Seat Week

I know, I'm off work with a lot of time to post to the blog and I haven't put anything up. Part of it is because of the drugs. They gave me the Intervention drug of choice, oxycodone, and it's good for pain, but bad for paying attention to things. Just ask half the celebrities in US Weekly. Today is going to be an oxycodone-free day and I think it'll be okay.

Or not.

Mom is here and we've watched a lot of movies on Turner and some Bollywood (Dewaar), but it's still hard to put this whole week together.

My friend Kelly, also diagnosed with metastasized breast cancer, has been in the hospital all week. Her cancer metastasized to her liver and chemo shrunk the tumor, but has overworked her body. She was cured. Then she's not. Then things are good. Then they're not. This treatment will work and then it doesn't. It's supposed to work, but then it doesn't work entirely well, actually.

I can't speak for Kelly, but all this time I thought I was in agreement with my body. We had fun together. I kept it in relatively good shape --- we had exercise on a regular basis; I kept it fed and even treated it a number of times to hot tubs and relaxation. I never let anything break and if a hole got poked in it, I gave it peroxide and a Hello Kitty Band-Aid. Sure, I over-worked it a little the past 4 years, but I gave it rest when it was tired and lots of vitamins. Kelly was healthy before the cancer --- healthier than I was. She could live in Colorado, where I got knocked senseless by the altitude. Why do our bodies want to rebel like this?

I don't know.

So I'm sitting here with pretty flowers (thank you, everyone; our house smells wonderful) and a Debbie Reynolds mini-film-marathon and a cat sleeping on my feet and and I want to be Zen about everything and allow the world to move as it goes without trying to throw off the balance, but I can't help thinking that the balance is already a little bit wonky already. Is it Zen to believe that the beauty of the balance is in the imbalance? And where does the Debbie Reynolds mini-marathon fit in? Sunshine, lollipops and rainbows and -- cancer, pain pills and everything that's wonderful.

I just don't know.

The cancer ward just got cool

I've posted before about how my friend SA Mahoney has earned a place in heaven for her inspired gift-giving. The Chinese Culture Poker Cards? Come on... I never thought that could be topped. Never. With the idea that I'd be going in for chemo she sent up a Nintendo DS, which I can't put down --- that stupid Professor Layton game is driving me crazy. I still can't draw the BIG 5-pointed star that will get me into the park. Why? Why?

And to help inspire me to build strength she also sent 5 discs of The Bionic Woman.

Jaime undercover as a woman wrestler ... no, really

Goofy undercover work, bending bars, slow-motion running, Max the German Shepherd -- is there anyone better out there, any better heroines for a little girl, than bionic schoolteacher Jaime Sommers? I don't think so. I swear, each show we've watched so far has hooked into this television-type acid flashback and I know it immediately: Jaime goes to Vegas, Jaime gets taken over by look-alike Lisa (poor confused Lisa), and, the best of all, Jaime vs. the Fembots.

Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, dear God, nooooooo

We've already watched "Kill Oscar" about 3 times now. Can't get enough. This episode used to scare the s*** out of the cousin/roommate when he was a kid. He still carries a fear that someone, somewhere is going to rip off their face and reveal a robot underneath (my money's on John Saxon or one of the Kardashians). I know of at least one mother who has admitted to being a fembot, so they're out there, friends.

Fembots, weather disasters, Steve Austin and one very ticked-off Oscar-bot make "Kill Oscar" the best ever episode in the series.

Oscar gets his action on.

Of course mention needs to be made of the fashion, and while I know this is supposed to focus on The Bionic Woman, special attention has to be paid to style of Col. Steve Austin.

"A jumpsuit? Really, Steve."

The polyester gabardine combination getting a Geiger checkout.
Affirmative: it's a hot outfit

half of a possible full Cleveland -- belt? shoes?

Jaime's no slacker, but her best outfits are the most functional, like her lab running clothes here (with sloppy Dr. Rudy Wells ... scientists, yeesh).

Finally, someone with a long torso that girls like me can look up to and admire

Or the leisure wear/action wear ensemble suitable for lying around the house or jumping from 4th floor windows. You can't see them very well in the photo, but she's wearing white ballet slippers. Soooooooooooo cool.


But, cute little robots need their activity time too and we have just the thing for you to wear. Anyone for bionic handball?

awwwwwwww

... and he never looked at the admittance form

I've been staring at my surgery pre-admission form for the past 4 days and I'm finding it difficult to even put my name on it. I've never had surgery before. I've never spent any real time in a hospital and I've never been put under for anything, so this is scaring the bejesus out of me.

