Psych!

That's we used to say to each other in college when we thought something good was going to happen and it didn't. Psych! No chemo today. My white blood cells were too low for a round to be safe. I was pretty bummed, but the super nice nurse assured me that the dose I had two weeks ago was so massive that this is really common. She also said it still working and not to be discouraged. Dr. Bathini said the same thing. We are going to do six rounds before the next scan. I am already nervous about it. But, I chant, I have nothing to be afraid of. I have God and all good things.

So I wait another week and go on a Wednesday which totally messes up daycare. But, we will do what we need to do to get there in that chair with my shiny new white blood cells. PS There isn't a way to make more, except wait for my loyal and smart body to do its thing. Anyone praying out there? Pray for the white cells (and complete healing, of course).

I could do an entire post about chemo and poop. I will spare you. Let's just say, it's a big subject in my house.

The roiling gas is gone, I think. It was so painful last night I woke up several times from my lovely Atavan sleep. That was pretty freaky. When I talked to Dr. B. I told him about the pain, the very first thing he asked me was "have you had Chinese food lately?" Well, yes, on Sunday night. The MSG and chemo drugs do not mix. He said as the food works its way through my system, I will feel better. Yay. I will miss the egg foo young, but not enough to have balls of prickly fire moving through my gut. Then when I asked if I could take Advil for the pain he said no, and handed me a prescription for oxycodone. The stuff that famous people get addicted to. I broke a tablet in half with the needle-nosed pliers in the car and in about ten minutes, I felt so much better and floatier and had to close my eyes for about two hours. No more pain, no more actual participation in my life. I have to find a balance.

I have lots to be grateful for tonight. I felt so tired and Pat encouraged me to take a walk. I talked to my mom and she doesn't mind talking about poop at all. Amazing. Bennett saying back to Pat "you might be frickin' hot, but I am not frickin' hot." Oops.

Another excellent gift of a day - even with the bumps and bangs. I can take it.

A Rough Good Day

I didn't think I was going to post tonight, but I need it. It's been a rough day and good day. A friend of my had a tragic family event and this has been on my mind a lot. Life is so fragile, so tenuous and yet all we want to do is live. How can the two exist at the same time?

Every spring when I worry whether the plants will come back, I remind myself that all the plants want to more than anything is to live, make seeds and flourish. Isn't that what we all want? Well, maybe not make seeds exactly. My mom, who is excellent in many ways, said she doesn't want to die because she wants to see what happens. I couldn't agree more.

Heavy stuff here, but that's what I got. My belly feels much better after a day of no dairy except yogurt and kiefer. Holy crap, what am I going to eat now? Some of you know this, I have to be super careful about what I eat because I cannot, repeat cannot, block my colon. Where it perforated is very tender and I am working on making it stronger by eating soft foods, drinking tons of water and not picking up anything weighing more than about ten pounds. Sadly, that includes Bennett. I am going to check with my doc tomorrow to see if all of these things still need to be true. My guess is yes, dag-nabbit.

So how was it a good day? I got the day. That's a terrific start. I got to hang out with Bennett, go to the mall, get a new laptop (super yay!) and hang out with Sandy and Avy. My belly feels about 50% better and I bet it will be even better tomorrow. The electrician was here putting the lights in the new bedroom and I am turning 45 on Friday. I got to help B go to sleep with books and stories. It's been a nice day, I am glad and thankful for the day and for the gift of tomorrow.

Ah, tomorrow, Chemo Tuesday. Please send your light my way. I am especially interested in light that will help me not slur my speech, God knows I want to be in partnership with the chemo drugs not allergic to them.  I will be in the chair around 10:30 with Pat by my side, playing Scrabble again? I'll let you know.

I Have Nothing to Be Afraid Of

What a weekend! Yesterday Pat and I took off to New York City for a big surprise 50th birthday party for my friend Bob. Now, friend hardly describes how I feel about my relationship to Bob. We met physically over 20 years ago, but have known each other spiritually much longer. He is a very special person who helped me learn about love and friendship and family and all good things.

So, Aunt Liz and Aunties Ruth and Theo tagged-teamed taking care of Bennett, while Pat and I drove to the city, got ready, walked 40 blocks (which sounds like a lot, but is only about 2 miles), and I got picked up in a limo. Two hours later, the ten of us in the limo, along with some guys who were playing Arabic music, arrived at Gramercy Tavern. Ten or more folks were there (including my fine Pat) to meet us and we ate delicious food, listened to more good Arabic music and watched a belly dancer. What a night. I couldn't really eat that much, which was a shame because the food was so good. I took one bite of the fois gras and remembered that it was liver and that was that. I gave it to my companion on the left and she happily ate it.

