Creepy Teeth - Part 2

So I went back to see the wig lady today. I have to say that it was just as creepy. And this was with her teeth fixed. However, I have my wig (short, red) and I have no need to go back there again. I hope. I have an idea for a picture. I'm working on it. Shoule be up soon.
The rest of the day was fun though. My sister, Katrina and her husband just closed on there house. So, as a surprise, my mom and I went over and trashed it. In a nice way though. We went with a marti gras theme. The house is yellow already, so we got green and purple streamers and had them on the door, the garage the front steps and up and down the bushes along their driveway. We also had dozens of beads in the bushes and masks. Not to mention the traditional balloons. We were pretty sure that Katrina would like it, or that she would hunt us done with the gun she won't let Chuck get. We're still here. She ended up liking it. That's all for now. -Elizabeth

Yet another teaser post - also to be known as "All I want for Christmas are my six front teeth"

Amy tried to warn me. She tried to warn Katrina. We didn't listen. We went to look for wigs today and ended up going to the same place as Amy. She told us that the woman was a little...off. She tried to give us the heads up.

I'm not sure I have the words to describe how odd of an experience this was. We walked into the store and the woman was sitting on a lounge chair with her hand to her mouth. ...And ignoring us. Katrina finally mentioned that we were looking for a wig and all the woman did was nod her head and continue to fiddle with her mouth. Turns out she had a temporary top set of teeth placed the day before and she had just broken them by accident. If she didn't hold them in her mouth, they would fall out. Thats right, you all heard me. She had to talk with us while holding her teeth. And to top it all off she couldn't get them to sit right again, so everytime she smiled she looked like the Cheshire Cat. It was creepy. I think we went through three wigs before I even started to pay attention cause I was so creeped out by her teeth. (Shivers as she thinks about it) Not to mention everytime she called me sweetheart I was afraid her teeth would go flying across the room. She made an attempt to talk with out holding them, but not only did she sound funny, but they flopped around something aweful in her mouth. It was very disturbing to watch. When she did hold them in to talk she only used the tip of one of her very long nails and it looked like she was trying to pick something from between her teeth.
In the end we found a wig the matches my red hair perfectly. (Yes, for those who haven't seen me recently, I have red hair.) It's a little odd to wear it, but then again all of my experiences of it are tied up with the weird smile looking over my shoulder in the mirror. (Shivers yet again) The hardest part was looking at Katrina. The shear absurdity of the situation was impossible to ignore and we all know that my sense of the ridiculous is well tuned. I couldn't look at Katrina for more than a second before I wanted to burst out laughing. We spent, at least, a half hour after leaving the store just laughing and trying not look insane. We went to get some dinner and I swear the waiter thought we were nuts. I think we gave him a complex.
I will still have more of an update tonight, but I had to share the teeth story with you. It was just too good to pass up. - Elizabeth

Teaser Post

Don't worry. A nice, long post is on the way. But right now I'm running out the door to go wig shopping. Hey, did I mention that I was going to lose my hair? -Elizabeth

So...Chemo sucks.

I know I haven't written in a bit, but I was debating with myself. To tell you all the truth or not? In the end, I'm still a very selfish person and this is my blog. I am going to be writing about not so pleasant effects of chemo, mostly for my own record. However, consider yourself forwarned now. I don't know how funny this installment is going to be. I don't even know how long it is going to be, considering how tired I am. I think I will probably just write until my sleeping pill kicks in. Don't be surprised if some of this comes out fuzzy sounding.

The weekend was wonderful. Contrary to the picture I did not hit a tree skiing. However, I did only make it down one run. About half way through, my body made it perfectly clear that it had stopped listening to me. On top of that, the snow was a little too slushy and pulling my self along with my poles was putting serious strain on my port. (More visions of Elizabeth popping a leak, this time on top of a mountain in vermont) Even the ride up in the lift left me queezy. In the end, I'm glad I made the attempt, but I am so very much paying for it now. My body aches from muscles that weren't supposed to be used and my chest feels tight when I breath in because of the strain from pulling on my poles. (Aren't you all glad that you tuned in to hear this?)

