Hello spring! hello all the lovelies in my life. This will be brief, but I felt the need to touch base with all of you. a blog is still kinda weird to me, like who will read this...but I enjoy writing it. and I'm listening to Michael Franti's song "human Nature", which sorta got me thru chemo in a big way. Fire one, fire two...three through 18 rounds. And now, I'm in the middle of radiation. Which is way different. I can't say easier, but just different. A commitment every day at 3:00 for five weeks. The people are lovely. Dr. Ari Ballanoff, who I went to high school with, is my doc, and is the greatest. The greatest. Radiation is like Star Wars. The sounds. The mechanical sounds of metal on metal. Like Alien. Underwater. And only me in the room.
When I asked the nurse why the sounds of the radiation beams changed octives, she looked at me like I was an alien. She said they never "hear" what goes on in the room after they close that 6" iron door. She wasn't aware of any sort of sound. But she was super curious. So I sung it to her. I think it's an E flat. And then an octive lower. And longer. I've captured some audio (shhhh) but am still trying to let them take a small video camera in there too. The visuals are amazing. With me laying on the moving bed while seeing the image of myself reflecting in the glass above me, arms overhead, vulnerable.
and there's always music in the background. I've been writing down the songs each day. Today, for the third time, it was "brown-eyed girl".
and I'm still deeply in love.
Two more weeks of this, and a Herceptin infusion until August, every 3 weeks. So, almost done. Then tamoxifen for the next five years. But who's counting?im counting the times I get to see all the beautiful things that just happened.
Amazing Kristy Greenwood and Ionah de freitas held a fundraiser for me on Wednesday, called Love + Cookies, at The Denver Bread Company. There were so many levels of deep deep friends there who just showed up. I was amazed and deeply speechless, with cookie tears and warmth. Appreciating everyone. Live music by Kristys husbands band, Grindhouse. They were so incredibly warm and kind and lovely.
I really didn't know what to do with all my emotions.
I stepped outside onto the corner. And it had started raining. I love the rain. I just cried and said a deep thank you appreciation. And went back inside with a wet face.
Life is a journey. Or it is nothing.
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
Friday, February 6, 2015
Feb. 6
hello friends, lovelies, people of consequence,
february 5. no, wait, the 6th. see? where does time go? it's crusin' by, let me tell you.
i had radical mastectomy on the right side on january 19th, more than 2 weeks ago. it all went really well. they also took 17 lymph nodes, and sent all of that, that of myself, to the pathology lab to take a look. i remember none of this, really, because there is this drug called morphine +, and they give it to people like me after surgery so that all you remember is nothing.
apparently, Jello was delivered to me, and a broth of some sort. one of my visitors (10-yo Joe) enjoyed it.
apparently, i ate 2 donuts.
apparently, i am kind of hilarious when on this morphine.
apparently, i am okay.
the pathology results came back with "no visual signs of tumor anywhere in the breast or the 17 lymph nodes". this is incredible. even my surgeon told me he never expected such great results. then i flexed my huge bicep to him, and he said, "well...."
seriously though, this means the chemo really did it's job. and my body did it's job. and all that suck sauce was worth it. and although i am am over the moon about these results, i am still thinking of all the other people i know who are going through this with different results. and how to hold this. i think i am finding some of those answers, but they are still confusing.
so, i am cancer-free. i am still soaking this in. i am still recovering from surgery. i am sore. my right arm, chest, and scapula are learning how to dance again. i am flooded with love from so many of you. what would i do without you? i start radiation in about 3 weeks, after i heal a bit more. this radiation will be every day for 5 weeks. it's going to get any cells that may be hiding out somewhere else in my body, and zap them. side effects are mostly fatigue and a sorta sunburn. my radiation oncologist, dr. ballanoff, is an awesome guy and a friend, a good friend, of danny's. it feels better knowing this. and meanwhile, i'm still getting one infusion drug of Herceptin, until august, every 3 weeks. Again, with minimal side effects. my hair is slowly growing back. it's fuzzy. it's soft. it's growing in different areas, mostly on top. so, i look, um, like a fuzzy baby bird. but it's so wonderful to have that new growth. the shampoo has something to hold onto.
