Stress. Like a MFer

Wow. It's been busy. I should be in bed, but I'm surfing the intermallweb for kitchen appliances. We had been talking to a contractor for a few months, and the sh*t has been taking forever to nail down. We had been talking summer to completely overhaul the kitchen, including knocking walls down (city kitchens can be like closets, stuffy, hard to hear other rooms, and when the green bean casserole's burning, the smoke has little chance of escaping!)  It's a HUGE financial task, but why have I been saving all these years? We cook ALL the time. We love to cook. I have cancer. What the heck. I need a nicer kitchen.

So, homeslice, aka contract dude, emailed that he could book us in September.

Hold-the-damned-phone. WHAT. I have had my heart set on SUMMER. Which is officially now. I know, he's busy, schedules get filled... so instead of a scathing email from me, I asked hubs to do it. Guess what? He can start - um - right after July 4 weekend. WHICH IS IN A WEEK.

I'm totally down. Being Type A and Virgo, plus feeling like a ticking time bomb, let's roll.

Meanwhile, the financial burden, though I've adjusted to the idea over the past few months, has settled in my brain. I have a huge number in my head and I'm ok with it now.

But, the appliances.

Decisions.

I want good stuff. I have pretty good stuff now, but the fridge has been a mess. Had it fixed last fall. Still sucks. We also are installing a dishwasher. My first. Ever. And a wall mount microwave over the stove to help suck out the nasty fumes. We rarely microwave, but once in a while it does come in handy.

We're waiting on a new stove. Unless I can get a ridiculous deal. Which is possible, with the holiday coming up.

So, I'm surfing with my cash thinking cap on.  It's actually making me feel better about the money, because it's all stuff I need and want.

My dizzy spells? Better.

Had a few but each is less petrifying.

I went to a sub doc yesterday. Sub, as in substitute, and also as in subpar.

She basically told me I was pretty despite the fact that I am half of a certain race. She said that I probably didn't need my breast removed. I was about to lodge my shoe in her eyeball and tell her to also not remove that, but I needed to get through for my vitals and bloodwork.

I told a friend the story, and she saw the same exact Dr. Bitch. Years ago.

Time for a phone call to my regular doc. She was unavailable so I got this whore of a medical bitch.

Anyhoo, no time to sit in bad feelings.

Though, when I told her of my dizzy spells, she said "Well, that's normal!"  Normal for what? A kid on a sit n' spin? About that shoe in your eyeball...

Well, I've been stressed the fuck out, so much going on. Tomorrow is a day trip to a gig. The next day is an 8am gig. Given my instrument, I wake up hours before leaving so I can be sure that we are getting along well. Which means I'll have 2 hours sleep. Then, a birthday dinner way out in where-the-heck-Queens. But, we love our friend Eddie Pazant - saxaphone player extrodinaire, zen master, hilarity without borders, and up in smoke. So I will go. And smile. And put some glitter on. And hopefully not face-plant in the cake. Because I'm exhausted thinking about the weekend. Therefore, I will continue my shopping feast online instead of doing the sensible thing.

Also, my weight is stubborn. Doing all the right things. Methinks it's time for a change. Mix things up. Back to ye olde drawing board... but I am finally feeling a bit happy today for the first time in weeks. I hope this too shall not pass.

I thought I was dying last night...

I know. We're all dying.

Dinner last night. Totally enjoying daddy's day meal with hubby and daughter. Suddenly, the "feeling". Like nausea, cold sweat, impending death looming like an anxious salesman.

I couldn't imagine walking to the bathroom - which was down a flight of stairs. I could only imagine that I would stumble down the stairs and end up a bloody heap of limbs at the bottom. Tragic headline: Cancer Patient Ironically Dies From Restaurant Fall.  But the salmon was great.

I felt like my head had hung between my shoulders and knees for hours. I barely heard what was around me. I knew I felt ice on my neck, my daughters hand squeezing mine, hubby doing what he could very calmly.

Apparently, it was 5 minutes. I thought I was dying. For hours.

We have guesses as to what it could be. Got home in one piece. In my new and sweat soaked lacy dress. Thank goodness I'm a pro at walking in heels, 'eh?

Scared shitless for a bit. I can't lie. All I kept thinking was that I could NOT pass out. I did not want to be in an emergency room on Father's Day. Do you realize how many dudes would have knives sticking from their skulls, curling iron burns from angry daughters, frying pan contusions from jilted wives? No thanks, I'll die at home.