Everyone was really nice to me and I had some especially moving conversations with one of Bob's sisters. She was like a rock. That's the only way I can describe how I experienced her. When I met her, the first thing she did was bless me. The last thing she said to me while I was saying goodbye was "don't be afraid." Mind you, I hadn't talked to her about being scared. I asked her why I shouldn't be afraid and she held both of my arms, looked right at me and said "you have nothing to be afraid of." Talk about carrying a sharp sword. That lady cut right to it and I believed her. I have believed her now, off and on, for 24 hours.

We got back to our gracious friends, Angela and Paolo's, house early, slept and left for home at eight the next morning. Home by noon. Bennett was sort of happy to see us. After all, the fun of Aunties was about to end and that is always sad. I was super glad to see her. Being away from her is being away from the light in her heart. Very hard.

I had a lot of pain in my abdomen this weekend. I am trying to think of it as a gift of love from chemo. This is Angela's idea. And guess what? Today I realized it is a gift from chemo. I have terrible painful gas that roils around noisily in my belly and comes out, um, noisily. You get the picture. The gift part is that I have not had one speck of nausea or diarrhea. My oncologist told me that the meds I am on sometimes give a small percentage of recipients uncontrollable diarrhea. Uncontrollable! And I have been grumpy about gas. Another lesson about gratitude learned. It took almost two weeks, but I got it.

Tuesday is chemo day, mark your calendars.

It's Like Coming Out All Over Again

When I see someone I haven't seen for awhile, the first thing I think to tell them is, "I have cancer." I don't, but it's there. Mostly I say I am fine, Bennett is thriving, she is going to a new preschool in a couple of weeks, blah blah blah. But my mind is not participating with me - it's got a mind of its own. It wants the relief of telling this terrible truth. To anyone. To everyone. That first week, I would have thought the sullen cashier at the grocery store was just the person to confide in.  The news is that surreal to me.

But I spare myself the tut-tuts and the tilted heads and the I am so sorrys, because I can't stand them from virtual strangers. My friends can tut-tut me all they want, because they really mean it. And this is a tut-able situation.

I remember when someone I didn't know very well would tell me something awful. It would scare the crap out of me and I would say the right things and make the right sounds and get the hell out of there. Thank God so many people whom I don't know well have come forward to offer real help. Thank God these fine people are not acting like I did. Boy, am I sorry now.

Now I have a chance to be different and help people in real ways when I can. What a lesson to learn. What a hard thing to look back on chances to help not taken because of that enemy, fear.

Again, I will advise us all to avoid falling into the traps fear sets for us. Wily fear, go away, you are not welcome here.

This post surprises me. I had a lovely day. I got to walk the dog while talking to my friend Jessica- who is having a baby in November. I can't wait to meet that new person! Pat, Bennett and I went to Snow Farm for lunch and so P could do some work stuff. We picked apples and pears from the gone-wild trees there. We went to our CSA farm and they have kindly offered me five extra pounds of carrots a week so I can juice them. The weather was perfect and I was protected by SPF85 sunscreen and my trusty hat. We were lucky enough to run into Aunties Ruth and Theo, got to eat ice cream sandwiches and raspberries.

So, what's my problem? Having cancer ruins everything. Not always, just this minute. It puts an unwelcome veil over everything. I don't want it there, I try every trick I can think of to get rid of it, but sometimes it just doesn't work. A friend who had breast cancer said to me today "cancer totally sucks, and Ruth, I mean it really sucks. But it awakened me in a spiritual way that I would never have if I didn't go through it." It's true. When I think of her life before and what she holds dear today, those things are really different.

I will take those words to heart while I struggle tonight. This sucks but here is my big chance to wake the heck up.

Now I Know What I Need

I thought I needed a support group, so I went to one last night. It was awful. It was traumatic. It is up there with the liver biopsy as one of the hardest things that has happened to me during this journey of mine.

I want to make clear that I am a true believer in therapy and 12-step groups and prayer circles and even support groups. And I believe that this support group is right for the people in it. Just count me out. I can't say too much, because the people in that group are people who are truly suffering and my heart really goes out to them. I can say that now I know what I need. I need a room full of joy, song, prayer, and the occasional good cry. I need the messiness of healing and lightness around me.

