Cause I’m not Blonde – Yeah, yeah, yeah!

FINALLY, yesterday was a day with no doctors!  I wasn’t sure what to do with myself, until I remembered that I’ve been promising to tell you about the blonde wig incident & that I found another place to buy eyebrows.  So, here goes.

I purchased two blonde wigs from Beauty Trends – one straight & one curly.  They came in & the entire family was anxious to see what they looked like on.  My hands were shaking & I could barely contain myself; I was SO excited!  A blonde, a blonde, I could finally be a blonde (yeah, yeah, yeah)!

With trembling hands, giddy from the excitement, I tried the short, curly one on first.  I opened the door to 4 anxious people, who immediately began laughing.  Apparently, I looked like Estelle Getty from the Golden Girls.

Dakota volunteered to go get my walker - very funny, Boy.  I wanted to find something positive about the way I looked, but sadly, I had to agree with the family.  That particular shade of blonde, combined with short curls, really did make me look like I was a senior citizen.  It must have had a psychological effect as well – it was 4:30 & I felt like running to get an early bird dinner.  Back into the box it went.

It was on to the second wig, which was straight.  Here’s kind of what I looked like:

This isn’t an actual picture of me in the wig.  It’s a virtual makeover on iVillage.  I added the heavy eye makeup, just because I thought it would be funnier.  Still, you get the idea.

When I came out of the bathroom this time, the family fell on the floor in stitches.  Elyse ran to the living room, came back & handed me her guitar.  They all agreed that if I had a big ol’ pair of double “F” size hooters & was born in Pigeon Hollow, I could write my ticket in the country music world.  I was not amused.  I had to bite my tongue (hard) not to remind them that my entire family does, in fact, hail from a little Podunk town in Kentucky.  As for the double “F” size honkers, well, we’ll see about that, as that can be arranged.

Long story short, I’m just not cut out to be a blonde.  And, as I’ve said before, I’m not going to go red, since its sacrilege to be another red headed Lucy!  Now, that doesn’t mean that at every conceivable opportunity I have, I’ll try a blonde wig on.  I’ll be bald – it’ll be easy.

So far, I have eyebrows, eyelashes, three wigs & a fourth one is on its way.  I’m like a boy scout – I like to be prepared.  OK, no I’m not; I’m like (am, a little, whatever – no need to get all technical) a shopaholic.  I found something that Matt can’t holler at me for buying.  I’m still trying to figure out how to incorporate sparkly things into the mix.  Give me time . . . . . .  

In the meantime, I’ll be satisfied with a perk of cancer that I still have.  I’m going to be bald, & all I have to do in the morning is slap a wig on top of my head.  Ladies, you know that you’ve had a ton of days that you wish life could be that simple.  So, there’s that!

And now for something that generally has value & is of actual interest to other cancer patients!

In a post on November 13^th, I told you about Best Wig Outlet (hence, the story about the blonde wigs).  Between them, Beauty Trends & Paula Young, wigs are very inexpensive.  I shared with you that I purchased two half human hair, half synthetic wigs for less than $75.00 each.  For the whole story, scroll back through my older posts, or go to “Eyebrows & Lashes & Wigs – Oh My!”  I THINK that will take you right to the post.

I’d mentioned that you could purchase the eyebrows at a place called “Head Coverings”, & that they were $34.95.  However, I’ve since found out (or they just started carrying them) that Beauty Trends is carrying them for $24.95.  And, if you order soon, there’s a 15% off coupon on orders of $29.00 or more, using coupon “Dec 29”.  I know that the eyebrows alone won’t equal the minimum, but you may find a nice wig you like.  And if you’re like me, you can never have too many.

I’ve got more to tell you about.  I was at the doctor’s office – AGAIN – this afternoon.  I’ll write more tomorrow.  In the meantime, thank you, thank you, thank you for all your help.  Thank you for all your support, kind wishes & especially those terrific dinners!  I’ll get through this – I promise.  And if you’ve been diagnosed with any type of cancer, please don’t hesitate to contact me.  My email is tamkells@gmail.com.  You’re going to be fine, too.  We women are a tough breed. 

Tell you more about what’s going on tomorrow!

PS  Reference about being Blonde, (yeah, yeah, yeah) is a from a Julie Brown video from Earth Girls are Easy.  Here’s the link if you’re interested:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0rNfZxgkH7k

Really?

