Archive for the ‘Cancer’ Category
I’m exhausted. Both my head and my body need a serious break.
Two new drugs. Side effects. One of the two pulled for several reasons. The last drug to treat the problems. The problems are still there. The drug is new so who knows what will happen. You’ve just started the drug, so you need more time to see if it works, and the side effects go away.
I DEFINITELY needed a break the day my uterine biopsies were done. My OB/GYN did them last week.
Although, before I continue, this Post might be a bit much for the squeamish. So consider yourself WARNED.
It was the second most painful procedure I’ve gone through in my entire life. The first being the insertion of a urinary catheter while just lying on an examining table. The Doctor put it in faster than completing the sentence:
“Okay, this is going to hurt a bit.”
I screamed at such massive decibels. I still wonder to this day if I didn’t scare the hell out of all the other women in the waiting room. Or perhaps, only dogs could hear me.
I don’t remember if any women were in the waiting room. I was like 18 tornados trying to find the exit doors when everything was done. This was for ongoing UTI’s.
I have no clue what my OB/GYN was doing for her biopsies. However, I can say she’s thorough? Holy shit. Or holy blood?
I have a new Fibroid, the lining of my uterus is fuller, thicker etc. Basically, a lot more blood and tissue for an egg to implant, but not good as my Fibroids are taking up space there too.
The biopsies, though? They’ll be benign. THEY.
I could “feel” her almost slicing me up all over the place!!! Not like a simple “Punch Biopsy.” Those are like a small poke. You feel like you’ve just been vaccinated with a large needle.
After we were done, she told me quickly, “Move up the table. Move up the table. I don’t want to get any blood floor.”
Like I said, she must be…thorough?
She told me to relax, take my time, I did a great job (she said that as we were doing it, I could take a break.) It took me so long to actually move, then clean up, then try to get dressed…they actually sent a nurse to check on me.
Ah, I love Medicine! I wonder what my hysterectomy will be like?
My OB/GYN is lovely though. Only two things to note for the anaesthetist:
1. Not to be picky, but if you’re thinking about Propofol? It makes me sick. Midazolam, please?
Granted, those were only for less invasive things I’ve had done. Still, no Propofol in your Alchemy.
2. DO NOT forget I’m on Propranolol. I’d like to wake up after surgery.
I got my notification for the MRI I’ve been waiting for, like 10 years? <gross sarcasm because I'm SO pissed off>
What do I see?
What does THAT mean? It means I sure as hell hope and not hope they got me mixed up with another patient.
Not hope? Because it will be wrong but I’ll have to get the right one ordered and wait all over again.
Hope? As above, a patient mix up but only on paper. Then things can just proceed “as planned.”
It’s not like I’m tired enough having a massive TBI right now. One that was initially considered a stroke.
One that could be a stroke or not. Or perhaps something else, but we need an MRI to try and get an injured part to say: “Smile for the camera!”
So what does that IAC business mean that has now set me on fire? It stands for “Internal Auditory Canal.” What does that have to do with?
BASICALLY EVERYTHING TO DO WITH HEARING!!!
Aw, come on! I never had any problems with hearing before, during, and after what happened. I still don’t! It even looks for these quite rare tumors called “acoustic neuromas.”
*bangs TBI head on table*
This is out of our known Universe! Nobody even examined my hearing in hospital!
I’d roll my eyes like banging my head on the table but that might send me back to hospital.
Speaking of, and this isn’t funny, I had two similar episodes now that I’ve been home for a month. Well, one was minor. The other one left me shaking on my bed, totally confused if I really should go back to hospital.
But I could still heeeeaaaarrrr!!!!
Sweetie GP is away too. So I also have to call a backup she’s got that’s new. Not her regular, and in fact, seems like a pushy Intern.
Nothing against any of you other Interns out there! Residents too!
Although some of you Attendings? *raises eyebrows*
So an important telephone to Intern tomorrow. Maybe I can use her to my advantage.
She seems to be, sort of, have this air about her to show and prove how much of a rising Star she is.