danny asked what i wanted to do the week before surgery, and i said,
"teach a workshop." and so i did. and it was like soaking in a tub of words, stories, lavender everything...it was just what i needed to take me somewhere else for a few days leading up. i was able to center myself and listen more.
and so my heart. my heart. many things. love. love of life, and of deep friends and family, and of love. it is, indeed, a strange time to fall in love, and yet it is happening. trace is such a giving and kind soul, and we are enjoying eachother. and i am looking forward to loving a long time, with deeper intention, wildness at times, curiosity, humor, and light. i know i still have a ways to go, but i am looking forward to now.
and then, again, now.
and then, now. because all we really have is now.
oh, and food has a new meaning to me again, hallelujah! i never thought i'd enjoy it ever again, and i appreciate it even more now. Ionah made for me the most beautiful shepard's pie, veggie. i could taste the love it there. robyn brought me a french dip from Udi's, and i tell you, i was devouring it like that scene in Fantastic Mr. Fox.
i'm looking forward to this year. i hope you are too. i'm looking forward to us looking forward to it all. life is brief. take it. all. in. give it back. share it. sing in the shower.
love and love,
hol
nancy hug before i go
february 5. no, wait, the 6th. see? where does time go? it's crusin' by, let me tell you.
i had radical mastectomy on the right side on january 19th, more than 2 weeks ago. it all went really well. they also took 17 lymph nodes, and sent all of that, that of myself, to the pathology lab to take a look. i remember none of this, really, because there is this drug called morphine +, and they give it to people like me after surgery so that all you remember is nothing.
apparently, Jello was delivered to me, and a broth of some sort. one of my visitors (10-yo Joe) enjoyed it.
apparently, i ate 2 donuts.
apparently, i am kind of hilarious when on this morphine.
apparently, i am okay.
the pathology results came back with "no visual signs of tumor anywhere in the breast or the 17 lymph nodes". this is incredible. even my surgeon told me he never expected such great results. then i flexed my huge bicep to him, and he said, "well...."
seriously though, this means the chemo really did it's job. and my body did it's job. and all that suck sauce was worth it. and although i am am over the moon about these results, i am still thinking of all the other people i know who are going through this with different results. and how to hold this. i think i am finding some of those answers, but they are still confusing.
so, i am cancer-free. i am still soaking this in. i am still recovering from surgery. i am sore. my right arm, chest, and scapula are learning how to dance again. i am flooded with love from so many of you. what would i do without you? i start radiation in about 3 weeks, after i heal a bit more. this radiation will be every day for 5 weeks. it's going to get any cells that may be hiding out somewhere else in my body, and zap them. side effects are mostly fatigue and a sorta sunburn. my radiation oncologist, dr. ballanoff, is an awesome guy and a friend, a good friend, of danny's. it feels better knowing this. and meanwhile, i'm still getting one infusion drug of Herceptin, until august, every 3 weeks. Again, with minimal side effects. my hair is slowly growing back. it's fuzzy. it's soft. it's growing in different areas, mostly on top. so, i look, um, like a fuzzy baby bird. but it's so wonderful to have that new growth. the shampoo has something to hold onto.
danny asked what i wanted to do the week before surgery, and i said,
"teach a workshop." and so i did. and it was like soaking in a tub of words, stories, lavender everything...it was just what i needed to take me somewhere else for a few days leading up. i was able to center myself and listen more.
and so my heart. my heart. many things. love. love of life, and of deep friends and family, and of love. it is, indeed, a strange time to fall in love, and yet it is happening. trace is such a giving and kind soul, and we are enjoying eachother. and i am looking forward to loving a long time, with deeper intention, wildness at times, curiosity, humor, and light. i know i still have a ways to go, but i am looking forward to now.
and then, again, now.
and then, now. because all we really have is now.
oh, and food has a new meaning to me again, hallelujah! i never thought i'd enjoy it ever again, and i appreciate it even more now. Ionah made for me the most beautiful shepard's pie, veggie. i could taste the love it there. robyn brought me a french dip from Udi's, and i tell you, i was devouring it like that scene in Fantastic Mr. Fox.
i'm looking forward to this year. i hope you are too. i'm looking forward to us looking forward to it all. life is brief. take it. all. in. give it back. share it. sing in the shower.
