31. Chemo Round Three - a brutal beating

When I walked into work today after yesterday's chemo (later than I should have been), my boss took
one look at me and said, "ewww.  rough treatment, eh?"

EVERY muscle in my body hurts, I have a migraine, I'm horribly nauseous, I'm
exhausted and didn't sleep more than 2 hours last night, although I had to
get up to pee about 14 times. 

And today, although I'm hurting and cranky and tired beyond reason - I'm
laughing a little bit, because I still feel overwhelmingly grateful to have
the medical expertise that's keeping me alive so I can get home and take
that "Hug Tour" I have promised myself.

The GOOD news is that treatment is NOT going to be extended an extra six
weeks.  My doctor and I talked about it, and he weighed in with another
highly respected expert that I've been referred to here in Kosovo, and we're
sticking with the plan.  In three weeks, I'll start my nine weekly
treatments of the new chemo drug - which should be much less brutal than the
combination I've been on.

What really struck me yesterday, as I walked into the hospital in my giant
hazmat type mask that Neal Roberts sent me - is how few doctors and patients
were wearing masks INSIDE the hospital.  And many of them that were, had
them around their necks rather than their face.  One patient walked by me
coughing with no mask on and I shot him the look that said I would basically
shank him - and he put his mask on and apologized.

It was....odd.  They've relaxed restrictions and case numbers are going up
here in Kosovo, but they are still relatively small numbers compared to the
U.S.  Most of our on base stores have opened (sadly not the massage place -
I am DYING) - and the gym will open next week.  The stores in town are open,
and the restaurants will reopen next week as well.  For me, none of this
makes a difference - I'll be socially distancing through the end of chemo in
August no matter what, and then probably during radiation as my immune
system builds back up.

Am I angry?  Am I indignant?  No.  I'm just confused.  Bewildered.  (Okay,
I'm angry at that one guy who was obviously sick and not wearing his mask -
that's just jerk behavior.)   

Curious to see how things are going to play out.  Will we ever get to go
back to see one of those Spectacular Broadway shows like TITANIC or DEAR
EVAN HANSEN?  Will we ever feel safe eating at a restaurant again?  Will
there be a time when hugs can be freely given to strangers without it
feeling like an attack?  Man, I hope so.  But I'll take nothing for granted
if we do - I'll love every moment and be grateful for whatever we safely get
to do to connect moving forward.

30. Do People Change?

Years and years ago I had a friend so close to my heart I considered her a sister - I literally loved her like one of my sisters.  It was a difficult time for me, and I struggled so much with coming into adulthood and relationships and communication - things I hadn't much experience with when I first moved out on my own.

Then after years and years of being as thick as thieves, I lashed out verbally in anger and frustration about something I couldn't put into words  (I don't even remember what) and she said, "Finally, I see your true colors.  Our friendship is over."  I was devastated and confused.

Years later we were accidentally reunited as part of a group discussion about politics - Mitt Romney was running for President and she said, "I would never vote for him.  He strapped his dog to the top of the car once, which makes him an evil person and people don't change."

That conversation has bothered me ever since.  DO people change?

I know since those early days, I've learned about communication and relationship and love - I've made a lot of mistakes, and I've grown from them.  More importantly, I've lived in multiple states and abroad - including my current home in a third world country.  I've spent time in Germany, and their dedication to recycling has rubbed off on me.  I've lived in Hawaii, where their emphasis on relaxing and enjoying life has affected my work/life balance.  I've seen things here in Kosovo and throughout my travels - people surviving by combing through trash piles and begging for money, a lack of freedom to make choices or change their status, and abject corruption as a way of life.  These experiences have definitely filtered my view of the world and my own life.

Confusion has given way to gratitude and an understanding of how truly fortunate I have been.  Experience and time have provided maturity of thought and a little bit of wisdom.  Adventure has given me some awesome stories to share.  Cancer has given me the realization that time is short and procrastination is dangerous.

But have I changed?  DO people change?  I believe they do.  I believe they evolve and they grow - OR they choose not to.  I've seen more of the world than most - my perspective is understandably different, and if you've lived a happy life without ever leaving your small town or state, I'm not sure one could truly grasp things from my vantage point.  I'm not judging you for it - you have a perspective that I don't have as well, though I'd love to hear more about it in an intelligence open minded discussion (preferably not about politics).

Just curious as to what everyone else thinks.  DO people change?  Truly?

----------------------

Cancer update - chemo has been moved to Tuesday, as Monday is a holiday in Kosovo as well.

29. The Empowering Aspect of Cancer - 5/16/20

THE EMPOWERING ASPECT OF CANCER

Since being diagnosed in February, I can honestly say that my perspective on
MANY things have changed.  A lot.  I used to obsessively worry about money
and debts and how I was going to keep my house from falling into
foreclosure.  I'd spend months trying to figure out the RIGHT new hairstyle
- changing my mind so many times that I never actually went to the stylist
at all.  I managed to procrastinate the things that I enjoyed most in favor
of the things I felt I "should" be doing.

