Overdue Scans

Since my last post (over a year ago, my bad) life has strolled on.  I have since become a Nana.  October 16, 2010 to be exact.  My daughter gave birth to a gorgeous baby boy.  I watched him come into this world, squalling before he was completely out of the hatch.  I find it hard to believe he is almost a year old already.  He owns me, of course:)

But there was a rough patch in September after I went in and got my C.A.P CT scan (c.a.p stands for chest abdomen and pelvis).

Scan day is extremely stressful for many of us cancer types.  Waiting for the results are the worst, but I'd had clear scans before so I kept my emotions pretty stable.  I shouldn't have bothered.

My oncologist called me a couple days later while I was in the office at work.  There were new spots on both my lungs.  Two on my right lung and one on my left.  I suddenly couldn't breath very well.  She went on to tell me the spots were too small to biopsy so I would have to wait three months to get scanned again to see if they would grow.  Now I really can't breath.  I'm too busy hyperventilating and bawling.  I tell my boss April  and her assistant Linda.  Their eyes mirrored my horror and fear.  April asked me if I wanted to go home but i declined.  I was going to some favorite facilities and I hoped they would keep my mind off from planning my memorial.  It was a thought anyway, but it didn't work very well.  I was crafty though, and no one caught me having meltdowns in the shower rooms.  No one knew something was going on with me.

In the meantime, Dr. Zon, my oncologist, sent me to a pulminologist who confirmed I would have to wait three months to be rescanned.  He did send me out to have some blood work done to check for mold in my system.  Great!  I thought maybe I'm just moldy!  Nope.

Those three months were horrible.  Not knowing is worse than knowing.  Is it back?  How much time do I have?  And then I'm planning my memorial again.  No use fighting it, let the mind go where it needs, no matter how morbid, just to get it out of your system.  For a while, anyways.

Finally scan day arrives.  Very close to my birthday.  And Christmas  I'm thinking; 'happy birthday AND Merry Christmas, you have stage IV colon cancer!  Better get busy on your bucket list!

Two nurse friends went in with me.  Thankfully the news was good.  One spot was gone and two were smaller.  I couldn't even feel happy.  It was very odd.  Feeling happy came later of course, but at that moment I just couldn't feel anything but the same numb panicky feeling I'd had for the past three months.  Dr. Zon wanted me to go in in another three months for another scan but I declined.  It was going to take me awhile to recover from the previous three months.  I didn't want to think of cancer or anything related to it for a long time.

But here it is September 2011, and I'm overdue for my C.A.P CT scan.  And my colonoscopy.  I know I should not put them off but the memory of those three months are still in my head and my stomach knots up just thinking of it.

I'll get them done eventually.

A Spiritual Journey

Across from the mountains,
A little house sits in the tree's.
I'm lost in tranquility
As my soul tries to breathe.

White clouds moving slowly,
The breeze a calm still,
I'm caught in the moment
As my heart starts to heal.

A piece of me
In the startling blue sky.
As I spread my wings,
My soul starts to fly.

I fly to unknown places,
Where pain and hurt once dwelled.
As the memories flow pass me,
My eyes start to swell.

Tear drops drip slowly
Down my cheeks.
The wind wipes them dry
And gives me some peace.

Soaring so free
Over water and land,
My Spirit Guide gently
Takes me by my hand.

He shows me what was,
And what's meant to be,
And why my life
Is so important it seems.

A long soar
Like the eagle high,
I bow my head
And I start to cry.

Back on the land,
Across from the trees,
I began to realize
What healing means.

It means not to forget.
Let the past flow
Of all the horrors
One soul had to go.

To take the strengths
And apply them to life
Is a valuable lesson,
I've learnt this flight.

Alone in the sunset
I watch it go down,
When I finally realize
What peace I have found.

~Author Unknown

Dancing With Cancer Memoirs...ACT

I went for a lovely tandem bike ride with my neighbor this morning to Starbucks at Martin's Grocery Store, about a five mile round trip. This will be my last coffee for at least 28 days. Kris Carr's Adventure Cleanse Tune-up starts tomorrow.