Okay, Girlie. I can hear you. I’d like you to listen LOUD AND CLEAR about this.
Delivered by WP+Android=Technocrap
First, I can make Blog Posts via my Mobile, second, responding to it and Twitter stuff doesn’t work so well and third:
I’m now part of the orgy!!!
I think we all know of the Government’s collusion between Tobacco Companies and so much more.
Also, I am in no way a conspiracy theorist. A UFO could land on my head and I’d be quite pleased with that. Even better if they took me away from this planet.
Way back in uni, of course we were all living in poverty. Kraft Dinner and shitty Ramen packets that cost $0.25 day after day. And yet, how did we always have loads of alcohol on hand? To party EVERY NIGHT?
One thing we always had a hard time obtaining were cigarettes. With all of that partying and drinking going on, they really cramped the bank account. Or pile of cash if you didn’t have one.
So what really helped us were these little packs of smokes that we actually nicknamed, “Poverty Packs.”. They had 15 cigarettes in them and were dirt cheap compared to a full pack.
Not to mention, Ultra-Cute.
So, out I am and a guy I know buys…A POVERTY PACK! I didn’t even know they existed anymore. Although a lot different from years gone by.
Over many years, Health Canada got on a real kick about smoking being so bad for you. They started putting icky pictures of people dying and body parts being destroyed on all packs to try and stop people from smoking.
Then, for some reason they took away all the lists of ingredients on each pack of cigarettes, in measurements per brand. I don’t know why. Listing all the crap could also aid in someone quitting? Not.
Maybe a “retaliation” from the Tobacco Companies! Huh?
We can get access to “Native” Cigarettes too. People can in the U.S. as well. These are from Native Reserves (aka Indian but not PC to use that term!) However, this is a “Highly Illegal Practice.”
Everyone does it though. A carton for $30.00? You tell me.
Back to my “Poverty Pack” I just bought. And joining the orgy. They are $2.00 more than the cheaper brands here. I just about died. And there is NO WAY about them being a novelty feature.
The Government wants everyone to stop smoking? I think not. And the Tobacco Companies sure as hell don’t.
I got a telephone call from my sister late last night. I had already taken my meds so I was mumbling and slurring my speech.
I slowly tried to say, “Oh, if I sound funny, I…”
She immediately cut me off and said, “You sound like you’re drunk!”
My sister always thinks I’m drunk. Yes, 20 years of addiction to alcohol and marrying an alcoholic might do that. But please cut me a little slack? Please?
Back to the call. My sister and I always get along like a continent on fire, but now she was stumbling for words. I somehow felt vindicated. She didn’t know how to tell me, didn’t know what to say over and over again. I told her just to be blunt, spit it out, just tell me!
My mother’s husband died on Saturday, November 02, 2013. Look at the date today, folks. My mom even called me that day. We were briefly talking, she sounded just fine and after barely saying anything, someone was at the door and she said she’d call me back later. Nothing since my sister called.
I thought it was my mom simply being her (undiagnosed) mental self. Nope.
Apparently…it “seems” like she didn’t want to tell me as I’d be too upset about it. OMG! Well, THIS clearly needs to be sorted today!
I’ve been crying all morning. I’m crying while writing this post!
I’m feeling so selfish. She hasn’t called me in a year. YES, a year!!! She ALWAYS calls me on my birthday and this is the first time she didn’t.
Why didn’t I call her? Sure, very sick and lot going on, but what’s a phone call? It’s like, what is sending an email to someone? Even if she rambles on forever on the phone! That was one thing I wanted to avoid.
Her husband started out with Prostate Cancer but after a year what happened? What was the full story?
Okay, I can’t write anymore about this. I feel like I’m dying too.
For the first time in my ENTIRE life, I think I’ll have to say, “I Love You” to my mother–and really mean it. I’m scared about that. I’m a mess.
I just realized I was a bit contrary in this post.
I said that I shaved my head for a lot of reasons. However, I then said I wasn’t going to post a picture as it wasn’t a “sideshow.”
I apologize, folks. When writing the post, I think I was a bit shaken up.
