I'm going to try to make myself useful by entertaining you all. Because God only knows I'm not doing a whole hell of a lot else right now.

Work with me here, people.

So, without further ado some bits and bobs for your amusement and edification...

• Longtime devoted Cake Eater readers will know that we take the Financial Times as our daily dead tree paper. This past Monday they redid the layout of the paper and it's been somewhat interesting this week to read it. I keep thinking my reading speed must have increased tremendously because I'm getting to the opinion section sooner, only to be reminded that, duh, they just moved it up a few pages. Apparently, I'm not the only one who's having issues with the new layout. One Mr. R.A. Parsons, Tempsford, Beds sent a most eloquent letter regarding the new, er, positioning of columnist Lucy Kellaway's regular Monday missive about work life.

  And I quote:

  "Sir, I preferred Lucy Kellaway horizontal."

• Just for the record, I still haven't puked. Yet.
• How sweet would it be to own this ride?
• I've decided that chemotherapy is this guy. He's doing his damndest to break me down, so that, ultimately, he can build me back up again, but damn, I really wish he'd lighten up a bit. Right about now, I'm feeling a wee bit like Mario Van Peebles after Gunny ripped out his earring. I do know, however, that it would be a mistake to call in Swede to try and stop him. Gunny would simply kick Swede in the nuts and that would be that. Waste of time, really.

  Now, I simply have to decide whether or not I like the mental image of millions of little Clint Eastwood heads running around my body, killing cells left and right, whilst muttering the words, "Boo Ya" in that gravelly voice of his.

  What say you, my devoted Cake Eater readers? Do you think Gunnery Sgt. Tom 'Gunny' Highway should be the official image of my chemotherapy?

  If not, who should be? We could have a contest or something.

• Though it slays me to give the tubby bastard anything, I fail to see where Alec Baldwin should have to apologize for chastising his daughter. Furthermore, this maxima mea culpa business is getting old. Kids can be cruel. No, parents shouldn't take out their frustrations on their children, particularly not when the source of said frustration is their other parent, but one can and should call a kid on it when they've stepped out of line. It does no one any favors to let them get away with it. I almost feel sorry for the guy. Almost.
• They warn you that chemo will cause your skin to be uber-sensitive to the sun, and they tell you to rush right out and buy a bottle of 45 sunblock to protect yourself. I realized they weren't kidding when I got sunburned last Friday, right after the chemo, in about fifteen minutes. No matter how pale I get (and believe me, I can get pretty darn pale) that doesn't happen. So, I've been slathering the sunscreen on all week long and whaddya know, just from doing my usual errands, I'm getting a pretty bitchin' tan.

  You see, it's about making the side effects work for you.

  Not like I'd really know, though. This is the only one that's worked in my favor.

• Luna Bars have the official Cake Eater Seal of Approval.

  Particularly the Dulce de Leche bars. Mmmmmmcaramelmmmmm.

• Spelling pet peeve that I'm seeing everywhere nowadays: it's capitol when you're referring to where the seat of government is located and it's capital when you're referring to start-up money, accumulated wealth, letters, an important principle or a crime that's punishable by death.

  Seriously, people. How hard is it to get this one right? All you need is to remember the opening credits of the now-defunct soap Capitol to spell this word correctly.

  And don't give me that disdainful look. You know you watched it.

  Honestly, if soap opera writers can spell it correctly, you can too!

• Right at this bleedin' moment, there is a pair of ducks in my yard, looking for a space to do their dirty deeds dirt cheap. I will repeat this for the third year running: The Cake Eater Pad's yard is not a duckie brothel! Move it along, already! Go to my neighbor's yard: she's a former hippie and no doubt she'd be cool with it. Take your duckie licentiousness elsewhere.

Ok, that should do it for now, my devoted Cake Eater readers. I'll check back in when I have the need to feel productive again.

Posted by: Kathy at 02:53 PM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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1 Looks like you are rocking right along. Kudos to you. Shall I send a pellet rifle for you to kick duckie butt?

Posted by: Chrissy at April 27, 2007 03:21 PM (d3xGU)

2 I got my breast biopsy results on Monday. I have invasive ductal carcinoma. I see the oncologist on Thursday and we will make a plan. If you have taken Gunny Highway then I am going to take Gunny Hartman (R. Lee Ermy) from "Full Metal Jacket". I don't have a complete plan, yet. It looks like surgery, radiation, and possibly chemo. Just DAMN!

Posted by: Robin at April 27, 2007 05:55 PM (AzTnM)

3 What is it with this "Dulce de Leche" meme that's suddenly popped up? Starbucks is flogging it for all it's worth.

Posted by: Robbo the Llama Butcher at April 28, 2007 05:33 AM (piZDb)

4 I was thinking Tank Girl, but Clint is better.

Posted by: Margi at May 03, 2007 12:18 PM (2Wxch)

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A brief snippet of conversation over two steaming bowls of Cream of Wheat, approximately twenty minutes ago:

The Husband: "Do you want some craisins for your Cream of Wheat?"

Me: "No, I don't want to puke up any little red things later on."

The Husband: "That's a bit morbid, but I see your point."

UPDATE 8:19 p.m. 4/20/07: Just for the record, no, I haven't thrown up.

Not once.