love and love,
hol
today
right after surgery, with ned
my beautiful new hospital room, complete with voo doo donuts, flowers, god's eyes, clementines, books, and handmade cards
me and my long-lost brother at REI
infusion before surgery
weinshenkers, trace and me on morphine, post surgery
louie, michelle, nanc, visiting me post surgery
nanc, trace, deAnna, while i was in surgery
danny rubbing my feet post surgery
ryan, eating a clementine, i think :)
nancy hug before i go
danny during surgery
joe, visiting after surgery, reading
me, asking all sorts of questions like i do
trace, trying to answer my questions while i'm on morphine
my pink arm in the air, on the way to surgery (i might have been crying)
michelle, visiting after surgery, eating a red pepper
morphine will make you do crazy things
Monday, January 5, 2015
hello january
been awhile since i've last blogged. things have changed, dates have changed, my overall perspective on some things have changed...so maybe i've been hesitant to write openly about things. i'm not sure. i've had mostly good days, but am still feeling the effects of chemo, mostly on a fatigue-level.
my surgery date changed from december 24th and i didn't find out until 3 days prior. seems my white blood count was too low to risk surgery. and i found myself trying to figure out how i felt about this. i mean, on one hand i was suddenly given christmas and new year's eve back. if i'd had surgery as scheduled, i would've been recovering and in no shape to enjoy christmas and nye as much as i did. so there's that. and on the other hand, it left me with a waiting feeling, and a kind of let-down shift in my thinking–as if my body wasn't strong enough to handle it, which it wasn't. it was a strange feeling, still sort of is. i mean, i'd been through 6 rounds of some of the most harsh drugs, and now their culmulative effects had left me without the strength to follow-through. i mean, the nurses at chemo gave me a certificate of completion, sang to me, kazoos were played, smiles were big...and to have to go back in defeat kinda hit me harder that i ever thought it would. then i was reminded of something maya angelou said about defeat, something like "we will encounter defeats, but we must not feel defeated"...something like that. and i've been trying to understand why i am feeling this way. i mean, after all, it's just a reschedule of a surgery. and after sitting with it for awhile now, i think it has something to do with how, if if the surgery had happened already, i would be that much further along into my recovery, gaining my strength back to be able to walk further, run again, etc...and that the part of me they are taking away would also be gone. and it's still with me. and maybe it's supposed to stick around awhile longer so i can give it a proper grief-ful goodbye.
so that's what i've decided to do. celebrate everything going on right now, in it's time-shift, and just believe that it's all happening at this rate to allow myself to maybe look at things differently. and i found out great news that, on a hereditary note, i am BRCA 1 & 2 negative. If I were positive, it would be a no-brainer to have both breasts removed, and now I have a choice. Since i have cancer in only one breast and lymph nodes on the right side, and am young, my oncologist and surgeon both highly-recommended having just the one breast removed. there's all this new research out now about the non-benefits of having both breasts removed if cancer is presented in only one. breast cancer doesn't "spread" from one breast to the other. the chemo worked very well in doing it's job and shrinking the tumor. my surgeon said that, to him, both breasts felt nearly identical now, and he was very pleased with how well the chemo worked. so, even though it was the toughest time in my life so far, i'm grateful for that suck sauce.
my new surgery date is now january 19. monday. when my surgery was scheduled for christmas eve, i was gonna dress up as an elf, but now, well, i guess it's standard hospital blue. i will be in the hospital overnight at least one night. nancy put together an update to the website for helping out with food, so if you're not on that list and wish to be, please leave your name and email in the comment section of this blog, and we'll make sure you get on the list. nancy or daniel or trace will also send out a group email after i get outta surgery, to update those who wish to know how it went. again, leave your name and email if you wanna receive that info.
they'll test me a few days before again, to make sure i'm strong enough, but i know i will be. i am finally eating well again, tasting food. my magnesium is still really low, and so i'm going into infusion 2-3 times a week to get some of that good stuff. most of the nurses know me by name, and are the most kind and laugh at most of my jokes. one of the male nurses, gerry, comes and just talks with me. he's really quiet, and often talks about his ailing father. and he shares stories he's written about different things, typed-out stories that he hands to me to read, with a staple at the corner. endearing and warm, i try to keep my eyes dry but it never works.