It was the exact day I heard of my friend’s mother’s death from cancer.
Thus, it was the exact day I immediately ran out and shaved my head.
I also did it before even finishing the post.
Here I am. Bald is beautiful. Even more so if you want to read my crazy post above? Yeah, I was a mess that day.
NOTE: I had to edit this as I originally started writing it on October 09, 2013. Obviously that is not the date today.
My friend R. who lives in London (but born in bred in the same city I live in) had to fly back recently. His mother “had cancer.”
Immediately after he arrived, he said, “It was such a surprise to everyone!” Alright. We do have the aspect of cancer sneaking up on you. A sort of “surprise” where you seem fine for a while, and then you become gravely ill. Or something to that effect.
Well, Dr. PA felt she needed to share a medical aspect. She reminded him of her brush with breast cancer and sure, “everything” was benign, but some things may have still remained (or even have come back.)
Anything dormant or returning may not have be noticeable. Then, they became malignant. The speed of the malignant tissue and/or tumors metastasizing, could have spread so incredibly exponentially. It was only at that time the cancer appeared. Then, when it had affected so much of her body’s systems, she became terminally ill.
This woman woman was A ROCK.
I don’t know how much “a lot” is, but she definitely had her fair share. And never a stumble or a trip; always the craziest sense of humour and a smile that would crash any other rocks to bits!
She loved me. So much. Countless Sunday Family Dinners where we always joked, I was the “Surrogate <insert my name>” because it is the same as their daughter living to far away to attend the Sunday Family Dinners
Here is an ABSOTIVELY, POSOLUTELY INSANE example of how much she loved me. It was regarding one Sunday Family Dinner.
There would always be pie for dessert. I don’t really like fruit and they were always fruit pies. I would politely decline or maybe ask for just a tiny sliver (and then completely slather it in ice cream to get it down!)
One night, she asked me about pies. I told her I really didn’t like them. I didn’t like fruit ones, at least. I didn’t like fruit!
She looked at me squarely in the eyes and said there must be some kind of pie I liked. There were lots of them out there. I thought about pies. With all of these types of pies spinning around in my head, I thought maybe I didn’t like any!
Wait! Pumpkin! It’s not fruit! Yes!
I showed up for the next Sunday Family Dinner. She made a fruit pie for EVERYONE ELSE and a PUMPKIN PIE FOR JUST ME!!!
To hell with pumpkin pie?
I’m already an open book so I didn’t care what R. said to any of his family members about me. I was so close to them anyway! He told her a lot. Apparently.
No direct conversations or words were ever uttered, but countless times she would always say, “If you want to come over, you’re always welcome!”
That would mean I’d stay in R.’s bedroom. Wow. How many memories would that little space hold. I certainly would have liked to come to the house but I wondered if staying in his room might be a little TOO much.
The last time I saw her, after the last Sunday Family Dinner, she changed her suggestion to me. She knew I was alone. She knew I had so many problems. She knew I was in pain and in so much trouble at times. R. would have told her all my diagnoses; everything I have battled my entire life. I know he told her that I had tried to kill myself (more than once?) He visited me in the hospital for one before he went overseas!
Instead of, “If you want to come over, you’re always welcome!”
It was, “If you need a place to stay, you’ve got one here.”
CONTINUATION, POSTSCRIPT, WHATEVER:
R.’s mother died today, this morning, this was supposed to be a #FF post but when I found out? Fix this post, on Twitter, time was passing, “Crap! I gotta get out and do this now!” More…
I went out and shaved my head. Right down to #1. I’m pretty bald. And no pictures. This isn’t a sideshow.
I did it for her, others that have had an impact on me personally (family for sure!) Others I’ve I’ve worked with who are terminal. I get anemia infusions in hospital. I see the cancer patients on the other side of the floor getting chemo when I drag my tree to the bathroom there. On and on… I wanted to make a wig but my hair wasn’t long enough–even for a kid.
Wake the hell up people!!! And if you don’t know why I’m bald? If you don’t even ask? I’m going to scream why in your ears anyway!!!