Y’all know how happy I was about not seeing another doctor, nurse or hospital for over a week?  Well, that got shot all to pieces.  On Tuesday, I got a phone call from Pat Parsons at Dr. Seisholtz’ office (he’s my oncologist).  There’s a new trial drug that they’d like to add to my regular chemo cocktail, & would I be interested?  I don’t know for sure all the particulars, but she invited me to come to her office this Friday so she could explain it all.  I figured that if it’ll help, then why not?  So, I said okey doke.  THEN, she says, “but we need you to come to the hospital & have an EKG & some more blood tests”.  Really?

At this point, I’m thinking I’m already several quarts low in the blood department, & didn’t I just get an EKG a little over a month ago?  Well, apparently, an EKG has a small shelf life, & I needed to have another one.  As for the blood, nobody had tested for whatever it is they need to test this time around.  Was there anyway I could go ahead & get this done ASAP? Pat asked.

How can I accurately explain how disappointed I was?  Let me see, let me see, . . . . .  oh, wait, I know!  It’s kind of like when you expect to spend the morning at a spa with your best friends, being massaged & having manicures & pedicures.  Then, you’re supposed to go out to lunch at your favourite Mexican restaurant, drink some margaritas & go shopping until your credit cards begin to smoke from overuse.

But what actually turns out happening is you get a phone call telling you that your cousin, Booger, shot his good eye out in a hunting accident.  His huntin’ dog, Cooter, is still trolling the fields for it, but in the meantime, you need to get your butt to Kentucky to help his kids Deniece, Denephew, & Skunk get ready for the annual possum cookin’ festival that Booger’s won three years in a row.  Of course, any good redneck knows that the secret to good possum eats is catching them a month in advance (where you get them makes no never mind; they just need to be alive when you get em), cage em, & feed them nothing but corn bread & buttermilk the entire month.  That’ll fix ‘em up, fatten’ em out, & get rid of all them no-good flavors.  This makes possum as good as corn fed pig & you got yourself a possum ready for cookin.  Hey, Booger’s been “Champeeyon Possum Cooker” in Bugtussle County goin’ on three years in a row; he should know what he’s talking about.

So, yeah, that kind of describes my disappointment.

I called central scheduling, & today Aubrie & I trekked up to Grandview Outpatient to have the testing done.  Now, I have to admit this part, since it wouldn’t be fair otherwise.  We got there, had the testing done & were back in Aubrie’s Jeep in less than 25 minutes.  Not too shabby there, Grandview!

THEN, I got home, & there was a message on the answering machine.  Apparently, when you tell the folks at Grandview that you need the results of a blood test ASAP, they take that to mean NOW, BITCH!  The nurse from Dr. Seisholtz’ office was calling to let me know that I’m seriously anemic & iron deficient, & was I feeling all right?  According to them, I really shouldn’t be up & around with such a low count, since normal levels for women are between 12 – 16 grams per deciliter & I’m at 6.2.  But of course – it’s me.  The person whose body ate a tissue expander.  I’d expect nothing less.

Here’s the bottom line – I have to meet with one of the oncologists on Friday before I meet with Pat.  They need to infuse me with iron (or vitamins, minerals, Cocoa Krispies, or whatever the heck else it is I’m low on at this point), and then we have to discuss when I can begin chemo.

So, my fabulous week of no doctors, no nurses, no tests & no needles is but a fond dream.  And, if I’m being honest, I had myself a bit of a break down/pity party this afternoon.  I cried; but mostly out of frustration.  I know that this is all going to end up all right, & that in a year, this will all be a memory.  Hopefully, my family will still be speaking to me.  And in the doctors’ defense, nobody said this was going to be easy. 

On the bright side, though, at least I qualify for a new drug that may extend my life for about another 100 years.  Well, they didn’t exactly say that, but that’s what I heard.  And sometimes, it’s just better to hear what you want to.

HOPEFULLY, I’ll be able to write to you about eyebrows & my blonde wig experiment tomorrow.  So far, I don’t have anything planned.  Plus, I’ve turned my phone off.  Seriously, what could happen in one day?  Wait, don't answer that.  I'm sure I'll find out on my own.

Note:  Yes, my entire family is from Owensboro, Kentucky.  However, the Hillbilly reference is just a joke.  As far as you know.

No doctors for a week!!!

I’m sorry!  I’ve been meaning to say Thank You to all of you who’ve taken the time to sign my guest book, leave a comment, or send me a private email.  I know it sounds sappy, but they’ve meant the world to me. 

I went to see Dr. Morrissey yesterday, & he says that everything looks good.  I guess, if you don’t mind a big ol’ crater where teen boob used to be – sigh.  I think most women could handle being flat chested, but, concave?  Not so much.  Oh, well, it’s only temporary.