My sister Janna said that I can't dull my sword facing the enemies of others, that I needed to keep my sword sharp to fight my own enemy. Real truth and power are in those words. I have to fight this beast like the warrior I am. And I am not fighting alone. In those moments when my mind is free, I sometimes hear "I have cancer." So I decided I have to think of other things I have so when that tiny window opens, I can fill it with "I have God," "I have love," "I have Pat," "I have Bennett." I can't tell you how comforting those words are.

I can't leave on a heavy note, it has been a very heavy day. So I write about Bennett. First she has mastered our new iPad. Today she turned it on, opened it, booted up Netflix, found Caillou (a PBS cartoon about a 4-year old) and started the show all by herself. She turned to me and said, "Look Mom-o, I found Caillou." I might have to password protect the iPad...

Second we were goofing around and she said to Pat, "Come here, Mama, I am going to tickle you, I am going to tickle your arm peach."

The Laptop is Dead

The laptop. It's dead. It's official. Going to have to get a new one. Not a great time for a biggish expense, but it's really such a big part of our lives to have a laptop. So, we do another thing that we have to do that we don't really want to do.

Thanks to those of you who are pissed at my ex-doc. I need the solidarity. In my heart I know the anger doesn't really help. And there isn't anyone to blame. You have to know that if there was someone to blame, I would have found that person. It's just bad flippin' luck. But that's changing. I am four days out from my first dose of bad ass chemo and feel pretty darn good. I don't want to jinx anything, but I spent the majority of the day out and about with Bennett.

Walked the dog, went shopping with Bennett, took B candle-pin bowling (I watched), then to the library. The bowling and library were made all the better because Sandy and Avy were there. I will admit to sitting more than I normally would, and that I do have a smidgen of pain. My theory is the tumors are pissed and are protesting the assault. Fine with me, as long as they die a short death.

Not much else to report. A fine day to live today. Looking forward to tomorrow.

Now go get a colonoscopy, would you? I need to know you are all healthy.

So Many Things to Remember

I just spent about an hour going through the reams of paper the chemo nurse, Sue, gave me when I left last Tuesday. As you can imagine, I wasn't that interested in diving into the details of the horrors that chemo drugs can do to my body. That is to say, while those magical chemo drugs are valiantly destroying cancer cell after cancer cell, they are also causing lots of other cells to question their usual intentions.

White and red blood cells can get really out of whack. Infection can be a really big problem. Don't forget to rinse your mouth with salt water four times a day (luckily I am in the habit from getting my wisdom teeth out), don't let your hangnails crack, don't eat blue cheese.  What!?!  The list of foods to avoid is long and sad. No runny cheese, no lox or pickled herring, no tempeh or miso. Okay, tempeh I won't miss that much, but pickled herring, blue cheese, Camembert?

Another thing that no one talks about is when you lose you hair, you lose it all. You know what I mean?  That seems like it should be obvious, after all why would your genitals be any different than your eyebrows?

I also read a pamphlet that basically told me the best way to get fatigued is to not move. I spent the majority of this raining, chilly Sunday on the couch reading Harry P. I was tired! But after reading that, I got off my butt and walked the dog while I talked to my mom. Both made me feel so much better.

Riffing off yesterday's post, it does beg the question is it okay to spend the day on the couch? What if that's what I used to do once and awhile before I had cancer? I sometimes want to take a nap, is that a sign of something I should worry about, or just a nap? I'll keep you posted.

Tomorrow, Monday, I will take the computer in for resuscitation (if it costs less than $100), make pumpkin pie with Bennett (who wants desperately to make it, but has never had it. I hope she isn't disappointed.) and other normal and regular life things. The times when my mind wanders are still a challenge, but if I let my fear take over, I lose that lovely bit of my life. And I am not willing to give any more lovely, or unlovely bits up to fear. They are all mine.

What was that?

What is that? What was that? What could that be? I keep asking myself.

Sitting on the floor playing with Bennett leaning on my hand for too long, my hand is numb. Oh my god, it's neuropathy, for sure. That's a sometimes irreversbile numbness one can get in the hands or finger tips from chemo drugs. Why isn't the drain for the shower draining? The only reasonable answer is my hair is falling out. What's that stinging in my belly - tumors ignoring the chemo drugs and growing to colossal size.

