Bone Marrow Aftermath.

Well, the silly bone marrow do-dah went better than I expected.  I made the staff laugh.  This is a good thing.  (I think.....)

"It's probably a good thing you're not giving me Demerol.  I'd be singing."

"That's OK, you sing if you want to."

 And yes, I sang.  Of course.

A lot of pressure.  It's not something I'd want to do again but it wasn't too terribly bad.  Now that the lidocaine has worn off, it hurts.  I did get to see the little piece of bone they took out. Nurse Nancy was pleased they got such a good sample.  (Groovy....)

The best part was afterwards at my friends' Al and Terry's house where I had homemade omelettes.  When I went to the ladies' room, my dressing came off (which was to be expected).  With my drawers down in back, I waddled into their kitchen and said, "Which one of your guys can put a band-aid on my arse."  There was a pregnant pause and Al went to fetch a band aid.

His retort was, "It's been a loooooong time since I've seen a woman's arse." LOL!

Wisdom From Ann Lamott vis-a-vis Bone Marrow Crap

Thank you Joni Liebel for sharing  Anne Lamott....these lines rang well with me even though she's (Anne) about five steps ahead of me.

"I have long since weeded out people who might respond to my condition by saying cheerfully, "God's got a perfect plan." Really? Thank you! How fun. 

"There is no one left in my circle who would dare say, brightly, "Let Go and Let God," because they know I would come after them with a fork."

Let today's games begin!!  I will feel a sense of major accomplishment if I don't find myself running down the hall in a backless hospital gown as they try to do whatever they're going to do with my bone marrow today while I reenact "The Scream" in real life.

I can do this.  It's just a big prick (or a poke) and a big sting and a fair amount of pressure.  I've dated those before.

First Day of Testing.....The Ugga-Mugga-Walla-Walla Heart Do-Dad

I have a heart.  I've seen it!  LOL!  It looked like stars, like a galaxy through a big telescope.  They took blood from me, put some tin in it, and stuck it back with radioactive shit so I would be all glowy!  The tech, Tim, was nice and kind of funny. I think he read me pretty well because he showed me one of the pictures. I came home, ate two sandwiches and SLEPT.

I've been thirsty as hell.

However.....on a totally downer note.....

My regular doctor has dropped the ball. The ball that is me.  I asked for a lidocaine cream script and help getting a temp handicapped placard for the car.  I really need one for whoever's car is nice enough to take me places.

Nixed on both. "You have to get that from whoever is doing your treatments."  Really?  REALLY? Seriously?  WTF?

The Barrage of Appointments

....It felt good to have a ride my friend's convertible and feel the wind whip through my hair late this afternoon!  But I do need to sleep.  Stupid.

A fun filled week ahead: Tomorrow (Friday) the Cancer Shrink ("Can you shrink this?"), Yeah, I snapped that appt. up like an alligator!

Rehearsal for my show Saturday a.m.

Monday the Mugga Heart Scan (yes, I have a heart but a mugga sounds like a Marx Bros. stage direction...."And Chico does a mugga..."

Tuesday the somewhat dreaded Bone Marrow Biopsy Needle Crap thing.  "Can I have a tequila sunrise infusion with that too?" Because apparently they don't give you sh*t except a local. Where's my calming meds or twilight sleep?  I just have to put on my big girl pants and pony up.

Wednesday is the PET scan and I highly doubt that has anything to do with the backseat of a '57 Chevy or massage.

Thursday is OFF!!! for good behavior!  I need to do something awesome!!  What shall I photography that day??

Friday is the dreaded Port Insertion.  They put me out for that one. Groovy, baby.
Wednesday the 6th is meeting with first oncologist and hopefully that is the week for second opinions. Oh, that's going to be a f----- weird day.....

Niece Alexandra suggested I start taking a stuffed animal to be my friend, so I chose this one out of all the bears and bunnies.

S/he doesn't have a name, any suggestions? I was going to take my stuffed Grinch, LOL!  That seemed a bit random and weird.....but maybe a bit "me" too. (he's very soft actually) What do you all think?  I'm on the fence....

Alexandra also suggested taking tunes.  My MP3 players are a bit long in the tooth and don't hold charges well but they'll do just fine.  I have a nook too, thank God.

Today's No News Neck Stuff

Back home from the doc and NO NEWS! They were still waiting on the damn labs to come back and be read or whatever the hell they do with the crap they take out of you. I know nothing except he didn't like the looks of what he took out of me last Monday. And the swelling neck stuff is more crap in there. Seriously? That could have come out to while you were in there!