i'd mentioned a 5th floor comment in my last blog, and i want to talk a bit more about what that meant. maya angelou also said this:
louie, joe, syd, zoe. Thanksgiving 2014
brigid at the last chemo
cookies i made for the nurses for the last chemo day
daniel pointing on the last day of chemo
trace, who was all this time, 5 floors above
one of the last times to see this sign
brigid, dana, and danny, celebrating the last chemo with the kitty piano
me, walking out of the last chemo
me and my long-lost brother
my surgery date changed from december 24th and i didn't find out until 3 days prior. seems my white blood count was too low to risk surgery. and i found myself trying to figure out how i felt about this. i mean, on one hand i was suddenly given christmas and new year's eve back. if i'd had surgery as scheduled, i would've been recovering and in no shape to enjoy christmas and nye as much as i did. so there's that. and on the other hand, it left me with a waiting feeling, and a kind of let-down shift in my thinking–as if my body wasn't strong enough to handle it, which it wasn't. it was a strange feeling, still sort of is. i mean, i'd been through 6 rounds of some of the most harsh drugs, and now their culmulative effects had left me without the strength to follow-through. i mean, the nurses at chemo gave me a certificate of completion, sang to me, kazoos were played, smiles were big...and to have to go back in defeat kinda hit me harder that i ever thought it would. then i was reminded of something maya angelou said about defeat, something like "we will encounter defeats, but we must not feel defeated"...something like that. and i've been trying to understand why i am feeling this way. i mean, after all, it's just a reschedule of a surgery. and after sitting with it for awhile now, i think it has something to do with how, if if the surgery had happened already, i would be that much further along into my recovery, gaining my strength back to be able to walk further, run again, etc...and that the part of me they are taking away would also be gone. and it's still with me. and maybe it's supposed to stick around awhile longer so i can give it a proper grief-ful goodbye.
so that's what i've decided to do. celebrate everything going on right now, in it's time-shift, and just believe that it's all happening at this rate to allow myself to maybe look at things differently. and i found out great news that, on a hereditary note, i am BRCA 1 & 2 negative. If I were positive, it would be a no-brainer to have both breasts removed, and now I have a choice. Since i have cancer in only one breast and lymph nodes on the right side, and am young, my oncologist and surgeon both highly-recommended having just the one breast removed. there's all this new research out now about the non-benefits of having both breasts removed if cancer is presented in only one. breast cancer doesn't "spread" from one breast to the other. the chemo worked very well in doing it's job and shrinking the tumor. my surgeon said that, to him, both breasts felt nearly identical now, and he was very pleased with how well the chemo worked. so, even though it was the toughest time in my life so far, i'm grateful for that suck sauce.
my new surgery date is now january 19. monday. when my surgery was scheduled for christmas eve, i was gonna dress up as an elf, but now, well, i guess it's standard hospital blue. i will be in the hospital overnight at least one night. nancy put together an update to the website for helping out with food, so if you're not on that list and wish to be, please leave your name and email in the comment section of this blog, and we'll make sure you get on the list. nancy or daniel or trace will also send out a group email after i get outta surgery, to update those who wish to know how it went. again, leave your name and email if you wanna receive that info.
they'll test me a few days before again, to make sure i'm strong enough, but i know i will be. i am finally eating well again, tasting food. my magnesium is still really low, and so i'm going into infusion 2-3 times a week to get some of that good stuff. most of the nurses know me by name, and are the most kind and laugh at most of my jokes. one of the male nurses, gerry, comes and just talks with me. he's really quiet, and often talks about his ailing father. and he shares stories he's written about different things, typed-out stories that he hands to me to read, with a staple at the corner. endearing and warm, i try to keep my eyes dry but it never works.
i'd mentioned a 5th floor comment in my last blog, and i want to talk a bit more about what that meant. maya angelou also said this:
"Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences,
penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope."
at the time in my life when i never ever thought i'd find love, well, i did. or it found me. us. with my lack of hair, most of my eyebrows and eyelashes and fingernails missing, someone seemed to think i still looked okay. we're having such fun, deep moments, thoughts, laughter, truths, together, and in a big way. some of the best things happen unexpectedly, i suppose. but i find myself writing poems and doing hopscotch in grocery stores, and wanting to read things out loud, like this:
POEM OF THE ONE WORLD
This morning
The beautiful white heron
was floating along above the water
and then into the sky of this
the one world
we all belong to
where everything
sooner or later
is a part of everything else
which thought made me feel
for a little while
quite beautiful myself
so i will stick with this amazing feeling as long as i can have it, share it, hold it, welcome it into the whole family of things. love sure feels good.
