easy strider

Hey, it must be the good weekend (i get two of those a month...). Friday on my run I discovered that, even though I can't go long, I can go fast, for very short distances. (ok, fast is relative. fast for me is 6-7 min per mile, a mere jog for real runners). I started doing strides. To do a stride, you accelerate your pace for about 30 seconds, hold the fastest pace for another 30 seconds, then decelerate for 30 seconds. I warmed up with 15 min slow jog then i did 5 strides today. They are easy and fun and so much more gratifying than trying to push for more distance, with my chemo-body telling me to lie down every step of the way. It's a great alternative to ticking off the (non-existent) mileage.

So I registered for another 5K race. I'm already registered for the Komen race for the cure, in NY on Sept 10. I just now registered for the Lance Armstrong LiveStrong race in Austin Tx on October 8, which is AFTER all my o so pleasant sessions with the wondrous AC/Taxol elixirs.
Thus, even tho I can jog a 5k right now, by then I may be a lot more chemo-ed so we'll see. I am reasonably sure (as a lawyer, I am often "reasonably" sure), that I will be able to run at least some of the races, and if I need to walk a bit, then I'll freakin walk a bit. Since these races will be full of cancer-baldies like me, I am sure as hell not gonna stick out like a sore thumb, nor am I gonna shame myself with my slow ass run (well, uh I assume not...). so these events are tailor made. And, that means I take a wee vacance after chemo.

It's all excellent, dudes. Stride on.

*Kimba the white lion, courtesy of www.kimbawlion.com

cumulonimbus

Over and over I have heard, "chemotherapy's effects are cumulative." Thus it is with no real surprise that I inform you that round #3 has kicked some serious cancer grrl ass, mostly by rendering food and all thoughts of food instantly gag-worthy, but also by making me so tired that I had to freaking space some little walks into today's already truncated run. Ah well, as they say, Dis too shall pass. And, thank goodness for ensure.

drip, drip, drip...

I just returned from my third trip to the poison luncheonette a/k/a chemo cafe. I seem to be settling into a routine with this, body wise. One week of feeling sucky, one week of feeling pretty decent. So, as usual, I'm bargaining with myself, and with any deity who may be listening (like papa legba, f'rinstance...). I say, ok, I'll run more when I feel good, and less when I don't. No brainer, you say? Welllllll, uh, not for the aspergians amongst us. I happen to need routine like a fish needs water, like a crow needs carrion, like osama needs bush. (slipped that one in there, didn't I?). Hence, I am DAMNED upset when the routine is compromised. In my routine...every minute has some meaning attached, something I should be doing that makes me worthy and whole.
People don't understand the need for routine. Most people, i find, live these sort of carefree lives where they may get up, or they may press the snooze button. They may go home or they may go to a bar. On saturdays they may just go to the mall AT ANY TIME, or maybe they'll go play baseball, or eat some apple pie. The mind boggles.

Now, I have a morning routine that grows longer and longer. In fact, my morning routine is seriously encroaching on the hours i spend at work. And yet, every damned minute of my morning routine is necessary. I cannot get up and head straight out to work. I like my routine.

At work I also have a routine, or I DID, before this freaking drip trip. At a certain hour I can go to the private bathroom and stretch. At a certain hour I can have my luna bar. At a certain hour I will get lunch. However, NOW, the eating thing is so touchy, that I feel constantly freaked about what to eat, when. This plays hell with routine. Like, Tuesdays were always subway sandwich day. Now I dunno when I can eat a subway. I spend inordinate minutes thinking about this.

I can relax after about 5 or so. Then all bets are off, and the day's arbeiter has already macht mir frei. Then I can watch certain shows on TV, like simpsons and seinfeld. And I can spend a certain amount of time surfing channels. There is freedom in small things.

And, lest you get the wrong idea, I am not a neat person, or a tidy or organized person. However, I LIKE organization and crave it. Hence, I parcel out bits of time, nicely stacked and shuffled. BUT, time is elastic, so I always misjudge what kind of time i need. I don't want freedom. I want time.

At any rate, freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose. I like routines and schedules. Routine macht frei. Viva la routine!

*first picture is of the golden ratio. Second one is a sandwich.

You lookin' at ME??

I have (had) very very thick hair. So, despite the fact that it started falling out in clumps last week, i didn't look like i was losing hair at all. So, because I wanted to wear my wig without a carpet of insulating thatch warming my poor head even more, I decided last night to shave my head.

Not only do I have thick hair, but I also have extraordinarily coarse hair. So much so that I ruined several razor blades and only succeeded in shaving my temples. I persevered long enough to shave a pretty respectable mohawk, a la Travis Bickle, Wendy O'Williams and Mr. T, but I'm still determined to go scorched earth and shave it all off. So I ventured out of my cubicle at lunchtime and bought a 26 way pro hair style kit, which promises, inter alia, 10 attachment combs, styling clips, mustache trimmers, barber scissors and English/Spanish DVD.

Ok, I could have taken the smaller version, but I just wasn't convinced it would do the job. It called itself a "mustache trimmer," and, heh, the one good thing about losing hair is that you lose it from places you don't want it as well as places you do want it. So, any stache i may have had is way under control, and the hair on my head would just laugh at a mustache trimmer and chew it right up. So I opted for the big guns. Nevermind that I will probably only use it once.

That is, unless I LIKE being bald...which is entirely possible...

Incidently, I ran this morning. I was tired, but I don't feel that bad today. Less nausea, but exhaustion factor is pretty much the same. Handle-able tho. I just wish I didn't have to go to work...!

so, bald it is. You lookin' at ME?