I know this is an outpatient procedure. It's no big deal. People do them every day. What the hell do I have to be worried about? They go in, stuff comes out, it's done. Sleep, wake up, it's over.

And, sure, the majority of the questions are easy like "Have you ever tested positive for TB" or "Special diet - Yes?" But I get hung up circling the face that shows how much pain I have now or questions like "Do you snore loudly?" Because why? Will that trouble the surgeon? I mean, yes, I do snore loudly, but it's one of those questions like "Are you claustrophobic?" where it doesn't mean anything in terms of how the procedure is done, it's just whether or not it'll be uncomfortable for everyone else in the room. I don't think I make "gasping and/or choking noises" but I'm asleep, so maybe I do, I don't know, do I have to answer it now? I don't know. I don't know!

But, most of all, this keeps reminding me of The Verdict and I keep hearing James Mason telling Wesley Addy "Just say it: She threw up in her mask"

"Cut the bullshit, please."

and seeing Lindsay Crouse holding up that admissions form ("It must be disallowed") and crying "Who were these men? I wanted to be a nurse!"

So I have the surgery fear and, yes, I do think it's fair to blame it on David Mamet.

Hill Street Blues, Blacks, Browns, Tans

Sorry, we haven't watched much in the way of full-length movies lately, although Monday we had a nice evening out with friends watching Tropic Thunder ... dude ... that movie was righteous. Made me want to give Pineapple Express another chance. Goofiness is a good release.

Instead of film-going we've been tv-going and on a whim I threw Hill Street Blues on the Netflix. (If I told you why it would ruin my credibility)(Okay, it was a 6-degrees-of-separation thing from an episode of Here Come the Brides)(1 degree actually, because it was an episode with Daniel J. Travanti.)(He called himself Travanty then.)(But I digress.)

Like most people, I never watched Hill Street Blues when it was on. It was too adult or too dark or too much like homework unlike, say, The Dukes of Hazzard. I was in high school, I didn't want to have to think n' junk, and after high school I was more drink than think, so I just never got around to thoughtful television. If Alexis wasn't looking for a way to screw over Blake and Crystal then I didn't care.

The best thing about Fay is this koi fish print shirt

But this is a good show. There's lots of boy love between Hill and Renko -- good, honest boy love that makes me want to hug them -- and the stories are interesting, in the station and on the street. I don't like Fay much, but no one does, and LaRue had better turn himself around because Henry makes a nice partner to Washington. Although since there are only 2 seasons available on disc I guess I'll never know if LaRue straightens out, if Belker ever shaves, if Betty and Joe ever hook up or if Davenport and Furillo get married.


They were the absolutely the handsomest couple on 80's television. His suits were impeccable. Blue suits, black suits, brown with a dark brown vest underneath -- in one episode he says that the cleaners burned down and he lost 3 suits. I almost cried.

Coal Mine, Moonshine or Movin' Off Down the Line

From today's chat:

would not buy your produts again the why you treat your people that are turly sick. i was one of nine children and i will make sure they dont buy either.and there children's children and friends your virginia plant is something else may god bring karma down on you.ill make sure the coalminers quit.

We sell office supplies. Did I mention?

I'm sure if we had coal mines that's where I'd be working, but instead I work in the pink collar equivalent here in customer service. When I weigh myself at the depot I don't know how much is me and how much is the customer dust.

I hope god doesn't bring that karma down on us and let those evil bastids in Virginia get away with everything. That would suck.

This Might Make You Want To Throw Something

A lot of very sound and intelligent advice has been coming my way regarding a second opinion. I love you all, but I'm not going to follow it and here is why.

I've been seeing my oncologist for 2 years for my blood disorder and I've learned to trust him. I didn't at first because he didn't move fast enough for me. Why wasn't he doing a lumbar puncture? Why didn't he do a splenectomy? Why isn't he concerned that the platelets went down again? It's because he doesn't panic. Based on what he knows, he decided on a treatment, it worked, all was good. There was no need to do invasive and expensive procedures. He didn't panic and it was the right thing to do. My platelets go up and down, but never into worry territory. They're just going to hover around the 20 - 40 range and, while that's not ideal, it's also not worthy of panic.

I've been seeing my gynecologist for 2 months. She ordered ultrasounds based on fuzzy images from the MRI as opposed to looking at the more reliable images from the mammogram which showed nothing on the right side. She wants to do a double mastectomy. She's all for invasive and expensive action. She thought the tumor was a cyst and now thinks cysts could be tumors and she feeds my panic impulse. This seems like the right thing to do. Kill it, take it, make it go away.

