Aug. 31: August in review

August 2014 is just about done. Septembers in the Northwest are usually quite lovely—still warm and sunny, but not god-awful hot. Also: KIDS IN SCHOOL AGAIN FINALLY OMG I’M SO GLAD I THOUGHT THEY’D NEVER GO BACK.

special days i celebrated this month and how:

• We had Victor’s birthday party. It rocked, mostly. We know a lot more nice/fun people than assholes, and that’s good when it’s time to throw parties.
• Katie registered for high school. Eek. I’m happy for her, but GEEZ, it seems like just a few days ago that we were trying to teach her to count.

i saw things with my eyes:

• We went up north to see our niece, Abby, perform in a musical. It was big, silly fun; Bellevue Youth Theater has a cool program.
• Welcome to Sweden and The Hotwives of Orlando are semi-amusing time-wasters.
• I think I would be soooo good at doing a Drunk History episode. Not actually being on the show, just recording one. My great-great-great grandchildren will be so very, very proud. What a legacy. :) 
• The Simpsons “every episode ever” marathon has been playing almost non-stop at The House of Manullang for the past ten days. LOVING. IT.
• This is exciting pretty much just to me: I got new dishes, and the full kitchen sink never looked so pretty. My mom gave me ten of the cheeriest, colorful-est gifts EVER:

• Sweet Maya. She’s adjusting so well in her new life as a Manullang. I think she loves us pretty good:

 

• My rock star nephew started a new band, Tetherball. They just released a single on iTunes. He’s also a goofball—check out the video teaser he stars in for the song (below). And if you care, the guy who sang lead for The Rouge has a new band too: The Almanacks. Stephen produced their album. Stephen, apparently, can do anything and is pretty much the greatest.

 

this month’s good and bad:

• We spent a LOT of time in doctors’ offices this month. I don’t know how all the appointments got scheduled like they did, but there was one week where every morning we were out the door EARLY to see one professional or another. None of them gave us bad news, so YAY!
• One of the appointments was an eye exam for Jack. You’ve probably noticed in photos that he wears his sports goggles as regular glasses, which has never made me very happy but at least I don’t have to worry about girls chasing him. ;) Since he’s been ready for a new prescription for a while now, we encouraged him to get regular glasses in addition to a new pair of goggles. He couldn’t find frames he liked, though, and I knew if I forced him to choose a pair he wouldn’t actually wear them. And THEN the optician suggested we check out the Nike line of frames. Jack’s grin went ear-to-ear, and $300 later he was wearing normal glasses again. (I have several four-letter words in my head over this, and the last one is “Nike.”) He was disappointed that the swoosh sticker on the store lenses weren’t on his prescription lenses, but there are swooshes on the temples, so that’ll do. <cue this mom’s eye roll>
• A new season of football has begun. Jack is on a junior varsity team this year, and practices until 9:30pm several days a week. Crazy. I am sooo glad Dina’s kid and mine are on the same team again this year. I’ve got our flasks all filled and ready for the first game next weekend!
• I worked quite a bit in June and July, but not at all in August. I really haven’t minded all that much. The free-ish time let me concentrate on other things, like…
• Katie decided to switch bedrooms. You think it’ll be a pretty simple, quick project, but then it goes all week long and you regret ever suggesting it when she complained that her room was too small. I think we’re finally done moving, but somehow a bunch of stuff ended up in the master bedroom and I hate when our room becomes a dumping ground. Grrr.

i likes to share the silly stuff:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For all the people who complain that smart phones have killed decent communication:

  

Well, that’s it for August. Bring it, September.

Mar. 5: Oops.

The biopsy I last wrote about ended up NOT being on the spot in my throat; it was on the spots in my pelvis. We found out this week that there were no cancer cells in the tissue they sampled. None. This is very good news, because, in case you were not aware, no cancer = yay!

I’m trying to concentrate on that “yay,” because I’m incredibly frustrated that they told us my cancer had come back when they didn’t actually know my cancer had come back. Given my history, it was a safe assumption on their parts, but OMG, what a roller coaster they’ve had us on. I won’t be trusting scans over biopsies EVER again. Grrr.

