How useful are we?

Some days, I feel like I have so much to try and contribute to the world. Other days, I feel like I'm all used up. Why do we continue when we're used up?

No news is good news, bad news, or too busy to write.

If you picked curtain #3, you're RIGHT!

No good news, really. Arm sucks. Breast hasn't magically grown back. Usual battlegrounds are in use.

Bad news? Eh, who knows at this point. It all blurs together - my new normal is so different than what I had for so long. Hard to get used to it all. But, here I am.

Some days, I feel invincible. Like, I'm going to be ok for a few more years. You know, at 100% of whatever I could possibly have in me. Other days, I feel like I'm playing a cruel video game and I have half of a heart left out of 10.

But, maybe I can find some sort of a "cheat code" to life. My daughter told me about cheat codes one day, and I said, well that's cheating. Is that really fun when you're playing a game? Right now? I'd definitely like a cheat code, as long as it didn't downgrade my happiness, or make me feel worse physically and mentally (see: happiness).  

Meanwhile, the holidays loom. Last year we gave away our tree. It served us well, but we decided against putting it up. I keep suggesting putting our favorite ornaments on our houseplants. We have so many (plants, not ornaments). Maybe I'll just do it. In my spare time. Get it? Spare. Time. HAHAHAH!

Does my Lymphedema make my arm look fat?

It feels SO heavy and full today. I have been nonstop for the past month+. Not enough sleep. Too much working. I'm so glad I am now wearing a sleeve during the day, as I know it helps so much.

In fact, I get compliments on them. People ask where they can get them - they think it's a decorative thing! *I wish*

Maybe my lymphedema will force me to rest more. I caught a cat nap earlier, and I fell into a full on dreaming sleep, in 30 minutes. 

Interestingly, I think my arm looks smaller, now that I wear my sleeve. I mean, when I take it off, it looks kind of puny. My other one? I work out, and it does show. Lefty does just as much work, but somehow it looks smaller. The good news is that it looked that way before the lymphedema set in (one of the signs for me was when they looked even, and then it looked bigger - since I'm a righty, it was always the bigger arm). So, yes. I'm grateful for that. Of course, when I wear the sleeve, I hate how my arm DOESN'T look rocked. Muscle-wise, anyway. It looks like a girl arm. Like, a skinny fat arm. You know what I'm talking about - the slim girls who can't lift a pencil. Soft, mushy arms. I know there are worse things, but I like feeling AND looking strong. I want someone who is potentially out to mess with someone to look at me and think, "Hm. That one looks like she could put up a good fight". Yup, I always want to avoid a fight. 

So, here I am. Life sentence of a sleeve/gauntlet, exhausted beyond belief! Exhausted, delirious, and today I actually skipped the gym. Other than traveling, I'm very consistent. since I only had about 3 hours of sleep last night, my pillow and I needed to be BFF's. Imagine, if I'd gone to the gym at my regular time, I would have had 1 hour of sleep. Yes. I do believe I made the right decision.

Is it PTSD, fear of the unknown (same thing), or having a teenage daughter (same thing)?

Sigh. It's been a long time. Every time I think of blogging, I'm too busy. I have barely seen my husband in a month, and yes - we live together and love each other!  2 freelancers are sometimes not even ships passing in the night. But, we love what we do. I wish we made more cash for the splash, so that we could afford more time together (eh, maybe a coffee once in a while?), but, we agree on our life choices and will never change ourselves or each other. So, here we are. Perhaps it's one reason we're so in love. A lot of first dates!

Got more lymph sleeves, from LympheDivas - these are way cuter!!! People ask where they can get them (without lymphedema!). People think I have full sleeve tattoos, or that I have a quirky but cool sense of style. Maybe I do - but this is necessity.

My teen daughter? She's an amazing person. But, she's a teen. So much of my time home this month has been spent Momming. Hubby is an incredible parent. Ex hubby? A disaster. In fact, every time my daughter returns from his place, we work so hard to get her as close to human again as we can. But, I divorced him. We teach her, and show her affection and love her, discuss values and morals. And we pay for everything. But, we make our choices in life, and hubs and I choose to be good people.

But, anyway, it's so hard when you're tired, in pain, overworked, traveling too much, and not seeing your loves enough. Fuses are short. Tempers flare. And other catch phrases that describe the situation. But, here we are.

I head out again this weekend, and then next week am slammed again. I'm not sure exactly when I'll rest, but I'm hoping before my tryptophan induced Thanksgiving nap. Which actually doesn't happen to me, since I am not the biggest turkey fan (that stuffing, though!!!)

My acupuncturist left the hospital. She has saved my life. The whole place is crumbling, and the main reason I've remained a patient there is for acupuncture. Now? My oncologist is ok, but his assistant is a total idiot, and rude as hell. Can I find a new oncologist at a friendly place with integrative therapies? Can I also find a unicorn to ride to all of my gigs on? I may need a pegasus, but then - what's border control like when leaving the country? If it smells like pegasus droppings, I'll take a plane. Though, some of them WISH they could smell as good as pegasus droppings.

Besides magical creature dung, life isn't awful. Found a massage place nearby where they actually do a nice job, cheap. The best part, however, are the signs on the walls. "NO HANKY PANKY!"  It makes it more charming. And less disgusting.  Been there twice, and am definitely a fan. The first time was a 60 minute reflexology session. Heaven on two feet!  And deep!  Next, full body, sans arm. She asked if I got hurt, and when I told her it was lymphedema, she totally seemed to understand. Both clinicians were good instinctually, and I'm so happy they're close and cheap! Did I mention, close and cheap? The only thing I will say about those places - bring earplugs! Curtains partition the rooms, and sound travels, no matter how much Kenny G they're pumping. Plus, you need earplugs if that's your only ambient noise. Seriously.

Wishing I had better news

So far, my insurance has rejected my appeal for a lymph specialist. Because, clearly, they would rather pay for a lot more crap down the road if I have a giant arm.

I've been taking matters into my own, incapable hands. One of which is numb a lot.

If I wear my sleeve/gauntlet idiocy starting around 4:45 as I leave for the gym, and leave it on until night time (yes, I take it off to shower, and yes, I take the gauntlet off and stuff it in my bra as I use the bathroom and wash hands - glad it's not a one piece!), I feel much more like me.

Except, I look like an idiot with a weird arm.

I can't believe nobody has come up to me declaring their firm belief that one should not wear just one athletic sleeve. You know. They're all the rage. Compression sleeves for people without lymphedema.

Meanwhile, back in my world, these things are expensive. I wish I could just go buy an athletic sleeve. I could get 5 for the price of one lymphedema sleeve. The gauntlet is a separate purchase, but still. I don't have a therapist (can't afford that price tag, nor should I have to, since I have "good" insurance) to tell me what to wear. But, I don't want to injure myself of make the condition worse. Because it sucks as it is, trust me!

Oh, my aching lymph...