I think this is just what I need after being napalmed so much last year. Between the chemo, radiation from x-rays, CT scans, PET scans, MRI's, and the white chalky crap the doc's make you drink, no wonder I feel shitty and tired so much. Radiation is cumulative, chemo destroys ALL cells and not just cancer cells PLUS trashing your immune system. Add in all the anesthesia from surgeries and various pain-killers and anti-nausea drugs (which didn't work, thanks anyway) and I feel like I'm a radioactive nuclear waste dump. And if my oncologist has his way, I'll be getting more CT scans, PET scans, MRI's and a colonoscopy (*shudder*), just to add insult to injury this year. I need a vacation from doctors, hospitals and their sadistic tools.

So for the next 28 days I will replace:
*all forms of animal blood; foods that once had a face; meat, dairy, eggs, etc
*refined sugar, flour
*processed starches
*coffee
*alcohol
*gluten
*monkey mind
*inactivity
*negativity
*lack of connection to my Divinity

with alkalinity from:
*plant blood (juicing with my juicer)
*whole grains that are gluten-free
*herbal teas
*nut milks
*beans, sprouts, leafies, vegan protein powder, super foods and other sources of protein
*LOTS of veggies, low glicemic fruits
*journaling/blogging
*meditation/prayer/yoga
*sweaty exercise
*loud music (well, this will continue. I love loud music)

The hardest will be coffee. I love coffee. It has become a daily ritual and has been for a long, long time.

There are four levels:
*Adventure Level one - 50/50 - raw to cooked ratio
*Adventure Level two - 70/30 - raw to cooked ratio
*Adventure Level three - raw till dinner, then 80/20
*Adventure Level four - 100% raw with one mini juice fast (up to 3 days)

All levels have a one day green juice fast on Sundays. Nothing but juice, blended soups/smoothies, and herbal teas/infusions (ala Susun Weed, my addition to this 'adventure'). I will be attempting Level Three.

Anyone wanna join me??:)

Dancing With Cancer Memoirs...Doing Better

I don't spend as much time in the darkness anymore. The weather is getting warmer and I love spending time outdoors when the sun is shining. I'm working out more which is sometimes scary because the area where the mesh is connected to my abdominal muscle gets sore, then I worry about it coming apart and I'll have to go back to the hospital for more surgery. That is my worst nightmare right now, that and the cancer coming back.

Speaking of nightmares, I've been having too many. I don't know why and I wish they would go away. Kittens being killed, people being murdered, me being kidnapped, bad things being done to me...ugh.

Work is exhausting but always rewarding. My patients teach me so much about living and dying, and they bless me. I enjoy the people I work with and I'm very lucky I had a job to go back to after being MIA for a year. Whenever I get frustrated I remember that it's better than being stuck at home getting chemo, or throwing up from my latest surgery.

I have been walking my dog, Harley, everyday now. It's the least I can do for him, he took such good care of me during cancer treatments as did my cat Smoke. I use to lie on a mattress on my living room floor, hooked up to my chemo pump and feeling retched and Harley would lie tight against my back and Smoke would lie tight against my front and they would just hold me like that for hours. They knew.

When the weather is nice I like to go running in the woods because no one can see me flounder about; I'm not very good at running and have to walk a lot too, but I love being in the woods, smelling the air and listening to the birds; I'm sure they laugh at me. I get easily distracted though, there is so much to see out there! New plants popping up, a belted kingfisher hollering as he skims over the river, the smell of flowers blooming. Intoxicating! I don't even wear my iPod when I'm out there; I might miss something.

