Jan. 18: Wil-maaaaa!

Ugh. Today I feel like I got put through one of those insanely violent Fred Flintstone-getting-repeatedly-bonked-into-the-ground-at-the-quarry-by-the-rabid-dinosaur-bulldozer moments, but-cept I hurt worse. This is what one week after chemo feels like for me. Ouch.

I noticed it coming on last night when I was reading that book I’m still raving about, and I thought it might just be soreness from sitting on my giant arse all day reading that book I’m still raving about. As I was going to bed, I remembered that it is THAT time of chemo’s three week cycle, the time in which I start feeling achy and grouchy and mean and many additional adjectives unsuitable for a family blog such as this one.

(I’m kidding. I know this isn’t a family blog. But I’m still not going to use a bunch of X-rated language, as much as I might want and deserve to. You’re welcome for me saving your eyes from the filth.)

Anyhow, let me give you an idea of how much I hurt: A LOT.

• My skin feels tender everywhere, like I rolled in gravel (see, there I am back at that dangerous quarry again).
• When I move, my muscles ache as though I just did six hours of aerobics to “I’m So Excited” by the Pointer Sisters. I did not just do six hours of aerobics. I’m not sure I’ve done six hours of aerobics if you add up all the time I’ve spent doing aerobics in my entire life. I hate aerobics. They are an invention of the devil, you know, along with the accordion and The Pointer Sisters.
• My fancy mattress, which doesn’t have pressure points—or some nonsensical feature like that, which is supposed to make me think it’s worth all the $$ I paid for it—definitely has pressure points today. It hurts me no matter how I sit, lie, roll over, fetch, or play dead. Still, I’m not planning on moving my afore-mentioned giant arse from it today.
• My teeth hurt.
• I’m hungry. That has nothing to do with feeling achy, I’m just hoping someone reads this and brings me something to eat. I’d like some fresh flowers and the newspaper too, please. And a new puppy.
• My mom is vacuuming downstairs and totally harshing my mellow. Again, nothing to do with feeling achy, and not even really bothering me all that much. I just wanted to make you feel jealous because my mom’s cleaning MY house and not yours. Ha. (I get kinda mean when I’m achy, obvy.)
• When I stretch my legs, my toes go in that weird locked position that hurts like a mofo, and I have to bend them back with my fingers. What is that? I hate that. In fact, I’m not a fan of anything that hurts like a mofo.
• Like chemo.

I’m just gonna sit here and try not to have a rotten day. You do the same, mmmkay?

Jan. 17: The Double Bind

I learned in a poetry class in college that one should never use the word “interesting” to describe poetry—it’s simply too vague and says too little. That probably applies to critiques of most writing, I’d guess. So I’m pretty much speechless right now.

Because, um, wow.

Last night I started reading The Double Bind, by Chris Bohjalian, and I just finished it a few minutes ago. Except for a long nap and a couple of Facebook breaks throughout the day, I think I read the whole ding-dong* day long. I can think of very few books I’ve read recently that have been as un-put-down-able as this one was.

Oh, I thought of another word: “fascinating.” The book was definitely fascinating.

I’m leery of saying much more about the story because I don’t want to ruin anything if you haven’t yet read it, and I hope you will read it because I want to talk to someone about it**. I sure wish I had the ability to weave a story like Bohjalian has done here, though—he’s got an incredible gift. The Double Bind’s description offered by Amazon goes like this:

Best known for the provocative and powerful novel, Midwives (an Oprah Book Club® Selection), Chris Bohjalian writes beautiful and riveting fiction featuring what the San Francisco Chronicle dubbed “ordinary people in heartbreaking circumstances behaving with grace and dignity.” In his new novel, The Double Bind, a literary thriller with references to (and including characters from) The Great Gatsby, Bohjalian takes readers on a haunting journey through one woman's obsession with uncovering a dark secret.

I read Midwives last year and while it was well-written and I had no trouble getting through it, I wasn’t exactly enthralled by the subject matter (shocking revelation: it was about a midwife). Sure, it was powerful, but “provocative” is stretching it, if you ask me. The Double Bind was a different kind of thing altogether, though—a thriller that, while not necessarily action-packed, kept my attention easily all day long. And now that I’m done with it, I’m trying to figure out how I’m supposed to stop thinking about the story long enough to be able to fall asleep tonight.

Yes, I guess “fascinating” is the most accurate one-word summary of The Double Bind I can come up with on my own, or at least without the help of a thesaurus. I recommend this book with all my thumbs.