Sick o' dis

I am mightily sick of chemo, and cancer and everything that goes with it. I don't wanna hear about it, don't wanna think about it, don't wanna see it, don't wanna talk about it. It must be day three: the bad day.

It is a good day to be Italian. It's a good day to be young, energetic, wild, rich, happy. It's a good day to be running. To be careless. To be going fast. To feel the wind in your hair and all that crapola. To be ravenous! To run into the pounding surf with your clothes still on. All that car/beer/shampoo/fragrance-ad shit.

The people around me want to live normal lives. I'm too freakin tired for normal life. Friends want to eat delicious food in shiny new restaurants. I can't tolerate even thinking about food. My cats even want more than I can give right now. They want rides on my back and chase games. I just want to lie in a heap.

I am mightily sick o' dis. I hate cancer.

expand your chest and your mind will follow

WArning: this post contains graphic descriptions; idiotic, anna nicole type confessions; and disses of moms and apple pies.

Yes, I had my 2nd chemo, and so far the nausea is nicely under control. I discovered that I had suffered some form of chemo brain last time, because instead of taking 3 of my anti nausea meds per day as instructed, I took ONE.

D'OH!!!!

like, uh, no wonder I was walking around seasick. I blame it all on my christian scientist upbringing, and resultant unshakeable med-phobia. THEY'RE poisoning me!!! (Ah. I should tell you all sometime about my mother, who was taken to the hospital in an ambulance b/c she was turning blue, and turned right around as soon as they looked the other way and signed herself out. Long story, but one of the highlights is that she confided to my brother that the hospital was a scam, and at night they turned off the lights and turned it into a disco. Oddly, those two evils must have been related in her mind....)

OR, maybe my chest has something to do with my lack of, um, brain power?

So...I'm not here today to speak to you about chemo, (incidently, YES, I'm tired.) nor am I here to dis my mother. I am here to give you a much needed EXPANDER update!!!

yes, for those of you who wonder, I had bilateral mastectomy with simultaneous reconstruction, which means that after they lop off your boobs, they put in two flat devices which, over the course of several filling-sessions, become rock hard, hockey puck shaped mounds in the area which used to contain fleshly glandular objects. You become, against all belief, a real life barbie doll (although I kept 'em small, deliberately. I mean, I love Pam Anderson as much as anyone, but it would REALLY hurt to inflate to that size. Also, I just don't have that much extra flesh).

The idea behind expanders (as if I have to spell this out) is to EXPAND the skin so that you can later put implants in. I mean, after a mastectomy, the whole thing is pretty much flat, and you don't have much skin there to work with. So they gotta STRETCH it. This is accomplished by going in every week or so and having them put in 50 ccs of saline.

After the saline fills, I'd be in some serious pain for about 24 hours, then it'd stop. It felt something like you'd expect, something like the incredible hulk must have felt when in the process of busting out of his clothing and turning green. Some weird kind of torture...yeah, we're gonna EXPAND you....
it wasn't sexy.

Anyway, all that's over. I also battled with a seroma for a while, which is fluid build up that isn't serious, and isn't painful, but is annoying as hell. slosh slosh. But that passed too.

Now, I don't see the plastic surgeon until after chemo is over, then I get my implants, AND (get this) I get tattoo on nipples. Heh.

The odd thing is, none of this seems to bug me at all. Should it? In fact, my plan is to be almost completely artificial by the time I'm 60. Perhaps I'll even consider uploading my mind into a computer. If my current med-instruction following ability is any indication, I won't need much disc space...


oops, forgot to dis apple pie. Well, dammit. Pie sux. There.

running on toxins

Pleased to report that I ran 2.5 miles yesterday and, in spite of the heat, felt pretty good. According to the bf, who accompanied me, I was going at a good clip. I have, for the duration of chemo, retired my sdm (speed/distance monitor) pod, because I cannot stand to see how slow I'm going these days, so it was good to hear that I was at least not going at too much of a snail's pace.

for those of you who wonder, my actual running form (muscles, etc) doesn't seem to have been affected much, which is sorta surprising, considering the bilateral mastectomy. I guess managed to keep some core strength with yoga, so things are relatively smooth, if maybe a tad too loose. However, of course my wind is not so great, and I tire easily in the lungs, but surprisingly not in the legs. Maybe I'm just not running enuff to tire my legs. Also, the tiredness is different than just being out of shape. It's more like an inability to recover or something. Hard to explain.

At any rate, today the blues hit. I went to work, but left early. I don't like 4th of July that much. Halloween is my preferred holiday. I like the cold, the night and the costumes. July 4 is a blatant, hot, loud, summertime celebration. Makes me feel like heading to some deserted, fog bound, Orkney type island.

Or, it could just be that I've got some unspecified melancholia, brought on by iron poor blood and the absence of toxins to fight.

Tomorrow I will run again, and promise not to overdo it (as if such a thing were possible...! I can barely make it my 2.5 miles). Then, Thursday is chemo #2, and it's back to the fight...

UPDATE: Tues, july 4: I ran 2.4 miles this morning. Yes, I confess I used my sdm and I was going at a decent rate for most of the run. Right now I feel...dare i say it, almost good? anyway. hot and muggy here. happy 4th.

out of the ashes

Now I will believe
That there are unicorns; that in Arabia
There is one tree, the phoenix' throne; one phoenix
At this hour reigning there. -- The Tempest








Feeling much better. Ran again yesterday (2mi), and today I did yoga and walked about 3.5 miles. IT LIVES....
Feeling a tad too, uh, contemplative? today to write a good blog. Guess I'll go back to eyeing my navel. Seems to be working.