Oct. 18: Daybook

Today…

Outside my window... it was a sunny, bright, beautiful fall day. Fabulous.

This weekend, I… finished up the Jogathon packets, and not a whole lotta much else. I need to get a new life—one in which I have time to read and watch TV and do things just for Jen. I vaguely remember enjoying a life like that.

I am thinking... that tomorrow would be a good day to take off. Don’t call, please. I won’t answer.

I am thankful... that I have friends who make me laugh. You should’ve seen Sunshine acting as my armed guard going into the bank today. She was so bad-ass, I half-expected her to grab the teller’s bangs and punch her in the face.

I am working on... re-claiming my life. How did it disappear without me noticing?

I am going... to cry. Just look the other way.

I am reading... “The Art of Racing in the Rain,” or I was, until Fancy Lori™ suggested that maybe I shouldn’t. Sunshine’s also reading it, and she agreed that it might not be the best thing for me right now (cancer story, dog dying, etc.) so I’m going to put it away until it’s a better time.

I am hoping... that our beagle Scout’s got a little more time with us. The call from the vet today, with the test results from the mass they removed from her mouth last week, made me sad. Girl’s gettin’ some extra loves and people food these days.

I am hearing... Pandora show tunes radio. Love.

Around the house... the summer clothes are getting packed away and winter clothes are coming out. As much as I love cuddly clothes, this is my least favorite time of year for just about every other reason. Last year Sherilee tried to convince me fall was awesome, but I think all it really did was make her question her own love of the season. Nice try, though.

One of my favorite things... was seeing several kids in their Jogathon T-shirts today. That means they love them, right? After all our efforts, it’s nice to see them show up outside of the actual Jogathon.

Plans for the rest of the week: doctor appointment Wednesday, meeting in the evening, volunteer training sessions on Thursday, maybe some for-pay work if I can squeeze it in... I’m most looking forward to tomorrow, though, during which I plan to do not very many things at all. Remember? You’re not supposed to call.

Here’s an image I want to share:

Here I am at Friday Morning Meeting with some o’ my fab girls!
(Me), Dina, Jenn K, Shelby, and Wendy

“We'll be fine, thank you! See ya! Hope you don't get gonorrhea!”

Want to blog your own Daybook? Here’s the info: The Simple Woman’s Daybook.

Oct. 17: If movie titles were honest

Here are 35 movie posters “if movie titles were honest.” This one is, by far, the most true:

Oct. 16: Hey hey!

When I say I “missed” yesterday’s post, it wasn’t like I meant to write it and didn’t. I had no intention of posting yesterday—usually my IDCEAYWTPFriday post—because I was way, way, way too busy with other things. The cool thing is that this morning I found a good image to use for a Saturday post—not as good as Ponch, of course, but it’ll work:

…so now, if I don’t get around to posting IDCEAYWTPFriday, whatev.

• The biggest news of this week is that the school’s Jogathon is OVER. What a relief! The kids had a blast, or so it seemed, and we had tons of great help. Only one meanie mom that I heard about. Only one injury. Good weather. Fun music. Awesome donations. Lots of whining “my side hurts!” (that was my daughter) and beet-red faces going back to class. Li’l bit o’ dancing. A new FMM routine: “I pledge allegiance, to Sunshine, who is standing in front of the flag at Friday Morning Meeting so the kids can’t pledge allegiance to the thing they’re supposed to pledge allegiance to…”
• Oh, here’s a thing. During the Pledge of Allegiance Sunshine, Jenn K proudly recited it (quietly) in French. Afterward she whispered, “I can say the pledge in French!” and at first Dina and I were all, WOW! and then we decided that’s just weird because what’s the point and now I even kinda think Jenn K might be a terrorist. A French one.
• My mom is visiting for a few days, so Gilly and Oliver finally got to meet this week. At first Oliver was freaked out by big, friendly, eager-to-play Gilly, but he gradually warmed up to him and now they won’t leave each other alone. It’s all-growling-all-rolling-all-biting-all-chasing-all-the-time. Very cute, unless they somehow get on top of you in their rollicking, and then it’s more than a little bit painful. Gilly’s heavy, and Oliver’s got lots of sharp places.
• Our sweet beagle Scout had surgery this week to remove a growth from her mouth. She came through it just fine, thank goodness. It’s so hard to watch her get older; she’s always been so puppy-ish and in the last couple years she’s kinda turned into Nana—the still-nice version of Nana. Also, veterinarians are OMG expensive. OMG.
• I missed almost every one of my favorite TV shows this week because I was busy or sleeping or doing something else (dur).  Between TiVo and onDemand, I’ll be catching up this weekend. NO SPOILERS, please!