I went out a bit. Dressed all in black. Quite formally and with my formal cane as well. I had a drink which I shouldn’t do. But under the circumstances? Fuck it. My own way of a wee mourn. Until the funeral comes around.
I made some Tweets tonight but I don’t know who saw them, who cares, but I’ll bring anyone who’s interested up to date.
Crisis. But hanging on with dental floss right now?
The day before today, neuro lowered my Clobazam despite my seizures getting worse (not to mention the accompanying psych and emotional disasters that come along with.) I figured out why after a bit. He thinks that prescribing such a high dose was lowering my seizure threshold and then WHAM! Look how high they flew up! Bastard.
But today was so painfully and unbelievably shocking. I’ve lost my therapist that I have been seeing for a year now. Stoopid Guvmunt crap and changes in the clinic. She was even shocked herself.
Spock held it together through the appointment but wee PA crumbled to the floor bawling uncontrollably trying to get to her GP. Right on the floor outside her therapist’s office. Hello, everyone else in the building. Here’s a bit of an Asperger’s Display. FUCK YOU!
I’m a total wreck. I’ve been ruminating about going to hospital and yet, on the other hand, can I be strong to handle this? How strong do I have to be? I don’t know. All I do know is I’m so afraid, I took one more Valium than prescribed a little while ago, my therapist does have her own practice but I’d have to pay.
Then I talked to a guy I know about saving money for drinking. Not going out. He bought me tonight some Vodka, Whisky and beer that I can drink at home. Right now, Vodka. Neat (that means no ice–an abomination!)
I’m pretty freaked out to talk to anyone. I think I have someone to take care of my place if I admit myself. Not the alcohol guy! Can’t trust him.
My mother’s off the radar. I’m too scared to call after almost two months as I suspect her husband has gotten worse with his cancer. She laments not being “able to take care of both of us.” I have no clue. And I don’t want to hear bad news. Family trauma, PTSD and all of that! My mom is still mentally ill so who knows what demons might come out!
So, yeah. My “coping mechanisms” ain’t so hot right now. I’d like to say, “Let’s see what tomorrow brings.” But I know that’s a ridiculous statement.
Back to listening to Dead Can Dance.
So, here’s the deal with this rather fun adventure. More “adventure/s” to come?
I’m feeling selfish and guilty about a lot of fucking things right now. Things that are important to me (this blog included.) Yes, yes, my health comes first, but try explaining that to my head. My brain doesn’t work that way–even though my body ends up convincing it that it does–because my body just gives up. Period. But I am on the mend. I think?
I went back to hospital, called Emergency Services as I was getting sicker. Back into Isolation!
There were other things I had neglected to tell them. More falls I didn’t mention (one that resulted in some urinary incontinence as I was going to the bathroom in the night!) Massive memory loss, as well. Feelings of Neuropathy (damage to nerves in certain places of the brain.)
I had numbness and tingling in my face from my nose down to my chin. Then, one night, some in my left forearm that went from numbness to pain. More pain? Tendons can just “pop” or get damaged in other ways. I was in pain with certain joints. A lot of issues besides, but some weren’t even mentioned under the “Extremely Rare” category. Well, that’s me!
When I got home from hospital from the first Isolation round, I took a fall on the floor and had no idea how it happened. I was putting on jammies, unpacking, taking my meds, getting ready for bed. The next thing, I found my kitchen step stool opened when it was closed, and me lying on the floor below it. No clue, no memory, nothing. Can you say concussion?
Because I had a bit of a bump on my bean and some bruising around one of my eyes. But glasses area good thing! They have been for me, as mine are very solid. They’ve absorbed the impact of my falls first, before my head has! *laughing* No, I’m serious!
Anyway, back to what is/was “wrong” with me. Side effects of the medication prescribed. Which could very well be true. On my long list of problems, there were some under the “Rare” category. This drug is like, I don’t know! Some kind of missile, to kill whatever is killing you. That said, because it made me so sick, recovery time could be very slow.