I've also been going the an MMA gym about a block from my house. The owner was nice enough to let me use the equipment whenever I felt up to it when I was sick and not charging me. I finally signed up for jiu-jitsu but I backed out of joining class at the last minute. I think I had been overdoing it and the incision sites were hurting quite a bit and I was terrified something was coming apart (again). So I continue to use the equipment. I gotta take the plunge though; I'm paying now. It's a bit intimidating to go there, it's mostly guys and everyone is so fit and I'm not; I don't think I could keep up with any of them! It's fun looking at all the tattoos though:) I want to get another one soon.

On the Crazy Sexy Cancer site the founder, Kris Carr, is writing her third book and is creating an 'Adventure Cleanse Tune-up' which starts Monday, the 11th. I think it's just what I need so I'm going to participate though it will be hard. I'm vegetarian (again) but I'll be going vegan, eating mostly raw foods. I'll be devoting another blog to that soon. It will be an intense experience! Pray for me:)

Dancing With Cancer Memoirs...Trying to move on as a Survivor

I was finally released to go back to work a couple of weeks ago by both my surgeon and oncologist! And none too soon as I have completely exhausted all my finances. I'm so broke I can barely afford to buy food, so healthy eating is having to take a back seat while I build up my checking account again.

Linda, one of my nurse friends and co-worker, gave me a hernia belt to wear which I'm grateful for, because I know I'm still healing from my last surgery. Hell, my abdomen was sliced and diced into three times in less than a year so they will be healing for quite some time, I'm sure. And since I do a lot of lifting, bending, stooping, and walking, I'm fearful of something coming apart again. I would be screwed if that happened.

It's good to be working again. So many people were so happy to see me, and I realized just how worried so many were, and how many were praying for me. But at the end of the day, when I finally get home, I'm so exhausted to the marrow in my bones, all I can do is collapse on the couch or my bed in a heap and not move. At all. And sometimes I'm asked to go back out to do CTC on a patient. CTC stands for Critical/Crisis Time Care, and is a service offered by the hospice I work for. When a patient is actively dying, we try to keep someone with the patient to make sure they stay as comfortable as possible, and to give emotional support for any family members why might be there, watching their loved ones die. This may sound strange, but I've learned that dying is as sacred as being born. We are born into this life, live awhile, then we are born out of this life. When I am holding the hand of a patient who takes their last breath, my hands start to tingle as their Spirit leaves their body. Humbling, to say the least. It has helped ease my own fear of dying, as I now know for a fact our Spirit does not die, ever.

So life is getting back to normal and things are looking up. So why do I feel so depressed? And scared?And stuck? And alone? It's horrible to feel this way.

I am grateful for being alive and that I had a job to go back to, especially in this economy. I am grateful my daughter is home from Kansas and out of that abusive relationship. I am so grateful so many people were praying for me. But I still feel depressed. And scared. And stuck. And alone. Damn. I've read that feeling this way is very common for cancer people but still, it sucks.

I dare not speak of these feelings to anyone anymore. All I hear is 'don't go there, don't think that, stay positive, be grateful your alive,' and on and on. Thanks, now not only do I feel guilty for feeling my feelings, but I feel worse. Don't they realize if I could change how I'm feeling, I wouldn't be feeling this way? Do they think I'm just looking for pity? I'm not.

So I put on my happy face and pretend I'm feeling as great on the inside as I look on the outside. But everyday I cry a little. Everyday.

Will heartburn ever be just heartburn again? Why am I feeling bloated? My nails seem a little soft, am I losing blood again? Am I exhausted all the time because I'm still recovering from all the cancer treatments, or is it something more? When will my cells go haywire on me again? Have they started to already? This cancer was so advanced; I was staring stage IV right in it's eyes. It seems that most people with such an advanced stage (and many whose cancer wasn't as advanced) end up having their cancer come back again, and again, until they eventually die from it.

When I'm busy at work, I don't feel these feelings so much. But I can't stay busy 24/7.

So right now I'm stuck. I don't have the energy, or the desire, to reach out to anyone else.

Dancing With Cancer Memoirs...Fixing What's Broken

It's been awhile since I bothered blogging. I guess there are various reasons. Too bored, too depressed, too anxious about money, no energy. This nightmare has been going on for over a year. I thought I be back at work by now but no.