As if this wasn't bad enough, I woke up Sunday morning with my first, honest to God, nausea bought. That was less than pleasant. It lasted for maybe an hour, and then I moved on. Lots of napping, watched a movie with the family. Acted really tired so that the rest of the gang would pack up my stuff for me and I wouldn't have to move. (Well, actually, I was too tired to pack up my own stuff. But I prefer to let my acting prowess take credit for this little coup.) Quite a bit of my day was spent trying not to be in pain. For some strange reason, (wait, chemo, I remember) every single bone in my body is aching. I think I mentioned in an earlier blog, that I've had hangovers worse than this. And that still holds true, however the hangovers eventually went away and this seems to be determined to stick around. To top it all off, the doctors only give you a limited supply of the pills that counteract the effects of the chemo. So, once the anti-nausea pills were gone, I was nauseous.

And as for my engery levels. Ha. What energy levels. I wake up in the morning (7:00 on the dot) feeling horrible. I usually ask who ever is around exactly why it is that I just can't throw up and get it over with. They usually tell me to shut up and eat some toast. Then hold my hand while I suffer. (That was not actually meant to sound bitchy. I am actually releaved that some is willing to hold my hand when all I want to do is hurl on them) Once this passes and I can hold down food, they force my morning pills on me. (Cause hey, why not tempt fate while we're at it.) For the past few days the morning pills have included 5 rather large prednisone. 5 rather large, ill-tasting prednisone. That non-the-less left me with energy.( they are a steriod afterall) However, today is the fist day off the prednisone. That's it. I'm wiped. I've got NOTHING. No energy to even think about how little energy I have. ( And yet I still have enough to whine to you guys. Interesting, that. ) I had plans of all the things that I would get done in the off-week from chemo. Especially now that I have no classes to go to. But, I'm starting to realize that there is a reason I'm not going to classes. I can't make it throw a TV show with out nodding off, much less a three hour class. (Just so we're clear. TV has never been a problem for me. I could space out for hours. Now, it just hurts my head)

My plans are so on hold, its ridiculous. And here's the thing. I knew what to expect. I knew that this was going to kick my butt. And yet still it doesn't even remotely prepare me for the reality of it. I'm pretty sure that if mom weren't here this morning, I just would have rolled over, thrown up in the trash and fallen back to sleep. (Nice visual, huh?) The worst part is that I think ...I know.. that the reason I don't want to stop writing right now, is because then I have to go to sleep. Then, I have to do the whole thing over again. I can't even think about doing the whole thing over again. It hurts to even contemplate it. ( Wow, can I whine or what?) Of course now that I have figured out why I am writing so much, I also realize that I am being a bit of a coward. I'm using all of you to avoid sleep. Good job. You are serving your purpose well. On that note, I will rap up this less than humorus blog with some parting thoughts.
One - to my family. Don't think that Vermont was horrible for me. I loved it. I couldn't think of a better way to spend my first week of chemo, than some place I love with the people I love. It was great. (Not too mushy, right?)
Two - to those who have been checking the blog constantly and have been disapointed for lack of posting. Here. Now stop calling. I'm still alive and you can have your fix. (Once again, not meant to sound bitchy, but everything seems to be coming out that way... huh.)
Three - Karen. Thank you for the brownies and for Margarita, I love her. It was a wonderful surprise that lightened up my day.
Four - To those new posters in the comments gallery that I didn't acknowledge over the weekend, "Welcome to my blog, and shut the door behind you so as to not let out the crazies." It's wonderful hearing from all of you. Paul and Gerri, I'm glad you found the site, and I'm sorry I'm a scummy sister who never called back. (although i think i have a pretty decent "get out of jail free" card) It was great hearing from everyone, Liz Press(or is it Elizabeth), Jennifer, Kathy, Leon, Carolyn, Sara, Scott and Michelle (followed by Lisa. Ahh. I love sibling rivalry.) And Allison, it was great hearing from you, although now people may have an idea about my slightly nefarious, criminal past. (I still have the flashing lights.)
I'm about to get mushy, so watch out. Just knowing that there are so many people out there who care about me is amazing. But to have you all take the time to send a note is nothing short of a miracle for me. Each one makes me feel a little more loved. Now, if you can't tell how tired I am from that little wax-poetic, than I don't know what kind of clues I can give to drive the point home.
Ok. I think that I have wasted about as much time as I can with this. I need to sleep. I'll try to be more amusing tomorow. I should at least be in better spirits with out the prednisone withdrawl. Talk to you all later. -Elizabeth

I said, "Let's go skiing". My body said "HaHaHaHa..No!"