I miss my pump.  At least while it was stuck to my chest I had something real to obsess about.  Now it's just the mental full-body scan every 25 seconds.

Let's talk about something else. Today Bennett and I went to a birthday party for a now two-year old whom we know from music class. Bennett was in the heaven of a house full of super deluxe toys, and I got to have a pile a guacamole and some ice cream for lunch. Nice and calorie dense.  It is a little strange to try to sneak calories in where I can. Eggs with creme fraiche, half and half as part of a smoothie, ice cream every night. I hope I don't get heart disease.

I didn't post yesterday, I had a rough one. I spent the morning in the lawyer's office sewing up my "living trust." After hearing the words "should you become terminally ill" or "should you become incapacitated" a few times, it's a little hard to breathe. Pat and Bennett were with me, and that helped a ton, but it's all about getting our money in order in case I die. That's just the fact, and I hate it. It's also true that we would not have to do this if we could marry federally. I hate that too.

Then my now ex-doctor called. Yes, the one who gave me a clean bill of health. I could barely contain my fury. She just kept saying how odd it was that I was so healthy, with absolutely no symptoms, and here I was with cancer. Then she asked "did the surgery get it all?" I don't even know what to write. Dumb and insensitive and someone I trusted with my health for 12 years.

I ended the afternoon with a truly glorious trip to our CSA farm. As luck with have it, Bennett's best best friend, Avy, was there and they had ice cream sandwiches, played in the sand box and were expertly managed by Avy's fab mom, Sandy.  More luck allowed Aunts Ruth and Theo to take Bennett to pick and eat raspberries in the sun.

I stayed under the awning with my big hat and sunscreen worrying about photosensitivy. Since I don't really know what it means, I imagine I could bust out into boils or something horrible. So I called Mary. And I will just wrap this post up by quoting her comment from the last post "stay in the shade, but feel the sunshine."  After talking to her, I can.

Maiden Voyage

This photo is from last year, but I wanted to start with something really wonderful. And there is my really wonderful family, Pat and Bennett.

Today was return the pump to Worcester day. My faithful friend Liz, who has been shuttling me back and forth to Worcester came down with a cold. Remembering my last post about not being around sick people, no matter how nice, Pat and I decided it was time for me to try to get to UMASS by myself.  Luckily I woke up feeling great. I took Zeus for a longer walk than yesterday, made myself busy in the house while listening to Theo continue to work her magic on the trim in the bedroom.  It looks beautiful and I am so happy the bedroom is coming along.

As luck would have it, one of Pat's colleagues sent to us a bag of things like the Harry Potter books on CD.  I am pretty sure these items were meant for Bennett. But in all times of stress, I read Harry Potter. I am on #3, so I grabbed the CDs and off I went to Worcester at 12:15.  It was great to have such good company.  I wish Dumbledore lived in my house. Is it bad karma to wish that Dumbledore was my oncologist? I really like and trust Dr. Bathini, but there is something about Dumbledore - and I know you know what I mean.

I arrived exactly when the pump started beeping that the drugs were done, and in a blink of an eye they unhooked me. I have to say it was a little weird because they have to unlock it and unscrew it out of my skin - a little like a childproof cap. I meant to take pictures of the pump and the tubes into my chest so I could post them, but I forgot. Maybe some higher power was working on my memory to spare you all those photos. I will soon be posting pictures of me with my hair. It's longer than it's been in years.

Just in time to fall out. Good thing I like to knit. Good thing I have a nicely shaped head. I can say that confidently because I have had more than one hair dresser remark on it.  We will soon find out...

So that's it medical treatment-wise until 8/31. Now I get to do the activities that I can manage as long as I stay out of the sun, out of hot tubs and take my meds every eight hours without fail.

I am super tired and am looking forward to a nice sleep. Keep me in your light.

The Most Normal Day Of All

How can it be that after all this craziness, today felt like the most normal day in the world?  Maybe it was walking Zeus in the morning, running into one of my favorite neighbors and having a long talk.  She hadn't heard, so I had to come out to her about cancer.  She asked all the right questions, and offered all the right help.  There are some rare people in my sphere.

Lucky me.

I organized our photos onto Snapfish, ordered bunches, and broke the laptop.  It might be totally dead.  As many of you know, it was a piece of crap anyway.  We had to balance it on Bennett's Candyland game so it wouldn't burn our legs or table.  I made a million calls that I've neglected - Zeus's check up, vaccines for Bennett.  I cleaned the kitchen for the first time in weeks (Pat has been doing a stellar job all these weeks) and talked to lots of great people on the phone.