As I posted in previous blogs, my guts exploded (hernia) a few months ago, November I think. I ate a bit too much and felt something give in my abdominal area. It didn't hurt but I knew something was up, especially when I suddenly looked a bit pregnant. My regular surgeon refused to operate because chemo had tanked out my immune system and it would just come back because I healed slowly. He told me I had to wait at least four weeks after chemo before he would touch me. Great.

They're unsightly things, hernias. Not life threatening, I'm told, unless the guts get strangulated. Encouraging. Was that what caused my partial bowel obstruction this past November? Hmmm...it certainly caused enough pain and vomiting IMHO.

So I continued with chemo even though my body was clearly telling me ENOUGH ALREADY! PLEASE! But there were so many people harping on me to continue, continue, continue, listen to US instead of YOURSELF. Finally, on December 10th, 2008,chemo number nine was my last. I refused anymore. I didn't care what anyone said to me.

After I ditched chemo I called my surgeon and he couldn't get me in for the initial consult until January 19th, 2009. Too long to wait! Patience is yet to become one of my virtues.

So I called the clinic where I had been getting nuked and got in touch with a surgeon there and went to see him January 12th, a week earlier than with surgeon number one. Unlike my first surgeon, who would use a laproscope, this one would open me up because the hernia was so big. I didn't care. Just make it go away.

I was scheduled for surgery January 14th. He said he would put me completely under and he would repair it with mesh. He said he might have to remove my belly button but would hopefully not have to. He was aiming to discharge me the same day.

I hate surgeries. I'm so tired of having my abs cut into. This is the third time my poor abdominals were being sliced into. And I don't like being put under; I get terrified lying on the OR table; it looks like the type of table used to execute people by lethal injection.

But I looked six months pregnant and it was slowly getting bigger. I couldn't go back to work until it was fixed and I'm almost out of money. I've tapped into and used all the various savings I had put away. Gone is My New Septic fund. Gone is my daughter's college savings fund. Gone is the money originally saved in my checking account. Forget cashing in my daughter's savings bonds with the way interest rates are. I might be able to buy a pack of gum if I did that now. Nothing else though. And the bills keep piling up. After I do my taxes and I'm still not back to work, I'll end up homeless.

But all I cared about was getting the hernia fixed and my port taken out. My oncologist was none too pleased with my port being removed, especially before he got the MRI of my liver back. He still was concerned about that 'area of concern' on my liver. I was confident it was scar tissue from the biopsy taken when I had my colectomy surgery (which came back cancer free). I think he got the MRI results back in record time to look at them before my surgery.

So I called the clinic where I had been getting nuked and got in touch with a surgeon there and went to see him January 12th, a week earlier than with surgeon number one. Unlike my first surgeon, who would use a laproscope, this one would open me up because the hernia was so big. I didn't care. Just make it go away. So on January 14th I was put under once again to go under the knife. It's still as scary as ever for me. I don't think I'll ever get use to it. They had to give me extra fentynal, probably enough to knock out a grown man. I must have look terrified because I heard someone say 'give her some fentynal.' A couple of minutes later my eyes were still open wide, so I heard someone say, 'hmmm...give her some more.' That did the trick; I remembered nothing else until I woke up.

Of course I woke up in pain. When I woke up they kept me pretty juiced up on dalaudin for awhile. It at least took the edge off of the pain. I also woke up with a drain in my belly. I would have to empty the bulb until the doctor could remove it. Yuck. At least I no longer looked pregnant, just mangled and deformed. There was a valley between two ridges on my abdomen. Great. How long would this take to heal?

I wanted to go home, but something was telling me that might not be a good idea. I started to feel really nauseated but didn't hurl, so they eventually sent me home. The weather was atrocious, winter storm warning, but my wonderful neighbor has four wheel drive. She picked me up and took me to the pharmacy to get my pain pills.

I took a plastic bag with me because I was feeling pretty nauseous and if history from previous surgeries repeated itself, I'd soon be throwing up.