and again, humbled. humbled by all you wonderful creatures i get to call friends, deep friends. i apologize for being a bit absent lately. in addition to the lack of energy, i've also been in quite the funk, trying to navigate this part of my life and try to make sense of it somewhat. i'm learning that sometimes things just need to flow the way they are flowing, and not to get in the way.
much love,
hol
cookies i made for the nurses for the last chemo day
Grandpa turned 93 on Dec. 5!! Love this guy.
me and trace
Sunday, November 30, 2014
and six
and so tomorrow is Monday, my last day of chemo. Six out of six. 100%. Perfect score. I made it. I remember the week after my first chemo saying to myself, "18 weeks of feeling like this? You've got it be kidding. How can I do this?" And now, the last. Calls for a haiku:
last chemo haiku
this is the best thing
and then the very most hard
and it will be done
last chemo haiku
I am kinda amazed that something so intense as chemo can deplete at the same time as it can cure. I'm amazed at so much lately. Each day, each day I am touched and held by deep friends and family, and people I don't know well, the nice lady at Walgreens who knows I have cancer and tells me to be well, the friend's partner who insists on rubbing my head (which I love). People. Are. Kind.
I'm making cookies in the morning for all the kind docs and nurses at University, and they are gonna be the best cookies ever, because they will be baked with all the love I've been receiving during all this chemo, this chemo, this, will be the last chemo.
more to come, but I wanted to start a little post now, while I wait for tomorrow and what it may bring. I am really looking forward to Monday. (and you never know what may have been just 5 floors away from you the whole time.)
much love,
hol
last chemo haiku
this is the best thing
and then the very most hard
and it will be done
last chemo haiku
I am kinda amazed that something so intense as chemo can deplete at the same time as it can cure. I'm amazed at so much lately. Each day, each day I am touched and held by deep friends and family, and people I don't know well, the nice lady at Walgreens who knows I have cancer and tells me to be well, the friend's partner who insists on rubbing my head (which I love). People. Are. Kind.
I'm making cookies in the morning for all the kind docs and nurses at University, and they are gonna be the best cookies ever, because they will be baked with all the love I've been receiving during all this chemo, this chemo, this, will be the last chemo.
more to come, but I wanted to start a little post now, while I wait for tomorrow and what it may bring. I am really looking forward to Monday. (and you never know what may have been just 5 floors away from you the whole time.)
much love,
hol
Sunday, November 23, 2014
November 23, really?
friends, family, the squirrel I swirved to avoid hitting,
wow, it's been much too long since my last blog post, and I really don't have many good reasons except for a few hiccups and bumps and general chemo woes. Sometimes when I really wanted to write some things, how I was feeling, the beauty of the reflection on City Park Lake, or the glint in a deep friend's eye, all I could do was think about it. Because my energy just wasn't there; was hiding in places I didn't knew existed. So I had to let it be there. For now.
And now it's Sunday, and the snow is falling. And for those of you who know me well know that this makes me smile loudly. And I'm feeling pretty good and so I'm attempting to write another blog post. Here goes.
