I have only one chemo session left to endure. I must admit that this new and better chemo is much easier than the beginning 4. No nausea, and my oncologist even let me take a miss on the shot that made the bones produce more white cells, my count has been through the roof. That hellish shot threw my entire body in the throes of major pain, I had to eat opiate medication like candy. The only irritant now is mood fluctuation and a huge weight gain due to my new addiction to carbs and the steroids in the chemo. Yes, I am puffy. And bald. Dislike, dislike.
So here's the new issue. During my penultimate chemo session my charismatic but kind of lazy oncologist points out that my blood tests have revealed rising alkaline phosphatase levels. What this indicates is either A. liver failure or B. bone cancer. Well rest assured my liver enzymes are just fine, thank you very much. So it could be the B.for bone cancer. He says it's pretty likely that since my breast cancer was so aggressive it could relocate to just about any part of my body. He says a bone scan will be scheduled and then starts walking back to his office. I ask his back how do we tell if it spreads say, to my liver, and he glibly answers that there's no test to tell, just come back if my liver hurts. Dr. Charisma nails it again, WHOO! If he were to turn back around, do his hands pointed at me like pretend guns with a big smile and go "HEY!", it would be no surprise. I then ask the nurses what they usually do for bone cancer...the treatments are basically palliative it can't really be cured., and I most likely be tethered to the Chemo Pavilion for whatever would be the rest of my life. The usual standard answer from the creepily cheery staff is that many people go on for ten years or more with bone cancer. Of course the earliest they can schedule the scan is the following week. So I have 6 days of research and insane emotional flux ahead of me. Can you say MIND FUCK?
Now you know that the first thing I do is google everything I can about these rising blood levels and bone cancer. Absolutely terrifying. I pretty much decided that if I tested positive, I'm blowing this joint, I'm on a plane to wherever and will play beat the clock. But you already know my attitude about that crap, no reason to get all morbid again. I don't know why I google medical shit, it is always horrible. I try to be informed, but jeez...there really is such a thing as "too much information".
So the bone scan is done in two parts. I get there at 10 am and they inject me with radioactive isotopes. I sure wish I could have glowed, that would have been sooo cool. I return at 1 pm and they lay me down in a machine that takes intense pictures of my bones. It lasts about 40 minutes. Scans are easy. I can hold still and and am not claustrophobic. Sometimes I just fall asleep. But this time I did some serious thinking. realizing that this whole epic has just been surreal. It's like a bad Dali movie, with people just coming at me and DOING all this stuff to me. Surgery, hyperbarics, chemo, scans, oh I could go on. I just show up and people do whack shit to me. I don't participate in any other way.
The bone scan results come in the next day. It revealed that I had a repaired hip (broken 10 years ago, DUH!) but nothing else. I had been assured that this particular scan could identify as little as 10% osteo loss. I could maybe take some comfort that there was no evidence of cancerous tumors eating at my bones, but that leaves the obvious query. WTF is making my alkaline phosphatase go consistently higher? I leave a message for Dr. Charisma to call me back. The next day I get a call from the chemo nurse that they have sent orders for blood work to the diagnostics center, I need to go for a draw. Now, I usually wait until the absolutely last minute to go to the vampires. I absolutely hate it, always have. As a little kid the first time they tried to stick me for a sample I escaped and ended up about 5 floors higher in the medical plaza. They caught me, brought me back and strapped me down while I screamed bloody murder. You would think all my diabetic needle fun would get me used to venal puncture. No, I still nearly faint, especially if it's a bad phlebotomist. I've kicked an incompetent idiot out of my hospital room once. It feels icky even writing about it. But yesterday I hauled ass to the vampires, no waiting, Arrived ready and eager in 10 minutes flat.
I ask the phlebotomist how soon we can expect the results. She tells me that it has to be overnighted to a lab in SALT LAKE CITY, results back in 3-5 BUSINESS DAYS. Joys. At the point of this writing, I am back in limbo land...aah do the limbo dance mon.
During all this mess, there have been days where I wish I didn't have to get out of bed. I want to stay in my weird dreamland where I can create reality, have some control. Being conscious can get way out of hand. But there are things to do. I have responsibilities. I have been posting insane Police Blotters from my hometown on Facebook since signing up over a year ago. I know I have a lot of regular readers, even though they don't always leave comments. Now that our local paper has gone paywall, I've actually been translating from the original Sheriff Department daily logs. Unfortunately I can no longer verify accuracy, there are many codes that are particular to our locale. I would have to call 911 to find out what they mean, and then they'd admonish me for abusing the emergency system and then I'd end up in the Blotter myself.
Another little project has been "Wig O' The Day". I don't do bald well, and I decided at the beginning of all this mess I was going to get crazy ass wigs, rather than the boring "normal" look. It's pretty obvious who's wearing a wig at the Chemo Pavilion, even if they think they blend. Might as well get jiggy with the wiggy. I had to visit a "Costume Shop" on the net to find what I was looking for. That virtual shopping cart was overflowing by the time I checked out. And what fun when they arrived! I did a Skype hair show for a dear friend. We're talking fluorescent pink bob, tinsely razor two tone cuts, princess long platinum blonde, etc. The gamut. The works. Major insanity. True JOYS. My husband has been taking and posting pictures of me in a different wig every day. (Hence "Wig O' The Day" for you slow ones out there) It's gotten me motivated to get dressed and made up.
On fluorescent pink bob day, I decided that I wanted BBQ ribs. Since I was already dressed I decided it was time to actually "go out". You must understand that I've been incredibly reclusive during this convalescence. Not feeling particularly attractive or energetic isn't much to get me in the public eye, especially in a small town where everybody is all up in everybody else's business. So the decision to walk to the restaurant sporting hair so bright a person could be blinded was pretty monumental. We arrived early, (my appetite has been so unpredictable) and the place was pretty much empty except for another booth occupied by a group of young adults. We were seated directly across from them. Being a person who was mercilessly bullied as a kid, I can sense derision and deprecation instantly. Those white trashy kids were of course making fun of me in my wig. They tried to hide it, but did a really crappy job. After a few minutes of tolerating their rudeness, I leaned over to their table and said to them calmly, "When you get cancer and you have chemo, you can pick out any wig you want." Dead silence. They got OWNED. And they'll probably not forget the crazy cancer lady wearing the intense pink wig in the restaurant that afternoon. So THANK YOU CANCER. I will no longer take any shit from anyone, including Dr. Charisma, or any a-hole who opens up their yap and says something stupid or nasty. I will however accept compliments as a sacred gift. This is the new me. Get used to it or bugger off.
And yet I continue to wait for answers. Some things never change, no matter what.
