Swearing Sunday, Marvelous Monday and Blood

Sunday was not the best day ever. It was one of those days where nothing really seems to go your way. Up too many times at night. Starting with the ice pack at 4:45 am and still it seems the swelling won't budge. Seeds didn't blend and jam up the Lopez valve, and, of course, spray food all over me, the floor, the table, etc. A day where you say, "Why can one God Dammed thing  be easy." I know not very nice on a Sunday, but I surely didn't feel very nice.

I felt exhausted is what I felt. I wanted to go to the farm and get a flat of strawberries to freeze. I wanted to plant beans. I wanted to take a walk. I couldn't even manage getting dressed.

I finally gave up and crawled into bed and napped. It helped the exhaustion, the attitude and the swearing. What it certainly didn't help was the swelling. Well, Zachary is going to take another crack at it at 5:30.

After spending two hours on Saturday at acupuncture, we spent another two hours there Sunday. He needled. He massaged. He electroded. He used the bamboo scraper (I have the bruises to prove it). He did everything to get the fluids moving. He also gave lots of good advice on things I could do. I left with to ear tags (in "swelling" and "neck" imagine that...) I am beginning to wonder if there is no end to his knowledge.

On the way home we picked up our dinner from Deb (as we weren't home for delivery), picked up Karissa from the Ruzicka-Alversons, and prepared for another week.

I was achy and sore and cranky. We opted for the Motrin/Flexiril cocktail through the tube. Flexiril is for me what most people use narcotics. I don't know if it relaxes my muscles, but it completely knocks me out. I slept through the night for the first time in ages. That will go a long way towards improving your attitude.

Not spraying breakfast on yourself and not being in tremendous pain helps, too.

Ice on the face. Heat on the chest and shoulders. Repeat. Wave arms around. Go to the bathroom as often as possible. Anything to get that swelling down.

At 11:30 we went to the master. Miracle Mia knows how to drain. But even more important, after five years, she is quite familiar with the wacky pathways that my body now has to rely on.

She recognized the mark of the bamboo scraper right away. I complain about it, but it surely does work.

At any rate, an hour of deep tissue draining of the face and trying to get pieces to move the way they should. I never want it to end, even the parts that don't feel all that nice. Two weeks without Mia is not good.

After an hour of magic, we headed home, ate, and regrouped. Then we headed to the cancer center.

First up blood draw with "Thank you" man. He says thank about a dozen times in the few minutes I am with him. He also says it loudly, but I don't know if that is just him or if he also equates not speaking with not hearing. Or he just works with so many older people. He can put in a needle quick and absolutely painlessly, so I am not complaining.

Then I get weighed-- holding steady. BP 100 over 72, heart rate 74. Mia must have really worked some magic. My BP tends to run low, but my heart rate is usually around 100.

First news, no chemo today. The scheduler didn't allot enough time because the first one they watch you to make sure you don't have an allergic reaction. I am not heart broken at this news, especially since radiation is still up in the air as well. The first dose of Cetuximab will be tomorrow.

Passed the exam. We answered all of each others questions. He was much more positive today, particularly about how my mouth looked. For looking better, I have to say it hurts more. However, since we are not doing chemo today, I am now a couple hours early for radiation day 0.5.

Being the wonderful people they are, they squeeze me in early. And squeeze would be the operative word. They did get the mask on and locked down. My nose was squashed completely flat, so it is a darn good thing I didn't have to try to breathe through it. They have a hole cut where my trach opening is and a hole cut for my port. There is lots of tape over the spot where the mole is, but it still catches, so they will add more.

They got it locked down and did the x-rays. Then they stuck the markers all over my mask. This is very precise and directed radiation unlike the last time. Last time there were large fields with varying degrees of intensity, basically from cheek bones to collar bones. These are lined up exactly with where we know the tumors are, or were. Back of mouth, larynx and trachea. I don't know how long it took, but no panic attack despite no anxiety meds beforehand. I think my problem in March was the inability to breathe.

I'm sure there aren't too many people who would be excited to have a second go of radiation, particularly if it involved having your head bolted to a table in an extremely tight mask. I'm sure there aren't too many people that would say bring on the chemo that will likely cause a horrible pimple like rash.  But I am ready to start. Because the sooner you start, the sooner you finish. It looks like my last day should be July 15, barring any breaks due to reactions, burns, or so forth. That would be just two days of radiation after camp. I know I'll be bone tired at that point, and probably look even less lovely than I do now, but two days will be okay.

Yes, I remember I'll cook for another month approximately. I'll be having the new chemo once a week throughout radiation. None of this will be a walk in the park. Because it has been a hoot up to this point...

Kelly picked up Mary this evening. Yay! I was finally able to give her my gift 30 years in the making. I'm glad I gave to her early as I don't think she would have appreciated it nearly as much had I put on my display for her first.

I have that oxygen deprived feeling. Lightheaded. Cloggy. Heavy breathing and not in a sexy way. I pull the canula. It is clean. Nothing. I still feel cloggy. Fish and suction. Some yuck comes up (Kelly calls it 'lung boogers'), but there is clearly something stuck. Second fish and more suction. Still stuff. Still stuck. Then it is more stuck. He pulls the whole trach. Now I start hacking stuff out in earnest. We progress rapidly from lung booger to blood, blood clots, and more blood. It is on everything. I look like something out of a Stephen King novel.

They would get me all cleaned up, and the hacking would start again. First attempt at replacing the trach, I not only hacked it out, I flung blood all over it and everything else. Lots of blood.

Well, acutually not lots, just lots of spray, which makes not much seem like a lot.

Clean shirt. Magic mouthwash. More blood. Lovely.

When it is all over, I'm not sure how much yuck was spread about. I know two shirts and a pair of capri pants covered in spray. I'm sure we'll be finding it for days.

Welcome to Eugene, Mary!

Fortunately none of this drama coincided with dinner delivery or Karissa coming home. It also ended soon enough that I was able to not only eat dinner, but have a nice soak in the tub. Because sometimes that is the only thing that makes the shoulder ache go away. It is also the best chance of getting blood washed off that has been scatter shot all over.

Never a dull moment.

Here we are again, after ten pm. We enjoyed dinner brought  by meal train. Thank you! Eileen made another delivery of yummy cherries this morning. The mask went on. I had a soak while Mary and Kelly tag teamed on bed time, dog feeding, dish duty, laundry, etc. Yes, I am spoiled. Tomorrow Jen will come and the table will go out for repairs and maybe we'll even make it out to get those strawberries to freeze. The next adventure begins.

So send a positive vibe, send up a prayer, or just let a thought of smooth sailing and little swelling go out into the Universe for me. Hoping for a bump free day one.

Love to you all!

Kiara