The radiologists are uncertain I’m as cancer-free as my oncologist is, but all of them agree that another PET scan in six months is a good idea, so that’s the plan for now. The past five weeks have been all-cancer-all-the-time, and I gladly give that up for the everyday-ness I had grown to love.

All this radiation means my super powers should be kicking in any day now, right? They better be somethin’ good.

Feb. 14: More medical stuff

Here’s the latest:

In my last update, the ENT had just put things in my nose. He didn’t see any cancery kind of stuff in my throat, but ordered an MRI to rule it out completely. The MRI was yesterday.

When you’re going to have an MRI, every medical-type person you have contact with asks if you’re claustrophobic. What they should be asking is if you value your ability to hear sounds with your ears. The MRI I had a few years ago was on my lower back; this one was on my head. And guess what? My ears are also on my head. My ears do not work anymore because MRI machines are the loudest thing in the entire universe and my head was trapped in one for 30 minutes.

Seriously, when they give you the squishy foam earplugs that fall out the second you put them in, and you say it’s no big deal and you’ll be fine without them, you have no idea how much you’re lying. You are a lying liar who lies, that’s what you are. And you’re about to need to learn sign language.

I don’t understand why the machine is so loud. Like, why scientists haven’t done anything to make it quieter. I can’t be the only person whose first words after the procedure were HOLY SHEE-AT, THAT WAS HORRIBLE. I don’t know why everyone is so worried about claustrophobia when that’s far from the worst sensation a patient can experience.

Fortunately, good news followed that awfulness: the MRI results were what we were hoping for; there are definitely no signs of cancer in my throat. The ENT called me today to say so.

The oncologist is taking the MRI results, along with my PET scan and bloodwork, to the “tumor board” (her team of specialists) and they’ll determine the best course of treatment. That will happen on Feb. 25, and we’ll go in Feb. 26 to hear her recommendation. So that’s where we are now… and it’ll be nearly two looong weeks before we know anything else.

That’s the most frustrating part of all this for me right now. Back in 2009, things moved relatively fast once we knew I had cancer. This time, though, it’s just so much waiting. Doctor after doctor, follow-ups, tests and waiting for results… Ugh. I just want to get treatment started so it can be over. The uncertainty is making my anxiety sky-high(er than normal).

Pfffft.

Feb. 5: Medical update

Just an update on the medical stuff, not so much because it’s interesting but because I’m lazy and don’t want to try to remember who I haven’t shared the latest info with already. Also, I promised to post updates here so my stalkers can keep track of me.

I saw the ENT yesterday, and he stuck a camera thing up my nose. Waaaay up my nose. Like, up my nose and down into my stomach. Possibly just my throat. Whatever—it was weird but also kind of awesome because I got to watch it on the teevee and my vocal cords totally looked like the kraken and also the doctor didn’t find any cancer or tumor-like things and that was the whole reason I went there anyway so it was all good except for the thing that went in my nose because I didn’t like that at all but NO CANCER IN MY THROAT = yay.

In other words, it seemed unnecessary to do a biopsy when there wasn’t any suspiciousness to biopsy. The biopsy wouldn’t have been done yesterday anyway, as the doctor said it requires surgery under general anesthesia (yikes). I asked why the spot on my throat glowed on the PET scan if it’s not really cancer, and he explained that because that area is part of the immune system, and I had a bad cold at the time of the scan, the spot was inflamed and acted different from regular tissue. So, even though he’s pretty sure everything is as it should be, to completely rule out cancerous tissue in my throat, I’m going in for an MRI next week.

I have an appointment with the oncologist a few days before the MRI, but I have a feeling it’ll get rescheduled. The appointment was to talk about the biopsy results on my throat.

Going forward, the oncologist will probably want to biopsy the spots in my pelvis. I’m not excited about being awake for that.

That’s the newest news, as promised. Yaaaaawn, right?

Feb. 28: Month in summary

Here’s my review of February 2013.

Special days I celebrated this month and how:

• Katie turned 13 this month. I can’t believe it. She’s mostly still a sweetie, but every once in a while we see the signs of ATTITUDE creeping up… Yikes. To celebrate her big day, she had a couple friends over; they went to the mall, saw a movie, and had a “sleep”-over, which involved very little “sleep” and grouchy girls in the morning.
• Our 16th anniversary was last weekend. We spent the day preparing for the school carnival—always going for the romance! Last night we went out for dinner at our special occasion place, Morton’s Steakhouse. Best. Steak. Ever.