That was me being paranoid. They've got me on three different anti-nausea drugs, decadron, ativan, and compazine, and they seem to be doing the trick, even if they all have their own little side effects associated with them, like drowsiness, fatigue, and a complete loss of appetite, and in the case of the decadron (which I had to take at three different, specific, times yesterday, before this even started) a flushed face, anxiety and sleeplessness. (Yeah, so last night was a real joy, because I had to take it at ten and wake myself up at four in the freakin' morning to take another dose.) But I haven't puked. And the oncologist swears that I won't, provided I keep up with these medications over the next three days. My job, as the RN pointed out to me right now, was just to stay on top of the medication (i.e. don't wait until the symptoms show up and then take it) and to rest, and I should be fine by Tuesday, when most of the drugs will have worked their way through my system.

The chemo procedure itself was, well, pretty boring, on the whole. It took about five hours, all told, to receive the drugs via IV---and I received them in a very swank recliner, in a room full of about twenty-five other people, receiving their own chemo regimens, who all had their own swank recliners. It was sort of like day camp for sick people, but instead of doing arts and craft projects, we all watched tee vee, read, listened to iPods, or, in the case of the husband and myself, we played a game of travel Scrabble, wherein I kicked his bony little ass by about fifty points. (That's what happens when you get stuck with the 'Q' at the end, after having already been beaten into submission by a few triple word scores.) Fortunately, I didn't have any allergic reactions to the drugs, and tolerated them well, except for when they pushed a half-sized bag of the decadron into my system and I thought I was having an hour long hot flash, but, again, that's just a side effect of the drug and it was remedied by a cold washcloth to the back of my neck. I tolerated the three hour taxol drip well, but by the time the half-hour carboplatin drip was done, the last bag of the day, I wasn't feeling so well, sort of like I had the beginnings of a bad case of stomach flu. Fortunately, we were on our way home and in and out of Walgreens, with all of my prescriptions, in a shot. And, within fifteen minutes, I had compazine in my system and it started working immediately. Enough for me to take a long nap. Which felt good, considering I had very little sleep last night.

So, all in all, it's going better than I expected. Which is good, because I kind of low-balled my expectations, assuming the worst. What I now have to look forward to is being immuno-compromised by next weekend, possible anemia, potential decreased white cell count (furthering the problems with my immune system), complete hair loss within three weeks, and, perhaps, neuropathies in my hands and feet from the taxol. We'll just have to see how it all shakes out.

Just in time for my next chemo session, three weeks from today.

Good fun, no?

And, just remember, my devoted Cake Eater readers, I'm already cancer free.

I ask again: good fun, no?

What's that line about the cure being worse than the disease?

And, Robbo, craisins are simply dried cranberries. They look just like raisins. Except they're red.

Posted by: Kathy at 07:43 AM | Comments (8) | Add Comment
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The husband and I attended "Chemo Class" at the oncologist's office this morning. During class they give you the rundown on what will be happening to you during the treament, how you will feel afterwards and what the major side effects of chemo are. We toured the treatment room, we chatted about wearing jewelry during treatment (You shouldn't, just in case you're allergic to the chemo. They don't want to have to cut your rings off.), hair loss, skin and nail care, mouth care, infections, and, most importantly, nutrition. They then tell you that nutrition can be a major factor in how you feel, and that it can help control some of the adverse effects of chemo. The class was mainly a primer and they sent us home with a boatload of literature, neatly organized in its own expandable envelope. One little booklet from the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, the National Institutes of Health and the National Cancer Institute, titled, "Eating Hints for Cancer Patients: Before, During and After Treatment," has some wonderfully helpful tips I'm sure we'll be using during all of this.

What I found interesting were the tips they gave in case you should lose weight and need to get your calorie count back up. They're simple, helpful tips to boost your count without having to eat more food---which might be an issue as appetite loss can be a problem. The last thing you want to have to do when you have no appetite is eat more. They include things like:

• switching to whole milk


• making fortified milk with whole milk and powdered milk


• add sour cream to cream soups


• folding unsweetened whipped cream into mashed potatoes (ed. heavy whipping cream has six grams of fat per tablespoon. Don't ask I how know this.)


• make hot chocolate with cream and add marshmallows


• melt cheese on top of casseroles, potatoes and vegetables


• add cheese to omelets and sandwiches


• use melted butter or margarine as a dip for seafoods, such as lobster, crab, scallops and shrimp


• stir melted butter into cream soups, sauces and gravies

I could go on, but I think you get the gist. What the cardiologist loathes, the oncologist loves.

Heh.

Posted by: Kathy at 08:24 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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I finally, finally find a product that controls my curly hair and now it's all going to fall out in approximately three weeks.

Go freakin' figure.

You just can't win if you've got curly hair. Really. It sucks trying to find something that tames the wild beast that is the mop on your head. And you try everything that comes down the pike. Believe you me, straight-haired people of the world, you'll never have the product problems I have had over the years. But I found something. And it works. It does what it says it's going to do. And you, who have had the ol' bait and switch pulled on you too many times to count when it comes to "frizz control" have a hard time believing it. And when you finally believe it, you jump for joy, secure in the knowledge that, unless the company goes bust, your hair worries are at an end for the time being.

Then, of course, because God enjoys a good laugh every now and again, you get cancer and have to have chemo. Which makes your curly hair fall out. And then the doctor tells you it may grow back in differently. The color may be different. The texture may be different.

At which point, if you've got my luck, you'll probably be stuck with a whole lot of product made to tame curly hair you no longer have. Probably.

Alanis Morrissette should write a song or something.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:20 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
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Or, Why It's Generally Considered a Bad Idea to Chat With an Oncologist Whilst High on Percocet.

If you're interested, take the jump.

(Parts One and Two of the Neverending Ovarian Cancer/Hysterectomy saga can be found here and here.) more...

Posted by: Kathy at 02:14 PM | Comments (6) | Add Comment
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