Nap Day

Sorry for the less than stellar blogging today. However, I did get you the story of Fred, so that should answer some questions.
Interestingly enough, I did not get to go skiing today. For the first time I woke up with the upset tummy, ache body....part of this chemo thing. Talk about delayed reactions. Anyway, by the time I got myself sorted out, I had missed out on quite a bit of the day. It wasn't unproductive though. I watched a movie, I blogged, badly, I read a little, I got over the nausea rather quickly, but I was tired for the rest of the day.
Carol, Katrina and the boys went skiing and Mom and Dad went cross country shopping. They all seemed to have good days to. Marta, Steve, John, Chuck and Drew arrived tonight and we spent some time trying to negotiate car arrangements for the morning. Not as easy as you might think. We have shoppers, non-skiiers who admit that they are non-skiiers, non-skiiers who pretend that they are still skiiers, but in actuality hang out in the lodge drinking and watching the skiiers, and then two different groups of skiiers with different ski levels. Those who need to rent. Those who need ski slow because they don't ski often, those who don't ski all that well but like to pretend they do by going as fast as they can, those who like to follow those going as fast as they can. ...I think I am starting to ramble.
I was actually hoping that I would be able to ski Outer Limits this year. This is probably not my year though. Damn. And I was so looking forward to getting a poster that said, "I skiied Outer Limits". However, I think that if I were to attempt it, my mother might shoot me. She is already giving me instructions about who I can sit next to in the lodge. "If they look like they have a cold you should avoid them. And small children, stay away from them because they are always sick. And their parents, the parents of the children get just as sick. Don't forget to wash your hands alot. .." You get the idea. I'll let you all know how it goes. Hey, if I'm really shaky on the mountain then tomorrow that may make for a very funny post. I'll fill you in on all the details. - Elizabeth

A Story of a Lump Named Fred

One day a young woman named Elizabeth was looking in the mirror, trying to figure out why one of her necklaces did not look right. It looked like it was crooked around her neck. And then the young woman noticed that it was not the necklace that was crooked, it was, in fact, her neck. She poked and prodded until she noticed that there was a lump in her neck. Now, the girl was not an alarmist and has always had pretty decent health. (With the aside of a lacerated liver, some stitches..you know, nothing big) Her clutzy tendencies aside she was never really in poor health.
This is not to say that she ignored said lump. She just didn’t focus on it. She questioned her mother once, she tested her sisters’ necks to see if they had a similar lump. On one particular occasion she even made them feel her neck to see what they thought it was. The consensus came back that it was probably just a swollen gland. Problem solved.
Two months later the young woman was going to the doctor to get her cholesterol checked because she had lost quite a bit of weight and wanted to have a check up. While there, she mentioned the lump to her doctor. In complete contrast to what she was expecting him to do and say, he told her that it was a lump, he was sending her to an ENT to have him check it out, and he was ordering an ultrasound to find out if it was a solid mass or a cyst.
Two weeks, four doctors, an ultrasound, a needle biopsy, two CT scans, a PET scan, a bone marrow biopsy and a couple of diagnosis’ later, the lump is cancer and now it needs a name. Why does the lump need a name? Well, now that the young woman knows that a part of her body is trying to kill her, she feels easier killing it off by giving it a personality that she could get angry with. This may not make sense to everyone, but the idea that there was a mass of her own cells trying to hurt her made her a little nervous. By naming the mass and giving it a personality she is able to separate it from the rest of her body. ( I know. Deep thoughts. Don’t worry. This won’t happen very often)
So, why Fred? Well, several years ago she made up a story for her nephews. The story was called “Fred the Goblin”. In this story, her nephews played the protagonists, and by the end of the story they had kicked Fred’s butt. In following their examples, if her nephews could kick Fred’s butt, then so could she. No evil or sinister name for her lump. Her lump was going to be a wuss that would be easily defeated.
Then came the fight. Although at the start it looked like Fred would be a strong opponent, the tide soon turned and …but that’s a story for another day.


Posting #1 “Me First, Me First!”
The advantage to proof-reading Elizabeth’s post before she posts, is that we get to go nah, nah, nah-nah, nah, nah, to Janette.