Gifts I gave and/or received this month:

• Katie got a desk for her birthday from Grandpa & Grandma, and my mom and the rest of us contributed to the setup—chair, lamp, contents, décor, etc. It was fun helping her get everything organized. She is sooo like me when it comes to that stuff.
• The kids made us some fun ceramics as anniversary gifts. Katie’s were thoughtful, sweet and hearts-y. Jack’s was all-football-all-the-time. Shocking.

Books I read this month:

• I read some travel books… because we’re finally, finally going on a vacation.
• My concentration was very SQUIRREL!! while preparing for the school carnival, and I read pretty much nothing else.

Movies and TV shows worth mentioning:

TV is exactly the kind of thing my brain can focus on—for 22 minutes at a time, anyway—so I’ve watched a lot.

• So glad Community is back on.
• Sherilee and I agree that we’re not feeling the love for Smash so far. They better get Jesse L. Martin on there soon, or I will completely lose interest. I will.
• Still enjoying the charming fun that is Go On (looooved the Sixteen Candles references this week!) and The Mindy Project.
• That new Kevin Bacon show, The Following? It scares the livin’ crap outta me, but I can’t look away.
• Loveliest Lori live-Facebooked the Oscars and I missed the entire thing. Stoopid other things I was doing…

Special or unusual purchases I made:

• Music! I got the soundtrack to Bombshell; the new release from my nephew’s band, The Rouge; and Josh Groban’s latest album.
• Those aforementioned travel guides, as well as airline tickets, Disney passes, and more fun stuff to use during spring vacation.
• We got the kids memory foam mattress toppers and BOY, do they smell weird! Hopefully the odor will dissipate so they can actually put them on their beds someday. Right now they’re spread out in my office, giving me a headache (the mattress toppers, not the kids).

This month’s disappointments:

• I’ve been super-sick for the past week. I had a broken filling repaired last week, and a root canal on the same tooth this week. The tooth pain was pretty unbearable for a while, but it’s the antibiotics they have me on that are REALLY kicking my ass now. If they make me get that infection where they have to put someone else’s poop in my intestines, I will NOT be happy.
• We didn’t win anything big at the school carnival. Last year we won two of the huge auction items, so it was a bummer to go home empty-handed. Still, I did most of the drawings and it was so much fun seeing the winners’ faces when their names were called!
• Downton Abbey’s finale. It was disappointing because it’ll be many months until the next season begins, and also because the season sucked for two big reasons and several small ones.
• Nobody bought me a pony.

My accomplishments:

• The carnival was a big hit. This wasn’t my accomplishment alone, of course; there are seven other people who deserve credit too.
• I slept 11 hours last night and it was awesome.
• I’m actually writing this post. I barely got it in before March.

Anything else noteworthy:

• The kids both took Red Cross classes this month; Katie is now babysitter certified, and Jack did a “When I’m in Charge” thing wherein he got to role play throwing a tantrum. He was a little out of practice, since his last tantrum was about seven years ago, but he was proud of his performance nonetheless. The class was supposed to teach him how to handle emergencies when a grown-up isn’t around, and I don’t know if he learned anything new but he sure did enjoy the snack.
• Isn’t it nice when people surprise you with their generosity and kindness? I’ve run into three or four occasions lately that just warm my tiny little black heart. It’s a lovely thing.
• Today a photo popped up in my Yahoo news feed and I thought, “Hm, that building looks familiar.” And then I read the text below it and knew immediately, embarrassingly, that it was about Walla Walla College (University), my alma mater. (Here’s the article it linked to.)

That’s about it, doods.

Sep. 10: Lots of nothing. At least it’s something.

The fact that my last handful of posts are all tidbits of nothingness? Well, it speaks volumes about the status of my thinking lately. So, without apologies, here we go again.

• Recently Victor and I tried valiantly to explain Back to the Future to Jack. Funny that a movie franchise that made perfect sense to us 25+ years ago sounds idiotic when telling today’s generation about it. We got a lot of blank stares as we hee-hawed over plot twists and manure being dumped on Biff.
  