My attitude now:   "Fu%! It.  I have cancer."

That's not to say that I'm in any way defeatist - quite on the contrary.  If
I want to take a nap, instead of hemming and hawing about the things I
really should get done I simply say, "Fu%! It.  I have cancer.  My body
needs some rest."  And then I take a nap.

IT IS THE GREATEST THING EVER!

Want to stay up a little later reading a good book?   Want to eat cereal for
dinner?  Want to wear sequins to work today?  "Fu%! It, I'm gonna do it."
And these little things have led me to be SO much happier and less stressed
- just by giving myself permission to do the things that my body, or my soul
need at that moment in time.  While I can see that this level of indulgence
could easily go awry - I find myself eating salad for breakfast far more
often than I enjoy cereal for dinner - because in THAT moment, that's what
my body wants or needs.  My blood pressure has gone down.  My weight has
gone down.  My enjoyment and appreciation of all the little blessing in life
has gone up a thousand fold.

I'm not going to say, "I hope you get cancer" because that would be a burden
I wouldn't place on anyone - but I can tell you that my cancer changed me
for the better in ways I never anticipated.  I hope, when treatment is over
- that I manage to keep those little eccentricities.   And more than that -
I hope during this unprecedented quarantine, you're looking for and finding
and INDULGING yourself in those little things that bring you joy. 

I wasted so much time worrying about money, only to find that paying debts
off never brought me an ounce of the joy I found attempting (poorly) to
paint Harry Potter for my friend Margaret, or composing my own lyrics for
office karaoke, or eating ice cream for breakfast on the porch with my
neighbor, or keeping up ALL the holiday decorations for every holiday in my
office year round, or randomly sending toilet paper to unsuspecting friends
during the pandemic.......  (I think you get the point)

28. Chemo Round 2 - Monday, May 4th

Monday, May 4th
Day 1 - Round 2

Today went pretty much as expected - headed to the hospital in Pristina with Shem and started with a pre-chemo blood test to make sure my levels were strong enough to proceed.

The surgeon that was supposed to check my surgery scars wasn't available, so we went ahead and started with the chemo - first with the anti-nausea, then with the allergy meds, followed by the "Red Devil" for 15 minutes and the Cyclophosphamid for an hour, then a full saline bag to keep the vein happy.

Following this, I had a very brief conversation with the surgeon - it went like this:
S:  Are you having any pain in your abdomen?
M:  No.
S:  Are you having any problems with your bowels?
M:  No.
S:  Are you having any difficulties urinating?
M:  No.
S:  Okay then we're done.  Why am I here?
M:  Because I still have a lot of pain in my frankenbreast.
S:  Huh.   <walks away>

I'm thinking, THIS IS ODD.  But apparently it made sense because when chemo was done, I was escorted to the radiology department for a post-surgical ultrasound.

If boobs make you uncomfortable, you'll probably want to skip the next paragraph.

He did an ultrasound of my left breast (the normal one) and found a mass - which made my heart stop for a moment, but he explained that it's just a fibroid (NON cancerous) and then told me how they tell the difference between good and bad findings.  When he'd finished, he moved over to Frankenboob and was able to see the thick seroma that's formed under my arm (it looks/feels like a baseball and it normal) but was able to tell me that there are no abnormalities, no dangerous scar tissue, and that everything is healing as it should be.

I paid my bill and Shem and I were on our way back to Ferizaj.  Because the post is on lockdown, we had a list of errands for all the other people on my contract (there are 17 of us total) so we stopped in town for fishfood, medication, groceries, cleaning supplies, etc.

It was strange because I thought Ferizaj was still under driving restrictions - but they had absolutely normal traffic (heinous) and EVERYONE was out and about.  Most stores downtown were open, people were congregating, hardly anyone was wearing a mask and they were giving each other kisses on the cheek as normal.

Less than a week ago the Mayor of Ferizaj proclaimed that all the illnesses and deaths attributed to the town were a direct result of the American base being there - everyone had been infected on base, and then they brought the infections out to their friends and families.  This is wrong on SO many levels.  First of all, it's a NATO base - and NONE of the original cases of Covid were soldiers - they were all local nationals.  But the base was put on lockdown anyway, and it seems that this put everyone's mind at ease because there were NO apparent restrictions in town.

(I broke my mask strap at one point while we were out, and will spend the next two weeks being overly paranoid about whether or not that put me at risk - next time I'll definitely bring a spare.)

We finished our errands and headed back to base, to a grateful crew.  For me, it was just a treat to get off base - and strange to be envied for having the opportunity to get chemotherapy.  But there you go.  The isolation is definitely starting to affect everyone's mental health.

Side effects today - fatigue, mild nausea

27. Freaky Friday (I Shaved My Head)

Seriously I got tired of finding hair EVERYWHERE - on the pillow, the desk, the keyboard, my clothes....

So voila!   Even this fuzz should be gone in a week, which means the chemo is doing it's job!

Suck it, cancer cells!