Did you know that while I am on chemo, Bennett can only get dead vaccines?  I didn't either.  And that everyone who comes over must wash their hands.  And that I can't be around sick people?  How is that going to be in the Fall when Bennett starts a new school with all those germy kids?  Yikes.

The only not perfectly normal thing is the bag around my neck that holds a pump that pushed 5FU at regular intervals into my chest port.  It doesn't hurt, I feel totally fine, even better.  Pat's theory is now we know.  Now we know what chemo is like, how I responded to the initial doses of drugs, what the facility is like, that I am not going to go home and fall into bed for a week (yet, I will if I need to).  I actually love this chemo.

I tried like mad to get the 140 grams of protein the nutritionist recommended.  I hope I can poop tomorrow - that's a lot of protein.  And I have to drink 10 glasses of water a day - done with no problem.

I got to pick up Bennett from school today. We came home and had some serious cuddling.  She has taken to stroking the part of the pump that goes into my chest.  I think of that as her way of sending love into me to help me heal.  She is so earnest and intuitive.  Lucky, lucky me.

We also made cookies.  Cookies?  Almond flour, agave-sweetened cookies that Pat thinks are the biggest treat in the Universe.  I think Bennett felt like we had a pretty normal day too.

The Diagnosis and Today

It occurred to me while I was putting my lovely Bennett to bed tonight that not everyone knows what's really going on with my body.  So I am going to put it here and not pretty it up.  Get ready.

I have stage four colon cancer.  That means that it's in my colon (right by my appendix).  The tumor is "quite  large" and I did not ask what that means.  You know, they always compare tumors to fruit, so I don't know if quite large means a grape or a cantaloupe.  I also have a small tumor in my gut not really on a specific organ.  Some lymph nodes in that area.  The really mean things are the tumors in my liver.  They are on both lobes, so at this point surgery can't be done.  And the really shitty thing is liver transplants are only for people who have liver cancer NOT colon cancer in the liver.  Oh, all of this is colon cancer - the same cells every where.  That we know where it all is is really good.  I want to emphasize this. 

How did I know?  When Pat and Bennett and I were on vacation in Vermont, I thought I ate something really bad and had terrible cramps and a fever.  I slept for two days and felt fine.  That was my colon perforating the first time.  A week later at home, the same thing happened.  I thought if I went to bed for a couple of days it would get better.  Wrong- that was my colon perforating the second time.  I ended up going to my (now ex-) doctor and was given IV fluids for dehydration and sent on my way. I went home, took a nap and woke up with a fever of 103.  I took my butt to the ER. Okay, Pat and Bennett took me to the ER, but not before Bennett changed into her favorite bee dress. 

There I spent a week and had the procedures large and small listed to the right.  Trying to get better in the hospital is like trying to get better in the Subway.  Impossible.

BTW, two weeks before we went to VT, I had my annual check up and was given a clean bill of health.  This makes me furious.  I am not even sure furious is a strong enough word.

Take a deep breath, please.  My motto is (with the help of Janna and God) the doctors will be amazed when we check in two months from now.  They won't believe their eyes that the tumors have shrunk and totally disappeared.

On to today.

I got to UMASS Memorial at 9:30.  We left at 4:15.  I had about 10 drugs. I am looking at the list they gave me, but I am sure some are missing.

Pepcid, Zofran, Decadron, Compazine, Irinotecan, Levcovoran, 5FU two ways.  I know I also got two steroids and some Benadryl.  The Bendryl was for the extremely rare side effect of slurred speech from either the compazine (anti nausea) or Irinotecan (vitamin that enhances the efficacy of the LV).

You want to get some attention on a chemo ward, start slurring your words.  I am super impressed with how sophisticated the operation at UMASS is.  I had a really great meeting with a nutritionist to help me get the calories I need to stop losing weight.  I am thinner than I have been since, I think, JR High.  A year ago, or even 2 months ago, I would have been thrilled.  Now it freaks me out.

Pat and I played two games of Scrabble and watched Wallace and Gromit in "A Matter of Loaf and Death."  Scrabble-hater Pat totally kicked my butt.  She might like Scrabble a little better now. I did tell her to avoid playing with any other van Erps as they might not be as, um, I will stop there.