  Somehow the conversation turned to my father-in-law’s profession before he retired. We reminded Jack that Grandpa delivered babies, and Jack said with his ever-sarcastic grin, “So, Grandpa’s a bird?” Yes, Jack. Your grandfather is a stork. Grandpa can fly. Dur.
  
  Our son, Jack: biggest dork ever.
• I’ve said before that there are dads at school who are—how shall I say it?—DREAMBOAT-Y. At a meeting today, someone mentioned that one of the dreamboatier dads had suggestions about a new policy at school, and we said it’d be nice if he came to our meeting to share his thoughts. I imagine his presence at our meetings would go something like this:

  “Thank, you, Dreamy Dad™, for your input, but I cannot hear you with your shirt on.”
  
  And there would also be a lot of:
  
  “Oops, I dropped my huge pile of papers again! How clumsy of me! Dreamy Dad™, would you mind bending over to pick them up for me AGAIN? I’ll just stand back here, out of your way, and watch.”
  
  and
  
  “Hey Dreamy Dad™, I’m having a hard time getting this donut into my mouth. Can you help me? Slowly?”
  

  … and this is probably exactly the reason we so seldom have guest speakers at our meetings.
• Do you know how long it takes to transfer a domain name and get one’s email address fully functioning again? A really, really long time. Like, an anxiety-increasing, blood pressure-raising, seems-way-longer-than-it-is length of time. Pffft.
• Here’s a good way to remind yourself that your monster of a puppy isn’t the most giant beast that ever was: take her to the dog park. There was a Great Dane there that Lucy could have walked under. She’s still no petite flower, but it’s somewhat reassuring to know that bigger dogs do exist.
• Stephanie made a deal with me that if Romney wins the election, I have to wear an I ♥ Republicans shirt, and if Obama is re-elected, she has to sing the praises of Democrats. I am slightly regretting that we shook on it in front of witnesses. However, I’m thinking positive thoughts because I hope so very much that she’ll have to drive around with that Obama Odyssey wrap I’m designing… Wouldn’t that be so awesome for me??? Of course, I also just plain hope that Romney does NOT win.

 

 

 

I think I’ve found our next Christmas card photo:

 

Have a good week!

Jan. 18: One year!

Just a quick health update…

Last week I went in for a CT on my chest/abdomen/pelvis. I’m still on the every-six-months schedule for post-cancer treatment, and was actually a little overdue on getting it done. Didn’t matter, though—everything looks great! We got the radiologist’s report that same day because I’m sleeping with someone in the CT department (don’t tell my husband).

Yesterday I had a couple gallons of blood drawn and we met with my oncologist to review the CT and blood tests. Again, everything looks great. The first couple years after diagnosis are when the risk of recurrence is highest, and she said what they are really watching for is cancer that comes back with a vengeance—that’s the nasty stuff that proves it doesn’t respond so well to chemotherapy. My past three CT scans have shown no new growth and, in fact, a slight decrease in the fibrous stuff left from where O.J. once lived, which is fabulous news. While Dr. O was excited to tell me what my test results meant, she still said all those “BUT” things like “there are no guarantees” and “this is why we test so often.” She’s encouraging but honest. It’s a fine line. Very fine.

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Ugh, I just wrote three long paragraphs on coping and cancer recurrence and reacting to good news and jackasses. It was all just too damn depressing, so I deleted them. Let me simplify my thoughts and close with this:

Good news from the oncologist! I’m officially one year cancer-free! Yay!

Jan. 5: I can see, and it’s a little disconcerting

Right after my first chemo treatment in December 2009, my vision went all wonky. It was fine in the mornings, but got progressively worse throughout every day. I remember going to a holiday program at school and clapping for the wrong short, dark-haired kid because I couldn’t tell which one was Jack. My oncologist said my vision changes had nothing to do with the chemo, but I found all sorts of message boards online where people complained about chemo farking up their vision, so pffft on my oncologist. Everything on the Internet is true.

Because my vision has not been consistently poor, I’ve just lived with it for the past two years. Sometimes it’s bothered me a lot, like when people waved to me in the hallway at school and I had no idea who they were until I was two feet from them, by which time they decided I was totally rude. Oh, and the driving. Drivers should really be able to see where they’re going and the cars they’re about to plow into. I read that somewhere. When I could see.