Well, I called a few places, and nobody is in my insurance network. Lymph is big business. One of the best, so I hear (and I did meet her a few years back), is a whopping $250/session. Out of network. Also, out of price range. I'm having a heck of a time finding a reasonable costing lymphedema specialist who is attainable on a regular persons budget (keep in mind that I am a musician, so my budget is much lower than most!)

I know I have it. I know I have it. I know. I have tried wishing it away, hoping I could fool my body with my mind. My body is way too smart and/or stubborn to change. The pressure and pain are real.

So, in my frustration, I tried on my sleeve/gauntlet that I got as a preventative measure. I wore it about 15 minutes. It looks dorky as hell. It makes it impossible to type. And, it felt wonderful.

Crap.

I didn't want it on too long. I did some self massage to hopefully drain some of the fluid and then popped it on. Showed hubby. I need someone to bedazzle something to put over it. Stat.

I have a plain black and a plain purple. I mean, what's the point of having a dumb thing to wear for a medical reason if it doesn't look super crazy? Plain? Me? ME?

Sigh. Anyway, it's been off about 5 minutes and I'm already feeling it again. It was my little experiment. I was right.

So, the search continues. I need someone to help. I am hoping to see my acupuncturist next week, before I get on a plane. Of course, no needles on the affected side, but she can certainly drain some of that energy out. I mean, for real - this does not feel amazing.

Also, think of the tan lines.

I hate looking up lymphedema online, because I see these horrendous, giant limbs. Infections. Grossness in general. I don't want to be that. I want to be me. I'll accept the fake boob, the scars, the lack of a nipple and a crude tattoo job by my surgeon to trick my brain when I look into a mirror from far away. Got it.

But a giant arm?

NOOOOO!!!

I found this online. Because, you can pretty much learn anything on Youtube. It seems legit. I tried it. I actually felt a little better, but perhaps because one of my cats sat next to me and rubbed my arm as I followed the destructions. I mean, instructions.

Who knows how bad it will get. I'm hoping that with my determination, OCD, and will to not have a giant, mutant arm, I will somehow keep it to a dull roar. It feels all sorts of f'd up. Is this my future? Eek. But, oddly, my arm feels as heavy as this one looks.

Cancer Center - it gives me more cancer!

Finally went to see my oncologist today for my arm worries. Of course, it didn't flare up. He said I looked great. I told him everything. He said, next time it flares up, call me and I'll see you or you can measure it and send photos if you're not in town. Cool.

But the before and after? A hot mess.

I showed up early, as always. Because people are not smart.

I almost hate that I love my doctors. But, I do. The security guy couldn't find my name on the appointment list, so he just told me to go back, which really helped to make me feel secure. Apparently I was on the list, but they said no labs were indicated. Thank GOD, though that's never happened before. Saw my oncologist, talked about my arm. Of course, for the first day in a week, I didn't have a flare up (and am, of course, having one as I type). So we measured my mammoth biceps. I hope he has recovered from the shock of the gun show. Hah. Actually, he said "Don't flex!  I know you workout!" Love him. He knows me so well. He knows about our cats, kids, careers, likes, dislikes... oh, I wish he had a private practice.

He said he ordered bloods and pointed at the screen, so back out I went to the front, after unsuccessfully trying to book my next appointment for lack of staff at the desk. Dude could not spell my name, which is simple. I don't mumble. I found my name on his list for him. He checked me in and said to wait for the vampires, as I usually do upon entering, before my appointment. 

Sat there, a few minutes later someone popped out and asked my name. They disappeared for about 10 minutes. So, I took a walk back to the front (security) to see what was going on, which was empty! Again, super duper security. So I went back, asked them what was up, and they said they were trying to find the order. 

I then walked back to my oncologists office, and nobody was there. A patient, who also works there (has cancer, but works in a different division) , was talking to me and another lady - we had a great discussion about sugar and diet with cancer (which docs seem to avoid, and yes, the woman who worked there didn't know a thing about this stuff, so a lovely woman and I got into a big discussion about it all with her, at least that was a good thing that came from this hellish cancer day!)... and she was still waiting for her appointment. She asked what was going on, since I'm sure I looked a little pissed off. I told her what happened since I had walked in the door. She said, if the doc wanted labs, I should really wait. I told her if they wanted my blood, they'll get it next time. IF I can make another appointment! 

Do I even want to? 

I'm definitely calling him tomorrow. We have a good relationship, I'm probably one of his more open, honest, and crazy patients. So, I now know what I knew going in. I need to monitor my arm. Duh. He said he would like me to return during holiday time - but since there was nobody, anywhere, to schedule that, perhaps it's a sign.  Maybe I am my best doctor. I mean, I'm prescribing all of my own treatment now and paying out of pocket. How much should I charge myself for this? Is there an online degree I could get, so I feel more official? 

All we can do is our best - but most of those people do their absolute lazy-worst. I also want to note that I like the nurses there. Each one, they can handle me. I had a parade of fun health practitioners checking all my crap. Why are these very important health care centers failing so badly? At this rate, I don't want to go back for a few years while I cool off. I know it's not smart of practical, but I don't need stress. I already have Cancer - it's built in!!! I will be calling my oncologist tomorrow morning and will tell him all of this. And that, even if I don't come back for the holidays like he wants, I may just bake something for him anyway. Because, it's not his fault that they are nincompoops.  

And, my arm progresses to throb and feel heavy. Lord, why didn't it do that a few hours ago???

One week later...

Been not completely awesome since my last post - I checked to see how long ago it was because I remembered feeling like crap on a cracker. It's been exactly a week.

Woke up this morning feeling not great, but as the morning progressed, in utter pain. In my gut. Like, cramps. The worst PMS feeling ever, including my mood. I did make it to the gym, and since last night I felt all lymphedema-ey in my arm, I took it light. Cramping. Finished weights somehow (wimpy, that's how!) and plopped on a recumbent bike. Cramping. Burned a few more calories, and made it home with hubby.

We've both been overworking, and it's stressful. Put pain on top of it, and it's a disaster.

He went for a haircut, even though he looks like he has a military buzz (which I don't mind, but I wish he could go less frequently, or let me buzz it!) and I laid down on my bed of nails! It always feels good/tortuous. Usually, I can't take it for long. I fell asleep. Hard. Woke up, not because I was in pain, but because I got a text from a friend I had to meet today. It was definitely helpful.

But, while I was situating myself ,  my larger and quite lovable cat climbed on my belly, as he likes to do. He stepped in my hip crack (groin) area and I felt a pain. Moved him to safer terrain and felt a pebble. Yup. A swollen lymph node. Is it related to my lymph issues in my arm? Is it trying to take the burden of draining where 6 are missing a bit too seriously? I've had this before, in my life. As a younger lady, without insurance, I'd never had it checked. When I learned about lymph, I never worried and figured it was helping me get rid of the bagel/candy/chocolate I might have had that day.

Do I worry about this? I'm so tired of medicine. What will they do if I have a secondary cancer? Start killing me again? Wouldn't I rather die naturally? I watched my mom go, and she spent years of being a pincushion/poison center/guinea pig, basically wanting to die after all of that bs. I had a nice taste of it though my treatment. I also wanted to die.

