Buona sera tutti ... (celebrating my Italian heritage tonight). What a glorious day it was in these here parts, eh? (also celebrating being Canadian too, eh?) Azure blue sky, gentle breeze, low humidity, perfect, splendiferous day ....neighbors (and hubby!) were all out mowing the lawns, cleaning up remnants from the blasted winter (although winter is part of the process and the annual cycle) and getting ready for the summer ... garden centres are starting to stock up - I love this time of year - have I said that repeatedly? Sigh ... I could easily live through weeks and weeks of 70-ish weather during the day (20's for my Canadian readers), 50's in the evening (perfect sleeping weather; 10 - 12 Celsius), then go right into October. Those days in July when one needs four-showers-a-day and it's instant-sweat-a-thon (ugh) are just too sticky and well, sweaty, for Yours Truly.
And ....next weekend, my darling hubby promised me that he would take the Christmas lights down (yeah! Couldn't resist, dear sweet D!!). Mercifully, they are not of the dangly, icicle-y variety and they are clear vs. multi-coloured so it's not like they are Uber obvious from afar. And then there's part of me that candidly, doesn't give a shit! I did read somewhere on one of those pretentious Real Simple sites, or from the very knowledgeable (ahem), naturally (ahem) plump lips of one of those Oprah-wanna-be's that if your Christmas lights are still up as of May 1 (GASP!), then you are a style geek/nerd/loser - GASP!! How tragic! I do believe that these same style mavens also categorically declared that one could not wear white after Labor/Labour Day - and to that I retort (respectfully of course): Shit of Bull!
And yet again, I am meandering from the point (new word tonight - thank the good Lord above for dictionary.com and thesaurus.com ... my job involves quite a bit of writing - and those web sites have saved my middle-aged buttocks on numerous occasions - whew!) So ... ce soir I thought I would give you fine folks some context and background about how I ended up here ... awaiting radiation therapy and chemotherapy for a svulst in my brain (that is Norwegian for tumor - I am feeling international tonight and thought I would change up the tuuuuuuummmaaaaaaaa word into a different language - tomorrow, Korean, to celebrate the energetic Psy's success, and his new tune - which sounds remarkably similar to his last tune, or is it just me? And maybe the Korean word for svulst will end up translating somewhat funkily (does "funky" have an adverb? I decided it does; so there!), and it will be like one of those tattoos you read about, where someone screws up the letters slightly and instead of writing "Love", some letter is juxtaposed and instead, the tattoo reads "Dick" or "Vomit" or something equally as charming).
So ... back in January of 2012, I was half-way through my seven-week nuke fest for my poor little right boobie. My dear cousin D. and his wife H. were visiting and I was just wiped (I mean, wiped ... zzzzzzz) from the radiation, so hubby took them into NYC for a fun-filled day so I could rest, as I was taking a vacation day from work that day. I decided to take a nap and about 15-20 minutes later, I woke up, in a complete and utter panic, hyper-ventilating and completely disoriented, smelling something very strong (that wasn't there), and feeling completely panicked and freaked out. This distressing episode lasted for about 5 minutes, then passed. I chocked it up to some weird reaction to the radiation and thought nothing more of it. Well, about four weeks later, I went to bed (this time at night, of course!), and again, about 15 minutes later, I woke up with a very similar reaction - hubby was downstairs and I made my way downstairs - I was conscious, and he was speaking to me, but somewhere, my brain wasn't reacting as quickly as I would have liked, as I could hear him, but I could not respond to him - again, very strange. Well, this same kind of episode happened six nights in a row. I happened to be seeing Dr. L (the sweet radiation oncologist) for my one-month follow up appointment, and I mentioned these episodes to her. She immediately set up a CAT scan for me for the very next day, followed by an MRI, a PET scan, and all kinds of tests. (She also put me on some nasty steroids. I mean N-A-S-T-Y!! I don't know how those beefcake, no-neck dudes survive those nasty pills, and it's no wonder they have no pee-pee's left (trying to be polite here), as I had every single negative reaction to those mo-fo pills ... oy vey ... my face swelled up, I had violent mood swings (oooh ... ugly shit at work ... ughghghg), heart palpitations, and yadda yadda yadda to the worst, possible Nth degree ... ughghgh ... I never want to take those caca pills again .... EV-ERRRRRRR). That is also when I started seeing the neuro-oncologist/surgeon - Dr. M. - the sweet, super smart, amazing doc who drilled the hole in my head on April 11 (couldn't resist!).