So hi. How is everyone? it's been an interesting two rounds of chemo. They call it "cumulative chemo", where each cycle gets a little bit harder, more intense. I agree with this. My relationship with food has been interesting. it's been in the last two days that I've found much joy in eating a bowl of blueberry cereal with fresh blueberries, soy milk, and figs. Tea is remaining my good friend, as is the homemade Concord grape juice Grandpa and PB have been making for me. it's truly healing. Juicing fresh veggies and fruits has been great too, but I can't do too much. I feel like a baby bird. Which is how I hear my hair will come back looking much like- a baby bird. Sounds kinda cute to me. All the hairs just sorta coming back in all directions. tweet tweet. guess that won't really be until February or March. Ah. and so I should tell you what's been going on. first of all, I'm doing great now. There were a couple three weeks where I just couldn't seem to feel better. And so I went into infusion at The University of Colorado Hospital, where im being seen, to get fluids. Fluids are saline and steroids to help with all the nausea, and they help a great deal. I went in last Tuesday for fluids feeling like I'd been dragged through the mud, and when I got there I must have looked like mud because the nurses were very concerned with the lack of color in my face. My blood pressure was very high, and I was confused and acting strange (stranger than usual), and my eyesight was very strange. I saw 4 of everything. After a couple doc consults, they sent me to the ER to be evaluated, CT scan, chest scan, neuro exam, you name it. I barely remember this. they did a bunch of blood work and it turned out I had dangerously low potassium and magnesium, which can mess with your heart and mind functions. Basically, I was low on electrolytes. so, a night in the hospital for me. Daniel was there for me most of the day, and nancy too. and it was snowing and I was on the 11th floor, so lucky #11. I slept well, considering they took my vitals every hour. I got to leave the next day at 2pm. they did all these neuro tests with me by asking me to count backwards by 7's from 100. and I just laughed. because there's no way I could even do that on a good day. so I asked them to ask me, instead, what is blue + yellow, and what is the square root of green? they laughed, but somehow I still passes the tests.
last week my red blood count was very low (8) and I still looked like a ghost, and my potassium and mag were still way low, so I got a blood transfusion. I was a bit freaked out at first, the idea of it all. but then I was like, well, my blood is so weak, and maybe I'll be getting Oprah's blood, or Pema Chodron's blood. and then Daniel said he was pretty sure I was getting Sigfried's blood (from sigfried and Roy) and somehow that made me feel better. after 6 hours of that process, and three awesome visitors and amazing nurses, I felt like a new person. really. amazing.
anyway, chemo has been tough. I'm calling it the suck sauce, thanks to my good friend Dawn Rae. but I have one more to go on Dec. 1. And i just found out my surgery date. There's a window that has to happen, between my last chemo and surgery. And this all happening during the holiday season makes the timing a bit tricky. So, how about Dec. 24? Why not? When I first found out, I was pretty upset. But then I chose to look at this as a gift. And I have the perfect outfit (See my photo with zoe for halloween) I mean, a day is a day, and it sucks for the surgeon too. So why not make it fun. I'm gonna bring cup cakes for the surgery staff, and wear my elf outfit and wrap some lights around me. Make it light. And not that I'm making fun of if, but, it this has to happen, then why not be festive about it. Otherwise, I think I might not be able to handle it.
And that said, I feel ineffibly grateful fo everyone who has given so generously to my fundraising site. And deepest love to Georgina who has started this whole site. Humble Georgina. You are like the air to me. And so many lovelies i've met through this whole thing. I don't feel like this is at all the end, because there's much more to go thru, but it's another opportunity to write a little something about my love for you all, to spell a little poorly, to laugh a bit, and to remember really, what is important in life. at least to me. i love each and every little piece of every one of you. especially knees, and tiny pinkies, and that little crinkle nose. but seriously. life is short. live it up. be patient. please, be patient.
wow, it's been much too long since my last blog post, and I really don't have many good reasons except for a few hiccups and bumps and general chemo woes. Sometimes when I really wanted to write some things, how I was feeling, the beauty of the reflection on City Park Lake, or the glint in a deep friend's eye, all I could do was think about it. Because my energy just wasn't there; was hiding in places I didn't knew existed. So I had to let it be there. For now.
And now it's Sunday, and the snow is falling. And for those of you who know me well know that this makes me smile loudly. And I'm feeling pretty good and so I'm attempting to write another blog post. Here goes.