Gotta get busy counting all that Jogathon money. A PTO treasurer’s fun never ends.

Oct. 13: Chemo #16

Yesterday was my first chemotherapy treatment with my port. It’s weird that I was really excited about it, huh? My nurses were proud of me for getting it—they had been encouraging me to ask for one for the last several sessions, after having so much trouble getting a good vein in my hand—and got me hooked up right away. It was easier and faster than it’s ever been. LOVE!

My friend Sheila R was my chemo buddy. She’s an experienced one, as she’s accompanied another friend to chemo before. It makes me wonder a little bit if Sheila’s the cause of all this cancer. Hmmm… Sheila was actually my first friend who ever asked if she could come with me, but it took about ten months for us to work it out. We stopped for trashy magazines on the way to the doctors’ office, so we were all set with plenty of stuff to giggle about for the day—a must for chemo.

About an hour after we got there, Kim F’n surprised us with a visit. She hung out long enough to give Victor an awkward hug, steal a small piece of orange chicken, and fondle my port site. I love that girl. Everything’s better with Kim F’n involved, I tell ya what.

Although I felt extra-sleepy after lunch and the IV Benadryl, I stayed awake even though Sheila gave me permission to fall asleep and drool all down the front of myself. She’s a very kind and considerate chemo buddy, though I’m suspicious that she just wanted to steal the Cosmo from my lap. It would have probably been impossible to sleep, though, because the infusion room was more crowded and noisy than I’ve ever seen it. Apparently it was the place to be yesterday. Who knew?

Muchas smoochas to Sheila for making the long trek from home and back to be with me. We had a fun visit, not just at chemo, but before and after too. Dinner with our friend Jay last night was Agave Grill icing on the chemo cake.

Oct. 8: I read it: Ape House

During one of my very brief waking hours last night/this morning, I finally finished Ape House, by Sara Gruen. Before I tell you what I thought of the book, I have to pat myself on the back a little, because:

• I hate monkeys and apes and whatever else is way too human-like to throw its poo.

That’s not why I’m patting myself on the back, though; I know my monkey hatred makes me kind of a jackass. I’m patting myself on the back because in spite of the fact that I do not like monkeys—and that I think chimpanzees are the worst—I have done these two monkey-related things BY CHOICE in the past month:

• I read Ape House. It’s about bonobo apes, which are similar to chimps.
• I use MailChimp as the mailing list service for our PTO news, and there are chimps on every single FA-REEKING page of that site.

I know, right? I’m growing up and gittin’ all mature ‘n stuff. (I’m not, really. I still do not like monkeys or monkey types.)

OK, so the premise of Ape House is a little bit sad and also kind of amusing: six bonobo apes escape a language lab after an explosion and suddenly appear on a 24-hour reality TV show in which people all over the world get to watch them function on their own. The book primarily centers around the people who sincerely care about getting the apes back to a safe place.

Major characters are well-developed; some minor characters are not, or they start to be and then pretty much disappear. I love that the apes’ personalities are described so thoroughly. One timely topic was the demise of printed newspapers, and as one of the main characters was a writer, it was significant. There were things that happened along the way that I kept waiting to be tied in to the overall plot, and some never were—it almost seemed like an editor said “It’s been more than 30 pages since something blew up or a scary person came to that character’s door. Fix it.” That part was strange, but otherwise the book was totally readable. One thing obvious is Sara Gruen’s love for animals, and that makes me think she’s all kinds of awesome.

I refuse to read books (or watch movies) in which I know an animal dies. SPOILER ALERT: no apes die in this story. Whew. There is a fish homicide though. Ye be warned.