Sure enough. My friend ran in to get my meds and on the way home I threw my head in the plastic bag and started heaving. Jesus, I was so sick of throwing up! And I so hate throwing up in front of people, I don't care how close we are!

The next day was was horrible. The pain was awful and I kept throwing up. Never any fun but when your abdomen has just been sliced and diced AGAIN, and it made it worse.

This surgery was hard to recover from. I lost count of how many times I vomited. I just remember feeling excruciating pain through the haze, every time I hurled. I can't even begin to describe the feeling of dread each time I realized I was going to throw up AGAIN. The Universe must hate me, I thought. Haven't I been through enough? I thought for sure the mesh wouldn't be able to hold and my guts would explode out again.

My poor neighbor, Connie, was worried sick about me. I barely remember her coming in and checking on me. If my daughter had not been there to help keep an eye on me, she would have temporarily moved in.

She came in with my daughter to take my temperature and when she removed the thermometer, my hands stayed up, like they were still holding it. Then I just tipped back over on my side. I don't remember that. She later told me I just wouldn't wake up. Well, I did wake up long enough to hurl quite a few times. I do remember doing that. Multiple times. Ouch.

I was so out of it Connie and my daughter were freaking out. I barely remember those days right after surgery. Connie, bless her, was calling the Ask A Nurse hot line, my surgeon's office, and the hospital. They all told her I'd have to go back in so the doctor could see me but I refused. No more hospitals. No more surgeries. No more needles. No no no. Hell no. I do things my way now.

One time Connie came in with my daughter to take my temperature and when she removed the thermometer from my mouth, my hands stayed up, like they were still holding it. I don't remember that. She later told me I just wouldn't wake up. Well, I did wake up long enough to hurl quite a few times. I do remember doing that. Multiple times. Ouch.

I remained this way for almost a week. When I was finally able to get out of bed (with lots of help), I was unable to walk upright. I had to walk all stooped over. I never realize just how much we use our abdominals. Each movement I made sent waves of pain coursing through me.

I still hate the way my abdomen looks. It depresses me. I can't stand to look at it but sometimes I can't stop. I can feel the mesh in there, my entire abdomen feels numb, and I'm terrified it will not hold. I'm scared to eat for fear the mesh won't be able to hold my guts back.

I went in for my first post-op check-up January 20th. He took the drain out (what a creepy feeling) but not the 11 staples. That would have to wait a week. I was told I would be off work for at least another six weeks.

Six more weeks.

I have been in cancer-limbo for almost a year, I didn't want to stay another six weeks! But of course I had no choice. I knew I was in no shape to do anything, let alone do the work of a CNA.

A week later I went in to get the staples out. I've never had staples in my life so I was really nervous it would hurt. But I really don't have any feeling my belly anymore. It's numb. I didn't feel a thing. He told me I could do light walking only. When I started to complain (I'm sooo ready to do more than light walking!) he looked at me calmly and asked me if I wanted him to do the surgery again. OK doc, I see your point. No need to issue threats! He wanted to see me again February 23rd.

This thing is taking too long to heal. Patience has never been a virtue of mine, and I have yet to learn it. Surgeon says nothing more than light walking. Nothing more, unless I want him to do the surgery again. Yeah right doc. It's just too damn cold outside, the neuropathy still hurts my hands and feet.

But then lo and behold, I get a phone call from the mixed martial arts gym a block from my home wondering what happened to me. They were letting me use their facilities NO CHARGE until I got strong enough to sign up for a class. But I got that obstruction in November, and then chemo knocked me on my ass again in December, along with the bitter cold, and I stopped going. Guess they hadn't forgotten about me.

So I started going to do some light walking, a couple miles on the treadmill about a week before I went to see him again. I was still having a hard time standing upright but walking helped. I was having a real hard time with the way my belly looked...mangled and deformed. But the more I'm able to exercise, the better it looks.

