Gratitude, Resilience, and TMI

First, I have to thank the five amazing folks who came and spent a few hours yesterday doing yard work. They cleaned up, cleaned out, raked, moved, planted and  planned. They are wonderful people and we are so very thankful for their kindness. The chickens says thanks, too, because I could not say when their coop was cleaned out last. Friends who clean chicken coops and gutters, bring their own tools and haul away your yard debris... priceless.

Also, ongoing thanks to all the people bringing meals. While there is occasionally some confusion about who and when, it is always wonderful. Stuff keeps until the next day or we can shove it in the freezer for a day without. We so appreciate ALL the tons of people who have been bringing food. My family says it tastes great. I eat it, but, as you know, I'm not a discerning palate at this point...

Thanks to Ed for shuttling Karissa to TT this morning so we didn't have to have our acts together quite so early.  That was good because it was an icky night for me, so being able to clean up before going out was a huge help. As you can imagine, I don't really do anything quickly.  Angie came this afternoon after a weekend trip of her own to take Karissa for a little outing and dinner. Thanks to her kindness, I had a nap.

My girls have been very blessed by all the support of our friends and community. This has been an amazingly difficult time for them, as you can imagine. I do have to say, though, that they have risen to the occasion.

Karina is a person with very set personal rules. Things tend to be very black and white with her. There are certain tasks she loathes, and I always knew better than to ask them of her unless I had really good leverage, carrot/stick, to get it done. Now there are so many things she does that I know she hates, but doesn't flinch because she knows I can't.

Although she is no where as squeamish as I am, she isn't exactly a fan of blood and goo. However, she has never pulled away from holding my hand when Kelly vacuums out my lungs, even when it is really really gross. Those long time musician lungs are strong and I can shoot for distance, if not accuracy. We occasionally find goo in places far from my original position.

She also holds my hand when we walk, and doesn't flinch about being seen with me even though I look quite a fright. Not that I expected her to handle this poorly, mind you, but when someone steps up, you should recognize it. She has been on a pretty steep personal learning curve between my cancer drama and her freshman year of college. My diagnosis was the day before she moved into the dorm, cancer has pretty much colored her whole college experience. Her grades are good and we are proud of her.

Karissa also has adapted amazingly well. I couldn't talk, then I could talk, now I can't talk again. She takes it in stride. I'm swollen, I eat through a tube, my hair fell out. Okay. I can't drive her to anything and Heather and Angie have assumed a lot of the mom duties, with occasional help from Karina, Lesley and others. I guessing none of the other third grade moms drools blood at the dinner table. Mmmmm....

The other night when she was reading to me, I had a sudden attack of chemo sick and was suddenly vomiting. Kelly is taking care of me. She went from being the center of our attention to being completely ignored in a split second. She finished reading the book to herself and got her pajamas on. While she has asked, "What do I do if mom starts throwing up?" she hasn't shied away from me. She tells me stories of her day, and dances for me, and sometimes makes me crazy by shoving clean clothes in her bed instead of putting them away. This is not the childhood I imagined for her, by any means.

Kelly, it goes without saying, has learned a whole new skill set and then some. He has continued to work from home, pretty much full time, although sometimes his hours are late into the night or early in the morning. He does laundry and cooks what meals aren't delivered and takes care of me and a thousand other tasks. He makes this possible to face.

Which, of course, brings me to, well, me. "I don't know how you do it!" I do it because I don't have another choice I am willing to accept. I do it because most things are only as horrible as you are willing to let them be. Yes, puking for days on end was no picnic, but now that I am onto Zachary's magic skills, I am hoping to puke less. Drooling is gross and embarrassing, but you have to be here to be embarrassing, so that is my choice. There really isn't much pain. I've had barely any medicine this week at all. Maybe one dose of Tylenol and one of Motrin. Maybe one dose of anti-nausea. Three visits from the acupuncturist is better than a host of drugs. My neck is swollen and uncomfortable and I'd rather it wasn't. But the chemo drugs and the steroids tomorrow will take the swelling back down again. You can tolerate most anything for a couple of days.

And, seriously, would you just give up? Say I just can't do this and, well, frankly, die? I made it very clear to the Universe that if I was going to be drug to Hell and back, I planned on living. Since there have been plenty of opportunities for me to go peacefully in my sleep and I'm still here, I'm staying.

This brings us to the TMI part, so if you don't like yucky, or are embarrassed by bowel habits, just come back after the next post.

Chemo drugs, just like any medicines, cause side effects. The pump me full of a host of drugs during my Monday sessions, and each one has its own side effect profile. Last round, on top of those drugs, I was rotating three different anti- nausea meds in a desperate attempt to stop the throwing up. It didn't work, and, it shut down the rest of my digestive tract. Zachary got the throwing up stopped and I started eating heartily, but nothing. Eight days of nothing.

Senakot-- nothing. Epsom salts-- one time results, then nothing. High, high, high fiber and lots of water-- nothing.

We have been discussing the "nuclear option," which in this case in the miralax. For some reason, purposely putting that stuff in my system freaks me out. Yes, I know it is added to lots of processed foods. But I also know what it is, and, yuck. Of course, I'm sure all the chemo drugs are found in a flowery meadow surrounded by pristine waters and nymphs. I need to get over it.

So we pushed the button in the silo this evening. We'll see what happens.

Also, my neck is looking pretty gross and I'm not sure if that is due to all the swelling pulling on it or if I should be worried. I can't really see it, but I can feel it, and ick. I hate waking up every morning with my shirt covered in blood and goo. But, it is better than not waking up, so...

Lastly, I sleep with a humidifier on every night. It is a mask with a tube that straps around my neck and pumps humidified air into my trach tube. Finding the balance has been tough. Too low of humidity and I dry out, which causes a lot of problems. Too high and I feel like I'm drowning. Last night was the latter, waking Kelly at 2 am by spelling "too wet" into his palm. I know why waterboarding works.

Tomorrow off to the cancer center for Round 3. Blood work, vitals, exam and then here we go. I better put rocks in my pockets because my weight is down. Maybe some heavy shoes...

Until tomorrow...

Kiara

PS Chemo brain is for real, so if my posts start making sense or the spelling gets a little whacked, let me know and I'll have Kelly proof them. It is infuriating when I am trying to write something on my magna and I can't come up with how to spell it. Argh!