Love, Carol and Katrina :)

PS Janette, we're timing you...

Look! They have a sign for me!

Well it looks like you all lucked out.

That's right. It's almost 2 AM and I am blogging from Killington, you all are sooooooo lucky. No withdrawl symptoms. No loss of sleep. Sorry I'm not as witty as usuall, but I am 5 seconds away from passing out. However, I think we should all say a thank you to the next door neighbors with the unsecured wireless connection. Talk to you in the morning. - elizabeth

Uh. Oh. The addicts are in trouble.

Did I mention that I'm going out of town this weekend. The whole family is. We are going to Killington to go skiing. I know. I just had chemo. But I'm not feeling horrible, and I think I could pull off half a day. Even if I can't, the house has a fire place. I can't think of a better place to take a nap. However, I do promise to make an effort to find a wi-fi conection in order to update from Vermont. If not this is it until Monday. It's OK. Take deep breaths. That's it, in through the nose, out through the mouth. Good. If you feel yourself getting lightheaded, sit down and breath into a paper bag.

Now on to the comment section. Katrina - it was a very good suggestion to not put aside personal hygene for blogging. And Julie - if I could have found my roll of duct tape it would most certainly have played a role. Thanks to everyone for writing. Off to ski. - Elizabeth

Boob in a sling – also to be known as “I’ve had hangovers worse than this”.

Last night I rolled on top of my port. I admit... that hurt. However, the knee jerk reaction of grabbing the area in pain hurt a lot more. Needless to say, when I woke up this morning I was NOT feeling 100%. Mom came down to bring me some toast and my drugs, and watched in amused fascination as I tried to sit up while holding my boob to avoid putting any stress on the anti-stitches. (Tape,.. glue. I’ve covered this already) In the end, I had her get a scarf and we made a makeshift sling for my boob that didn’t pull on the port site. It was actually pretty amusing to see. And no, there will be no graphic for that. Get your minds out of the gutters people.

Besides this early morning pain, the rest of the day wasn’t that bad. I think we dodged the bullet on this first go around. I was a little flushed from the steroid they gave me the day before. I was a little groggy and very lethargic,… but when am I not? In all honestly, I’ve had hangovers worse than this. (Don’t worry mom, not too many) I went in to get my final shot for the week. It is supposed to bring up my white blood cell count by stimulating bone marrow growth. They said that my bones might start to ache. It’s like having growing pains all over again. I can usually work them out of the joints, but the rest is taken care of with Tylenol. Ahh, the wonders of modern medicine.

Now, on to a new section I feel obliged to add in order to answer the various questions posed from the peanut gallery. Err…I mean the comment section.

First off, Mrs. Fitz (of the Florida Fitz’s) no need to start refereeing yet. I think just the threat of the Sicilian verbal beating will be enough to keep any wayward commenters inline. (But just in case, be on stand by.)

Mrs. Miller – you work too much and getting there earlier to read my blog does not make me feel better. However, all will be forgiven, if you should happen to bring by some of your brownies. I love your brownies. And since a certain Stefunek family out in Ohio ate the cookies that they were going to send to me, I am out of baked goods. (Afraid they were going to break in the mail. Yeah right. You just wanted them all to yourself. Just for that, I plan on baking a plate of “thank you” cookies and eating them all myself)

To the Texas contingent: You guys are great. I remember Janette telling me about you, her sisters. I was in Texas for about 6 months, 2 years ago. I was contemplating a permanent move. As soon as Janette found out she offered you guys up as my surrogate sisters. As I wasn’t sure if I would be able to make it home for major holidays, she assured me that you were just as loud, nosy, and loving as my own sisters. And now I see that she was right. I do have to point out, that as far as beating Janette to a response, she has emailed me her two comments today. I think that she may have taken the referee, no fighting on the comments site to heart. Janette – you’re invited to post again. It will give Carol more incentive to post sooner. On to final Texas questions. I have no idea of a bracelet color for non-Hodgkin. I’m not sure there is one. However, the graphics are all mine. In fact the margarita glass is the actual glass I drank from. Thanks for the compliment though.

To all who have never commented before, Sigrid, good job. I love hearing from you. (How are the twins?)