This cramping today made me want to basically kill anyone. Anyone. Hold the door for me? I will have to kill you. Smile? Kill.

So, hubby and I, when my tummy started to calm from my nail bed nap, went to Bed Bath and Beyond to return an item. I hate having dead stuff around, it's bad energy. At least if we bring it back and get our store credit, it makes life better. One less thing to deal with. Right?

Eh. I couldn't have chosen a worse day. In the store, he asked if we have to return it first and then go to the register. I told him, I'm pretty sure most stores let you exchange at the customer service desk. He asked me again. And again. And once more. By this time, I said, "I don't work here". And he got mad. Sure, if I said it the first time, but here I was, fighting to stand upright while looking for stuff for him, and he doesn't stop. I said, the general rule that I know of in retail, is that when someone returns an item, they will be able to ring up a new purchase even if it's totally different.

Which is true.

And, it was still true today.

I sometimes wonder if hubby likes to irritate me. Like, he is so calm and I'm the wild one. Perhaps that is true in general, but dang, dude. I feel like I'm going to drop dead, and you keep harassing me about a store policy in a store I've walked into maybe 7 times in the past 15 years?

I know why my mom gave up. Her partner was nothing more than a moron with a bad attitude, no social graces, and was just disgusting. My partner is good. Nobody is perfect, but dang... customer service will exchange for you.

We still need a hair catcher for our bathtub, which was one thing we didn't find. The other one disintegrated between my hair and my daughter's hair. A bit of a Lady Godiva vibe in this house - except for Military Weekly Cut.

I love him. But sometimes, I don't know what to do. He probably doesn't either, and that scares him. He wants to fix everything. I want an ear to listen and a heart to love.

Yeah, I know. I should call my doc. I planned on calling my oncologist regarding the arm issues. I'll tell him about the groin marble. But I swear, if I have more cancer, I'm going to just Cheech & Chong until the end. I wish my mom could have died feeling no pain, only goofiness. I will not go down like she did.

Maybe a hot salt bath will help. I had a clementine and a bunch of kombucha and golden milk, a little yogurt - just now a home fizzed club soda with some grape stevia - I just want stuff that won't make it worse. I guess I'm, except the clementine, on a liquid diet today. It always makes me nervous when I don't want food, because I'm always hungry. It's my thing. But a day off of chewing too much is good. Oops, I forgot that I had a piece of persimmon bread that I had baked last night. Sigh...

How can I explain this feeling of WHAAAAAAHAPPA????

It comes and goes. It's a feeling of nausea mixed with I want to lay down for a week.

I think, sometimes, life gets overwhelming - and now that I'm a chronic patient, I've somehow programmed my head to stop overdoing it. Sometimes I have no choice, and I magically get through it, only to collapse at the finish line. And retreat into my mode of not being able to move.

Feeling like that, this weekend. Made it to the gym both days. Today was more productive than yesterday (which was my daughter's birthday, so I'm glad I could put on a spunky face and have fun with her). As soon as she left to see her dad? COLLAPSE.

Today, went to the gym with hubby. Didn't feel great, but since I had to skip two days this past week, and, he's such a badass and he deserves a month of hiding under the covers and crying for all that he has done and continues to do, I went. I did ok. Got home, showered, did laundry (which I have not done for years - no joke - but since he's so busy I volunteered, and somehow, it all came out in the wash!) Walked him to his bus to go to a meeting out in the boonies, and felt foggy headed. Stopped by an amazing outdoor flea market. We have tons in our neighborhood but this one was actually enjoyable. Almost bought a vintage typewriter - I have a thing for those and haven't gotten one yet, but I cringed at the thought of even hauling it to the corner for a cab. That's how weird I felt.

Walked to the grocery store and got a few things. Got home. Ate a clementine and drank a huge amount of water. A bit better. Cleaned the fridge, because it wigged me out. And now, I sit thinking I should at least go to the garden and pluck some offending weeds and see how the tomatoes are doing. Maybe grab some basil. It's safe enough, it's just across the street. If I feel awful I can come home.

I honestly believe it's my body saying "Don't do this to yourself again, dummy. The cancer can't kill you if you're feeling good. Rest."

Promise. I will make a delicious dinner (roasted organic chicken breast and salad with a little feta) for us, see hubs off to his gig, and watch a movie in bed. It may do me good to go to the garden and ground in the soil with the plants and junk. You know. Back to nature in the big city. I always feel better, but  today feels harder to motivate. I'm amazed that I walked about 40 minutes without having some dramatic episode of collapsing on the sidewalk. What in the heck is this, actually? I am tired of docs.

Maybe it's my supplements. I take a day off once in a while, and decided today was a good choice. You know. Cleanse out ye olde system and what not. Been doing my kombucha, which has been brewing amazingly well.

If I feel foggy tomorrow, I'll call my doc. At least the nausea has passed. I'm sure I've felt like this before cancer, but now - EVERYTHING is cancer in my mind. Just found out our very good friend has Multiple Myeloma. I'm not too keen on the whole chemo thing, but that's what they say they'll do. He's too old for this. I wish I could be his advocate, but he has family. I'm just hoping that they think and don't just follow the herd. We think of him as family, and if anyone does anything to not help him for the benefit of profit, I will be kicking some ass in some way. I hate this. All of it. I know he won't do a lot of the stuff I do, but the medical community is not as helpful as they are money-hungry. Which makes me want to vomit on the entire "industry". Maybe that nausea is coming back, after all. But, to the garden I go - to connect with nature, and hopefully no bugs.

A day off, not by choice.

Yesterday, I didn't hear my 4:15am alarm. Sure, that seems like a smart move. I woke up after 5am. Couldn't lift my head off of the pillow. Woke up again at 7:20. Mind you, I have a slew of "safety alarms" that must have gone off, that I must have snoozed. Never heard them. I gave up. Cancelled my daytime plans with very groggy texts. Not like me at ALL.

I was in and out of a weird daze, until about 3pm. Really? Yes. Was I drugged? No.

Hubby was very, very sick. A while back, he had an MRI because he had migranes that made him puke. He's also not a canceler, but he did. He had some cold, or, as we thought, allergy symptoms as well. I had the same for the past few days. Sneezing, sniffles, coughing... in fact, in my daze, I found a cup of ice cold throat coat tea by the bed. I'm sure it was steaming hot at some point.

This scares me, yet I know it's probably just super charged exhaustion and stress. It has been a CRAZY month or more for both of us. I think my body learned to shut me down early and forcefully. Do you believe that cancer is caused or helped along with stress? I do. Absolutely. Whatever starts it, if your stress is through the roof, or exhaustion, it is allowed to grow and prosper and take over your world, which is your body, of course!

So, instead of trying to fight (which, quite honestly, would be impossible given that I could barely get up to use the restroom), I went.

I did make a nice dinner, simple and pretty clean. Went to bed and watched a few movies, as I didn't want to wake at 2am and be Cornholio'd!!!

