it's a sign of my current existence when you need to be woken up to see midnight in! Happy New Year - can I go back to bed now??? Lol. Next year I'm not sleeping for 24 hours! There was discussion of resolutions and new beginnings and burying 2011 so deep it's now in a previous century. There was a symbolic private ceremony of throwing rocks as far out to sea as possible after nursing them in your hands while projecting all the 'never want to do again' things, reactions, people, places.....and of course for me the hardest chuck away of cancer in a rock you've ever seen. It's still hard to believe I am doing this. However like all good ceremonies there was also the positive and delicate dropping of flowers in a beautiful rock pool in Noosa National Park - that came accompanied with quiet wishes and hope - none of it articulated but all of it meaningful.
So here I am now on January 3rd again, a day away from round two chemo. This blog is coming to you live from Nuclear Medicine waiting room in North Coast Radiology. Apparently before I can take a sip of my new chemo cocktail, the Oncologist needs to feel confident my heart is in tip top shape to cope with it. Does Boycey not realize who he's dealing with??? Lol. So I've been injected with a syringe full of fluid (by a 12 year old) that has to find its way to my heart over the next 20 minutes. Ive got stick on monitor thingies all over me to the point I'd be attractive to an alien and shortly I will be injected with radio-active fluid that will 'stick' to the first injection and allow the radiologist to photograph my heart pumping! I'm pretty sure it's pumping just fine and if you stuck me on a treadmill right now I can guarantee given the lack of hard core exercise for me in the past few weeks, it would pump at a rate I wouldn't be particularly proud of. Body Attack in 2012 - God help me!
As I sit and type this I am really unable to detail what I expect to have happen to me over the next 21 days of cycle two. I can't rely on cycle one as a precursor as the drugs have changed. But I guess i can rely on the same approach and attitude and just trust and hope that this is enough to get me through. My hair has now all but gone. I'm displaying a number 1 head shave having worked my way from 4 backwards. The first two designed by "Hair by Lynnnnnnn" who is now so popular I was unable to get in for the last shave. This time Johnny Scissorhands set me up on the back deck and motored away while Murphy looked nervous. It ended with a hug and a tear and yet another conversation about how ridiculous this whole experience is. You know those conversations that start "geez I never thought I'd be doing this on the back deck....." I feel like I have a lot of those these days.
So on the eve of round two chemo I have had to adjust my sails to meet the changing winds and set myself on a slightly new course. It's a tactic that I know will see me to the finish line safely and I have a strong sense that this is exactly where I need to be. I can't help but wonder whether an allergic reaction to the former chemo was my body's way of warning me we needed to change. I think the game plan huddle with Boycey and the agreed new run to second base, with that groovy goose side step and a couple of quick cartwheels was EXACTLY what this game needed to spice things up. And the crowd are loving that the game just heated up. So how's my heart you ask? The size of a lion's so hear me roar xxx
I spent last Wednesday mentally gearing myself up for round two of chemo. It's a strange place to find yourself when you have spent the previous 21 days clawing your way back to some vague sense of 'normal' - celebrating the return of taste or of an energy level you recognise as something you used to feel. By mid week I was able to face a coffee again after almost 3 weeks of hating the taste and smell. Its small but significant when so much of your life is being flipped on its side. A simple cup of coffee but symbolic ( for me ) of my regular life - of happy coffee dates and catch ups and coffee cuddles with my stinky dog first thing in the morning. It was back! For a moment. And then, the chemo countdown begins. And you literally do count the hours left before next treatment. My little brother asked me on the drive to the hospital on the Thursday how I was feeling and I described over the phone to him the bizarre mix of dread and excitement. I am no longer scared - that emotion was reserved for surgery and the first hit of chemo. Now that i know what to expect the pervading sense is of sheer dread kind of wrapped in a bundle of excitement that this takes you that little bit closer to the finish line. In fact I was getting bolshy enough to start making comments to the tune of celebrating a half way mark. A lesson I've always known but sharply reminded - play each point, not the match. And for me this time,it was not meant to be. The Umpire strikes again.