On the bright side, I don’t have to go to another doctor for over a WEEK!  I’m thrilled.  I go back to see Dr. Morrissey on Wednesday the 13^th.  He has to “sign off”, meaning that I’m well enough to begin chemo.  Then, I start that the following day, the 14^th & it should be interesting.  I mean, I’ve heard all kinds of things about it. 

Of course, there’re the horror stories about how sick I’m going to get, & all this other stuff.  However, both Dr. Nakajima & Dr. Seisholtz say that it’s different now.  They have medications that reduce the nausea & bring up the blood count.  In fact, Dr. Seisholtz said that he doesn’t want me losing weight, & that I shouldn’t because it’s no longer necessary!  Um, what?

OK, folks, there are very few perks to having cancer.  The first one that I missed out on was the tummy tuck.  Remember?  They were going to harvest fat from my abdomen to use to reconstruct my new boob, & then you’d get a tummy tuck afterward.  But, noooooo, I didn’t qualify for that because of all the surgeries I’ve had for endometriosis.  Bummer!  Then, I was thinking that with chemo, I’m going to lose weight.  And yet another big NOOOOO!  So now I’ve missed out on the two big bonuses to having breast cancer.

But on the bright side, it’s really a good thing that I won’t be so nauseous that I’ll end up losing weight.  Who really wants to be queasy when so many wonderful women have been bringing over such amazing food?  I’m serious here, folks, you wouldn’t believe the food that’s been coming to my house.  I’m hoping that after all this is over, the ladies will volunteer their recipes & I can share them here.  Hint, hint kind ladies!

And as for the fat to make New Boob, attempt #2?  Lord knows that I have enough to make some mondo boobies.  But there’s also a possibility (remote, but then again, it’s me) that my body may re-absorb the fat.  At least this way, I can go as big as I want.  So there’s that.

Up next, BEAUTY TRENDS HAS EYEBROWS!!!!

Man, I'm getting tired of hospitals!

Before I forget, I wanted to post pictures of the girls from Dr. Morrissey’s office!  Here they are:

Aren’t they beautiful??  And bonus, they’re very sweet & helpful.  You never feel like a number around them.

Dr. Morrissey released me from my third hospital stay in a month on Wednesday afternoon, & I couldn’t have been happier.  I know, I have to careful, as I really, really, really, really don’t want to have to go back.  Not for at least a year, when it’ll be to go for round two of booby reconstruction.  And trust me, if this new boob thinks it’s got a shot at taking me out, it’s got another thing coming!

I’m home with strict rules to take my antibiotics, & keep my drain tube cleaned & emptied.  I’ve named it Timmy Tubey, basically because I have neither imagination nor general interest in obtaining one.    After what happened when the last tube was removed, I will love it, & pet it, & hold it & take care of it.  But I digress; here’s what happened whilst I was a visitor at St. Luke’s.

After surgery, I had expected to awake, ready to go home.  It wasn’t until they let Matt into the recovery room (to be the bearer of the news that I’ve shared with you in my last post) that I knew the truth.  I no longer had a tissue expander, & I was being admitted to the hospital that night.  I don’t know why, but I kind of knew that an in & out surgery would be too easy for me.  Dr. Morrissey said that they have no clue what caused the massive infection that tore through my body & took out the poor unsuspecting tissue expander.  It’s just one of those things & they wanted to begin IV antibiotics.  This, of course, meant a night or two at Chez St. Luke’s.

The thing is, though; there must have been a run on rooms & surgeries that day.  They were trying to get me back into my private little suite in the cancer ward, but, there were none to be had.  There was no room at the Cancer Inn in Bethlehem almost a week after Christmas - sigh.  They looked all over the hospital for a bed, but only one was open on their “C” ward.  I thought it might have been another cancer unit, but I was incorrect.  It’s what’s called their “catch all” ward, which is exactly what it sounds like.  People were shuttled to this little clearing house of maladies & diseases like cattle through a chute.

Brian (the transport guy from the recovery room; by now, we’ve gotten to know each other) was getting me ready to leave recovery & on to the C floor.  As we were chatting, a girl was wheeled in screaming as loud as humanly possible.  I mean, she was angry & screaming & calling people names.  They hurried her into a little area of recovery & immediately closed the curtains around her.  Because as we all know, curtains block out everything – including sound (wink).  I just knew that they had a big ol’ problem brewing on their hands, & Brian sighed.  He had to come back to it.  I promised him I’d keep him in my prayers.