I put off having my eyes checked for a long time not just because the poor vision came and went, but also because I’ve already had LASIK twice and I don’t want to have it again. Have you smelled that smell of corneas when lasers are cutting them? It’s unpleasant. Ha—that makes it sound tolerable. Anyway, I kinda had to convince myself glasses were an OK option. It took a while.

So I finally saw an eye doctor and got glasses last week and it’s lovely to be able to see things again but today I passed by a mirror and had to stop, back up, and look again because I thought it was my third grade self in the mirror. Well, my third grade self who had grown horribly obese (hey, for a third grader…). I swear to you, my new glasses look exactly like the pair I had in third grade. EXACTLY.

I went through an old photo album tonight, looking for my school picture from that year. If I had found one, I would have drawn ugly curly hair on it and told you it was taken today. AND YOU WOULD HAVE BELIEVED ME.

When I was in sixth grade and had oh-so-sexy new glasses, I scoffed at my first pair. I asked my mom more than once why she ever let me get something so ugly. But now? Now I have no one to blame but myself and maybe the optician lady who said they were a good fit for my face. Her eyes pointed in two different directions, why did I listen to her?

Dec. 9: Oliver has now been tutored

On Monday I took Oliver in to get neutered. We’ve been meaning to do it pretty much since we got him, but just now got around to it. The fact that an unspayed female puppy is just about to join our family might have lit a fire under our collective arses, yes.

It sounds so easy, doesn’t it? “Taking the dog to get neutered.” It was not easy. It wasn’t.

Ollie pooped in the waiting room of the vet’s office, but was nervous, so he kept walking and I had to chase him all around the room to pick it all up. Un-fun, to be sure, especially in the crowd of other dog parents who all wore the THANK GOD THAT’S NOT MY DOG expression on their faces. I might have muttered “assholes” under my breath. I might have been talking about those dog owners as well as all dogs in general but mostly mine, because OMG.

Then, THEN, he peed on the front door. That was more difficult to clean up. I apologized a million times to the receptionist and was ready to toss my dog into traffic. If I didn’t want to cut off his important parts already, I definitely did when, immediately after he peed, he looked at me, all WHAT? Like what did I expect?

Then, THEN!!, they called us into the exam room and when the nurse tried to take his temperature he just about took her arm off. OK, I did feel a little sympathy for him after that. He knew he had done bad by nearly biting her, but he also had that LET ME SHOW YOU ON THE BEANIE BABY WHERE THE BAD WOMAN TOUCHED ME! look. I cuddled him and talked softly while the nurse left to retrieve another nurse and a muzzle.

That didn’t work either. He would have none of the muzzle and none of the temperature-taking and he was out for blood. They left again.

This is when I realized that they had inadvertently (I assume…) drained an anal sac while trying to get his temperature, and that his rancid, molten goo was all over the front of me. I thought I might die, right then and there, but I hung on because I can’t bear the thought of people laughing hysterically at my funeral knowing that I was killed by Oliver’s wretched ass juice. Ugh.

The nurses came back with the big guns (the vet) and he tranquilized Oliver. It took four of us to hold him down and even then, Ollie broke the friggin’ needle. Everyone hurried out and over his shoulder, the vet promised Oliver would be calm soon. I cuddled him while we waited, and when the door opened a couple minutes later he immediately worked up a snarl. They gave him another couple minutes and he growled again when they dared show their faces. Finally, a nurse came in with a thick blanket and whisked him away. When she turned around to close the door, I was wiping the sweat off my face and she assumed I was crying. She said, “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine!” but I assured her that I kinda hated my dog right then, and they could do whatever the hell they wanted to him and those were definitely not my tears pooling on the floor.

I drove away wondering if I’d be the worst dog mom ever if I never came back. Then I smelled my stenched-up clothing again and knew no one would ever blame me.

Had I abandoned Oliver at his weakest moment, YES, I would have been a rotten dog mom, I know. I went back in the afternoon to get him, and he was so drugged and sleepy that it was kind of adorable and sweet. It made me feel bad for cutting his balls off. (Not really.)