Much better today. Tonight, after dinner, I declared that my cycle would start at any second. My uterus was doing the angry dance. I also realized that, when I was preparing to wash my hair for a secret project tomorrow, that I had a crapload of grays again. So I ended up having to dye my hair with my hippie dippy natural hair dye (which actually is ok). Halfway through the waiting period, I got my period. How 'bout that? 4 days early, but I haven't really been on a schedule in, oh, over a year now... since the stupid pills.  But, I'm super crampy now (unlike last time which was a breeze). Let's hope I feel ok tomorrow - for the secret project. I actually don't know if it is a secret, but it's fun to act that way.

So, hair colored, nails are painted but a mess with the hair color (I tend to color hair a week before I need to look my best, but this snuck up on me!)... off to lay down and hang with hubs while I pretend my uterus isn't punching me from the inside.

Stupid Cancer. But, I'm grateful that my estrogen is making a comeback. Now, she should just calm down a bit and hang like old times!!!

Nightmares about lymphedema. Amazing hummus recipe.

It's been so busy in my career - been flying everywhere, tired but somehow I manage to workout more on the road than when I'm home. So, I've felt really good! And, I'm hovering at my pre-diagnosis weight. It's not easy staying there, but I'm surfing the wave. Yippee!

Nice to be home for a while before I get crazy again. Last night, though, hubby made it hard for me to sleep. The one thing that I've been getting good at. He had been feeling sick for a few days at least, and last night after his gig, we got home late, and he crashed. Unfortunately, before I did. You know when someone is sick and they are just louder sleepers? Well, I was thrilled that he was getting much needed sleep. I was too tired to get up for earplugs or even throw myself on the couch or my daughter's bed. I should have forced myself.

Ended up waking up for good at around 6:30 am. This, after getting home late and sleeping on and off for a few hours. *sigh*

Had a good workout anyway. Walked a bit. Came home to make hummus*. Cleaned up a bit, awaiting daughter for dinner. I am hoping to get to bed really early today... or at least reasonably so.

I had the craziest dream in my staggered sleep. I had freaking lymphedema. I looked at my hand in my dream because it felt weird. I had sausage fingers that I couldn't bend. My arm was huge (and not cool like Arnold!) I woke up completely frazzled. Glad it wasn't reality, but it does scare me.

*Hummus Recipe

Soak and cook dried organic chickpeas, or drain a can if you're feeling lazy.
Pulverize in a food processor or other vicious machine.
Add in organic olive oil - the real stuff. Check your source and watch out for the fake junk!
Season with Himalayan salt. Add cayenne to taste, if desired. Add other things too. This is the freedom recipe! Citrus, herbs, you name it!
Serve with chips, crudite, and love.

I'm not much of a measuring kind of gal in the kitchen. Taste until you love!

Getting better every day, but some days blow anyway. Is this the start of lymphedema?

Wow, it's been a while since I've blogged. Mainly, I've been busy. Traveling and working and, well, traveling and working. It's all good, but I'm TIRED!

I've been feeling better every day. My hormones are pissed still, and I tend to get 2 periods a month now. I got it last week and was on a business trip followed by a business trip. The second one had me worried, it had just started, and I literally was hemorrhaging like there was no tomorrow. I ended up asking one of the guys in the band to keep an eyeball on me, because I wasn't feeling great. I ended up not passing out, but wow. I can't believe that I could lose that much blood in a week, after losing that much 2 weeks prior. I made it, and I think it's passed. I guess there was a bit of back log - as this is the second time it's hit me like this.

Oh, Ms. Estrogen, I'm so sorry to have shunned you like I did for 10 months. I'm such a bitch.  I hope we can be friends again.

Meanwhile, it's been much easier to keep my diet in check. I'm actually better on the road - even living on someone else's dime, I stuck to basically 2 salads a day, some fruit and coffee and tea. The last night on the road there was no salad, but there was roasted chicken and veggies. I ignored anything with bread or sugar. I did have some fruit and goat cheese and told the amazing looking desserts to f-off. Some of my favorites too - carrot cake, pecan pie, chocolate something in a cup. The cheesecake I could easily flip off. The carrot cake is my best friend and enemy. I was actually really, really, really proud of myself for ignoring it. Yay, me.

One thing that helps is reminding myself that it's literally a moment of strange pleasure followed by the scale the next morning. And the bloating. And the sugar driven craving for more sugar. I like that I'm getting a grip on this. It's not foolproof, but I ain't a fool, and I know that I'd rather feel and look better than have a scrumptious piece of cake. Mmmm. Cake. STOP IT. Cake. STOP IT!!!  See? It worked!