I think that’s all for that section now. I will probably add more later. I just realized that you guys have very little background as to the history of Fred, or the origins of his name. And yet in my evil and devious ways, I am going to make you wait for tomorrow’s blog for that. (HaHaHaHa – throws back her head in evil laughter - followed by a groan as she pulls on the anti stitches - followed by not throwing back her head, in a not quite as evil “TeeHee”)

Hope that this gives you your blog fix for the day. - Elizabeth

Do I need to put a referee in there?

One down, five to go.

First order of business. You are the mushiest group of people ever. Keep it up - I love the attention. After every post I can’t wait to hear what you will all say about it. I have to admit this is much more therapeutic then I originally thought it would be.

Onto today’s news. I had my first round of chemo. I have to say…it sucked. This is not a pleasant experience. It took four hours for the first “pre-chemo” drug and then another hour for the actual chemo. As unpleasant as it was, it probably could have gone worse.

I didn’t really sleep well last night (surprise, surprise) and we got up early to head to Valhalla. I rode with Amy because I think Mom and I are a little sick of each other at the moment. Amy gave me the heads up on what to expect from the CHOP (the chemo part of the treatment) but she never had my pre-chemo. She also never had a port so we weren’t sure if I would react the same way she did. The ride there seemed so much longer than it should have. I think that we hit every pothole on the Taconic. Not normally a horrible experience, but currently my chest is being held together by glue and tape. Yup, you heard me – glue and tape. No more messy stitches that will have to come out, instead 6 little strips of tape that will “fall off on their own” and a thin layer of antibiotic glue on top. I feel so much more secure. Every time we hit a bump I thought I was going to spring a leak.

When we got to the medical complex we looked like we were going for an outing. All three of us had a backpack and mom had a cooler case of food for lunch. I was taken almost right away. I want to say that I probably got started at around 9:15. However, I became a little distracted when they removed the gauze from my chest and I saw exactly what was holding me together. Did I mention that it is just glue and tape? …I did? …Ok. I actually think that once the port heals up it will be the best decision, but in the mean time today hurt like hell. I feel black and blue and in order for the attendant to get the needle into the port, she had to feel around the entire thing to find the hole. Have to say…that hurt like a bitch. Not as painful as the bone marrow biopsy, but still pretty darn awful.

Once the needle was in the port, the rest of the day went pretty smooth. I had one bad reaction to the meds that required them to stop the drip and give me a steroid shot, but besides that it was just tiring. My mom and Amy watched a movie on Amy’s portable DVD while I got the pre-chemo. I slept because the stuff pretty much knocked me out. The best was listening to Amy and Mom. They both were wearing headphones to avoid disturbing the other patients, but they continued to try and talk to each other – loudly, very loudly. Not to mention I have no idea what kind of a movie they watched, but they were both very confused by it.

Of course I probably gave them just as much to laugh about. During the times that I wasn’t focused on them, I was sleeping. However, the chair I was in did not recline all the way back and because of the glue, tape and IV, I had limited mobility and few options for how to lie down. In the end my head went straight back. Then I started channeling my father. Yup! I snored. So loud, that I woke my self up. Three times. Next time I think I am going to steal one of my nephews’ airplane pillows. Those things have got to be more comfortable than the rolled up shirt I was using. The last couple of hours were talking or playing cards. Not really eventful. Just long and tiring. I’m really sleepy now, but as my doctor predicted, the stuff he has me on has me wired. In a minute I’m going to go take some sleep meds and attempted to nod off. Apparently the worst of the side effects are still to come. (Oh Joy!) On the other hand I’m thinking of getting a bell and torturing my family into doing things for me. Yesss. That sounds like fun. (Pauses for a pleasant day dream about family doing her bidding….A very long day dream…lots of bidding to be done…OK I’m back)

So to wrap this up. It sucked, but it could have been worse. Amy kept Mom fairly well distracted as well as giving me a heads up to the side effects I was going to be experiencing. The staff was wonderful and very comforting, taking the time to walk through any problems or questions I might have. And one of the best parts was coming home to find so many comments on the blog. Support from friends and family can’t be beat. From those who I speak to everyday (siblings) to those who I have never spoken to, but feel very close to experience wise. (Nate) It means an awful lot just to know that others are going through this with me. Huh…that was sappy…uh oh…the mushiness of the comments section is rubbing off on me. Ugh. Now I need a shower. Enough of that. Tomorrow I go for a shot to bring up my white blood cell count and hopefully that is it for the next two weeks. Ok. I think I’m done for the night, and I need to go medicate. I’ll let you all know how I am feeling tomorrow. - Elizabeth

I feel like a gas tank.