Groovy. Not. It's not his fault, it's the lab taking their time staining the slides or whatever the hell they do. They were calling the lab and leaving messages for the head lab doctor. So my ENT said he'd call me by the end of the day with either results or more of an idea when there would be results. I texted family earlier and ended my text with Well. F---- (spelled) and (oops) sent that mass text to my m-i-l. Sorry! My bad Potty Mouth and Fingers! Of course she's a nurse; I'm sure she's heard way worse!

A couple of words I didn't want to hear: lymphoma, stages (and not the kind you act on) oncologist, chemo, radiation, bone marrow biopsy..... For some reason the remote possibility of an autoimmune thing didn't phase me as much. 

I need to put on my big girl panties and suck it up. Three meltdowns a day. I've had one already. But I will say "sh*tf--kbuggerf--kf--kbuggersh*t" quite a lot. Because sometimes there's nothing like some good old fashioned cussing! Thanks for caring, God/dess knows I feel the love and support.

Opportunity Wasted In An Overdose

Am I supposed to feel sorry for the young person who overdosed after doctors spend hours and hours getting his bad leg straight again (basically making him a new hip and thigh)?  A surgery that cost tens of thousands of dollars so, with work and healing, he could walk normally again, eventually being able to hike or cycle and live a normal life?  Why am I pissed?

Why am I pissed after watching my spousal unit suffer daily from chronic pain, lack of free mobility, going through two knee replacements and two back fusions and yet he still keeps moving ahead?  Why do I feel this kid was a selfish brat because he couldn't suck it up for a while and deal with the pain of his surgery and rehab? We knew this kid; he occasionally would come and hang out while the others painted and scrapped our house.

I bet the medical team is wondering why they bothered when there are people in need of the same kind of surgery that would pony up and put up with it all. Not only did this kid kill himself and rip his mother's heart out, he wasted a fantastic opportunity.

Why are we supposed to feel compassion for the drug addict who won't get help, who won't work a program or who won't say, "Enough is enough.  I'm getting off this ride?" I've known young and old people who just "do it."  I met one recently and I think of him daily with affection, respect and prayers of support for his continuing recovery.
Why is it that the only people I feel sorry for are the families of addicts; the people who put their lives, hearts, health, pocketbooks, houses on the line?  The families that never go on vacation, that neglect other family members, that go broke (or worse into serious debt), that have to get their family member arrested; THOSE are people I feel sorry for.

Can I pray for the addict?  Sure.  But I can't seem to get up one ounce of compassionate feeling. All my compassion goes to his family. I'm tired of the selfishness and self-absorption of addicts.

Why is the only person I feel heart-broken for is his poor mother who poured her heart, soul, time, money, energy into this kid?  I feel devastated for her; that's her kid, her baby. She has to walk forward in life, one faltering footstep at a time.  He's out of pain. He's free.  All the rest of his family and friends are left to wonder why, especially when given such an opportunity to recover and live a normal life, would he make that conscious choice to use?  The women will be weeping and the men will be pissed. All I can come up with is "his poor mother!"

Artie & Elke July 10th, 2014: A dialogue of sorts

Elke: So yesterday that nice guy comes to our house with cameras and such.
Artie: A person! A Person! Throw MY TOY!! Yeah! Yippee!! Somebody to throw a toy for me! 
Elke: He's a nice guy even if he DOES smell like other dogs. 
Artie, Hey dude, hey dude, hey mister, throw my Hollee Roller thing! I will chase it and shake it and jump for it!
Elke: Mom tells me to sit and makes the squeaky noise. She has treats. He take pictures of me. She takes pictures of me.
Artie: HEYHEYHEYTHROWMYDAMNTOY!
Elke: Really?
Artie: It's a visitor and we are outside! It's toy time! Throw my toy!!!! Yippeeee!!! Toy time!
Elke: OK, let him be an athletic jerk. Mom has treats in her pocket...

The Family Reunion Picnic

A family reunion picnic.....
"Damn, Uncle Grinch hit the sauce again...."
"I'm taking Freddy's iPod from him! He can talk to people, for crying out loud!"
"Aunt T makes the best tea!"
"Ralph better not be hiding a bearlie magazine inside that Peter Rabbit book...."
"Did Cecy break up with ANOTHER guy again. She's picking daisies. That whole 'he loves me, he loves me not' schtick!"