Jun. 15: 6-month follow-up

The major component of the follow-up care since getting my clean-ish bill of health in December is that every six months I have a CT on my chest-abdomen-pelvis and a huge amount of blood is taken on which a number of tests are run. This was done last week and yesterday, with a mammogram thrown in for kicks. Victor and I met with Dr. O to review the results. 

And the results were good.

Chest: There is no mediastinal, hilar, or axillary lymphadenopathy.

That means my lymph nodes are in good shape. No cancer.

Heart size is within normal limits without pericardial thickening or effusion. Right internal jugular Port-a-Cath tip extends to the cavoatrial junction. There is no posterior mediastinal lymphadenopathy. Lungs are clear. There is no pleural effusion. Thoracic osseous structures are intact without bony destructive process.

Do you know how many of those words my spell-checker says are not words? Lots. But my spell-checker is an idiot, because they are words, and altogether they mean that I’m okay. Moving on now…

Abdomen: Geographic low density involving the left hepatic lobe medial segment projecting adjacent to the falciform ligament reflects benign focal fatty infiltration of no clinical significance.

There’s something on my liver, but they don’t care.

Liver is otherwise normal without intrahepatic duct dilation or focal hepatic mass.

Uh… yeah. I’ve never been a fan of intrahepatic duct dilation.

Spleen is normal.

I doubt this will ever be uninteresting to me. My dad had his spleen removed in 2001 because it was “enlarged”—turned out it weighed 18 pounds. A normal spleen usually weighs half a pound, at most. Because some chemotherapy drugs can enlarge the spleen—which is what Dad’s doctors thought was the cause of his spleen trouble—the memory of this made me incredibly nervous during my year of chemo. Does the tendency to grow a massive spleen run in the family? Probably not, but “spleen is normal” will always be good news, as far as I’m concerned.

Pancreas and adrenal glands are normal. Gallbladder is normal.

Yay.

Right kidney demonstrates moderate regions of chronic cortical scarring of no clinical significance.

They say this type of kidney scarring is usually the result of kidney infections, which I had frequently as a kid. Mom says if I wasn’t so weird about public restrooms that my kidneys would be in much better shape. Whatev, Mom!

 

Right renal upper pole calculus measures no greater than 0.1 cm and is unchanged.

This is a really weird way to say that I have a teeny, tiny kidney stone of no concern. How dare they use the term “calculus” when referring to my guts? I hate math!

There is no right hydronephrosis. Left renal upper pole demonstrates small focal regions of chronic cortical scarring. Kidneys are otherwise normal.

Hydronephrosis (I looked it up) is a swollen kidney. I don’t have one. Or two.

Visualized bowel within the abdomen is normal. There is no bowel mucosal thickening. Gastric and duodenal mucosal contours are normal.

No idea what this means, but I don’t really like the way they throw the term “bowel” around, like it’s not totally embarrassing that now you know I have one. Sheesh.

There is no intra-abdominal lymphadenopathy.

No abnormal lymph nodes in mah belly = no cancer.

Mild hazy fat stranding projecting along the right and left diaphragmatic crus reflect site of previous lymphomatous involvement. There is no residual lymphadenopathy identified.

Seriously, mild hazy fat? Now it sounds like a bad poem. And is lymphomatous really a word? It sounds suspiciously like hippopotamus, and I don’t appreciate that one bit. Oh, and crus? I am totally using that one in Words with Friends. I’m pretty sure they know no one’s actually reading the report anymore and they’re just throwing shit in here to sound fancy.

There is no mesenteric or omental adenopathy. There is mild, subtle fat stranding of the mid mesentery which is likely within normal limits and if real, almost certainly reflects treatment sequelae of chemotherapy. There is no definite “misty” mesentery. Scattered mesenteric lymph nodes are not enlarged by size criteria, all measuring substantially less than 1.0 cm in short axis dimension. Abdominal osseous structures are intact without bony destructive process.

Here we go again with the fakey words. Time for medical dictionary help.

• Mesenteric: pertaining to the mesentery, the double layer of peritoneum suspending the intestine from the posterior abdominal wall (I think the more common term is “guts”)
• Omentum: One of the folds of the peritoneum that connect the stomach with other abdominal organs (again, another way of saying “guts”)
• Adenopathy: Swelling or abnormal enlargement of the lymph nodes
• Sequelae: A negative afteraffect
• Osseous: Composed of, containing, or resembling bone; bony

Hee hee: bone.