My left arm has been a bit throbby for a while. I worry, but there's really not much I can do. I have my sleeves and gauntlets. Sometimes I'll try and rub my arm for circulation. Dry skin brushing hopefully helps, as I remember to do it more and more.

Going out of town again next week... we'll see how that flies, literally!

Hormones! Sea Cucumbers! Brain tumors... :(

They're totally back. I mean, it's interesting, because though they're back and starting to function again, I'm not suffering much pain or discomfort. Perhaps my body is grateful to regain it's youthful-ish-ness after the plug was pulled from ye olde estrogen via Tamoxigarbage. 

Though I did just make a cup of golden milk. A bit bloated, and I'm hoping that will bring it down a bit. Overall, not bad at all. Breathing. Had a good workout. Not as good as I would have liked, but considering the state of estrogen, I did just fine. 

My friend's wife had a brain tumor removed a few months back, and today she suffered a massive seizure most likely due to the brain tumor surgery she recently had. She's still unconscious.

Meanwhile, in the disgusting category, I've been taking SEA CUCUMBER!

Luckily, I have not been able to find it in any restaurants (that's a lie, I did find a Korean place that had it on the menu), and I even looked in Chinatown to see if I could buy it to cook. WHEW. No luck. So I found this. I can't lie - I don't know if it's the placebo effect, or the tamoxifen leaving the building, or whatever, but these slimy disgusting things have been making me feel better. And they are reportedly good for muscle aches, joints, energy, blahblahblah. I have felt markedly better since a few days into these, and didn't actually expect it. So, these absolutely horrific looking creatures just may save me!

We were talking about what to do for Mother's Day dinner. Maybe I'll ask the hubs if we can go to the Korean place so I can try it. Then again, perhaps I'll stick to what I like and save that adventure for a day filled with self-loathing and a need to punish myself. BLECH! Did I mention, I hate slimy things like worms and slugs and crap. Though, if you put a nice plate of escargot in butter, (in a French vibe, or black bean sauce in an Asian hang), somehow I find that totally acceptable and will go to town. Hm. Maybe I *would* be ok with these things.

Excuse me while I go puke.

Played a great gig, turned down a really great gig, death of a friends cancer patient husband.

Last night - had a great time at a gig at a fancy thing. Lots of rich folks who can't dance. Funny though, they didn't feed us. Which, in the end was very good for me - as I could control myself with a protein bar and coconut water which was in my bag. Hopped over to hubby's gig and enjoyed a refreshing and potent beverage. If I knew what was in it... but it did taste like pears and drunken smiles.

Tonight, I am missing an epic gig. Why? Because I was not right for it. It is funny, even just a few years back, I would have done it, put it on my resume, and hoped that nobody saw it (it's in an arena type setting, so chances are I'd be all over youtube etc. in my epic failedness). But I would literally have done it for the status. Why? The pay for this event sucked. And I would have missed other work that paid me about half of what this paid - the anxiety was through the roof when I got the tracks. It is GREAT music, the kind of shit that I would listen to on my own time. But, I'm not that player. The final straw was when they told me to make sure that I learned the part on a TOTALLY DIFFERENT INSTRUMENT. I own one, but heck if I've even taken it out of the case in, oh, 15-20 years. Yeah, not my gig.

Valuable lessons as an artist - never take a gig that is not meant for you. Ok, not never. But on an epic scale? You will not only chance ruining or at least tarnishing your reputation, but ruining someone's show! That is super suck-ass.

So, my very full resume - yes, it is nice - will stay as is. Am I mad? No. I'm so relieved. I decided to finally color my hair (my grays have quadrupled at LEAST since the tamoxifen). Hubs has another night at his gig - same as last night - I am on 4 hours of sleep so I decided a home-spa night was my best bet. And yes, my hair color is not a commercial one - it's plant based, and not perfect, but works well. I can't do granola 100% if it doesn't work!

So I sit here, my freshly colored hair wrapped in a towel, in my fuzzy robe, thinking about doing my nails (with natural polish, of course!) for Friday's gig since I have time. I need to do some cleaning, and my eyes are burning right out of my head from the lack of sleep with the pollen in the air, and I need to practice (still not recovered from the tamoxinightmare, so I have lots of work to do). We'll see. If I conk out in a couple of hours, then I will be a healthier person tomorrow. If I somehow stay awake for some reason, I will make it productive.

