another clean bill of health

I had an appointment with my oncologist yesterday. It was my 3-month check-up. Xray was clean, bloodwork was good, and I don't have to go back for another four months :)

I do want to see a dermatologist, though. Anyone in the Phoenix area have a good one they recommend?

I win :-)

Yesterday, I participated in my first-ever triathlon. It was "sprint" distance, with a 750-meter swim, a 21K bike ride (that's 13.5 miles) and a 5K (3.1-mile) run.

It was hard, and it was amazing, and it hurt, and it was wonderful, and it came one week before the two-year anniversary of me being admitted to the hospital for Hodgkins.

I have taken back my body from the chemo, and I plan to continue to work out, get stronger, gain endurance, and keep my body healthy and strong.

It feels great!

(If you'd like to read more about the race, you can read it here.)

sick ≠ cancer

Three passing things, all somewhat related...

First, I have some kind of upper respiratory infection thing going on. Haven't had a fever in a couple of days, but I'm coughing off and on like mad and have close to no voice. My throat hurt really badly for a few days but is feeling mostly better. In the days that I was feverish, I knew it was because of whatever viruses were ravaging my body ... but that doesn't stop the little cancer voice from reminding me: persistent, low-grade fever is a symptom of Hodgkins.

How can I get that little voice to turn off? If I had a persistent low-grade fever for no apparent reason, then perhaps I should be concerned, but sheesh — I was sick!

As a result of said sickness, I missed a dress rehearsal and a performance. When my hubby told the conductor I was missing because I was sick, his reaction was, "Sick sick?!" No... I appreciate the concern (and I enjoy the director very much), but I can be just plain ol' regular sick...

Last, things here have been really stressful recently, peaking over the weekend. Enter that little voice again: you know, the doctor said that the first tumor's growth was most likely triggered by stress, and the first two years are the time most likely to see a recurrence. You know, you're still in the first two years, and you've been having some massive stress. Wonder how your lymph nodes are doing...

If anyone knows how to either turn off or re-program that little voice, I'd appreciate the info...

random people passing through - edited

I started this blog way back when, to share what was going on with anyone interested (family, friends, acquaintances) without them needing to call and ask or try to ferret things out through the grapevine.

I had no idea so many people I don't know would find it, whether by accident, looking for help, looking for answers.

I get 20-50 hits a week from people looking for information about PICC lines. My post with the picture of my PICC is one of the top returns in Google images. Crazy, no? I sometimes think I should go to that post and modify it to give more information on PICC lines, getting them, taking care of them. Haven't done it, not sure if I will, but it's still a possibility.

I have had this blog linked on three other cancer blogs that I know of and I have some readers through there. (Those are here, here, and here if you're interested.) It's also listed in the i[2]y list of cancer blogs.

Editing to add that I just saw that I've been listed as one of the top 30 inspirational cancer blogs here.

I have this blog in my profile in different places online, and other users have clicked through.

I have no idea how much of it anyone reads at this point. I'm always curious.

I have received multiple messages from people who were just diagnosed themselves or are close to someone who was just diagnosed, asking for advice and help in what to do, in how to deal. I do my best to share the most useful things I learned along the way and hope that it helps.

So to everyone who passes through (well, except the people who just look at the PICC pic, since they'll never read this post):

hello :)

I hope you have found what you were looking for. Feel free to drop me a line.

chemo brain

I'm ready for this whole chemo-brain thing to go away.

I used to have a highly detailed, razor-sharp memory. On occasion, I'd transcribed conversations after they'd happened. I remembered names, faces, events, details within any of that. It was not always a perk, certainly, but it was often useful.

Chemo kicked the shit out of my cognition and memory. My ability to think, carry on a conversation, remember things is MUCH better than it was during and immediately after treatment. But it still ain't right.

There have been days at work when I'm writing a pass for a kid. I look at them and can't remember their name. Sometimes it just takes a few seconds. Sometimes they just tell me. I don't ask. If I need to, I'll find their folder or their instrument (name tag) or glance down my roster.