Pelvis: Pelvic visceral organs are normal. Uterus and ovaries are normal. There is no pelvic lymphadenopathy or free fluid. There is no inguinal lymphadenopathy. Osseous structures are intact without bony destructive process.

Are you bored yet? I am so bored. We’re almost done. Here comes the radiologist’s summary.

1. Negative examination for residual/recurrent non Hodgkin’s lymphoma within the chest, abdomen, and pelvis by CT.

This means no cancer.

2. Minimal, nonobstructive right nephrolithiasis with a single right renal upper pole 0.1 cm calculus. No right hydronephrosis.

This means itty-bitty kidney stone.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from all this, it’s that I never want to be a medical transcriptionist.

Basically, Dr. O was all smiles and rainbows and unicorns at my appointment yesterday. She says the radiologist’s report and my blood work show that I’m exactly where I should be, and we’ll do this all again in six months. The first two years after treatment have the highest risk of recurrence, so once two years have passed we’ll continue the same tests, just less often. She was not too concerned that I continue to have lingering side effects from chemo—fatigue, low energy, neuropathy, ugly hair—and says those things can take a few years to disappear completely.

In other words, I AM PERFECTLY NORMAL. No matter what any of you say, I will hold to that belief.

PERFECTLY NORMAL.

YES.

NORMAL.

…

…

…and that sounded a little more “jerk store,” than I meant for it to (à la 2:30 here).

Jan. 31: Faking it

Some people have said that seeing me fight cancer was inspiring, the way I attacked it with humor and didn’t let it get me down. I appreciate hearing those words, I really do, but I know the truth. I know what was behind the jokes and silliness. I know that when I didn’t feel like being “up,” I pretended, and what people saw was often me pretending that cancer was nothing but a big joke.

It reminds me of when I first started as a full time software trainer. Every day I’d have a classroom of 12 people who were generally nice and eager to learn. But sometimes there’d be one (or more, when it was a class full of one particular government-agency-that-must-not-be-named) who did nothing but act like a total jackass to me and his/her classmates. I find it difficult to be nice to someone if I don’t like them. I couldn’t dish out the jackassitude in the classroom because I was supposed to be professional, so… I taught myself to act. I learned to act unruffled, to act like every question was NOT the stupidest question I’d ever heard, to act like I was the most patient instructor in the world, to act like I didn’t drink heavily on my lunch hour. And no one knew I was acting because, as Elaine Benes once said, “I was goooood.”

Weird. It’s like working for IBM prepared me to fight cancer.

Or maybe IBM gave me cancer. Hmmm…

Nah, if anyone gave me cancer it was adidas. They hated me there.

When I first got my diagnosis, I made a short-term goal: to get through it alive. I imagined that once I achieved that goal, it’d be smooth sailing—well, normal sailing, anyway. Kinda silly, huh? Because I did achieve that goal, and here on the other side? Not exactly normal. Most of the physical side effects I had while going through chemo linger. People are still super-duper hesitant to ask me to do things. I continue to need naps almost every day. My vision is fine and then terrible and completely unpredictable. I have trouble focusing, concentrating, and prioritizing at work. There are days when my brain seems to be sleeping way longer than the rest of me.

But one of the hardest parts of “not-quite-normal sailing” is fear. It’s really easy to be all HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY after hearing the doctor use the words “complete” and “remission” together. But the likelihood of the lymphoma coming back, or another type of cancer moving in, creates pestering and persistent anxiety in the back of my mind. All. The. Time. I hate that part of post-remission. I believe that positive thinking works wonders, and I’ve done my best to keep myself in la la land over all this. I know how to recognize the darkness before it comes and am learning to stop it in time. But still, that niggling reminder from my oncologist remains: increased risk of recurrence.

So, y’know, the fear thing sucks. It doesn’t change the way I live each day, but it’s a fact of my life right now that I wish wasn’t. My hope is that I can eventually turn that fear into something less anxiety-inducing, and maybe even into something good. I can do that, right? I can totally do that.

I really, really want to. I want to show that fear who’s boss so I can go back to putting my heart and soul into living my life. Those were good days and THEY ARE NOT OVER.

But until then, you may continue to prepare my Oscar award.