Ape House wasn’t the best book I’ve ever read, but I think it takes a special writer to make someone like me actually care what happened to these apes in the end. Or maybe I cared because the story wasn’t published as a picture book. That would’ve grossed me out big-time.

I liked Water for Elephants—Sara Gruen’s third novel and a bestseller—very much; it was a fascinating story about the circus. As soon as I finished reading it, I got her two earlier novels (Riding Lessons and Flying Changes), and they were alright—not my favorite books ever, but they were about horses and I know very little about horses, so I didn’t enjoy them as much as I might have otherwise. After reading all four of Sara Gruen’s published novels, I think Water is still my favorite.

Oct. 8: Post-surgery update

My port placement surgery yesterday was uneventful—the best kind. I’m home now.

Although my dear friend Margaret wasn’t my surgery nurse this time, she assured me beforehand that the nurse I had was a good one. I also had a nice surprise when I got to the operating room, when I saw a former coworker (and Oliver’s first human momma!) was working. She held my hand until the anesthesia kicked in. I tell ya, if you want to feel pampered and cared for, have surgery in a hospital where you know lots of people. It makes the whole experience much nicer. That is, until you throw up all over them; then it’s just embarrassing.

(I would assume.) For the record, I threw up on NO ONE at the hospital. I waited until I got home.

The last thing I remember in the OR was skooching over to the operating table. The next thing I knew, my surgical team woke me and I was in post-op. I asked them if I could live-Twitter my surgery. Someone chuckled and said my surgery was over, and I turned to the surgeon and asked if he was going to live-Twitter my surgery. I don’t know why this Twittering idea came into my head at the very moment I came out of the anesthesia, but I cannot possibly express how embarrassed I was when I remembered it later. I’m not only one of those goofy idiots who can’t shut up under anesthesia; I also revealed to all of them that I’m a total nerd. Gah.

My short stay nurse later told me that I was in the operating room for 13 minutes—super-speedy surgery, huh? I had propofol as my anesthesia. That is some amazing stuff—it’s really quite easy to come out of it; never mind that it makes people (me) say dorky computer geek things. Once I was in my short stay room, I was given graham crackers and ice water. It was about 11 a.m. by then, so it had been more than 12 hours since I’d eaten and I was starving. I texted Victor that I needed coffee and he brought a big cup to me right away. I took one sip and knew I wasn’t going to keep those crackers down.

For the next three hours I fought off a tremendous headache and nausea. The headache was hunger-related and sinus-y (I wasn’t allowed to use my nasal spray that morning, as I usually do when I wake up all stuffy), which in turn was causing the nausea. Contributing to the headache was my blood pressure, which was higher than usual because I was told not to take my dyazide that morning. I hadn’t been able to have caffeine that morning either, of course, so that had something to do with my headache too. It was kind of a vicious circle, though: I needed to get something in my stomach to help with the hunger headache, but I was nauseous so it was hard to keep food down, which was stressing me out and making my blood pressure go even higher, which was making my headache worse, which was making me more nauseous, so I was given Vicodin for the headache but I didn’t have enough food in my stomach so it made me more nauseous. (Have you read If You Give a Mouse a Cookie? That’s the icky version of that story.)

Besides spending a lot more time in short stay than we’d thought I would, most everything went well. It wasn’t until I got home that I kinda fell apart. I took one bite of real food (pasta) and was suddenly very glad I’d nabbed that emesis bag as I left my hospital room. I spent the rest of the evening eating saltines and water between long, drug-addled dreams.

During the night I woke up and discovered that the numbness around my incision had worn off and I was feeling every movement in that area. Ouchie! I threw back a couple Vicodin and slept a good eight hours. I was able to keep breakfast down this morning, thanks to Zofran, and slept another several hours. I’m not getting anything accomplished today, but it sure is nice to get some long overdue rest.

In fact, I’m about ready for another nap. It’s bad that I’m enjoying this so much, isn’t it? Meh.

Oct. 6: My new part is a port

My port placement surgery that was originally scheduled for tomorrow afternoon was moved to tomorrow morning instead. This is mostly a good thing—I like the idea of getting it over with earlier in the day, not having to go as many hours (awake) without coffee, and getting home before evening. The disadvantage is that I have to check in at the hospital before the kids have to leave for school, Victor won’t be off work until long after I’m ready to leave (probably), and the things I planned to do in the morning are going to have to wait.