*Slight apology to Random Sunshine™ for stealing her lingo. But just a slight one.
**Hawaii Laura, we have GOT to get that Trans-Pacific Book Club going!

Jan. 16: Oscar prep

Last year Loveliest Lori made an almost 100 percent successful attempt to see all the Oscar-nominated films before the Oscar awards show. I was impressed with her efforts, and a little jealous that she didn’t alert me to her goal until it was nearly complete. We went to Milk together, but otherwise most of last year’s nominees were left unseen by my critical eyes. My embarrassingly brief list of nominees I saw pre-awards show:

• Wall·E
• The Dark Knight
• Presto
• Bolt
• Milk

Lori suggested we see the (possible) nominees together this year, but so far we haven’t managed to connect for a single movie—granted, we haven’t exactly tried. With the nominations being announced on February 2, and the next Academy Awards ceremony coming up on March 7, we better get busy movie-going, Lori!

According to a recent Entertainment Weekly list, here are the 25 movies we should see before Oscar night:

1. Up in the Air
2. Avatar
3. The Hurt Locker
4. Precious
5. Inglourious Basterds
6. Invictus
7. An Education
8. Up
9. A Serious Man
10. The Messenger
11. Julie & Julia
12. A Single Man
13. Crazy Heart
14. The Blind Side
15. The Last Station
16. Nine
17. Star Trek
18. District 9
19. Fantastic Mr. Fox
20. The Lovely Bones
21. (500) Days of Summer
22. It’s Complicated
23. The Young Victoria
24. Bright Star (on DVD Jan. 26)
25. The Informant! (on DVD Feb. 23)

How much “Jen, you’re not lame or loser-y AT ALL!!” credit do I get for seeing only one of these movies so far, but seeing it at least 25 times??? OK, fine…

• I want to see Up in the Air. I’ve heard good and bad, but I’m willing to suffer through a couple hours o’ my boy George.
• Avatar is sooo not my kind of thing, but with the rave reviews I’ve read, I might have to make myself go.
• It would take a much bigger effort for me to watch Inglourious Basterds. Not just because of the spelling of the title; I hate me some Brad Pitt acting, and I’m not a Tarantino fan either.
• Why haven’t I watched Julie & Julia yet? Blogging, cooking, Amy Adams, Meryl Streep? This movie has it all.
• A Single Man? Definitely.
• Nine, maybe.
• I got Star Trek on DVD for Victor for Christmas because I’m the best wife in the whole, wide world. I suppose I could watch it. It wouldn’t get awards for Best Picture or anything, would it? I mean, it’s a shitty Star Trek movie, right? Heh heh heh…
• While I loved the book The Lovely Bones, there’s no way I’ll watch the movie with Stanley Tucci as the very-creepy bad guy. I’m afraid I’d never see him the same again. Couldn’t stand that.
• I want to see It’s Complicated. Good cast.
• I thought the trailer and commercials of The Informant! looked pretty watch-worthy.

I’d love to hear personal reviews of anything you’ve seen that you recommend or don’t. Please share!

I’m not sure I’ve ever watched an Oscars ceremony with a strong opinion on who should win based on the actual movies; typically I root for the actors I like best or the ones who look the least weird that night. I would love to be a little bit more objective on who actually deserves the awards… or would it just irritate me, then, when my favorites didn’t win? Whatevs. I hope to see at least one more of these films in the next six weeks.

Jan. 15: Have a Coke and a smile

This just tickles me to no end.

Jan. 14: Legwarmers and musical magic

We had tickets to Xanadu tonight for this season’s Broadway in Portland lineup. This was one of the shows we kinda laughed about when we saw it was coming, because HELLO? Wasn’t that, like, the worst movie of the ‘80s? And someone made a Broadway musical about it? And it was a big enough hit to go on tour? Hm.

This was the first show we’ve had scheduled since I started chemotherapy, and being that I’m just two days past my most recent treatment, I wasn’t sure I’d feel up to getting dressed up and going out tonight. Fortunately, the prednisone I take the few days after chemo seems to be making me more energetic than usual, so right now I’m feeling as close to normal as I have in a long time. I took a nap this afternoon, but I woke up ready for a night on the town!

Neither Victor or I had any idea what to expect of Xanadu. I knew the music would be good, or familiar, anyway. But I tell you, this was one of the funniest shows we’ve been to! Actually, what made it funny was probably more that we expected it not to be nearly so entertaining as it was. (We thought the same thing a few years back when we saw The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee—that musical was a zillion times better than we ever imagined.) So we spent a lot more time laughing during the performance than we did looking at our watches, and that’s always a nice way to spend Date Night.