Today was a very busy day and most of it spent at the hospital. While quite a bit of it was sitting around and waiting, there was about 3 hours worth of interesting stuff. First, I nearly passed out. And all they did was put a needle in the back of my hand. Have I mentioned that I don't like needles? Anyway, it was just saline, and from the way I reacted, you would have thought they were pumping me full of drugs. Well, later on they did pump me full of drugs. But I meant a different kind of drug. ...uh...yeah. OK. Still a little tired on this end.

After moving me upstairs (I love riding on gurneys) I met the surgeon who would be putting in my port. He's a very nice man with a heavy Russian accent. He started off by showing me the port - not the brightest of moves. As far as I was concerned that thing was huge. "It will be like small stack of quarters, under skin" Ha! Small stack of quarters, my ass. My only thought at this point was that they had better knock me the hell out. Have I mentioned that I'm not big on pain, either?

The attendent was actually very nice and overall it was fine. They didn't knock me out, but they gave me a local so I didn't feel anything. On top of that they gave me something to calm me down. That was wonderful stuff. I really need to figure out what that was. I could think of several instances when it would come in handy. Not just for me. Think about how mellow Mom would be on that stuff. (Sighs and has a pleasant Mom-is-high daydream)

As fun as all the medicine was, you will never believe the most calming aspect of this experience. It was the doctor's accent. ("OK. Lie still. I give you small shot. It make you feel nothing") Most of you who have made comments on my blog, realize that I am from a heavily slovak/german family. And when I tell you that this Doctor sounded like my Grandfather, I'm not kidding. And then half way through he started humming Russian folk songs.

I have always thought that if I were ever in a situation like this, that I wouldn't really care about who the doctor was, so long as he was competent and I was drugged. This proves me wrong. There is something so incredibly calming about having the right doctor working on you. I was so nervous about the whole proceedure. As far as I'm concerned, skin isn't supposed to come with pockets that hide ports. This could have been a horrible day, but it wasn't bad. The doctor's said dope her up enough and she won't feel a thing, and then God said, Lets give her a doctor that reminds her of her family and she won't worry about whether she will feel a thing.

So anyway I go in tomorrow morning for my first round of chemo. Mom and Amy Sayegh are both coming with me. Amy is pulling double duty - keeping me entertained, and keeping Mom calm. (I’ll bet that she wishes we knew what that calming stuff that they gave me was) It’s going to be a long day. Somewhere along the lines of 5-6 hours. I hope I’ll be up to blogging tomorrow night. I have a new ramble that I’m planning on posting. But just in case, be sure to check out the latest picture. This is how I expect tomorrow to go.

My sleeping pills are kicking in now, so I’m going to go to bed. I’ll hopefully update tomorrow. -Elizabeth

Conspiracy Theory

I have finally figured it out. The doctors are in league with the food providers in their area. That’s why the do this whole, starve-you-for-hours-then-drink-goop-that-tastes-horrible thing. After whatever procedure you went in for is done, the office staff is ever so helpful in telling you about all the local dining establishments. Sounds like a conspiracy to me. But of course, I’m really tired and haven’t slept in awhile. That could also be it. …Actually that probably is it. Well, either way I don’t get to eat until after they put the port in me, sometime tomorrow morning. I’ll let you all know how that goes. -Elizabeth

The hip bone's connected to the big-freaking-needle.

And we're off to the races...

First order of buisness, I have gone back and corrected my spelling of Hodgkins. So, nah.
Next, I have had absolutly no time to process everything that is going on. Instead I will just fill you in on the latest developments. My bone marrow is clean and I am at stage 2 lympoma. This is all good news. ...Well, not good news. But better news. ...you know what I mean. Anyway the only pressing issue is that Fred is pressing on my trachea. (HaHa) Okay, maybe that was just funny in my own head.