However, I’m so glad I’ll have this port for next Tuesday’s chemo, I don’t mind so much that the schedule got all farked up. Look at me, bein’ all flexible and not worked up over something out of my control! I’m like a new woman! Or maybe I’m not the same woman at all! Maybe I’m a totally different person, just faking my way around here as Jen. Hmmm…

The surgeon gave me all the details about the surgery, and it sounds relatively simple. I’ll be put in “conscious sedation,” so I won’t remember anything during the surgery itself, but will wake up pretty easily. After some time in the recovery room, they’ll put me in short stay until they feel I’m ready to leave. The risks are small; there’s a very small chance he could poke my lung, which would necessitate several days in the hospital. That’d be a darn shame, huh, having an excuse to sleep and not much else for a few days? Yeah, I sure hope THAT doesn’t happen.

If for any reason I have to be sedated for a long period of time, which one of you is going to pluck my chin hairs? I’m thinking I could rely on Sunshine or Kim F’n for that. I can, right, girls? You wouldn’t let me grow a beard in the hospital, would you? Forget the deflated lung and sepsis and staph infection. UNWANTED FACIAL HAIR DOESN’T JUST FALL OUT ON ITS OWN.

Until I feel like blogging again, remember that I love you best. Yes, YOU.

Oct. 5: Dirty deeds

You might have heard me say this before: one of the funniest things in the world to me is that my friend April once hit a girl. If you know April, you might not even believe it because April is, like, one of the nicest, gentlest girls EVER. But in this situation (crowded club, lots of shoving, one particularly shove-y mean girl pushing April to her limit), I have finally come to believe that it really did happen.

So, imagine my delight when I recently heard a story about a peace-loving friend of mine in a similarly unbelievable situation. I absolutely cannot stop thinking about this story, and that means it’s time to blog about it.

My friend—let’s call her “Snooki”—told me about getting in a fight with another girl in high school. It was over a boy, of course, and happened while this boy couldn’t decide which of the two girls he liked better. Snooki says she ran into the girl outside a store and they did a little bit of shoving each other against cars. My favorite part of the story is when Snooki grabbed the other girl by her bangs and started pounding her in the face.

To me, this says so much. First, it says that Snooki was pretty clever; she wasn’t going to hold the girl by her shirt or ponytail—that’s for amateurs. I kinda love that it says Snooki and her friends were of the big-bangs generation (like me) and shows us girls just one more reason that hairstyle was such a bad choice. It says that Snooki is more Jersey Shore than I ever realized, and for a time, maybe a bit of a train wreck. And it says that my dear, sweet, smiley friend Snooki has a dark side. A very dark side.

I’ve had nightmares ever since I heard about this. Scary ones! I need to be comforted and held. (But not by the bangs, thanks.)

April, you’ve got some competition for “most shocking things my friends ever did.” Get busy bein’ bad-ass, mmkay?

Oct. 4: Daybook

Today…

Outside my window... the sky is blue and bright with just a few clouds. Very pretty right now, especially with the trees changing color all around. I mean, if fall has to happen, it’s not so bad when the sun is shining. There are maple trees all along the streets in our neighborhood, and they all seem to be just a bit different variety, so they change colors at different times. It makes it quite beautiful.

This weekend, I… spent too much time on PTO things. Saturday night we went to Five Guys for dinner. I had never been there before. Except for the weird cheese they use on their burgers, I thought they were pretty good. The fries were so-so. I spent a lot of yesterday reading a book, in between PTO projects.

I am thinking... that this week will be busy and fun. Bun. Or fizzy. I like “fizzy.” Even though it should probably be spelled “fusy.” Which reminds me of a name I saw on a class roster at school that was spelled something like Yclqapdemrtz, and the teacher had written in parentheses, “(pronounced ‘Heidi.’)” People these days. Somebody should let me kill people for naming their kids shit like that.

I am thankful... that I am my husband’s only wife. I watched the first episode of Sister Wives yesterday and OMG, that lifestyle is odd. It appears to be nothing but a big ol’ ball of fun to these folks; they don’t seem to be following a church doctrine or doing it for Biblical reasons. Maybe more of that will be featured in other episodes. Whatever. I can’t get over the ego on that guy.