Before the show started, the ladies sitting behind us were asking each other what they knew about the plot. One said she’d read that it was like “Greek mythology meets the Valley Girl.” That turned out to be a pretty accurate description, weirdly. I wrote on my Facebook status tonight that I thought it was “big, silly, disco ball fun”—also succinctly correct.

The horribleness that was the 1980 movie was famously reviewed like this: “In a word, Xana-don’t.” But the stage musical was, in my opinion, definitely a Xana-do!   We were glad I felt well enough to go out, and glad we took advantage of Grandma’s Free Childcare and went on a date tonight.

Also, I need help deciding where the disco ball I now HAVE to have in my house would look best. Family room? Kitchen? Entry? Ooooh, yes! The entry! That would definitely set a tone for our home décor that would be… um… unmatched by the décor in the rest of the house. Alright, maybe the disco ball’s not such a good idea…

Jan. 14: Hitler’s take on late night TV

This video’s making the round on the ‘net and it’s totally worth a watch, unless you’re offended by potty language or can’t read subtitles, or haven’t been paying attention to entertainment news, in which case you won’t find one thing funny about it at all.

Jan. 14: Life lessons from a survivor

Yesterday I finished reading Cancer on $5 a Day* *(chemo not included): How Humor Got Me Through the Toughest Journey of My Life, by comedian Robert Schimmel. Here’s Amazon’s description of the book.

Schimmel already had a hit HBO stand-up comedy special and a Stand-Up of the Year title from the American Comedy Awards when, in the spring of 2000, he was diagnosed with Stage III non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. His world changed instantly; success in the raunchy joke trade-he also had an edgy FOX series in development-was replaced by the struggle for survival, the rigors of chemotherapy and all the fear and uncertainty that goes with it. Schimmel also looks back on his son, whom he lost not long before to brain cancer. Among a crowded field of inspiring and straight-talking personal survival stories, Schimmel's conversational account is particularly ribald, emphasizing the importance a sense of humor can play in coping, learning and healing.

Being that his cancer type is similar to mine, I was interested in his story, especially after reading the good reviews of the book. It was an easy read, amusing and occasionally hysterical. Schimmel’s humor definitely fits in the “raunchy” category—no surprise that he’s a regular Howard Stern guest—but it wasn’t offensive (to me). The unexpected came in the inspirational touches he shared. His priorities—family, specifically his children—were the biggest reason he committed to getting well.

Near the end of the book, Schimmel listed the lessons he learned from the experience. I think they’re typical of someone who’s been given a cancer diagnosis—cancer is scary, even if the prognosis is pretty good—but they’re also applicable to the perfectly healthy. Reminders are always good, aren’t they?

Keep your sense of humor, no matter what.

Can do, I think. I’m doing pretty well with it so far, anyway.

Create a purpose, a focus, and never take your eyes off it.

I believe my purpose is to raise my children, and I want more than anything to do that. For me, the possibility that I may not be able to is the scariest part of this cancer thing. Sometimes I find it very difficult not to think about, which is when I need to do something completely distracting, like play the piano or cuddle the cat or watch Hairspray. Happy things.

Figure out what’s important to you. What’s really important.

Without question, it’s my family.

Be open. Try anything. You never know.

I take this lesson to mean that I should be open to alternative medical treatments. I am. Unless it means I have to give up bacon.

Love. You need love. Tons of it. A shitload of love.

I’m lucky; I’ve got it. Way more than I deserve to have, in fact.

Sometimes you need to be selfish.

Does this mean that if I really, really, really want to say “no” that it’s alright? If so, I shall do my best.

You need support. You’re in this alone, but you can’t fight it alone.

Family and friends and people I’ve never even met before have been incredibly supportive and helpful to me and my family since my diagnosis. I can’t believe it sometimes, that people care as much as they do. Again, way more than I deserve.

The most precious thing you have is time. Don’t waste it.

I’ve given more thought to this in the past couple months than ever before. It’s overwhelming sometimes, trying to make the most of every day. Before I fall asleep at night, I look back on my day and see that I have sometimes failed to do the things I should. And this serves to remind me…

You’re only human.

…so it’s okay if I fail sometimes. But I won’t stop trying.

And, finally, once again—laugh.

Not a problem.

Jan. 12: Chemo party #3

Today might have been the halfway point of my chemotherapy treatments; we are still estimating 6-8 treatments will be needed, but won’t know for a bit yet. So, possibly: YAHOO!