However, I never received an actual “diagnosis!” What the hell made me so sick in the first place, and what happened? What’s going on with my body?
From what it treats, I don’t think I had the most serious two: plague and anthrax. Nobody is dropping like flies all over the place, and I don’t think I dispelled one of largest Urban Myths when I went to pick up my mail a few weeks ago. So, perhaps an extremely intense, over-the-top, near-death Pneumonia? Which it does treat–but you must have to be pretty bad off to have them give it to you?
I hate to complain folks but I’ve been bedridden in some way since LAST JUNE. I’m getting a little tired (bad pun) of this. I know it seems counterintuitive for me to post, rather than do Twitter stuff and comments. Throwing up posts and writing like this is easier. The others require more thought. My brain tends to run out of steam. I want to do things correctly. If that makes any sense. Because I want to make sense!
Since I am basically immobile, my mom and her husband picked me up. Her husband has cancer so he’s up and down. But kind of up right now to make the trip. A bit of a drive to my place. Oh, this is priceless. I got a hysterical call from my mother saying she “She needed me!” just as I was about to call Emergency Services. Well, not what I needed to hear at the time but I can understand.
I think she’s keeping me captive here too. She wants me around as it’s a nice break from her own insanity. I guess being here is okay. I don’t know how I feel about it really.
I’ve said this before. I’ve never had a mother because she was so mentally ill. I had to parent my parents. A soon I became an adult, I said, “Fuck it!” and got outta dodge.
I now have a mother. After never having one.
It’s been that way since this last year and a half. I don’t know if being so sick trumps my PTSD while staying here or not. I’m also sitting in another in another room listening to the both of them talk…overstimulation? I don’t know what to do.
OH.NO. Unexpected visitors just arrived. This day might be blown, we still have to do more things, I didn’t bring enough Clobazam. *hangs head and now longs for peace and quiet*
Well, folks. Where to begin? I’ll save the best for last!
I have already expressed my concerns about the possibility of having cancer. I will emphasize “possibility.” There could be other things, and hell! I could end up with another “who knows what the good, goddamn thing’s about!”
I received a call from my mother who said verbatim: “I trust you and your knowledge more than the doctors.” My mother does not read my blog! So, I guess she has now reached the conclusion that I am Dr. PA. Or Dr. <insert real name.>
Regardless, her husband has prostate cancer and suddenly, took a turn for…? I was astonished at the variety of signs and symptoms she was telling me. I dared not say a thing about certain organs affected and other areas of physiognomy. The biggest being neurological problems!
Not to sound callous, but if he dies, fine. My more immediate concern is where on earth will my mother go? They have no money. Finally, due to their stressors regarding his cancer, I am not saying a word about my own personal concerns of having esophageal cancer.
My sister. I don’t care if she thinks she has the hugest case of peri-menopause ever seen by medical specialists the world ’round. My insane mother is now acting more sane than my non-insane sister.
To cut to the chase and try not to keep this post 1,000,000 words long (which it could very well be anyway!) I called her and told her of my medical concerns as I wish her to be my Executrix and handle all Directives etc. She’s known this forever, but now a bit of advance notice? Just in case something does turn up?
I may have hit a nerve, but let’s be real. She began pitying me for my constant health problems but she just “let’s things go now…” Excuse me? The last time I checked, being remotely peri-menopausal does not make you lose your senses of sympathy or empathy. There was an accusation about a funny (tried to be!) message I left on their home VM. She said she thought I was drunk so just ignored it. What the bloody, huh?
I tried to repeat what I was saying and then she just started screaming at me, “NO! NO! NO!” Time to end the call. Which I politely and maturely did. Then, I immediately sent off an email to clear some things up and also say we never even got a chance to talk about the GOOD stuff in my life! We don’t communicate often and most certainly not as often as we used to in the past.
Number Four. Non-Arsey Neuro will not increase my Clobazam past my current 100mg. I have told him I have steadily been making progress. However, I’m still sick, going mental and having seizures when the Typical Absence Status Epilepticus intervals hit. I broke down crying and freaking and yelling at him as he said I’ll be fine on this amount. I’ll get better.