A good note to this post...here's Bennett in her bee dress from Aunt Mary.

You Got the C-A-N Right

This from my friend Julie after telling her that I had been thinking about starting a blog about CANning. But you get cancer instead. With maybe a little canning here and there. My sister Mary who lives in England and I used to email and call each other all the time about canning, but now we talk about, well, not canning.

I do vow to can two more things this year - hot peppers and pickled carrots. Let me assure you all that I started the year with lots of preserving. Two kinds of pickled ramps (wild leeks), rhubarb jam and relish, blueberry and raspberry jam, pickle relish and pickled green garlic. I wonder if wondering if I will be here next year to eat the pickles makes me not want to make them. I call those gallows thoughts. Of course I will be here, of course I will be eating and of course I will want to have toast with jam with Bennett. It's just the fear talking.

Fear is so sneaky and mean. I suggest avoiding it whenever possible.

As I write, there is a huge summer storm. The sky black, streaks of light and booming. Bennett calmly reading a book and Theo in the half-finished bedroom looking at what we need so she can magically do all the trim for us. Today she is my hero- willing to just do it all and be patient with me when I don't know what I want. I know what she does will be gorgeous.

Later tonight I will post photos from our aquarium trip.

The Sunday Before the Monday

It's Sunday night and that probably seems like no big deal.  For me it's a hard time.  Tomorrow Pat goes to work and I have the whole day with Bennett.  What a joy to be with her - just the two of us, that's true.  The only thing is that eight hours with a three year old doesn't take up a lot of mental space.  So my mind wanders, wanders to places I don't want to go.

One might say, stay in the moment, it's still Sunday.  One might also say shut the hell up, this is about as scary as it gets. 

I have a nice long list of things to do and hope that I have the energy and the gumption to do them.  We are trying to get the second bedroom done before the end of the week - that mean finishing the walls, trim, painting and getting the floor installed.  And I had to send an email to my most favorite electrician to tell him I have cancer and need him to make the power live this week.  This is all so I can have a place to go if my three different anti-nausea meds and three different anti-diarrhealmeds don't work.

Who knew?  Who knew that clearing out the medicine cabinet for actual medications would need to happen?  Where are we going to keep the Q-tips?

I had this idea that I would want to write all the gory details about the procedures I had (note: first post), but now I don't want to.  If you want to know what something is like, ask and I will write about it.

I will say that going to the Mystic Aquarium yesterday was a blast.  I felt old old old because I am not my robust self, but seeing those seals really reminded me of the sheer power of nature and fun. 

I will end this post on a good note. The PET scan did not reveal anything that we didn't know about.  This is very very good news.  I was super afraid the cancer was also in my lungs - and it's NOT!  So a super big YAY and thank you God for that one.  And for everything.  I can feel like light a little better now.  Thanks.

Chemo on Tuesday

Okay, here we go. Chemo starts Tuesday at 9:30. My port is in place and ready to receive the magic and majestic medicines to get this unwelcome shit out of my body.

I am excited and scared. We will be using a combination of three drugs- 5fU, Leucovorin and Irinotecan. Feel free to look them up, and not tell me. I am still on an Internet diet, because in this case knowledge induces fear, not comfort.

I like my oncologist and feel like he really is interested in saving my life. That's pretty comforting.

I had a reflexology appointment at the Cancer Connection in Florence MA. They have lots of free services for people like me. I haven't yet joined a support group, but have been mulling it over and will keep you posted. So, the reflexology session was like heaven. Lots of non-medical touching and a really great foot and hand massage. She worked on releasing the fluids from my feet and hands, and I have to say an hour later I peed for about five minutes.

Please keep the light coming my way. Most of the time I can feel the radiance.

What's happening today more on what happened later

Today I rested. I needed a day alone to watch t.v. And slip into a nice painkiller induced nap. I had a power port installed yesterday. That's an implantable port in my chest to help administer the chemotherapy. I have to say it hurts more than I thought it would and I do not get to shower until friday AFTER my appt with my oncologist.

Check out the port site www.portadvantage.com if you want to know more. I have not been on the site bc I am not doing Internet research myself. It's just too damn scary.

Tomorrow Bennett will go to daycare so I can continue to rest.

Some things I want to write about that have already happened:
The diagnosis
The liver biopsy
The endoscopy and colonoscopy
How did I know to go to the hospital
Our lotsahelpinghands.com website