So I have gone in with my trusty iPod (a gift I bought myself for chemo treatments) to walk on their treadmill a couple of miles. Boring but it feels good to be moving around, just as long as my guts don't explode again.

Finally, February 23rd gets here and off I go to see my surgeon. He has me stand up, looks at my belly, and then releases me! I'm finally free!

I must admit I'm terrified of going back to work, one reason being I don't want this damn hernia to come back but I'm almost out of money. I've had to use my New Septic System savings, the sale of my deceased ex-husband's Toyota tundra savings, and my daughter's college savings I set up for her years ago. Thank goodness my ex's family still considers me family; Eddie, my brother-in-law, has faithfully been sending me money every month since I started chemo.

I'm right back at square one and it's kinda scary but I guess none of that can be helped now. I didn't get on disability, any social security, or welfare. But if I don't get back to work, SOON, I will. I'm broke.

Cancer took so much from me. I feel like a part of me has died.

Dancing With Cancer Memoirs...Running Blind, by Godsmack

When this nightmare began I listened to this song a lot. It so describes what I was feeling, and sometimes still do, like I was/still am running blindly towards a cliff. It helped calm me down. Made me cry too.

Can’t find the answers
I’ve been crawling on my knees
Looking for anything
To keep me from drowning
Promises have been turned to lies
Can’t even be honest inside
Now I’m running backward
Watching my life wave me goodbye

Running blind
I’m running blind
Somebody help me see I’m running blind

Searching for nothing
Wondering if I’ll change
I’m trying everything
But everything still stays the same
I thought if I showed you I could fly
Wouldn’t need anyone by my side
Now I’m running backward
With broken wings I know I’ll die

Running blind
I’m running blind
Somebody help me see I’m running blind
Running blind
Running blind
Running blind

I can’t find the answers
I’ve been crawling on my knees
Looking for anything
To keep me from drowning

I’m running blind
Running blind
Running blind

Artist: Godsmack
Album: The Other Side
Title: Running Blind

Dancing With Cancer Memoirs...The Nature of the Beast, Part II

I often wonder of the nature of cancer. It sometimes seems as if our bodies have deliberately turned against us. Normal cells remind me of ants or bees. These busy critters work together as a unit. They all have specific duties to fulfill, including protecting the nest which they are willing to die to do. Our cells also have specific jobs to do within our bodies, and if something goes wrong, they commit apoptosis, or cellular suicide to protect their nest, our bodies.

During the initiation stage of cancer, something (probably multiple somethings) manages to enter the cell, reach the nucleus and damages the DNA, transforming the cell into something deadly to our bodies. They strike out on their own, becoming rogues, nomads, refusing to commit apoptosis. They seem to return to their ancestral beginnings.

And that happened around 3.5 billion years ago during the Proterozoic Era, when life on Earth was able to start. These early life forms were single celled organisms called photosynthetic cyanobacteria, or blue-green algae. These were prokaryotic cells, meaning 'before the nucleus' which these cells lacked. They lived in a warm shallow sea called the Cretaceous Sea. It is thanks to these tiny critters that we have oxygen to breathe because they were able to photosynthesize, and a by product of photosynthesis is oxygen. Lucky for them predators had not yet evolved so they had the whole ocean to themselves.

They kept reproducing and spreading, eventually clumping together and forming structures called stromatolites. These stromatolites were eventually able to get pretty big.

Cancer cells behave much the same way after whatever substance manages to damage the DNA within the normal cell's nucleus. These damaged cells (now like cyanobacteria) quit working as a team with the other cells and strike out on their own, ignoring the command to commit suicide. They find a cozy place to nest (the right side of my colon in my case) and just start growing and dividing, unstoppable, until the tumor (the stromatolite) is discovered and somehow stopped. They will continue to grow and divide and spread, just like their ancestors, the cyanobacteria.

Dancing With Cancer Memoirs...My Kinky Colon

Ah, the joys of colon cancer...will they never end?? Eating is suppose to be painless, except when your bowels get a kink in them. Then it becomes a royal pain in the ass.

