Fort's Cancer Sux!!

Its the best of weeks, and the worst of weeks....

Oh, where do I start.


I enjoy living my life in grey. Little bit of this, little bit of that. Although my bads have been pretty bad, and my goods have been phenomenal at times, I really just wish my life was more grey.


My last chemo of this "round" was Tuesday. If some of you are confused about this round, here's how it went: a total of 12 treatments over the course of 18 weeks. Chemo for four hours on a tuesday, the next tuesday, off the next tuesday. Repeat five more times.



This one started out like the rest: a breeze. A guilty chemo patient sitting in the treament room, all my hair in tact, feeling on top of the world. Doing work with my IV in, calling customers, studying volleyball coaching books, booking train trips while getting pumped full of chemo.


But it didnt stay that way. The last few weeks, no work was done, no trips were booked, not much of anything was accomplished in ANY MANNER. Frankly, this one has kicked my ass. Pushing 14 hour days on chemo has sucked, but Im not regretting the coaching - the adrenaline from those games has been the only thing keeping me connected with my pre-cancerous life.



Its nice to remember how important a high school volleyball game is. Im just sick of all the heavy stuff.



This has probably been the hardest week of all - im nauseous, I actually did miss my game last night and cancelled practice for today. That was a tough decision because I know the girls wanted to practice, but I just couldnt do it.



Whereas my bosses when I was first diagnosed asked me when I was going to come back a day after my son's funeral, my boss Karen came up to me Wednesday, and said, "You know, its okay to say 'no'" Im thankful she noticed - because I think i was on the brink of a physical meltdown.



I took today off, which worked out, because over a month ago, I scheduled to have my tub reglazed. My initial plan was to have a friend, or mom, or a neighbor come over and sit with the guy while he worked, but this way, I was able to be here. And the house is full of toxic fumes, and im so congested I cant smell a thing. Ill take what I can get. I wish I had a picture of the tub when it looked its absolute worst. Rusty rails from where the glass doors once were, cauk residue everywhere. It was gross. Those of you who have experienced it first hand know what Im talking about....its the color of urine. But not anymore. Ill have another shot up once I get everything in order- but heres the before, and the "primed tub" stage. (right now I have to leave it alone till about 9p, then we cut the paper, cauk it, and then we have to wait 24 hours before we can use it. Yes, we're showering at the Schniebers tonight.

Before, sort of....
After, not really...not yet:
So anyway, that looks good, now we've got to get the tub draining again as well as the dishwasher. One step Forward, two steps back!

So, with the expection of being physically blown away with a sinus infection or allergies or whatever is making me deliver road kill from my nose, I did have one spectaular lunch this week.

Last week after chemo, I ran into my ALL TIME FAVORITE HS TEACHER, Mrs. Sharon Rab. I LOVE MRS. RAB!!! She has always been my own personal Oprah. Smart, funny, encouraging, thoughtful and sincere just to name a few qualities. I had her for Junior comp at Fairmont, and then the following year, I took both of her honors English classes - Comedy & Satire, and Creative Writing. I told John that if Mrs. Rab had offered a class on Self-Loathing, I probably would have been the first to sign up for it. As far as Im concerned, everything that comes out of that womans mouth is gospel. I imagine if there was someone to take a picture of me every time she opens her mouth, Id probably look like an eager child. At least thats what I feel like.


Karen and Angie used to make fun of me (ok, they still do) in high school because all I did my senior year was a few mandatory classes, everything Mrs. Rab offered, and of course YEarbook and Flyer with Mr. Riley.

They used to sing my schedule.....

"MooooooorreeePainterRabRileyMooreRabRileeeeey" Well, it was pretty funny then, at least.

Here's a few pic's I drug up from high school.....Mrs Rab at her all-powerful podium, enlightening the masses:

Junior Year: our classes "Chaucer Pilgrammage", where we walked from Fairmont to the Peasant Stock for lunch, where we were assigned a Chaucer character, found their modern day equivilent, and wrote a poem about it, where we recited it at lunch.
Thats me in Laura (Friemuth) McCall's silky robe. I was assigned the Miller, and my modern day equal was a big time wrestler. Probably trying to get into my dads good graces. I have no idea what I wrote, but here I am, reading it.
So anyway, I disclosed to Mrs. Rab that I had 50 pages of a book Im working on and I had been working on getting it published -its not a memoire or anything like that, something a little more cancer-surviving novelty item - but she took me next door to Books & Co. and bought me the Literary Agents Guide and gave me some quick pointers to get started. (Lets just say she guided me to the onramp to the highway, after I had been on a tricycle going the wrong way)

Id like to start working on this after volleyball is over, right now things are just crazy.

So now I have another PET scan on Tuesday. I dont know how Im feeling about this one. It was just over a year ago that I was going through this, huge PET scan on the horizion, everything at stake, all the hoopla of the article....and the miraculous PET scan....

All of the sudden I feel like I havent been preparing for this one. I need to see at least marginal improvement or im going to be in trouble. Im sick of being sick. Im ready to kick this for good.

Its so hard when you're nauseous and wanting to yak all the time to get all motivated and thinking positively. I cant deny that these last few weeks, Im probably more scared than I want to admit. Those morbid thoughts start creeping in. Should I start thinking about cremation? Would Stacy honor my wishes and sprinkle some of them in the front booth at the Cats Eye like I said I wanted years and years ago? I have to stop that. I guess its natural. But people probably never admit that they think that.

Then what usually happens, is I convince myself that I MUST subject myself to these thoughts, because the worse things get, the better the achievement of overcoming it will feel. You have to come back from the bottom of the barrel to really make the biggest impact.

If you dont have cancer, you probably dont distinguish between stages, but honestly? I dont want to hear about the struggles of a Stage 1 survior. They're the lucky ones. Stage 2? 3? Still struggling but a better chance of keeping it at bay. I need to either FIND the Stage 4 survior that wont die or BE the Stage 4 survior that wont die.

Its as simple as that.