So hi. How is everyone? it's been an interesting two rounds of chemo. They call it "cumulative chemo", where each cycle gets a little bit harder, more intense. I agree with this. My relationship with food has been interesting. it's been in the last two days that I've found much joy in eating a bowl of blueberry cereal with fresh blueberries, soy milk, and figs. Tea is remaining my good friend, as is the homemade Concord grape juice Grandpa and PB have been making for me. it's truly healing. Juicing fresh veggies and fruits has been great too, but I can't do too much. I feel like a baby bird. Which is how I hear my hair will come back looking much like- a baby bird. Sounds kinda cute to me. All the hairs just sorta coming back in all directions. tweet tweet. guess that won't really be until February or March. Ah. and so I should tell you what's been going on. first of all, I'm doing great now. There were a couple three weeks where I just couldn't seem to feel better. And so I went into infusion at The University of Colorado Hospital, where im being seen, to get fluids. Fluids are saline and steroids to help with all the nausea, and they help a great deal. I went in last Tuesday for fluids feeling like I'd been dragged through the mud, and when I got there I must have looked like mud because the nurses were very concerned with the lack of color in my face. My blood pressure was very high, and I was confused and acting strange (stranger than usual), and my eyesight was very strange. I saw 4 of everything. After a couple doc consults, they sent me to the ER to be evaluated, CT scan, chest scan, neuro exam, you name it. I barely remember this. they did a bunch of blood work and it turned out I had dangerously low potassium and magnesium, which can mess with your heart and mind functions. Basically, I was low on electrolytes. so, a night in the hospital for me. Daniel was there for me most of the day, and nancy too. and it was snowing and I was on the 11th floor, so lucky #11. I slept well, considering they took my vitals every hour. I got to leave the next day at 2pm. they did all these neuro tests with me by asking me to count backwards by 7's from 100. and I just laughed. because there's no way I could even do that on a good day. so I asked them to ask me, instead, what is blue + yellow, and what is the square root of green? they laughed, but somehow I still passes the tests.
last week my red blood count was very low (8) and I still looked like a ghost, and my potassium and mag were still way low, so I got a blood transfusion. I was a bit freaked out at first, the idea of it all. but then I was like, well, my blood is so weak, and maybe I'll be getting Oprah's blood, or Pema Chodron's blood. and then Daniel said he was pretty sure I was getting Sigfried's blood (from sigfried and Roy) and somehow that made me feel better. after 6 hours of that process, and three awesome visitors and amazing nurses, I felt like a new person. really. amazing.
anyway, chemo has been tough. I'm calling it the suck sauce, thanks to my good friend Dawn Rae. but I have one more to go on Dec. 1. And i just found out my surgery date. There's a window that has to happen, between my last chemo and surgery. And this all happening during the holiday season makes the timing a bit tricky. So, how about Dec. 24? Why not? When I first found out, I was pretty upset. But then I chose to look at this as a gift. And I have the perfect outfit (See my photo with zoe for halloween) I mean, a day is a day, and it sucks for the surgeon too. So why not make it fun. I'm gonna bring cup cakes for the surgery staff, and wear my elf outfit and wrap some lights around me. Make it light. And not that I'm making fun of if, but, it this has to happen, then why not be festive about it. Otherwise, I think I might not be able to handle it.
And that said, I feel ineffibly grateful fo everyone who has given so generously to my fundraising site. And deepest love to Georgina who has started this whole site. Humble Georgina. You are like the air to me. And so many lovelies i've met through this whole thing. I don't feel like this is at all the end, because there's much more to go thru, but it's another opportunity to write a little something about my love for you all, to spell a little poorly, to laugh a bit, and to remember really, what is important in life. at least to me. i love each and every little piece of every one of you. especially knees, and tiny pinkies, and that little crinkle nose. but seriously. life is short. live it up. be patient. please, be patient.
Monday, October 6, 2014
a week, a weak
a week ago daniel came over to work at my house because of what happened the previous evening, morning, really. i woke up at something like 4am, and found myself on the floor of my bedroom, totally coherent, but very spinny. and very nauseous. i had a mini conversation with myself in the dark there, saying, "hey, you're okay, but you're laying on your face and the room is spinning. close your eyes. you'll be okay." the spinnies went away after awhile, but visited last week too much.
so, after what seems like a month, this past week was a rough one. the chemo is hitting me hard this time. poor appetite, spinnies, deep bone ache, blah blah blah...my spirits have been very up and very down, and i keep reminding myself that this is temporary. this is all temporary. this is. all. temporary. it's a good practice of impermanence. A good reminder. Impermanence and change are undeniable truths of our existence. so, after not smiling too much this past week (and still struggling to do so at times!), i've decided that i must also embrace this. because it's happening. and even though i can't choose some of these icky things i'm feeling right now, i can choose to look at them differently.
and all of that is true, and it is also becoming so aware to me that grief is a process i'm beginning to go through with all of this too. grief combined with anger, which is a new combo for me. anger has always been a struggle for me to show...what am i angry at? the cancer? you bet. at the way the chemo makes me feel? very much so, dammit. cancer sucks. chemo sucks. no one should have to go through this.