So, I have been seeing Dr. M since last March, and having MRI's on a fairly regular basis, and they found this mass thing in my head last March (although he did not call it a svulst until recently). The first MRI I had lasted two hours and 45 minutes (I don't know how folks who are claustrophobic last in that tube - it must be a case of "give me DRUGS!!". Being the multi-tasker that I am (hey, 2 hours and 45 minutes is a loooooooooong time) I thought I would be productive, so I said about 450 Hail Mary's; figured I would kibbitz with The Dude while I was in there - I tell you, I was sorely missing my iPad). At the same time, Dr. M. put me on some anti-seizure meds (YEAH! More meds!) - and of course, my immediate reaction was "I'm not foaming at the mouth and chewing on my tongue!" - the "episodes" I was having were not technically classified as "seizures" but rather "auras" which are a precursor to seizures, and so the meds lessened the intensity of these events, and thus, these "auras/episodes" became much less intense and not as frequent. Always at night, I might add - always the same drill - oh - and always the week leading up to what would have been my normal cycle (that ship sailed February 16 of last year, when the oncologist for my breast cancer put me on another drug (yeah! More meds! Pharma industry is huuuuuuuuge here in the US ... huge) which evidently makes that whole cycle thing stop ....party time!!). Well, on March 9, I went to bed after a nice evening with hubby and next thing, I am in the basement and surrounded by paramedics and cops and I might add, I look down and my foot is bleeding and I'm wondering (pardon my Korean/Norwegian) - "what the f**k??" ... turns out I had experienced a full-blown seizure. Who knew? First time event and I can check that off my bucket list. All kidding aside, I don't remember a thing. Evidently, I went downstairs and hubby spoke to me, and I didn't respond; in fact, I started making weird clicking sounds with my rather large gob (as evidenced by my rambly postings here!), and hubby (who is truly one of THE best read folks on the planet!) knew to get me on the floor and on my side, and then he proceeded to call 911 (oh, sidebar - somewhere, I smashed my foot into the coffee table and ripped off the toenail on my big toe - oh yeah - OUCH. Wait, did I say, OUCH??? ... and I shit you not - speaking of being thankful for life's small things, until you lose one of those babies, you have NO idea how much that hurts. Just sayin' ... you may wish to add that to your list of things for which to be thankful! I keep getting this visual of Will Ferrell in Talladega Nights, that scene when they are having dinner and he is saying grace and he pays homage to his "smoking hot wife" ... well, my prayer is now".... and I'd like to thank the sweet baby Jesus for my toenails ..." )
Where was I? (familiar theme here, right?)
Ah yes ...... full blown seizure. I had another MRI scheduled for the following week, and a follow up appointment with Dr. M. for the following week anyway, and lo and behold, wouldn't you know it? He tells me then that I have a svulst and proceeds to offer two options - a) surgery (with the risks i.e. potentially having to learn to polka/sing country tunes/pee by myself and all that good stuff I referenced in an earlier post); b) biopsy (AKA "we literally drill a hole in your cranium" - I am serious - I am going to boast about this ... is that wrong?). At the same time, Dr. M. refers me to Dr. K, a neurologist (between hubby and I, we are keeping the health care profession alive and well here in the US of A)... more on that tomorrow, as I have already chattered and chattered incessantly. So, good news - we are almost caught up! Yeah!
Tomorrow I will upload a pic of Cancerella's battle scar - i.e. the magnificent job these fine surgeons did when they pinned me down on a table and yes - retrieved some of my grey/gray bits! (thank God for goooooooooooood drugs ... and legal ones ... more on THAT tomorrow too!) Until tomorrow, I wish each and every one of you dear, sweet, kind, beautiful folks a wonderful evening, and thank you again for all your love and support, your beautiful cards, emails, support, encouragement .... and for accompanying me and darling hubby on this journey ....a dear sweet friend (thank you, DW) stated it so exquisitely simply, so beautifully - she said "it helps keep you close" and that sweet comment touched me so deeply, as I had an epiphany that yes, it helps keep all the people that hubby and I love so dearly - it helps keep you all close, thank you for being here and keeping us close and supporting us - gives us great comfort, strength, courage to know you are here, with us. God bless you all.
And on that same theme, tonight's closing is courtesy of Ms. LA P. Grazie, LA, e buona sera a tutti.
Viaggio con me (travel with me) ...
xoxo
Cancerella (and her soon-to-be-unveiled wing man - Schifoman! Stay tuned ....)
Always a dictoral antioxidant!
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