I’ve been on it since February. Now, I am being referred to a large, and highly regarded neuroscience centre here at one of our hospitals. Fine. I’ll do anything they want! Nonetheless, I am now pondering the fact that I may have intractable epilepsy.
Ohhhh, the kicker!!! Kick indeed. As in, “KICK YOU OUT OF MY LIFE!!!” Part of me still can’t believe it. I keep picking up my mobile and looking for a flashing light. Oh, is that you? I must have been away from my mobile. It’s not done in an obsessive way. Not at all! It’s done out of habit. Because we talked to each other (even just via txt) every day.
P. My friend P. who I’ve known for five years…with never any blowouts, blowups (unless slight but then an immediate apology–usually words said out of care that went awry.) P. has given me a massive “FUCK YOU!!!”
Via text. It was so violent and malicious in its wording! He was accusing me of things I had never, ever done! I jumped right back on it and I guess you can probably imagine what I said! And that I loved him! He knew that too! Nothing. It gets “better” though.
I later heard that he was talking to his therapist for a while about doing this.
I went positively mad. Completely out of my head. Two days of non-stop PTSD dissociation. I’ve experienced a few hours and one full day before, but that prior full day was NOTHING compared to this!!!
It was so bad, when I went to see my therapist and she called my name, I just sat there staring at nothing. Did I hear it? Did I hear some of it? Did it just not register? She said it again a bit louder. I turned my head slowly in her general direction but I wasn’t looking at anything. I couldn’t make any eye contact through our session, until I finally left and slowly again, lifted my head in her head’s direction. I saw her face for about two seconds and she was smiling at me.
P. I just don’t get it! If he would only sit down and maturely discuss things! EXPLAIN things!!! Tell me what’s going on!!! God, I’d be MORE than happy to do that!
Which may seem counterintuitive to my choices for the MP3 Series. My feelings have gone from extremely angry to absolute depression to even forgiveness for what he’s done.
“Bitch” by Apoptygma Berzerk
“The Things You Said” by Depeche Mode
“Temperamental” by Everything But The Girl
A funny phrase from my ex-friend J. It was always hauled out in reference to things being “broken” that were so necessary, but rendered useless. This always resulted in pure frustration. Construction work being done that screwed up any way of travelling. Renovations of stores that people needed where there were no alternatives within reach. You get it.
Well, my blog? Maybe not “Under Destruction.” “Under Construction?” “Under Malfunction?” Yes. I like that one.
My blog is forthwith: Under Malfunction
But bugger me! Comments! Twitter! I still haven’t… I want to say yes, as always I will get back to you, but what if I can’t? Every single one of you who I haven’t responded are still so important. I will try. Very hard.
What this post is about is that I need to leave. Who the hell knows for how long? But it’s the cancer. Or strong possibility of it. Or Barrett’s Esophagus that is pretty freaky, but a little bit better (just a very little bit, perhaps?)
Could it be nothing? Well! A whole chicken coop of eggs on my face! Still, I wouldn’t complain. All the chickens could shit over my entire body to boot!
I even ‘fessed up to my mom whose father died of it, and she then went off the deepest end of immeasurable mental insanity within five minutes. Well, I guess if you can deal with your daughter trying to top herself, ending up in the ICU for three days, yet still coming out of it, is cancer such a big deal? I just about fell to the floor from her “non-reaction.” Okay.
So I’m a bit messed up. There are days when I’m good, even great. Yes, while still pondering this and my life, my mortality. Tonight? Not so.
I’m starting to disclose to a hell of a lot more people, some I barely know. I don’t fucking care. I told a bunch tonight. I do care for them, but FYI. This is the deal if I start bursting into tears for no reason. Yeah?
Looking up at the sky earlier after the sun had set, I kept telling myself, “I refuse to waste a minute, no, not even a second of my life from this point on. No.” I kept saying it over and over in my head. How do I do that?
I’m still nuts, totally batshit crazy, and an epileptic nightmare. Perhaps that’s why my blog needs to go Under Malfunction.