It seems the chemo regime (I'd prefer to use the remote tropical island term of 'cocktail')causes me to have an allergic reaction that is not the most relaxing while being pumped with toxic chemicals. So while my chemo buddies are kicking back in their wiz bang chairs drinking cups of tea and watching the cricket, I'm coughing and spluttering and turning a nice shade of purple. So last Thursday when I should have been wrapping up round two and heading to Noosa for New year celebrations, I actually limped home all sad and disappointed filled with phernergin (damn that stuff is goooooooood) but no chemo. Treatment temporarily stopped. No half way mark. Back to Boycey for a change in game plan and possibly a protest that this umpire needs to go - I need some calls going my way.....pul-ease!
So with cycle two still hanging in the air, we packed up and headed North for a few days of Planet Noosa and New Years celebrations. It was clear from the hospital staff that nothing would happen with all the public holidays looming and so refusing to leave the plushy chemo chair would get me nowhere. What better way to get over the disappointment! In typical indulgent style, NYE really just turned into an extension of Christmas in a different kitchen! Fun times had by all although it's a sign of my current existence when you need to be woken up to see midnight in! Happy New Year - can I go back to bed now??? Lol. Next year I'm not sleeping for 24 hours! There was discussion of resolutions and new beginnings and burying 2011 so deep it's now in a previous century. There was a symbolic private ceremony of throwing rocks as far out to sea as possible after nursing them in your hands while projecting all the 'never want to do again' things, reactions, people, places.....and of course for me the hardest chuck away of cancer in a rock you've ever seen. It's still hard to believe I am doing this. However like all good ceremonies there was also the positive and delicate dropping of flowers in a beautiful rock pool in Noosa National Park - that came accompanied with quiet wishes and hope - none of it articulated but all of it meaningful.
So here I am now on January 3rd again, a day away from round two chemo. This blog is coming to you live from Nuclear Medicine waiting room in North Coast Radiology. Apparently before I can take a sip of my new chemo cocktail, the Oncologist needs to feel confident my heart is in tip top shape to cope with it. Does Boycey not realize who he's dealing with??? Lol. So I've been injected with a syringe full of fluid (by a 12 year old) that has to find its way to my heart over the next 20 minutes. Ive got stick on monitor thingies all over me to the point I'd be attractive to an alien and shortly I will be injected with radio-active fluid that will 'stick' to the first injection and allow the radiologist to photograph my heart pumping! I'm pretty sure it's pumping just fine and if you stuck me on a treadmill right now I can guarantee given the lack of hard core exercise for me in the past few weeks, it would pump at a rate I wouldn't be particularly proud of. Body Attack in 2012 - God help me!
As I sit and type this I am really unable to detail what I expect to have happen to me over the next 21 days of cycle two. I can't rely on cycle one as a precursor as the drugs have changed. But I guess i can rely on the same approach and attitude and just trust and hope that this is enough to get me through. My hair has now all but gone. I'm displaying a number 1 head shave having worked my way from 4 backwards. The first two designed by "Hair by Lynnnnnnn" who is now so popular I was unable to get in for the last shave. This time Johnny Scissorhands set me up on the back deck and motored away while Murphy looked nervous. It ended with a hug and a tear and yet another conversation about how ridiculous this whole experience is. You know those conversations that start "geez I never thought I'd be doing this on the back deck....." I feel like I have a lot of those these days.
So on the eve of round two chemo I have had to adjust my sails to meet the changing winds and set myself on a slightly new course. It's a tactic that I know will see me to the finish line safely and I have a strong sense that this is exactly where I need to be. I can't help but wonder whether an allergic reaction to the former chemo was my body's way of warning me we needed to change. I think the game plan huddle with Boycey and the agreed new run to second base, with that groovy goose side step and a couple of quick cartwheels was EXACTLY what this game needed to spice things up. And the crowd are loving that the game just heated up. So how's my heart you ask? The size of a lion's so hear me roar xxx
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