I am working on... the T-shirts for the upcoming Jogathon, a flyer for tomorrow, newsletter items, and finishing up the book I started reading yesterday.

I am going... to have surgery on Thursday. I’m getting my port! I check in at 12:30, am supposed to go into surgery at 2:30, and should be home by evening.

I am reading... a book, as well as the magazine I accidentally took from the doctor’s office today. Oops. Heh heh.

I am hoping... that the sore throat I started getting yesterday does NOT turn into a full-blown sickness. I’m suddenly wishing I’d paid more attention to all of Sherilee’s Emergen-C and and Airborne treatments when she’s warded off these things, because they always seem to work for her.

I am hearing... a lot of peace and quiet. It’s lovely. Katie and Jack are spending the night at Grandpa and Grandma’s, and Vic just left with Jack for football practice. I’m going to read for a while.

Around the house... I’ve got some cleaning to do. Sheila R is coming for a visit next week. Sheila, if I meet you at the front door with a hotel room key, it’s because I never got around to the cleaning. And please let me come with you.

One of my favorite things... is when I order regular fries at Burgerville but find a few sweet potato fries mixed in. BONUS. Those things are yum-mee.

Plans for the rest of the week: school, school, and more school. School district meeting tomorrow night. Wednesday is Donuts with Dad at the school—I love this event! Surgery Thursday. Victor’s going to a family wedding in California on Friday, and Mother Mary is coming for a few days starting Saturday.

Here’s an image I want to share:

This is the kind of polygamy for me. And no, I don’t care if they’re all gay. 

One more thing: I went topless today! It was my first time going out in public without a hat or scarf in almost ten months. It felt weird, but in a good way; I loved feeling the wind on my head but I also felt a little naked. Pretty sure I can get used to it, though.

“We'll be fine, thank you! See ya! Hope you don't get gonorrhea!”

Want to blog your own Daybook? Here’s the info: The Simple Woman’s Daybook.

Oct. 1: IDCEAYWTPFriday

It’s Friday, and that means you get a post called I Don’t Care Enough About You to Write in Transitioning Paragraphs Friday.

• I’ve had a killer migraine since I woke up yesterday. It got worse throughout the day and hit its peak when I threw up all over the toilet seat. I have terrible vomit aim. Victor reminds me of this whenever I’m sick, which is kinda irritating, but he’s right as right can be.
• Val and I both have headaches right now. Normally something this sync-y would make us awesome, but this does not.
• The Jogathon fundraiser at the school has officially been kicked off. Today a bunch of us made absolute idiots of ourselves at Friday Morning Meeting. It was a blast, getting the kids excited and telling everyone about how it’ll go. Long after our display of foolishness, I found confetti in my ear—that means we had a good time, right?
• Yesterday Stephanie came to me with news that would make any mother proud: Jack can, and does, lick his armpit.
• I have an appointment on Monday afternoon with a surgeon to consult about getting my port implanted or inserted or injected or infuriated or whatever the procedure is called. I’m still waiting for my oncologist to say I don’t need a port—I fully expect it and THAT. WILL. PISS. ME. OFF. Don’t get me started. Anyway, the surgeon is the same one who did my surgery last year. I’m glad to not have to get familiar with yet another doctor.
• I kinda love these:

  

• I missed two very important birthdays yesterday by not checking in at Facebook. For Hawaii Laura and Margaret, I hope your birthdays were one of your best ever! Sorry for the delinquency. Please don’t be mad at me. I have cancer.
• Happy birthday wishes for today go out to my way-cool brother-in-law, Ted, and Sherilee’s pride and joy, Seth.
• I’m having a hard time thinking of anything else to say. My life is about 150% PTO these days, and I know y’all don’t want to hear about that. I’m so far behind on Facebook and Twitter and my Google feeds that I feel completely uninformed about everything else in life. Also, I’m trying to keep my dinner down, so, I gotta concentrate on that a little too. Sorry for the brief and yawn-worthy update.

“We’ll be fine, thank you! See ya! Hope you don’t get gonorrhea!”