He finally got me up to my room, & as he was leaving, instructed me to stop coming back.  I just laughed & told him that at least I wasn’t the one to go back down to the screaming crazy person – ha! 

Ya’ know, you’d think that by now, I would have an idea about how God’s mind works.

Two hours later, the screaming banshee of the recovery room was wheeled onto the floor I was on, same side of the hall, three doors down.  By now, she’d progressed to growling & all I could think of was Linda Blair.  My nurse (man, I wish I could remember her name – she was ADORABLE) had somehow missed her blazing entrance to the floor, so I informed her.  I didn’t want her to find out this person was her patient.

About two hours later, she came back to my room pale as a ghost.  I was so worried for her but thankfully, the banshee wasn’t her patient.  She’d just never seen such a sight in her life.  She also didn’t know what was going on, but didn’t want to get close enough to find out.

To this day, I’ll never know what happened to the banshee, what brought her to the hospital, or if she really was Linda Blair & a horrible, horrible priestly accident had occurred on cellblock C.  If I ever do, I’ll let you know.

As if to cement upon my psyche that I should never wish ill on anyone else (poor Brian), God had one more kernel of hospital goodness to bestow upon me – my roommate.

Don’t get me wrong; I had a lovely roommate, an older lady who was there for strange pain & was not allowed any food or drink.  I was taken to my bed, thankfully by the window, & I was settling in.  At the time, my roommate’s daughter, grand daughter & great grand daughter were visiting with her.  All day long.  Don’t get me wrong, they were perfectly nice people.  However, they weren’t the quietest people, & my room mate was hard of hearing; of course, her hearing aid was at home.

Visiting hours are over at 8:00 pm, & my roommate’s daughter did notice that fact & brought it up to Suzy Sunshine, the night nurse.  Suzy shared with them that even though visiting hours are “encouraged” to be over by 8:00 pm, they really don’t start asking folks to leave until 10:00 pm.

I really wanted to throttle Suzy Sunshine & explain to her that sharing an already small room & a bathroom with several people was a bit annoying, no matter how lovely the people were.  Top it off with dueling TV programs, & lots of spirited discussion about what was on said TV programs, & you don’t really get that peaceful, easy feeling that one would hope for when trying to HEAL!

Nurses, please don’t ever, ever do this.  No matter how nice people are, no matter how jovial & cordial, trust me on this.  The person in the bed next to them would like to shoot them in the head by 8:00 pm.  Subjecting us to another full two hour heaping helping of loud, nonstop talking is tantamount to torture.  Before you open your oh so helpful mouths & volunteer this information, take a sideways glance at their roommate.  You may be surprised to see all manner of human gestures directed at you; & you will not be able to mistake their meaning.

The shining hour of room sharing came the next morning when my breakfast tray was brought in.  My sweet roommate chose just that time to realize that she needed to have a bowel movement.  Unfortunately, she wasn’t mobile, & as such, required a bed pan.  As she was being prepared for having her morning constitution in the bed next to me, I decided to leave & give her some privacy.  I highly doubted I wanted to be eating Texas Toast & Sausage (yes, I truly, honestly had sausage) while someone was, well, you understand.   When I told her that, she sunnily replied, “You don’t have to; there’s a curtain for privacy”.  (What is UP with people & curtains??  Do they really think they have magical powers or is this just a hospital phenomenon?)  I don’t think she understood what I meant.  Unintentional timing, or passive aggressive behaviour since she couldn’t eat – you decide.

Later that morning, a break in the gloom arrived in the person of Michelle Silfies, breast nurse extraordinaire.  I’m not sure how, but she’d heard I was re-admitted to the hospital & paid me a visit.  Here she is:

She’d had the foresight to bring me another drain tube bag, which blew me away!  Everyone had assumed that after the last drain tube had been removed, I’d gleefully tossed them away.  Kind of like Isabeau in “Ladyhawke”, removing her talons & dropping them in the evil Duke’s lap.

And, yes, I did that to the first one in Dr. Morrissey’s office.  Tossed it in the trash, right there on the spot.  When I got home, however, I remembered that a sweet woman somewhere had taken the time to sew that bag for me.  I took the other one, folded it up & put it away.  Who knew I’d need it again?

Michelle was also surprised to find me on C block.  When I told her (as best I could with my buddy so close) about my evening, she vowed to try to get me back over to the cancer ward.  And you know what?  She did everything she could.  She called me later in the day to report that there still was no room to be had.  Still, it all turned out, since Dr. Morrissey released me late that afternoon.  The thing of it is, she really tried.  Man, I’m really beginning to think I’ve been surrounded by angels during this whole experience!