This morning I started waking up at 4. Still a bit foggy and groggy, but the worst has passed. Forced myself to chill until 8. Been doing my kombucha making, had a nice bulletproof coffee, and am now thinking, in this horrible thunderstorm (and yes, I missed the most perfect day yesterday - and anyone who knows me, knows that it ONLY if I'm deathly ill!) I should get to the gym. May wait for hubby to arise, so he can make sure I don't die while there. Safety first!

We'll see. Our anniversary is next week - no real plans but we need a fancy dinner.As long as I can get rid of whatever is trying to kill me from the inside! Yes. Think positively. I got the rest I needed, and I can take it easy until I'm myself again.

July... Mom's birthday coming up, and I've been a patient nearly 3 years? What the heck?

Time flies, and now, it's July.

My mom's birthday is fast approaching. She would have been 75. She died 25 years ago, and it hurts just the same.

Our 3 year anniversary is fast approaching, which means my 3 year cancerversary is right behind it. Weird. All this stuff. Not to mention my daughter's birthday, my birthday a month later (right around my cancerversary), then hubbys birthday the next month, and then, the slaying of Native Americans (I'm part, just FYI) while people gorge on enough food to feed a village, vapid gift gimmee, and then a whole new year!

Yeah.

Well, the usual battles are going on, except it's hard to keep my head on straight when hubby is so tired that we think he has a brain tumor.  He had an MRI and it's clear, so it is now assumed that he need to stop and breathe. The problem with being freelancers, you don't dictate your downtime. Your bills do, and ours say work 24/7. We love what we do. I'd love for hubby to no longer get migranes that make him puke.

At least we know he's not pregnant.  ;)

Off to pack for another one off in a foreign country. Did one a couple of weeks ago. I love work, but the travel...

And on a good note, my daughter is definitely on an attitude upswing. Let's hope we can keep her in our mood and outlook corner. Parenting is so challenging, with or without cancer. I've learned to bite my tongue, and let thoughts roll around in my head and soften, before I speak. Sometimes, I can actually do it. It's all about getting better, right?

Heading into June, are we?

Well, THAT was fast! I mean, life. It's not over, but dang. How is it that it moves at warp speed and, as kids we think it moves slowly until we're well into adulthood. Perhaps it's when we can really feel our mortality. Regardless, I'm trying to enjoy every moment.

I've now been on my waking up at 4:15am drill for maybe 2 months?  Get to the gym at 5am (the opening bell), workout for between an hour and an hour and a half (depending on how I'm feeling, my cario-abilities etc.) Some days, it's weights for 30, cardio for the same. Some days, it's weights for 60 and maybe no cardio, or at least something - even 15 minutes helps the quest.

I'm definitely improving. My body, my mood, my choices. But I still feel empty. It's been a very rough few months with my daughter (the teen years - and I know it could be worse, but, my girl is so stubborn).  She did SO well and then we had issues with her not wanting to do her work (which, by the way, she could knock out of the park in 20% of the time her fellow students could. I'm not saying that as her mom, but as someone in the know). It hurts me to see this happen.

If I had followed in my dad's footsteps, I'd likely be dead. He's still alive, but the way that he functions in the world, the way he (doesn't) take care of himself, the disregard he has for others - eh, I'd have no career, no life, no hope.

Dark, huh?

Coincidentally, a clap of thunder rang as I typed that.

It's like a time release thing, parenting. It's like taking a slow releasing pill, but instead of 8 hours, it's 40 years. You just have to make sure you complete administering the medication. You have to see it through no matter how much it seems it isn't working, how much it may hurt emotionally, how tired it makes you feel. The side effects can suck, but once in a while that light shines in and you see it. You see glimmers of success. It's like trying to stretch out all that nasty scar tissue after surgery. Hurts. Feels odd, and sometimes wrong. But you keep going, safely, and eventually, that range of motion is better than ever. Or at least, as good as you can get it, and better than you had imagined it could be.

I think back to coming home from my mastectomy. I felt so awful, so violated and mutilated. I felt destroyed as a human being who lived her life doing all of the right things enough of the time that this never should have happened. But then, it did. I could barely walk, I couldn't stand up straight, the drains hurt, the site hurt, my heart hurt, and I couldn't always see the light. But I stretched, I did what I could do, we massaged out the cording (so painful, it hurts to even hear the word!) I had to make a decision, every minute, of how I would live. Much of the time, I didn't want to. But that shifted as I felt changes in my own body, from the painful work.

I guess parenting is the same.

I'm gonna feel like a walking miracle when she grows up and things work out, just like my scar tissue.

My weight has been difficult these past few months.  I'm still small, but it has felt wrong.

So, in the past 2 weeks, hubby and I have been doing more intense intermittent fasting. Actually, a mishmash of things - so it's not actually fasting in the Gandhi sense, but it has definitely helped out. And my energy has been good - trying to get to bed in time to get a full nights sleep is challenging, but I'm getting at least as much sleep as I did before - not always, but enough that this whole shift in my schedule has been really beneficial. And, regardless of the numbers (though I'm glad they're heading back home), I feel stronger and happier. But I was at rockbottom for long enough that anything can feel better.

Speaking of fasting, gotta cook up a gorgeous grass fed organic steak for my girl. I'm going to steal a slice, but am really looking forward to my huge salad and homemade soup (bone broth, shiritaki noodles, veggies, cayenne and salt and pepper - it's ridiculously good). Maybe we'll even bake some cookies. I can't be a saint all the time! ;)

Deep breath, and... garden.

The garden deadline is in 10 days.

What?

Yeah. I belong to a community garden. More accurately, my daughter does. Because it takes forever to get a patch unless you're a kid - they get priority. So every family with a kid in our complex signs their kid up. Theoretically it's to encourage the children to garden alongside the old folks. In theory - super. In reality, I was digging up the hard soil from this awful winter, plucking weeds, putting the dead rosemary bush to rest in the compost, pretending I know how to do garden stuff. I even planted a half dead rosemary bush we bought a week and a half ago. Whoopee.

I do like the garden, occasionally. I have to hit the farmers market to get some starters. Ain't no way in hell I'm going to try and actually put seeds in the dirt. I mean, I've tried, and I've laughed. At least laughter is good medicine, right?

Saw a friend who also is part of the losing boob parts cancer world. She had a lumpectomy - stage zero, but still - losing a part is losing a part. She went through 5 weeks of radiation. And is, I found out today as I scanned the dirt for disgusting worms to avoid (luckily, there were none!), refusing tamoxifen. I was relieved. I know, perhaps it helps some - but I haven't met one woman who hasn't hated this. Except for one - but she has no ovaries and stuff and is way past menopause junk. I guess I should say anyone under 50.

It was nice to catch up. Apparently her doc is smart and says that losing a few pounds is way more beneficial in cancer recurrence prevention than that poison. My clan of docs agree and love what I'm doing.