For weeks eating had slowly become a major ordeal. A simple peanut butter sandwich had me doubled over in agony. I'm looking like I'm six months pregnant and my onc. doesn't seem to know why. Or maybe he just doesn't want me to know. I had become frantic, knowing something was wrong. I show my belly to some nurses I work with; one newly minted LPN took one look at my belly and said 'you have a hernia, you're going to need surgery to fix it.' Sure enough, I research hernias on the net and also researched medical language from my PET scan, and sure enough; I have a hernia. It was in black and white on my PET results...why couldn't my onc. figure it out?? Why did I have to find out myself??

On November 11th I am in serious pain all day that got worse as the day went on. I call my friend Terri to see if one of her daughters could come take care of my dog in case I had to be hospitalized. I abruptly have to hang up on her and make a mad dash to the toilet to hurl. She freaks and calls my neighbor John (whom I stubbornly told her not to do, good thing she didn't listen). John comes over and Harley, my dog wasn't about to let him near me. He couldn't make a step towards me without my dog snarling viciously at him, and this is a dog who is scared of cats. It was agony getting myself ready to head to the hospital with a frantic dog trying to protect me, bless his heart. I decided to wear my 'Fuck Cancer' tee-shirt. If people didn't like it, they didn't have to look at me. I was feeling a bit ornery, I must say.

We finally make it to the hospital. I am in total misery. I could barely stand, let alone walk, but of course I had to wait my turn, there were others there before me. A nurse finally cause me back to take my information. Breathing was agony. I ask for something to vomit in and was given one of those pink bath basins. She leaves for a few minutes and I hurl and hurl and hurl pink vomit in the pink basin. I cannot believe the amount of stuff that came out of my poor stomach. She comes back, takes that one away, gives me another one, and sends me back out to the waiting room.

I'm curled up in the fetal position in the chair, leaning heavily on my friend. I was feeling sick to my stomach again and, not wanting to hurl in front of so many people, head to the bathroom. I migrated between the handicapped stall and a regular stall; moving was misery, but so was staying still. I crouched down in the stalls and hurled some more. And then some more. And then some more. A couple of times people came in to use the restroom and I crouch quietly in the corner, hoping not to be noticed and praying I wouldn't vomit when anyone was in there. I'm kinda shy when it comes to stuff like that; I don't like puking in front of people.

Eventually I went back out to the waiting room. I was no longer hurling but I was still in agony. Finally a nurse calls me back; I can't even remember what her purpose was, but thankfully she was merciful. I was continually told there were no beds available yet, so sorry. But I see an empty bed up against the wall and I point that out. She starts to say no, that bed isn't for patients, but one last look at me and she quickly changes her mind. I curl up in the bed and she covers me with warm blankets. I almost wept from gratitude.

Finally someone comes to draw blood. I remain curled up in a fetal position with my back to him and just gave him an arm without moving any other part of me. Shortly after that, I'm painfully put in a wheelchair to take me to a room that finally becomes available. My friend John joins me.

An IV is started and soon I am taken for x-rays. I am dying of thirst but they didn't want me to drink anything in case I needed surgery. So I asked my friend if he was thirsty, and the nurse, no dummy, got him some water and left the room, knowing full well I was going to drink some. I couldn't quench my thirst.

My friend and I are thinking I'm going to be given a prescription for some pain pills and sent home. Silly us. A doctor finally comes in and tells me I have a partial bowel obstruction.

I said, fine, when can I go home?'

'You're not,' he informs me, 'you meet criteria to be admitted to the hospital.' Great. Not another hospital stay. Not again.

So I sent my friend home with my house key to give to my next door neighbor. Harley knows them well and trusts them.

For the next four days I was juiced up on dalaudin and denied any food but ice chips. My surgeon does not want to operate because my immune system was in the tank thanks to chemo, so he wanted to wait to see if the kink would work itself out.