In the long run, I’m hoping against hope that I won’t see the inside of a hospital until the time comes to resurrect teen boob.  It should probably be in about 8 months.  I’ll be visiting Dr. Morrissey on Monday, I think, so I’ll have a better idea then.  In the meantime, I’m going to take my antibiotics, take care of (& not bitch about) my drain tube, & get myself stronger.  I have to re-schedule chemo this upcoming week, but that, too, will depend upon Dr. Morrissey.

The thing of it is, I’m not going to let this cancer beat me.  I know I’ve just begun & that there’s a long road ahead of me.  I’ve only glanced at the new surgery site.  Where there once was a little bump of a boob, a bit of a crater exists in its place.  It’s going to take me a bit of time to get used to that.  I know it’s not permanent, but it is a bit of a mind freak & has set me back a little.  I won’t let it consume me or bother me to the point that it’ll get me down for long, though.  There’re too many funny things in the world to poke fun of & plenty of opportunities for me to get into my Lucy situations.

And, thankfully in my case, a whole lot of earthly angels have been sent my way.  Somehow, I think I’ll be just fine.

Stuck here in this hospital - again!

Things didn’t turn out exactly as I’d planned!  I’m venturing a guess that they didn’t quite go the way Dr. Morrissey had hoped for, either.   I’ll explain; & please, remember I’m on drugs.

We checked into the hospital at 6:00 am, where we were told I’d be started on an IV chock full of antibiotic goodness for an hour.  It made sense, checking in at 6:00 am for surgery at 7:30 am, right?  Yeah, it would have been nice.  But that’s not what happened.  We waited & waited, & finally we were taken down to the staging room at, oh, about 7:25?  We spoke with Dr. Morrissey in the prep area, & he promised that he was going to make me feel better.

Why does everything about me have to be so darned difficult??

I woke up to find out that the high fever & massive swelling over the last 6 days had done the darndest thing – it ate the tissue expander.  Maybe I should say shredded or dissolved, as I’m not sure what exactly to call it.  Apparently, neither does Dr. Morrissey, who remarked, “I never saw anything like that in my life”.  I haven’t spoken to him directly yet, so I’ll tell you what he’s thinking when I find out tomorrow.  He’s sent samples of all kinds of my inerds out to different places for study.

So now, not only did my real boob try to kill me, its fake cousin did as well.  Something tells me that maybe I should just get rid of this cancer before I decide whether or not I want to give yet another boob a shot!

I’m hoping that the study of my insides will aid him in his quest for whatever super power Lucy appears to have against small tissue expanders.  And, maybe, just maybe, no other innocent tissue expander will fall victim to this same type of depraved evil.

In the meantime, I’m stuck in the hospital, hopefully just over night.  But, look what haste has done for me in the past. 

Surgery tomorrow

After six full days of pain & massive quantities of swelling, Dr. Morrissey is surgically reinserting the drain tube tomorrow.  There was so much fluid, it began to seep through my incision, which was weird - & scary.


In order to alleviate the problem, I had ultra sound guided, needle fluid aspiration today; but there was just way too much in there.  They couldn't get it all. Additionally, the area under my arm & around to my back couldn't be aspirated.  It seemed to be made up of mass, not fluid, which didn't bode well.


So, tomorrow morning I report to the ambulatory unit at St. Luke's at 6:00 am.  Honestly, why do they always have it so early or super late for me?  Why not an 8:00 or 9:00 report time?  Oh well, as long as I feel better, I'm at the point where I don't really care.  I'll walk in there in my jammies, slippers, tattered, yet extremely comfy & warm, robe with my body pillow under my arm, a teddy bear in one hand & a cup of coffee in the other. Well, except for the coffee part.  They frown on people eating or drinking after 12:00.  


Wish me luck!

Update

Hi, Everyone,


I have so much to tell you, but for the past 4 days, I've been very sick.  I've run a fever that has reached 104.1 at times, & Matt almost hospitalized me.  God Bless poor Dr. Morrissey, who's been on the phone with us at least once a day.  He explained that the last drain tube he took out was very deep, & that the removal was tantamount to surgery.  I feel a little better tonight, & hopefully, tomorrow I can stay awake for more than an hour at a time.  Matt joked that you know I'm sick when I haven't been on the phone with Michele at least once a day!


I hope you all had a Merry Christmas.  Hopefully I'll be swinging from the chandeliers for New Year's!  Until then, it's back to bed with me.