My new 5am gym routine is amazing. It's nuts. Yesterday we were out all day, and I had WAY more to drink than I usually do. I have actually barely been drinking, but it was a birthday celebration followed by a gig where I wasn't playing, so what the heck, right? I thought, maybe I'll skip the gym in the morning.  WRONG! I woke up at 4 instead of 4:30! So I looked on my phone a bit when I realized sleep was no longer an option, got up and dressed in my workout finery, and cleaned up a bit since I couldn't show up before the opening bell. Weird, no?  Had a good workout. I always do in the morning. There's something about being that fresh for the day. No excuses. I lift about an hour if I get there at 5 on the dot. Including abs. I have been feeling fairly badass, and recently when I do straight barbell curls (no 21's, but just full reps) I've been manning up to a 60 lb bar. I mean, if that doesn't up my testosterone and send my estrogen packing, then the world is more stupid than I thought. I'm making my own tamoxifen with muscles. I still should go the roid route and get all juiced and beefy, but I'm not sure I can handle (pun intended) having my own penis.

Seriously. I'm too old to figure out how to wear one of those.

Meanwhile, I'm exhausted now. We'll see what time I stir tomorrow, but I really like this routine. I haven't missed a day since I started this early morning thing, and I can really feel my body changing. Perhaps I'm flushing all the tamoxifen out of my system once and for all? Oh, and the cancer too. Please vacate and never return. Thanks in advance!  xo

Time flies when you're busy living!

Oops!

It's been wild here - I've been busy but also taking care of myself more.

I have been on this forever weight battle. I know, if you actually know me, I'm small. But, the effort to stay even 10 lbs. OVER my normal weight is tremendous. How is this possible? Yes, it could be age, but that metabolism doesn't shut off one day like a burned out light.

So, I eat smarter. I work out a LOT more. And still, I fight.

I've been waking up somewhere between 4:30 and 5am. The gym opens at 5, which means I have my pick of equipment. If I want 6 pair of dumbbells and 3 barbells, they're mine. I don't have to wait! And, nobody is too stinky (so far). And, I am at my best with weight training first thing. And, when I get home and shower, my warmup on my instrument is much, much, much better.

So, that's my schtick. And, some evenings, I go back with a book and sit on a bike for an hour.

My trend has been to burn as many calories or more as I consume.

Yet, I gain. Or maintain. But this is no maintenance regimen. This is a badass shredded body builder one.

But, I'm happy to be alive and to be feeling better than I have been for a couple of years. Holy crap. A couple of years? I've been feeling like crap for that long? That definitely is not cool.

Now, if I can convince the docs that I should be on 'roids, I'm pretty sure my life would be complete.

I could win coveted titles, like first place in the Ms. Cancerriffic Muscle Mama!  Yeah. I made that up, but it should be a thing.  I would wear my sash proudly, as I lumber through the world with my humungous quads, too big to fit into anything but those ginormous workout pants from the 80s. 

Don't laugh like you didn't own a pair! 

Ok, so maybe it's a bad idea. But I'd be willing to go through a cycle or two and see just how huge I could get. I mean, I'm positive my husband would be willing to pop the steroid zits on my back and deal with the rage (which he's been through with the tamoxifen!). The lady parts? Well, at least my fake breast won't shrink. We'll have to sort out the other one. And downstairs? Guess I'll have to get used to boxer briefs. A guy needs some support, ya know.

I just talked myself out of it. Darn.

Week from downstairs

It's going to be busy - I'm looking forward to next Sunday!

Quick update from my phone between working on music!  Feeling ok. Weight battle continues. Mood is generally better. (It couldn't get worse!!!). 

Met a new Gp. Fabulous. She said I'm anemic. So now I have to take iron. Which constipates the crap out of me. Haha. Oxymoron! I started taking it with probiotics which at least stopped the tummy pains. Said my thyroid didn't warrant meds. Ugh. For once I actually wanted them!!! 

That's about it. I can barely move. Let's hope I get some sleep. I'll definitely be needing it!!!

Crampzilla

I know. I can have epic menstrual stuff for months after surgery. Crampy today, but I'm not going to let it destroy me!

My cleanse went very well. I actually felt a ton better, though I was bloated after introducing solids (carrots! YUM!) I did it a day before hitting the road for a gig and am glad for that decision, because on show day I didn't feel too awful, though some bloating did occur. But, I was definitely better off than if I had not done the 3 day cleanse at all.

I thought about doing it again today, but after trudging through snow for about an hour, really wanted something comforting. So, I made shiritaki noodles with peanut sauce. And followed it with some kimchi. And plantain chips. MUCH better. I'm thinking salad for dinner. And maybe tomorrow, a one day cleanse. Why not? We'll see how I feel.

But. I am cramping today. Who knows why? Could be PMS, which is due. And given last months epic flow, it would make sense to not be super comfy. Last night, I had tremendous breast pain. I actually was thankful that I only have one. Go figure! *sigh*

And, Wednesday is a mammogram for my girl that's left. Let's hope I'm not having pain. And, of course I'm late on the schedule, so I can't really put it off. Grin and bear tit.  Ugh.

It's been a very emotional month for me. I'd like a little respite from it all. Perhaps a little dark chocolate tonight?  (there goes the couple of pounds I managed to drop!)

Master of Cleanse

Well, as per my plan, since accidentally starting a cleanse yesterday, I did my first day of Master Cleanse. Though I'm calling it day 2. Because of yesterday. Do the math. My brain is fuzzy.

I bought this Vibrant Cleanse a couple of weeks back, because, dang. I don't have time for all day lemon squeezing and measuring syrup (and, knowing me, putting in too much because it's so yummy!). So far today, I drank some laxative tea after my morning swill (that saltwater thing? I tried a couple of months ago on an empty stomach and literally walked around like a water balloon for a few days.) My morning swill: fresh lemon (see?), cayenne, apple cider vinegar, and fresh ginger. Dump in nutribullet with super clean Berkey water and voila. Instant gag reflex! Not really. I actually kind of like it. In a sadistic way.  Anyway, I also had maybe 3 glasses of home-brew kombucha. Through the day I eyeballed my safety cup of coffee in a thermos, but never touched it. I did have some herbal tea, water, and 3 glasses of the VC. I actually felt a bit tipsy, but good. Went to the gym for VERY light cardio on the recumbent bike for a bit under an hour.

So, this is day 2 of my cleanse. I figure, if I can get through tomorrow, that is magic. If I can handle Wednesday? Wow. But Thursday is an out of town gig, and the last thing I need is to be woozy in my stage heels with the bright lights and the massive amounts of oxygen being thrown in and out of my body. So... 2, 3, or 4 days. All together? I'm super pleased. I have been gaining a bit (or at least not losing, due to my thyroid issues), and even if I don't lose (PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE let me lose!), at least I feel cleaner.

I woke up 1 lb lighter. That's something. I know, I'm small. You'd think I would have woken up 2 or 3. Whatever. It's really about the reset button. I've done 10 day cleanses with fresh veg and fruit juices before, and always felt magical at the end. So, I know this is about my own health, but heck if I won't jump up and down if I drop my few lbs. that I can't seem to shake. Honestly, I'm just 5 from my "usual" weight, 8 from my "yippee" weight. So, let's just see. I can always start up again after the gig. And, what if I just do it one or two days a week for a while? As a former personal trainer, I used to do a once a week reset day, where I would do the opposite, but I was in my 20's and early 30's. I worked out 5 hours a day. I ate 6 small meals a day. I was a TANK.