'Yep, you got a hernia,' he says after glancing at my belly.

No shit, I'm thinking. I figured that out for myself a few weeks ago. I'm feeling a bit snarly.

He will not operate to fix it until four to six weeks after chemo. 'It's not life threatening, and hernias are not painful.' WTF?? MINE IS, I wanted to scream. He obviously has never had one. It's not pleasant feeling your intestines gush through the opening in your abdomen whenever you stand up, or sneeze, or blow your nose. Besides, according to MY research, pain IS a symptom of hernias! But I keep my mouth closed; it does no good to argue when you're not in charge and totally dependent on others, and they had control of the pain meds.

I lost count of the x-rays and chalky drinks and more x-rays I had that week; I'm really surprised I don't glow in the dark. Those chalky drinks did nothing to quell my appetite. I also accidentally yanked out my IV not once, but twice. Ouch.

By the third day and two roommates later, I'm so hungry and bitchy I could tear off someone's arm and eat it. My roommate was going to sneak me some American fries from her breakfast plate, but I was too afraid a nurse or doctor would come in just as I was swallowing a big mouthful, so I didn't. I know how my luck runs.

Finally, I got the news the obstruction had worked itself out and I could have some broth. I'm sure the nurses were happier than I was...every time one walked in the room I would pester them for something to eat. Ice chips have no flavor and did nothing to quell my appetite. They graciously said I was 'persistent' instead of the pain in the ass I knew I was, bless their hearts. I cannot complain of the care I received.

Finally, On Saturday, November 15th, my surgeon cuts me loose and I can go home with a 'scrip for some pain meds and instructions to see him in a week with the c.d of my PET scan. Yep, I got one. It's cool to look at. I also saw a color picture of the tumor wedged in the big chunk of colon that got yanked out when I went to see my surgeon the following week. Way cool. Yeah, I know I'm weird:)

Dancing With Cancer Memoirs...The Nature Of The Beast

I've been doing a lot of reading and thinking (dangerous I know) since I was diagnosed with cancer. I've come to the conclusion this so-called 'War on Cancer' is waaay off mark. This war has been going on for decades with no end in sight. All the fundraising and strong talk on beating cancer is not on the right track. Cancer is too smart, cunning, and versatile. Instead, how about dishing some of that money out to people who are going broke and losing their homes while trying to save their asses? Or put the money towards prevention and detection? But I doubt even that will put an end to cancer. Why is that?

Because cancer will never be beat until people stop doing things that invite it to take hold in the first place.

I think most people here have realized that and are doing something about it. Sadly there are way too many others who choose not to. Society complains that teenagers have an immortality complex, thinking they can do really stupid things with no adverse affects. Well, there are millions of adults with the same mentality. And we cannot force people to stop and change dangerous behaviors that bring on dangerous illnesses.

On the other hand, there are others who don't give a rat's ass about anybody or anything but making money regardless of the consequences on human health, animal welfare, and the environment. The are many people who eat right and take good care of themselves and still they get cancer. Why?

How about making cigarette companies and factory farms fork over some dough to help pay for all the illnesses and suffering their products are creating? How about putting a ban on giving farm animals antibiotics and growth hormones? It's no secret what this crap does to human health but still it remains perfectly legal. How about imposing massive fines on companies and corporations for polluting the water we drink with animal waste, pesticides, herbicides, GMOs, and a host of other known carcinogens? What will it take to put an end to this insidious atrocity?

It will take each and every individual to empower themselves and take responsibility for their choices and STOP BUYING THEIR CRAP! If people would take the money they spend at doctor's offices and prescription medications and spend it instead on wise food choices, it could be done. Easily. It takes big bucks to run factory farms. Cut off their funding (our dollars) and they will fall. They are in business because we keep them in business. We pay them to give us products that are making us sick and killing us off.

We can't depend on the government to do something about this. They are in the back pockets of the very ones who are dishing out poisons to their fellow human beings. And until people wake up and smell the veggies, this 'war' will never end, and never be won.