just terrible...

I've been avoiding telling you all the truth. Would that I could pretend this matter did not exist and literally put my head in the sand. But the truth will out and here it is:
hair grows back. I'm very sorry to say. Not talking about the stubble that is massing on my head, under the shmatte or wig, which I now wear more often. No, the rest of it. Exactly where you do not want hair. I knew it!! Bah.
Back to working out whether I should go for the laser or go for the needle. Ladies will know exactly whereof I speak. Huge sigh..... this is what makes up the trials and tribulations of our real, everyday lives.  Must go...

halfway there

Today I have passed the halfway mark in my radiation treatment.
It's a huge change from the chemotherapy.
As one of the nurses at chemo said: there is so much drama around chemotherapy. Everyone knows about it, you have so much support and interest. On the other hand, radiation therapists are enveloped in silence and secrecy. They do not acknowledge any side effects until presented with the facts.  A doctor friend once told me that radiation is a very lonely time. I understand that now. During chemo, life is like a huge celebration with non-stop support, care and interest. Radiation: well, you come and go as though you were popping down to the bank or post office. You feel nothing when there - in fact, I have a lovely little schlof while I'm being microwaved. The effects come later.
2 weeks ago, I felt as though I was swallowing blades. Despite the pain, I was most curious to see how far and bad it could go and would this finally force me to stop eating so much? Quite a way to diet! The next day, I was told that Dr H was tweaking my 'plan' and sure enough, this final member of my great team performed the miracle and for the last week or so, no pain whatsoever. I began by feeling really tired, but my fabulous weekend in New York showed me that a lot of it was psychological and I've had none of that fatigue for the past week. (touch wood, spit 3 times etc).
Yesterday, I swam 68 laps. Very slowly. Enjoyed it immensely. I doubt whether I worked off half the disgusting hotdog I ate at Costco. Next time I'll stick to the chocolate and nut-encased ice cream.

What does everyone think about the dangers of milk products? I have been hearing all kinds of research stating that milk and it's derivatives are like poison to us. I am devastated. Everything we enjoy is bad for us??? What is left? Does eating an icecream here or there have to feel like a cardinal sin? What about cheese... how can that go too? On the other hand, once people thought that cigarettes were healthy and there was a lot of doubt before it was proved definitively that they are all but. Do we, should we, deny the negative impact of animal products on our health?
As for me: I gave up my usual toast and cheese for breakfast this morning in favour of a mango. But a mango hardly touches sides, so I followed it up with a large Ouma rusk, dunked in my tea (with milk of course).

a disadvantage

Yesterday, for the first time in ages, I had a cup of tea in bed before I got up. 
I used to enjoy resting the cup on my chest, warming me from both outside and in. However, since cancer, I have a port above one boob and a cavity where the other was gently fleshy. Where to put the cup? I complained to RR, who asked me why I can't use my belly. Obviously that won't work - these days it jiggles and wobbles way too much.
So, for anyone looking for at least one downside to cancer treatment, here it is. Losing the place to hold your breakfast-in-bed type cuppa.

Have you met Betty?

As our days roll by, today saw my 8th radiation therapy session.
After getting off to a very shaky start, I now rock up, semi strip, watch a wonderous light show, get a few minutes to meditate, and then go home. Oh yes, I do get dressed again, before leaving the building.

All of the above takes place in a very large room, bigger than your average school classroom. Most of the room is filled with a giant machine and if you look closely, you will see on her sleek surface, an old 'photo of a lady from the 1940's. She is Betty (Davis), and the machine is therefore called Betty. During WWII, most 'planes and tanks and boats got names and a like-minded person named this amazing creature. And amazing she is: naturally, the bed-part moves up and down, forward and backwards, side to side. Around it are panels and arms and paddles, like the arms of an octopus. They silently swing around to the command of a sophisticated logarithm and plan that I couldn't begin to imagine. The entire room has brilliant emerald green lazer lights crossing it, making the atmosphere even more like sci fi, except that it isn't 'fi' - it's very real.

I'm still trying to sort out my usual afternoon wilted state from fatigue caused by radiation therapy. Today, someone told me that the fatigue only starts after 2 weeks, which I haven't reached yet. Why did I ever read about such nasty stuff? Remember, the best advice to anyone going into cancer treatment is : keep a closed mind. The less you know, the better off you are. What you know will not help you one iota and every potential side-effect assumes draconian proportions before it is feasible. Ignorance might not be bliss, but it sure helps.

moving along my way

I was a real wet blanket earlier this week, so I'll set the record straight for now:

After a shaky beginning, my radiation therapy is on track and I feel better for that.