Now, I'm in my 40's. I am dancing with cancer. I am poisoned and burned and tired of it. I'm stressed. I work out a few times a week if I'm lucky (though, I'm still a badass in the gym, if I do say so myself!). I'm a mom and a wife. So, there's a lot more going on. But, I'm alive! So, let's throw lemons in the air like we really care!

Sigh. Time to crawl into bed soon, cuddle with the kitties and fall asleep to a movie. Last night I started a PBS special on Prohibition. Totally fascinating. Though, it did make me wish I could have a sip of something. Mmmm. Lemon/cayenne/syrup...

That was Fast!

Apparently, I'm almost fasting today.  I didn't mean to, and ok, I had 2 cups of coffee, 2 glasses of home brew kombucha, a cup of golden milk, a few glasses of water, and now some herbal tea. I have been on the verge of a cold and keep fighting it, so perhaps my body is telling me to do this today.

Plus, we had a party yesterday, and naturally, I ate.

This is normal, right? Eating? And, we didn't have much naughty food. I was very good. Probably ate fewer calories than the average American at this thing.

But, I had my thyroid levels checked at my post-op appointment because it's been such a hard road, this weighting game.  And, in fact, I was right as usual - at least when it comes to my health.

My T4 levels are low. Not terribly, but I have no baseline, so I assume they were on the higher side of normal. So, yes, my thyroid is messed up. From radiation? From tamoxifen? From stress? What???

Yeah. I'm small. I work out a lot, and I eat really clean. But the second I eat more than 800 calories, and many times 600, I gain. And yes, I was a personal trainer for many years. I understand the calorie game. They are all quality calories, and since I don't count the coconut oil in my coffee, or the home brew kombucha with chia seeds I consume daily, it's probably 200 on top of whatever I record in my log. And then, factor in the exercise calories.

So, I have an appointment to meet a new GP (my old one moved to Ohio or some crap - I mean, seriously???) But this one comes from my great new OB/GYN, and she has gotten to know me very quickly, and intimately, as they all do. So I have faith that I will like this doc as well.

So, here I am. Fasting involuntarily. But I have BIG PLANS to go to bed early tonight and perhaps squash this looming not-a-cold-but-could-be-easily-if-I-keep-up-and-not-sleeping game. So now that it's nearly 5pm, I've worked out, done all my stuff, am now practicing a bit so I don't go off the musical rails before my hit Thursday.... I am planning on a cozy movie in bed with the kitties before I abruptly kick them out so they're not pouncing on me all night, and get some sleep.

Fasting works well for my weight now. It was never a thing that I did. I'm slowly learning to embrace not feeling full. I grew up super poor, so there was always slight panic in my brain. Leave no morsel of food uneaten, eat when not hungry, because you're not sure when the next meal will present itself, etc. It makes for a messed up mindset, but finally, I'm getting the hang of the fact that I will not, in fact, starve to death.

Looking forward to my millions of doc appointments coming up (not!). Mammo up ahead as well. I'm so behind on my dental, but I just get tired. Tired of seeing someone and having them do stuff that isn't fun.

Invasion of the uterine snatchers

Well, it's now 3 weeks past surgery. At the 2 week mark, I was on a plane to do gigs in both Florida and LA. It was busy, I wasn't 100%, but sometimes it's just

So I did. In a big way. Epic trip, saw friends, played for amazing crowds. Spotting but nothing bad. What I had expected, more or less.

However, my actual period started at some point - maybe Monday or so - it was hard to tell since I had been spotting. But a couple of days ago, and since then, I've been starring in my very own slasher film.  I mean, it should not be possible for me to still be alive. Yet, here I am. I've been lightheaded, weak etc. But I crumbled and popped an iron pill before a 30 minute nap this afternoon and am feeling a bit better. Had a steak last night, and my leftover shreds on a salad tonight. 

I've consulted Dr. Google, and it seems all is in order. In fact, I should be doing this. I'm definitely going to have to take it easy. The worst thing is that most complain that sometimes it goes on for 2 weeks or longer. Are you kidding me? Do I need a transfusion? 

It hasn't been painful, or not more than usual. But it has been annoying. Naturally, I can't use a tampon or diva cup, and usually I just double up with a pad and one or the other (diva if I can, since it's eco friendly and safer for me!)  But now, I find that with every breath, I am worried that I've overstepped my wings. So far, nothing too tragic, but wow. Glad those nifty Seventh Generation long pads with wings are doing the trick. Because my vajayjay doesn't need bleach or chemicals, ever. But, it does need a LOT of absorbency these days. 

I'm paranoid that a pack of wild animals will start chasing me down the street - FRESH MEAT!!!  Ah, the overactive imagination of an artist. 

So, we'll see how this goes. 

How do you want to be remembered? Death Nesting.

It's interesting. I've been preparing for death since my diagnosis. Will in order (though it could be updated, it's ok as is). Got hubby on the apartment paperwork so there would be no question that he is an owner (I can't imagine dropping dead and the co-op kicking him out, but anything is possible in this crazy world!) Condensing accounts (one more to go, from 10 years ago - just need the transfer info, and that's on my mind hard core! But, if I were to disappear tonight, it would still be in my name and eventually go to him. But I'm all for simplicity and clean lines). SO much more stuff to get rid of in the house, or organize. Time leads to the accumulation of stuff. I've been trying to pare down so that my family doesn't have a lot of stuff to pick through or feel guilty about trashing or donating. There's really nobody to fight over my stuff, since I've basically no family. But still, I'd like for it to be as painless to eventually clear me out. I know that's a really hard thing for folks to deal with, and I don't want that for anyone, as a result of my passing.

It seems that daily, I'm less and less afraid of dying. Not because I'm better, but because, there's nothing to fear. It happens. I think it's probably a lot easier to die than to be left behind (case in point - me as a teen when my mom died). I still have a hard time. I still wake up, 25 years later, wanting to call her and check in. I first told my mom that I loved her when I was about 15 or 16. Why? I am most likely autistic. Those who know me now at this age would heartily disagree, until they heard my childhood stories, up until my mid 20's, really. I still have many signs that I have learned to curb myself. There was no help for people like me. My brother was worse. The docs said he had "tics". My father... definitely aspergers. Certainly a lot of our problems as regards our relationship - we basically never had one. I tried to make things better when I realized what might be going on. I was in my 20s, and then in my 30s. He denied everything. It must all be in my mind. So, I shut him out of my mind and life. I can't fix everything or everyone, but I am in control of my life and happiness.