My weight... my weight has gone down a hairball, but my body has started to shift back to ME. Oh my goodness. I'm starting to get my waist back. I do NOT look good as a potato! On the meds, with my hormones screwed up, I saw a glimpse into my post-menopausal future - which I hope to experience SOMEDAY, and not now. It wasn't horrible, but I'm too young. Even though I haven't had gym time, things are shifting back. I actually look like myself again, more and more each day.

I'm half Japanese. So, this may be my aging process: 

A friend of mine lost her husband last weekend. I remember when she found out I had cancer. She got really quiet and teary eyed. Told me her husband also had cancer. He had a LOT of medical complications. To the point where things were coming out of places that they shouldn't (basically, he pooped out of his penis and had to get several colostomy bags - yes, it's a true story). But they loved each other and lived life to the fullest. Did he die from the cancer?

He fell into the subway tracks and got hit by a train.

I don't even know what to say to her - I had to miss the funeral because of my gig last night. Awful. I may get her some books to help her through her grief (Pema Chodron comes to mind, but if anyone else has an idea, please let me know). I am not a flower kind of girl - they make me sad. I'm not making her a casserole. I want to get her something that she can turn to for comfort, and while food IS comforting, I want it to have meaning.

I want to bring her husband back to her, but that's not likely. So, I can bring her comfort and love.

Life is short and unpredictable. Will this cancer kill me? Will a train? Will a lightening bolt? Who knows. So, you enjoy every moment, you don't take the inappropriate gigs, you love your life, and you bring the world some happiness, however you can.

Blood sugar, anxiety, happiness, kitchen redo.

I've been feeling so out of sorts recently.  A lot of things - good things, bad things, whatever. Been having enough anxiety to make me feel miserable at times. My blood sugar has been flip flopping, making me so zoned out and/or irritable that I hate myself at times. But, I'm oddly happy, deep down - always.

I can't figure out the blood sugar thing, except that my sugar cravings have taken a nosedive since the tamoxifen, which is good. And my body is shifting back to where it was. Also good. But my weight (number) has been stubborn, which wreaks havoc on my brain.

My musical stuff? The aftermath of the meds has lightened up a lot, but my brain can't come back. So, though I'm coming back physically to where I was before, if my brain isn't cooperating, then my chops can't. So, here I am. What a dilemma. I need a hypnotist. No, I'm not kidding. I need to be able to convince my brain, my heart, how I am who I used to be again. But, all I feel is incapable and anxious beyond belief. I don't show the outside world, but boy, I feel it inside. There are many, many times that I want to just quit. I anxiously do gigs and get through ok, though the "comeback" of my chops is hit or miss. I seem to worry more about the folks I love who hire me and their reputations, over my own. But, I believe, that so far I have not let anyone down enough to be an issue. I guess my game face is pretty good.

But the anxiety sucks balls.

So I breathe and try to make it to the other side. Sometimes I want to scream at the ego-driven folks around me, tell them that there is more to life than being cool. Because I feel far from it, but also, I know. I leave my mind as empty as I can (not too difficult most times) and try to make it through, so I can crawl into bed at night and try to breathe evenly and sleep instead of tool around on Facebook and play words with friends all night. My friends, apparently, tend to be night owls. Robot Chicken is often an excellent temporary solution to my anxiously filled brain. It seems to siphon out the worry and anxiety with bizarre, inappropriate laughter.

Also, had a consult with our kitchen contractor. I want my kitchen redone. ASAP. I don't want to die knowing that my kitchen will be gross forever for my family. This has been on my mind since diagnosis. Weird, no? We love to cook. We spend tons of time in there. So, we had our consult, all happy times... until I started realizing how much cash I'm talking about dropping. We're talking about ripping everything out - all new cabinetry, counters, knocking down some walls, new appliances. OH MY GOD. But, I don't want to wait until I can't enjoy it. We actually talked about that - how folks will fix up their homes in order to sell them. You mean, you have this gorgeous new stuff and it's all for the new owners? Screw that.

So I need to breathe deep and realize that this has been my desire for many years - pretty much since I had moved in. New, happy, light filled kitchen. I actually can technically wait on new appliances for a while, but at the same time, it would make sense to build around the new appliances. We looked at stuff today, and I know that technically I should invest in all of this. And, I will.

Crap.

It's a lot to think about, along with everything else.

However, if we do this ASAP, we can have a new kitchen by summer. And, I know from last years redoing the kitchen floor, it will change my life.

And how much life is left? Who knows. But, when I drop dead, hubby and daughter will be here. Then daughter. Her kids, if she changes her mind on that point. At least her cats. Blahblahblah. I own the apartment, and it's the kind of place that nobody moves out of. Hard to explain, but it's the truth.

Onward.