Dec. 14: We did it.

I’m trying to work on 4,295 Christmas-y things that have overdue deadlines right now, and I’m doing every one of them inefficiently, but I just have to stop all the important stuff for a minute and share the AMAZING NEWS I got today!

My cancer is, according to Dr. O, in “complete remission.”

Yuh-huh, you read that right. COMPLETE REMISSION.

Let’s say that again. Big.

COMPLETE REMISSION.

This means there is no sign of cancer in my body. There’s junk where OJ once was, but it didn’t light up on my PET scan so they’re assuming it’s scar tissue or something and I don’t really care, as long as it’s not cancer.

We did it, guys. We kicked cancer’s ass and we kicked it HARD. I don’t want to get all drippy and blotchy-faced and boohoo-y, but I’m quite sure that you played as big a part in this fight as I did, and I am so grateful to you all that I almost feel like I should do a Thanksgiving post again. What did I do to deserve you people? I can’t imagine. Maybe in a previous life I was a good person.

I’ve said many times before that I believe people’s true selves come out in times of crisis. In the past year, my family members have behaved in predictable ways—most were willing to be right where I needed them. My friends, however, surprised me constantly and repeatedly through the past year with their love and concern and gifts and visits and cheerleadering and fondue dates. Even my friend’s friends, people I’ve never met in person, showed tremendous concern. There’s so much good in this world. There’s so much good in some people’s hearts. I like being reminded of that. If there’s one unexpected thing that really stands out when I look back on this rotten year, it’s how many times my heart was warmed by kind words and gestures. Ah, loveliness.

I kinda like being here, and I’d like to stay, thanks. So as I look ahead to my newly cancer-free existence, can I be bold and ask for one more thing? Can y’all make other stuff happen? Like, less cancer and more things that… well… aren’t cancer? They don’t have to be all good things—just real life minus the death and threats of death. And don’t take cues from Loveliest Lori—she is sooo not on the right track.

I’ll have more to say about all this later, but for now, I just wanted to quickly share the news. Hooray!

Nov. 7: Still here

I’m fine, really. I haven’t written for a while because I’ve been busy and uninspired and tired and my brain is foggy from overuse. Stop laughing, it’s true. Here’s what I’ve been doing since I last wrote:

1. Decorated for Halloween (nothing like waiting until the last minute)
2. Took Jack for a long-overdue haircut
3. Went to the Shaws’ rockin’ Halloween party
4. Handed out candy to trick-or-treaters—my favorite part of Halloween
5. Went to two doctor appointments (by the way, I found a new primary care physician and I like her and best of all, I won’t ever have to see Dr. Jackass again!)
6. Ran errands with Sunshine and—oh look! There’s that yummy Thai restaurant! We better go! I mean, since we’re out already ‘n stuff…
7. Had chemo #17
8. Found out my blood pressure is scary-high
9. Got the new Amy Sedaris book
10. Voted (everyone I voted for won, jus’ sayin’)
11. PTO board meeting
12. Restaurant night fundraiser at the Ram—it rocked!
13. Took Jack to football practice
14. Made signs and posters and flyers, oh my!
15. Got medication for my blood pressure and it quickly went to a not-even-a-teensy-bit-scary zone. Whew.
16. Went to Divine for Caramel Apple frozen yogurt, where Val and Sunshine and I were tempted to abandon our unruly spawn
17. With my fellow board members, announced all the big Jogathon winners at Friday Morning Meeting—OMG, so much fun!
18. Made a bazillion Italian sodas for kids at school as prizes for Jogathon
19. Went to Jack’s football game, which his team won, which means that of all the teams that suck, they suck the least
20. Shopped for more Italian soda supplies, and knocked five bottles of club soda off my cart on my way out of the store, which then rolled across the parking lot. Embarrassing? Naaaaahhh.
21. Made more Italian sodas for kids at Movie Night at the school, where five bottles of club soda a-sploded when Victor opened them. It was not funny. It wasn’t.
22. Drank a delicious blueberry lemonade concoction that I can’t stop thinking about and kinda want to marry
23. Was reminded of my good luck in life to have such amazing, supportive, fun friends
24. Slept in. Aaaaahhh.

I think I deserve a day of do-nothing-ness. That day might just be today. TTFN.