 I loved my mom but felt guilt about that, since I loathed the man she married. It turns out that she wasn't too fond of him, but that's a long story. So my guilt was unwarranted, of course, but I still felt it. And when I had my daughter, I promised myself that she would hear and feel how much I love her. Because I do. My mom loved me and showed me, sometimes told me, in her own ways. But it was mostly unspoken, and difficult to hear through the disease and hatred in our "home" which was really a hoarding disaster supported by chronic unemployment.

Being a parent is so difficult as you chat with the Angel of Death. Actually, Angel is a very nice being. When it's time, it's time. Nobody is invincible. If you're not afraid of leaving, it's probably a good experience. I often wonder how folks feel as they die. The light? Is it there? Do they really see relatives who have passed on? Will I see my mom? Her sister (who died in her 20's, also from cancer)? Her parents? My grandma on my father's side, who I absolutely loved and was not invited to the funeral (courtesy of my father). In fact, when my mom passed, her will was "lost". Her platinum wedding rings were "lost", the only thing I ever really wanted of hers. I used to wear it as a kid when it was sitting in her ring holder. She used to laugh and say I always have expensive taste (I liked lobster, platinum rings... and here I was, the kid who wondered if we'd have food around for dinner). A lot was lost. More than he bargained for. Because that was my final (but long) straw. I was encouraged by ex's past to keep my relatives in my life. Blood is thicker than... I think NOT. You lose my right to keep my mother's belongings that she wanted me to have, and destroy her will? You sell her wedding rings that were to be mine? Yeah.

I wonder if my mom will meet him at the bright light when he crosses over. I don't know. Maybe there is a universal forgiveness on the other side. I wouldn't be shocked, because it seems right. But, how far does it go? Are murderers forgiven by their victims? Are rapists? I mean, how far does the forgiveness roll?

I have had to forgive a lot of people in my past. That means that I've been pretty tortured along the way, I guess. Today, I received an email from an ex. Ok, I was the ass. I "dated" him because he was so inaccessible by living 3 hours away, but gave me the opportunity to not only receive gifts in the mail (which sustained our relationship, sadly), but also labeled me as "Unavailable". It worked. Until he told me he was looking into schools where he lives... for my daughter. No thanks.

So, I got this email today. He's going to be at an event that I will be performing at. And why exactly is he telling me this? This also happened a year ago. In all honesty, seeing his bloated face full of anguish (perhaps his marriage is on the rocks, and I would guess so, according to the few late night emails from him once I left him, and during his marriage - which happened a month after my breaking up!) , it was non-eventful, other than the pity I felt for him, and the shame for using a person to be unavailable to others. Why couldn't I say that I was just not interested, and happily single? Every time I was single, I was hit by an onslaught of suitors or friends of guys who would be perfect for me. PERFECT, I tell you.  No thanks.

Why should someone send me an email? Is it a hopeful, narcissistic hook, trying to bait me into some torrid affair? I probably should have told him the truth, that I never liked him. But, that would be meaner than the act itself. But, in hindsight, perhaps it would have been best.

I actually did that once. Knew a guy for YEARS. Very handsome, in the same field, lost touch for years. Got back in touch, ironically, when both were single. Decided to give it a go. WORST idea. It was awful. And I kept hearing from him. Didn't want to be mean. But finally, I had to. Enough was enough. I basically told him that he had a better time than I did, evidently.

Was that mean? Maybe. But it was the truth. And I never heard from him again. Ok, a few times years later. But, at least he was able to move on, as embarrassed and angry as he probably was. I always wished him happiness and kind of wish we had just remained friends.

Sigh.

Love, or at least the appearance of love, is so complicated. We feel bad for single people. Why?

Yes. I'm in a good place now. But I'm also on my way out. That Angel of Death keeps peeking, texts me, checks in on me in my dreams. He's waiting to hang hard core. And I'm not afraid. Because, for all of my many faults, for all of my mistakes and bad decisions, I haven't been such an awful person to the core.

What happens to those who have been awful? Are they burning in the fiery pits of Hell? Do they hear a Verse on a given song over and over, without a chorus, or even some sort of drum break or interlude? Now, that would be hell. No thanks.

So, back to work I go. On the road early tomorrow and I really don't want to go, but I must. I need the money. Cancer has really taken a huge chunk of cash-flow, not to mention the expense of being my own holistic oncologist. I also want to save for when I am gone. I want my family to have something to survive on. That bathroom ain't gonna redo itself, and I set a high bar when I buy only organic foods.

Is it wrong that I hope that my husband finds a good partner when I'm gone? Should I want him to mourn my loss? I guess so. But I know him, and he will sink in it. He's super hot and smart and amazing. He needs to keep his good energy out there. I think a good partner will help him. He's a lot to handle, but worth it.

Why all of this thought about death? Because it can hit anyone at any time. People are in denial. People think they can do stuff in 10 years. They can finally clean out that closet, or write that will, or whatever. Nope. Tomorrow may be the end. And it's ok. But I'm trying to not leave my family in chaos amongst the chaos. It's somehow sobering and calming to know. I don't want to be walking toward my mom in the light only to realize that I forgot to pay some bill, or I left the cat box unscooped, or I forgot to tell my family that I loved them.

So, what exactly IS wrong?

Yesterday I burned approximately 150 calories MORE than I consumed. It was a good workout day, a good food day, yet I woke up almost 2 pounds heavier.

Sometimes I think I should just give up and move to the midwest and buy doritos by the case.

But, seriously, what is it? Is my thyroid literally toast from the radiation? Or the shutdown of my estrogen will never start back up quite the same?

What is it? And why am I not eating an entire

carrot cake nightly?

And why do I work out anymore?

I know I'm trying to do all of the right things. Correction. I am doing the right things. My body just isn't responding.

Is it stress?

So, if I'm stressing and my thyroid is screwed, I guess that could explain this. Lunch today was some turkey/cabbage soup and salad. If I gave it a high caloric count, it would clock in around 500 or maybe 600. And that's definitely more than it is.

I burned about the same at the gym.

We'll see what tomorrow brings. I do realize I'm also in PMS week - but this is just ludicrous. I have 2 big gigs this coming weekend and can not be the fat girl on stage.

I know. Shut up. I'm a size 2, maybe a 3 soon. But - I'd be ok with that if I WERE eating a carrot cake for dinner every night. I'm eating super clean and light and working out. That's what's scary. When I look at my calculations over the past few months, I should have lost 30 pounds, not gained 10. And I don't mind being thought superficial - but the truth is - I'm petrified that something is utterly wrong that we don't know about. So tempting to get

wings for dinner. So. Tempting.

Uterine slicings are not cancerous!

Ain't life grand?

I actually didn't expect them to be. I have too much stuff going wrong in my life, so I just needed something to be right for a change.

Still crampy and spotting, but I'm hoping to be me again soon.

The best idea during recovery is to NOT have a bunch of noisy workmen in your apartment, sequestering you in a plastic bubble around your kitchen. But, that's precisely what happened Monday.  You see, our co-op replaced our hvac crap a few years back. And it's never been right. So, they keep coming back to tear our walls up and "fix" it. So far, I'm not impressed.

Tuesday was a ginormous snowstorm, so they cancelled continuation of work.