i got to have lunch with my dear friend from santa fe, monica, on friday. we haven't seen each other in about a year, and it was just like we left off. we talked about everything from sesame street to hospice care, and walked along the river. i bought a used porch swing from the kindest man on facebook (that should be a book title), for $25, who was from england. he was moving and had to get rid of the swing. he said it was always his dream to have one, and i asked him why. he said growing up in england, people didn't really have porches, which is something i'd never thought about. i mean, maybe if you grow up in the country or something, but not where he grew up. he was so glad i was getting that porch swing, and i was so happy to get to hang it up soon.
so, small victories. today i finally ate something that i could sorta taste, almond butter and apples. i worked a bit, walked with nancy for about 15 minutes, and am now looking out the window at the flatirons and long's peak, as this beautiful fall day blows all the leaves around in circles.
much love and wonder,
hol
so, after what seems like a month, this past week was a rough one. the chemo is hitting me hard this time. poor appetite, spinnies, deep bone ache, blah blah blah...my spirits have been very up and very down, and i keep reminding myself that this is temporary. this is all temporary. this is. all. temporary. it's a good practice of impermanence. A good reminder. Impermanence and change are undeniable truths of our existence. so, after not smiling too much this past week (and still struggling to do so at times!), i've decided that i must also embrace this. because it's happening. and even though i can't choose some of these icky things i'm feeling right now, i can choose to look at them differently.
and all of that is true, and it is also becoming so aware to me that grief is a process i'm beginning to go through with all of this too. grief combined with anger, which is a new combo for me. anger has always been a struggle for me to show...what am i angry at? the cancer? you bet. at the way the chemo makes me feel? very much so, dammit. cancer sucks. chemo sucks. no one should have to go through this.
i got to have lunch with my dear friend from santa fe, monica, on friday. we haven't seen each other in about a year, and it was just like we left off. we talked about everything from sesame street to hospice care, and walked along the river. i bought a used porch swing from the kindest man on facebook (that should be a book title), for $25, who was from england. he was moving and had to get rid of the swing. he said it was always his dream to have one, and i asked him why. he said growing up in england, people didn't really have porches, which is something i'd never thought about. i mean, maybe if you grow up in the country or something, but not where he grew up. he was so glad i was getting that porch swing, and i was so happy to get to hang it up soon.
so, small victories. today i finally ate something that i could sorta taste, almond butter and apples. i worked a bit, walked with nancy for about 15 minutes, and am now looking out the window at the flatirons and long's peak, as this beautiful fall day blows all the leaves around in circles.
much love and wonder,
hol
Friday, September 26, 2014
Sept. 26
Round 3. Done. In the Books.
half-way point of chemo, people! can i get a whoop whoop! today went well, and quicker than last time. 8am–3:30p.
daniel drove me there, and stayed with me until about 12:30, then Murf arrived, and Mary Jo, then Lauren, then Brigid, then my mom and aunt Susie, then Terrell! So many lovelies, all in one room. it was really special that my mom was able to come because of her Parkinson's–she drove down to Susie's first, they had lunch, and then drove to see me. so sweet of them both and thanks! it really meant a lot. at one point, when we had 7 people, plus me, in the room, i looked at the nurse and asked her if this was too many people. she looked at me, smiled, and said, "no way. we love seeing all the support you have", and gave my arm a gentle squeeze.
so now it's the wait of the uckies for the next couple weeks or so. but i do so love this day of chemo because i feel good for the most part. tomorrow when i wake up, i'll probably feel not-so-good, but we shall see. you never know, and i'm always open for change.
so again, thanks to everyone who could come today, for reading poetry to me, rubbing my shiny bald head, providing me with kombucha and beautiful necklaces, nourishment, more hats, and most of all, that little touch and look in your eyes, into my eyes, that simply says love.
much,
hol
hol & mom
murf & terrell
ned with my tea
lo1.JPG)
hol, murf & lauren
me in a huge chair
my tree base
me and danny, chic
susie, mj, mom & murf
mom, susie, murf, lauren & terrell
daniel beating me at SET
me trying on all the hats at once
me and brig
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