My bloodwork, again, was exactly where it was expected to be since my last treatment. That’s good—and a little unexpected to me, because I was worried this upper respiratory infection was gonna make me unfit for treatment this week. The oncologist was also tha-rilled to show me the radiologist’s report on my CT last week (not realizing we’d seen all the details already—heh, we’re so sneaky!). She was very encouraging at the overall decrease in size of O.J., and everything is all pretty much as she had hoped it would be at this point in my treatment.

Kim F’n joined us for chemo today and we had a BLAST. It’s a good thing the worst part about chemo is that it’s boring; I mean, it doesn’t hurt or make me sick while I’m hooked up, so it’s mostly just a great time to hang out if you’re with someone fun. Just like last time, I was with one of my favorite people today and the time flew by. Oh, and Victor was there too.

Kim took pictures that we posted on Facebook this afternoon. You might have seen them already, but just in case:

This is one of the syringe-administered chemo drugs, and the worst one of all. It’s called Adriamycin or Doxorubicin or hydroxydaunorubicin or Rubex. It is the “H” in my chemo regimen (CHOP-R) and the one that makes my hair fall out. The nurses practically dress up in hazmat gear to administer it because it’s so toxic, they don’t want to get it on their skin. Comforting, isn’t it then, seeing that go into my vein? Yikes. Also, it makes me pee red. But that’s just an added bonus.

Since I’m still hacking up chunks of my lungs, I grabbed a face mask at the front desk when I checked in. Most of the time I put it over my mouth when I coughed, but when I actually tried to put it on my head I had a teensy bit of trouble. Let’s just say the mask rode a little high.

BTW, that’s one of my new scarves, purchased on Etsy, that I love. I got six different pieces of fabric last week to make more just like them. After the fabric and pattern sitting on my desk for a week untouched, I’m hoping my mom will make them, because I’m lazy. I mean, um, I HAVE CANCER! Please, Mommy???

Kim brought me a bagful o’ goodies. The best thing was probably the Pop Rocks, because we decided they actually help the chemotherapy do its job. They totally did not make me asplode, or I wouldn’t be writing about them right now. The other cool thing Kim brought was a Cosmo that she read cover-to-cover. And because her parents occasionally check in here, that’s all I’m going to say about that.

And near the end of my treatment, Kimmeh did her promised IV pole dance. It was totally sexy and not at all weird or something that made other patients stare. She’s a good friend, isn’t she? How many of you would IV pole dance in front of people who think you’re a freak for it? But she’s my freak, and I love her.

Next chemo is scheduled for Tuesday, February 2. Is it going to be Random Sunshine’s turn? She’s got it penciled in, so we’ll see. Sheila R, I’m still hoping to reserve a date for you if you can make it down—I know it takes a lot of effort for you to get here, so I completely understand if you can’t do it.

We came home to a delicious dinner brought to us by my friend Stephanie. This is our week of being spoiled, as several wonderful friends are bringing us amazing dinners every night. It’s pretty much the only time Victor thinks cancer rocks.

Jan. 10: Plinky ~ TV haiku

It’s been a while since I’ve done a Plinky prompt. I couldn’t resist this one:

Write a haiku about your favorite TV show.

Remember: 5 syllables, 7 syllables, 5 syllables.

You know I loves me some haiku, so I can’t stop at one.

30 Rock soooo rocks.
Blerg! It’s a rerun tonight.
Bite me, NBC.

If I had to choose
Between Jim, Oscar, and Dwight
I’d love Andy best.

Glad I’m not a Bluth
The whole family is psycho
Wish I could still watch.

Meh. I’ve done better.

Jan. 9: Just shut up, carrot eaters

You know those vegetarians who are all holier-than-thou? Like, just because they don’t eat God’s adorable little creatures they think they’re better than the rest of us who love to gnaw on cows? I hate those vegetarians. The ones who do it for health reasons, whatev—they’re harmless. But in my opinion, the best kinds of vegetarians are the ones who don’t blab about it all the time. I also like the ones who still refuse to eat my pizza even if I take off the pepperoni for them. They know the commandment of all pizzas sacred: ye should have ordered thine own, ye veggie freak!

Anyhoo, since I was raised around a bunch of those Jesus-freak salad shooters, I take it upon myself to make fun of them, because it’s their attitude that made me hate all that crap people say they do “in the name of God.” Pointing and judging right back at them is super-duper fun, I tell ya, which is why this picture made me HHOL (hee-haw out loud):

I know, I know. I’m going straight to hell.