Wednesday, they came back. And left again when they realized they didn't have the right parts. Super.

It'll be Friday tomorrow. I wonder what will happen? Not holding my breath.

Meanwhile, I do feel better when I move. I tried lifting weights but that was definitely not good. Until I went super light. Then it was great! Is it prolonging my healing? Who the f cares. I feel better.

Have to schedule my post-op in 2 weeks. I have a work trip in a week - playing in Florida for some fancy thing, and then in LA for a very fancy thing... The Grammys!!! , so I'm hoping to be spunky and leak free by then.  Meanwhile, motherhood has been a royal pain in the tuchus, and I'm worried that all of this crap has gotten to my girl. I wouldn't blame her, but it hurts that I don't feel her with me sometimes.

Hysteroscopy and other fun stuff!

Well, it happened yesterday. Had my little surgery. Overall, it wasn't horrible, though I would have been happier without. You know?

Basically, they knocked me out, shoved a camera in my hoo-hah, looked around, took photos, and sliced a few things out. I woke from anesthesia, cracking jokes with everyone. And that's precisely what the surgeon told hubby when she called him to say I was all done. "Your wife just woke up and is making everyone laugh in the recovery room". I should have charged a cover!

Anyway, I left fairly quickly after that. I know my body. I am good for a while, then I lose it. I don't want to lose it in the hospital, because I don't want them to keep me there! Walked home, because the numb stuff was still doing it's magic. I even encouraged hubby to look in a store that was closing, and he scored a pair of shoes - for $100, normally $400. See? My bad health is good luck!

We made it home and even grabbed some dinner along the way. It was the first thing I'd had since an apple and a ginger ale in the hospital. Famished, I had some arugula salad, half of a falafel sandwich, and half of a lamb and tabbouleh platter. And about 500 drinks (non-alcoholic, thank you!) since I was so dehydrated.

Hubs had to work that evening so he laid down for a nap. I did too, and knocked out. It was about 5:15, he left and I remember him going. I tried to read a little and fell asleep immediately. Woke up a few times at night, and at 4am got up, made a cup of tea, did some cleaning, made my special coffee sprinkles because I ran out, and finally crawled back into bed to read more.

Basically, I've caught up on a lot of sleep that I have denied myself. Still achy and groggy and dizzy and a slight nausea, but plenty of fluids, made a juice with a ton of ginger which helped the pain immensely, and had hubby guasha my shoulders. Apparently, this procedures can make your shoulders really hurt. Talk about opposite ends!

Hoping I'll be ok and mend quickly. I think I will. Because I'm stubborn as hell. Pathology in a week. Post op in 3.

A new yea

Well, here we are. 2015.

Great! I made it!

Living my life in pain, physically and emotionally.

Ladies, you know when you're hormonal, and it is more than wanting to gorge on chocolate and cookies? When you're... hormonal???

Put that on 11.  Then imagine it on 12. That's me.

I'm pretty sure that I react way more extremely than other women. I just said today that I would love to find a way to be LESS in touch with my body. I don't want to know, now that I know, that these little aliens are growing in my uterus (3), along with a polyp on my ovary. Yeah, I'm a female dart board.

I'm grateful that I knew something was wrong. But, someone please tell my body to not feel it as I wait for a procedure(s) to be scheduled. Luckily, it's the holidays, so nobody is reachable. Because, life stops for the stupid lit up ball to drop for all of the folks who have been corralled in Times Square for 24 hours without a bathroom. I sure hope they were giving out Adult Diapers. Get back into life!

This is ruining my life right now. It makes me go back to some thoughts I've had earlier in my illness, that perhaps this is our bodies way of softening the blow if we do croak. I mean, when folks say "I'm so glad that he/she is not in pain anymore. He/she is in a better place. I'm happy that he/she is not suffering anymore, and neither is their family".

I get it. Shoot me in the forehead and please don't miss - because I want to be pain free, in a better place, and to have my family no longer suffer.

Seriously, though, is there a hypnotist who can hypnotize the pain from my brain? Isn't there a switch? Hubby always wants me to take advil, but I think of that as a last ditch trick. Because it is toxic. Advil side effects are FUN! And even Forbes got in on the fun!

Yep. I'll stick to my home remedies as much as I can stand.

But then, there are our families.

My husband bears a lot of weight now. He is afraid for my pain, but also how it affects my INSANITY.  It's like I'm back on Tamoxifen. This insanity was a side-effect, so I can only imagine that it's connected via the other side effect of uterine thickening as well as creepy shit growing on the walls. I mean, women go through phases of uterine changes every month, in different ways. But this is nonstop, ongoing pain. Tell me exactly how I am supposed to keep smiling and carrying on like a good, obedient woman? 

Would I actually pull a Bobbitt? Ew.

But, life is really trying. I need to be locked in a cage with some really good chocolate and sleeping pills. Because I don't know how I'll get from here to there.

Not every waking moment is painful. Just most of them. The problem, of course, other than the actual pain, is the fact that it's hard to hide. I often hide tears behind sunglasses, or I walk a bit hunched over to try and relieve some of the pressure (how that happens, I have no idea. It may be in my head, and that's fine). I try and live an anti-inflammatory life. Of course, I have to run out and get almond milk because I'm out and am literally dying for a cup of golden milk, but the cow stuff will most likely muck up the anti-inflammatory process. 

It's funny. No, not haha funny. I live my life so clean, and then the crud keeps growing in me. I know that what I'm doing is helpful, but it makes me want to surrender. Get the white flag, let's make arrangements for my memorial. I want to be cremated. I don't want a big whoop-dee-doo, and I certainly don't want a bunch of cut flowers at this party. Bring potted plants. Hey - how about exchange them at the end of the shindig? Everyone bring home a potted plant and remember that cut flowers smell like a funeral, and are a waste of cash, and are depressing. Make it a pot-luck. Cook your favorite dish. If you can't cook, bring my husband some really nice whiskey and stuff. Bring my daughter anime stuff. Order pizza - whatever. Just have a good time. It's not a talent show, or a place to say "I knew her so well" when you're just trying to get a gig from someone else who might be there. 

I get pretty cynical when I see folks dying, and others vying for the coveted handouts from the closet, or the foot stompers who don't get enough from the will (ps. I'm broke). It's like, we are waiting for you to die so we can fight over your handbags. 

Ain't nobody fighting over mine. They go to my daughter. Someday, she may want to carry them. And if not, hubby can help her ebay them and put some money away for college. 

What do we leave behind, really? We leave memories. A whiff of perfume that a long lost love wore can bring out an unscripted emotion. The block-away-doppelganger who, upon closer inspection, is actually a cross dresser, or at least, nothing like your loved one gone too soon. A snippet on the supermarket muzak that reminds us of some dumb excursion that once was shared and laughed about. Nothing at all. Nothing can remind us of everything. 

I still see my mother. She has now been gone 24 years and 5 months. I hear her. I smell her. 

Where is she when I need her??? Because she's here, but she's not taking. I only hope that she doesn't feel guilt for this disease we share.