Being the total hypochondriact that I am, I keep imagining being fatigued from radiation therapy.
Ever since the years that my mother (may she rest in peace), made me 'rest' every afternoon in a darkened room, which I hated more than anything in the world, but probably she needed to survive momdom - well, ever since then, I have been fatigued every afternoon. I will not dwell on my raglike state, nor the consuming hunger that accompanies it. It happens every day and it passes every day. But NOW, NOW I have radiation therapy to be hysterical about. Now, my fatigue is medical and shows that I am in a bad way. A tiny piece of what's left of my mind understands that this is utter rot, but being a neurotic, I am now living in fear. Every afternoon.

May I mention that yesterday, I got into the pool at the gym and actually swam 30 laps. Maybe there is some connection??

I emailed the following report to one of my backbones:

I have been inducted into the world of wheat grass. I don’t flinch about paying almost $5.- for some liquefied lawn, which is supposed to be very healthy, but which most people tastes utterly vile. Personally, I don’t mind the taste. Maybe, when I think of paying so much for it, my mind tells me that it must be good.

 So, for anyone interested in marketing, there it is: you can sell the biggest load of .... and if you charge enough, people will believe it's good for you and pay up. They will stand in line to pay up.
Fortunately, I saw a snippet, literally the last half minute of a program in which, as I understand, they claim that you can and should eat dark chocolate. It's good for you!! So, last night late, for purely medicinal reasons, I sent poor Lee, who had just got home from a very long day at work, off to look for dark chocolate. When she got home, I downed two doses, just to be on the safe side.

New day

I knew that Monday, the day after we got back from our fun-packed trip to lalaland was going to be hectic:
With very low batteries after inadequate sleep, we had chemotherapy (herceptin) with a meeting with Dr B; Bad news: my blood count is lower than it has ever been. Below the low limit. It never did this right through the worst chemotherapy. Why???  What is going on? Worry, worry.
Then a meeting with Dr D, who removed some of the remaining stitches and finally, my first radiation treatment.

Appointment was for 4pm. About 2.30, got a call to say that they are not ready for me, but not to worry, just come in later and all will be well. Apparrently, there are all kinds of complicated preparations, that involve physisicts (Adam, maybe you can get a job), that should have been done days ago. Arriving at the later time, I was told 'a few minutes'. Those turned into a few hours, but I remained relatively calm, more worried about RR, who still hadn't been to work, nor started his own day. The woman before me came out smiling and told me "it's absolutely nothing".
Finally, they took me in. Not very comfortable at all. Taking much longer than expected. The usual moving and re-arranging, trying and trying again, with me less and less comfortable. I lie with my eyes tightly shut, ignoring the monstrous machine that hovers over, under, and around me. Trying to concentrate on beautiful scenery and plan ahead. 
Everything ends and this did too.
They came to tell me that they could not treat the part between my lungs. The machine was over-riding them. Something to do with the complicated preparations & formulae that I still do not understand. I was devastated. To have gone through so much and then to fail here. It was about 7.30pm and I was emotionally wiped out by the news.

I came home and besides eating a very hearty, unhealthy supper - meat from the freezer - the first time I ate meat in almost 2 months, but just too tired to deal with proper cooking. Worked until quite late. Nothing compared to RR who only got to work after 8pm. He was still at it at 2.30 am.

Now, it's Tuesday morning. Been up and working since a little after 6am. I'm going to get ready for my next radiation session. Hold thumbs it goes better.

time off from real life

After 6 months of a kind of house-arrest, I finally had a holiday.

Tuesday morning pre-4am, saw me bright and bushy, up and about, preparing for my first trip via an airoplane. Just as I was pulling on my jeans, the 'phone rang. Initially, we assumed it was some kind of alarm clock, but eventually, we picked up and guess what? My flight was cancelled.
Second guess, I was not being informed by a real hooman bean, but by a computer. So, began some frantic 'phone calls to the airline and eventually, by a bit of clever re-routing, I managed to get to the Big Apple, without too much delay.

What a few days I had! Running around, looking at antique jewellery. Met up with customers, which was great fun, met my son and his friends -  mixed reports on that one. Went to CT,  getting together with family and being taken to see the museums at Yale and the Museum of British Art over the road to Yale. Who'd have thunk that all those amazing paintings by the greatest British artists were in a quiet street in New Haven. Strangely, the most vivid impression of all, was the African art upstairs at Yale. The forms are so strong and the message so direct. This isn't about art, so I'll move on.
Reuven arrived on Friday evening after some amazing adventures of his own. We had a fun and very busy few days: invited out for dinner, saw two excellent plays on Broadway, met up with some of his old friends and of course, more alte zachen. The only minus was that we didn't have a minute to breathe, nor to see everyone we really wanted to see. But there is hopefully, going to be a next time very soon.

Finally, we dragged ourselves home about midnight Sunday. The price for such a good time had to be paid and sure enough, Monday turned out to be 'one of those days'.