Oh, for those of you who don't know, Fred is my lump. You can all hear the story of Fred some other time. He is NOT the focus of todays blog. The only reason I brought him up was because it's his fault we have to move so quickly. Apparently, Fred is pushing on my trachea and according to my doctors, in a few weeks he will probably start trying to choke me. So, now we are moving forward at a rather quick pace.

After my thursday meeting with my oncologist, we have come up with a course of treatment. I am going to have a port put into my chest on Monday, and I will have my first Chemo treatment on tuesday. I will go in for a treatment every two weeks and after two, possibly three, treatments I will have another PET scan to see how I am responding. I am scheduled for 6 treatments in total - 12 weeks. I am out of school for the duration and hopefully, this wont suck too much.
We have company over at the moment so I am going to sign off. Be sure to look at the latest picture. The needle in the picture is the actual needle that they stuck me with for the bone marrow biopsy. My hip still hurts. Later - Elizabeth

Hodgkins or non-Hodgkins...that is the question.

Actually, it has already been answered. What we thought was Hodgkins going into my Wednesday appointment has turned out to be non-Hodgkins. Fine, whatever. I'm just going with the flow. This is just a quick rundown of recent events.
On tuesday I went in for a second CT scan of my abdomen and pelvic region. For this fun scan I was required to drink 2 bottles of this "lemon flavored" (Hah!) liquid that was going to light my insides up like a christmas tree. In typical Elizabeth fasion I drank it out of one of my margarita glasses. (See picture)
On wednesday morning mom went to Putnam Hospital to pester them into giving her all of the paperwork and materials that they had on me, so that we could give it to the oncologist. Only mom would threaten to wait in a doctor's waiting room for two hours unless she was helped sooner. I think she only waited 15 minutes.
Wednesday afternoon we headed to valhalla to see the oncologist. We found out it is a non-hodgkins lymphoma. The Doctor then thought it would be amusing to shove a needle into my hipbone and steal some marrow. I have to say - NOT the most pleasant experience. We all know that I am a wuss about pain, but this was ridiculous. I'm pretty sure that the marrow hangs out inside the bone to avoid being removed from the body. Man, I hate needles.
So, tommorow I go for a PET scan and then meet again with the doctor. I'll have a better idea of course of treatment then.
In other news, my little sister Erica is coming in the morning. ("And there was much rejoicing" - Monty Python) She is flying in for my sister Katrina's 30th Birthday Party which is going to be held in conjunction with Erica's boyfriend, Drew's birthday. Since this quite possibly be my last weekend to drink for awhile, I intend to make full use of it. Thats pretty much it for now. Don't forget to look at the picture. -Elizabeth

First ramble: Also known as "Am I angry with God".

Just to be clear. I don't ever intend for my rambles to have a title, or a clear theme. They just work out that way. This is actually based on a question/discussion from three different people. Since I am unable to think of quick responses on my toes, I tried to organize my thoughts more clearly when I got home.

In other words, don't expect that all of my ramblings will have a question behind them. This is just the question that was posed to me.

And now, on with the ramble.

Am I angry with God?

I have cancer.
I’m 27 years old and I have cancer.
I have Hodgkin’s lymphoma.
I have Hodgkin’s disease.
I’m 27 years old and next Wednesday I am going to meet my oncologist.
I am going to have an oncologist.
Chemo therapy is no longer an abstract.
Radiation therapy is no longer something that other people go through.
I have cancer.

Am I angry with God?

I don’t get angry. I never really have. It’s too strong an emotion for me. I get pissy, irritable, ornery and even bitchy. But I don’t get angry.

So, Am I angry with God?

I came awful close. I got really pissy, very irritable, ornery and so very, very bitchy.

But here’s my hang up. I don’t know the plan. I know there is a plan. I have always had complete faith that there is a plan. I have to have faith. But I NEED to have faith that there is a plan. I am not equipped to think of life as random. I refuse to believe that life is random. There is a plan. Doesn’t mean I have to like or understand the plan. I just need to accept that there is one.

And now we flash back to High School math. Specifically –Proofs. If A then B.

If there is a plan than there is a purpose. I don’t know what the purpose is. I just know that there is a purpose. In fact, most people do believe in the plan and the purpose. You know because you will hear the question, “Why me, God?” Sure it is usually a rhetorical cried out in angry bitter pain. But it still shows that they believe in the plan and thus in the purpose.

