fin.

Ugh... it's hit me hard and quick today. Very nauseated and crappy feeling. But hopefully, this is the last time I will ever have to feel this way. I am officially DONE with chemo. Thank God/Goddess/Gaia/Buddha/Bill Hicks!

Next up is the PET scan. The kind folks at the hospital tried to get me one at the last minute today, but my veins are tiny and rolly-polly (and now scarred by chemo) so by the time they had stabbed at both arms unsuccessfully, the radioactive juice was no longer active. They were all super sweet, though. They really tried. I always feel so bad for any nurse trying to get a 20g IV catheter into my little, crappy veins. They feel so bad for hurting me, and I feel bad for them feeling bad. They always do their best, and I tell them so. It's not their fault I have dainty little lady veins.

Anyhoo, I'm trying not to think too much about the PET. I start to get nervous about the outcome. I start to worry about getting a "dirty" scan. I know I shouldn't let my mind wander there. It's a waste of time and energy. So I try to focus on the positive, thinking about how far I've come and the tremendous progress I've shown in all of my scans and x-rays so far. I will get a clean scan.

After that, I will probably schedule my radiation consult, and then, start radiation. That all depends on next Wednesday's outcome, when all of the Docs review my case. I still shudder at the thought of radiation. But if it keeps me from ever being hooked up to that chemo pump again, I say radiate the crap out of me.

I'm ready to move on. I'm ready to live again, appreciate life more, help people and be happier than I've ever been.

One day at a time, right?

The next step(s)...

Ok, breakdown has been had, rebuilding is in progress. I'm trying not to think too much.

So here are the next few steps:

On Monday, I will receive my LAST chemotherapy treatment. WHOO HOO!

On Friday, I will receive a PET scan, which will show if I have any active cancer left. As you may imagine, if nothing glows on the scan, I'm considered in remission (pretty much.) If there is any activity... well... Plan B. Let's just not think about Plan B.

The following Monday (May 10th, for those following along) I will have bloodwork and an office visit with the doc to review the scan.

On May 12th, a board of doctors will review my case to see if radiation is necessary. From what my doctor says, they will strongly recommend rads.

After that, I will schedule a consult with the Radiation Oncologist. And then, I assume that radiation will begin. And don't even get me started on how much that idea freaks me out.

Honestly, I'm just very scared right now. I know that everything will be the way it's supposed to be and that I can't look back wondering "what if." I have to move forward, do what I have to do, and just keep breathing.

One day at a time. I know I can beat this.

the drive home

I don't want anyone to see me cry. I want to be strong, but I'm numb. I feel ganged up on and ignorant, but I know it's not like that. I feel like I'm the only one who thinks that radiating my body is a big fucking deal.

Logic steps in and tells me that after all I've been through, the least I could do for myself is see this treatment to the end. Kill every last goddamn cell so I never have to go through this again. Do everything I can to make sure I become a cancer survivor. Finish this so that the last year hasn't been in vain.

I cannot relapse. I cannot do this again.

I guess my decision has already been made.

One word

Remission. Ever since I first understood the word when I was a child, it still seemed so... open-ended. It has always been this word that says "it could come back at any time, but it's not here now." What a strange and unsettling term. And yet, it's the one word that gives me hope for a semi-normal life some day.

4/18/10

Goodness. What to say...

It's beautiful outside, a sunshine daydream, and birds are chirping away and all I can think about is how much my stomach hurts, how I wish I could go on a walk but the fatigue is so bad that if I walk now, I might not get through my shift at the shop tonight. Everyday I try to learn more about radiation and thyroid function and short and long term effects. Everyday I get to the point where I start to cry and I exit out of the window.

It's spring, and all I can think about is how I want to be reborn.

Okay, Sara, let's get on with the positive. I went out Friday night and saw Ani Difranco in Kansas City. The show was amazing. Really beautiful and powerful. Yesterday was the big ReThink Topeka event downtown, and it was so wonderful to walk in the sun and see so many smiling faces. Later, Marty and I and some friends lounged around a fire pit in Kat and Ben's backyard, drinking wine and beer, eating pineapple and other assorted goodies, playing guitar and laughing. It really has been wonderful to be out and doing things this weekend. It makes me feel alive and part of the world again.

God, everything is so beautiful and alive. I keep thinking that I've cheated death twice now, and I'm so grateful to have more time to live. It really makes you look at the little things differently. Actually, it makes it so the little things don't matter at all. Now that's enlightenment.

I also keep thinking about what I want to be when I grow up, (I am nearly a senior now, after 6 years) and I've decided on being that cute, blissed out old lady that has a big grin on her face all the time, and no one knows why. They just know she's figured something out. I know I want to help people and make people's days brighter. I want to make people feel like they are better and happier people, having known me. Other than that, I don't know what I want to be when I grow up. I'm an English major with no ideas on a career. That's nothing new.

Aries

My mother pointed out yesterday that this birthday is a very special one, considering that last August she wasn't sure if I would live long enough to see 24. But here I am, 24 and (nearly) cancer free.What an enlightening, horrible, mind-expanding, incredibly strange year.

Hopefully the nausea and fatigue that's kept me inside since Friday will ease off a bit today and I can get out in the sunshine a bit.

In other news, I finally have to renew my driver's license today. Ha. I've been avoiding it for three years because the picture was so good. At least I can look back at this one and giggle at my stubbly head.

I promise to write more when my mind is working better.

smiling phases, going places

I've been feeling surprisingly alright since the last treatment.

I have energy (sans stamina) and I'm feeling pretty positive. My only issue is that lately, the whole chemobrain situation feels like it's getting worse. I can't remember anything. Seriously. Names, faces, events. Gone. I have to write everything down in lists, and then I lose those lists because I forget where I put them. I have two calenders and I try to put things to remember into my phone with alarms to remind me, but man, this is getting ridiculous. Other things that continue to fade: my vocabulary, my wit, my ability to put thoughts together. I feel like I have the mind of a stoner, but I don't smoke. No fair.

But you know me. I have to find the upside. I like to look at this in from a sort of Buddhist perspective. I'm losing my identity, being stripped down to a more enlightened being. I'm taking away all of the silly little things that make me "Sara" and am becoming this nameless, newborn thing. It's kind of beautiful if you look at it that way.

In other news, my mind is always in the future. The next treatment, the end of treatment, the next PET scan, deciding about radiation. When I'm not thinking about the next step of my treatment, I'm thinking about being somewhere else. I'm blissed out in a cabin in the Colorado mountains, hiking through Oregon, camping among redwoods, on the beach in California, at a Phish concert in Berkeley. I'm not really here most of the time. Ram Das would be appalled.