Earlier this week, I had an e-mail conversation with a friend about some compression shorts. I had gone out to buy a pair, but it turned out that the only size the store I went to had was XL. Paraphrasing the conversation, he said that wasn't very compressive. I said it would be if I put both legs in one leg. He pointed out that I wouldn't be very mobile. I said I'd get good at dolphin kicking. He mentioned that walking and running wouldn't work so well. I agreed and said that I hadn't thought about getting to the pool. Conversation ended.

It did not occur to me until this morning, on my way back from the gym, that what the hell was I talking about? I was buying shorts, not a bathing suit, and so whether or not I could swim in them was irrelevant. (In my slight defense, around this same time, I did buy a bathing suit for exercise.)

I wonder if this is what early stages of dementia are like?

I wonder when this wears off?

I was at a young cancer survivor meeting the other night (will blog about that later) and someone mentioned chemo brain and I said something about it wearing off, and someone else asked, "Does it?" Well shit. I hadn't considered that it wouldn't. I'm just still waiting. And really, that's what I'm going to continue to do. But I wouldn't mind if it hurried up...

Banner Desert fundraiser

I received an e-mail about a fundraiser for cancer stuff at Banner Desert, where I was treated. There was all sorts of neat stuff in it, including some things I could have an extra degree of participation in, but it's on the same day as my triathlon. So I emailed back and said I was interested but it depended on what time because I'm doing a tri, etc., etc.

It turns out that the event is too early (11 a.m.) for me to participate, but she gave my contact info to the PR person (again) regarding the triathlon. She said that it might be inspiring to others who are going through what I went through. So PR might contact me again! How fun! We'll see...

my newest venture...

On Tuesday, I registered to compete in a triathlon! Race date is May 9. I'm not looking to win — just to finish. It should be a pretty amazing experience, I think.

In any case, I decided to blog about training for that. If you want to follow, that blog is here.

lingering side effects - possibly TMI

About three quarters through my run with chemo, my boobs started swelling and shrinking with my cycle. There were other side effects that mimicked pregnancy (according to my pregnant-at-the-time friend), so I just added this to the list of things that will probably happen to me if/when I get pregnant.

It's still happening.

I had assumed that when the boobs stopped this silly game, I would know that the lingering effects of my favorite poisons were gone and I could declare another small victory :)

But it's still happening.

I asked the oncologist about it some time ago, and he said to ask my OB. My OB was also my PCP and she rocked. And then she moved to MedCo, and I can't see her any more. I haven't found a new PCP or a new OB, so the question remains unasked.

They told me that side effects could last up to 18 months. I am beginning to wonder, though, if this is actually ever going to go away... And if it's a problem, other than bra-logistically.

this morning's check-up

I am freshly home from my appointment with the oncologist.

Chest X-ray came back fine and normal.

Bloodwork came back mostly fine, but white blood cells and lymphocytes are low, so he wants me to have them checked every four weeks.

He said that chance of recurrence is highest in the first two years. One of those is over. He said that because I responded so well to the chemo and because they treated me so aggressively, he doesn't expect there will be any problems.

I mentioned the itchy, and he agreed that it was likely from the pool.

He commended me again for being fit and active, and said that "most women your age are heavy and sedentary, and it really is a shame." I agree (with the shame part, I don't know if "most" are that way or not).

I go back in four months.

I stopped back into the infusion room to say hello, but none of my nurses were there. On Friday, when I had bloodwork done, none of my phlebotomists were there. Where did everybody go? :-(

In any case, I am pleased to still be able to say that I am cancer-free. I hadn't expected otherwise, but I'm not sure that the little almost imperceptible voice of "what if" can be completely turned off.

Back to living life :-)

small odd gratitude

We had some clementines that weren't so tasty any more. I thought I'd juice them and see if the juice was any good, in an effort not to waste them.

While slicing them, it (randomly) occurred to me that I was able to slice them, juice them, and I could have drunk the juice without thinking twice about it. I was grateful not to have fresh fruits on the "do not consume" list any more. It doesn't matter that there's dirt and germs on the peels. My body takes care of them :)

Not sure why that popped into my head this evening, but it did. One more little thing to be grateful for in this strangely the-same-as-before-but-not life after cancer.