I was expecting the angry, bitter, rhetorical question to come from my lips as well, and in a way, it did. But it surprised the hell out of me when I realized that it wasn’t angry, bitter or rhetorical. I was actually speculating on an answer. And interestingly enough. I think I found one.

Am I angry with God?

How arrogant would it be to ask “why me, God?” for this one small, negative portion of my life and never ask “Why me, God?” for the rest of it. Why me, God? Why did you give me this huge, noisy, overly involved, sometimes smothering family? Why did you give me siblings who understand me so well, that I barely need to speak for them to know what I am feeling? Why did you give me parents that are so involved and loving that they can anticipate when I am about to fall, (which let me tell you - happens often,) and be there to catch me? Why did you make it impossible for me to not let people in - To adopt cousins and friends into my close knit group of sisters and brothers? Why did you give me a church family that is so close as to give me an entire surrogate family when I need to be away from my own?

Why did you give the firmest, most sound, support system as a foundation for my entire existence? Maybe this is why.

Am I angry with God?

Let’s just take a hypothetical. Let’s just suppose for one second, that it wasn’t all about me. I know... it’s a stretch. But let’s try. I meet my doctor, I go through treatment. I cry. I yell. I don’t sleep fearing about the next day. I am horrible to my family. They yell, they cry, and they lose sleep but in the end, they are my family and they tell me they love me, that I’ll be ok and to suck it up and deal. I do. Now, onto the part that isn’t about me. In five, ten, fifteen years I meet someone, a stranger, a friend, a family member. And now they have cancer. And maybe their supports aren’t like my supports. Maybe their foundation was never strong, or maybe life has demolished some of it. Their shaky at best, they don’t have my siblings, there is no parent there to catch them and no church to run to when it all becomes too much. Now maybe, everything that I am going to go through isn’t really about me, but about this person. This person that I have yet to meet. Maybe it had nothing to do with me at all, except to prepare me to help this other person. Maybe it’s all about them. In which case my question is answered. “Why me, God?” Because it’s not all about me.

Am I angry with God?

So on to my final hypothetical.
I can come up with, off the top of my head, 8 reasons that show that God is not a missing entity in my life. They span in ages from 2 to 24. They are the second generation of cousins in my family. The children of my sister and my cousins. And while on the topic, I can come up with at least three handfuls of siblings and cousins that fall into my “life is a blessing from God” category. Now, this is unlikely, but once again, I'm not in on the Plan, but just suppose that there had to be a choice made. Suppose that one of us had to have cancer, right now. That if it wasn’t me it would have to be one of them. Well, then there is no contest in my eyes. It’s me. I would go through any amount of pain, discomfort, sleeplessness and worry over my own future in order to prevent my loved ones – my supports – from ever having to go through an ounce of pain. If my illness, if my cancer in some way prevents even the smallest amount of hurt to one of my sisters, cousins or – God forbid – to that second generation of cousins and nephews, then I submit willingly. Not happily or with grace, because – well – this is still me. I whine. But with a whole heart to prevent this from happening to them. Or even if this does happen if my experience prepares me to catch this stupid, horrible, miserable disease early on, before it can harm one of my loved ones, than so be it. I will gladly go first and even more gladly be the only one to go through it, for them.

So, once again - Am I angry with God?
No.
With all that he has given me, I wouldn’t know how to be.

OK. So, I've never blogged before and I'm horrible about keeping a diary or a journal. However, it has been suggested that this would be an excellent way to keep people informed about my current medical crisis. As such, I will try to be faithful in updating so that this will be an infomative site as to what is actually happening.

And now for the disclaimer. When I do write, I don't tend to edit my words, so bad words sometimes slip through. Also, I also have a healthy sense of the ridiculous and that tends to color my writings in a, maybe, not so appropriate way. Most people tend to find my ramblings amusing, however, if after reading a few you are offended, you should probably stop. They won't be getting any better.

On to a little background. My name is Elizabeth Bauerlein. I am 27 years old and I have been diagnosed with Hodgkins Lymphoma. I will be posting some of my ramblings. These are just writings that I use to help me sort-out my own head. To make it easier for you, I am going to put titles on them and try to run them through spell check. But besides that, they will be unedited-elizabeth-weirdness. I'll post the first one shortly. Thats all. -Elizabeth