But the oncologist says it's unnecessary. Mastectomy because it might one day have cancer on the right? If that's the case, I should have had them both removed a long time ago. He can shrink the tumor while working on the bone cancers and still do a lumpectomy later. There's no need to panic.

So, there, as you can see I already have something of a second opinion. There's a third if you count the surgeon and she agreed with the oncologist.

But the logic of seeing another oncologist completely new to me -- someone who doesn't know my history and will require explanation and testing and driving to Portland or Seattle ... dude, no. I just don't have the energy. Had this happened 2 or even 1 year ago, you would have a stronger case. Not that I would have any more time or energy to shop around, but I would be more inclined to want to talk to someone else. At this point, you're too late. I trust the guy I've got and, like a dentist, once you find a good doctor you stick with them. (I used to drive 40 miles to a dentist because he was the only one I'd found in California who could numb me up properly.)

Now, if you want to talk me out of my "primary care" doctor, I'm all ears. She's been getting copies of everything with no response, not even a check-in-on-you phone call. (My patient has cancer? Well, just file it. I'm sure she looked up all she needs to know on the internet.)

Why can't it be Candyland?

Down down down, then up up up ----- so school, cancer, life really, it's just Chutes & Ladders, isn't it?


Nice meeting with the doctor yesterday. Yet again, I didn't write anything down and then went and had a margarita afterward because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Other people wrote things down so maybe they'll fill in with a guest spot later.

So no mastectomy. Gynogirldoctor said yes, but oncologicancer doctor said no, because what the chemo was going to do, hormone therapy will do instead. Why not hormone before? Well, before, when it wasn't in my bones and it was just in this lumpy thing on the left, chemo would be the faster shrinker-upper, but the side effects really blow. But hormone therapy is better all-around, even though it means removing my ovaries (no more period boo hoo hoo) and early menopause and all the fun stuff that comes with that (what? no more period?!? YOU BASTARDS. why is it so hot in here?), but I keep my hair, I don't throw up all the time, my tumors still shrink, I get to keep the girls (we're back to lumpectomy) and I buy into 2 more years of life on this Earf.

Yes, you bet I can vote in the next election. Just you watch me, bi....ches.

If treatment goes really well that 2 years becomes 10+ and I'll be just like the rest of you mugs waiting for the Rapture to happen so we can have our choice of cars on the freeway.

So, yeah, sure there are a lot more details to it than that. We were in there almost an hour, but I have no idea what the details are. I only know the good parts. The bottom line is ("Oh, God, I hate that phrase ... we're not in retailing") I've already out-lived Keats, Irving Thalberg and all the Brontes and I'm catching up to Robert Louis Stevenson.

Cycling may return in summer after bone build-up. X-rays today on arm and hip; MRI on Monday on the spine-y portions. Do you hear me calling, Gianni?

And that's when it all went horribly wrong

Paid a visit to the oncologist Monday to go over the scans and get ready for Thursday. I didn't take the cousin/roommate since he had to go to the dentist later and I thought it was just a preliminary little chat before the nuclear fission. What's to worry?

Did you see that movie The Blind Side? Okay, this was like that, only without Sandra Bullock and the heartwarming story because I was completely blind-sided by:

"The cancer has metastasized into the bone."

Yeah, I know! This keeps happening. I keep thinking it'll be bad, but not really believing it, and then, what do you know? it's bad and then goes it gets worse. First it's a cyst and then it's cancer, now it's cancer and now it's worse cancer? What the f...? Where does this come from? Did I wrong everyone in my past life? I thought I was at least somewhat nice to some people somewhere.

So, yeah, turns out this is incurable, so I'll always have it, like a birthmark, unless it's possible to remove those now like tattoos, in which case it will not be like a birthmark, but like a really crappy permanent version of a birthmark.

The cancer is currently in 4 places:

My upper left arm
My right hip
The base of my spine
The back right shoulder blade

(markers not placed to scale)

Yeah, so all this time I thought our couch cushions sucked and it's been cancer screwing with my spine and hip. The couch is fine, but, boy is my face red. We were going to reinforce the frame with cedar and it was that tricky cancer all along.

So, what does this mean? Well, it means that the chemotherapy is canceled. It means that I have to get pushed into early menopause starting now. It means the ovaries come out and I schedule the mastectomy. It means anti-anxiety medication. It means figuring out how to live with this for the rest of my life and hoping it can be controlled somehow and that I never break anything, which means reconsidering cycling on the streets because fear of getting hit now goes beyond just protecting my head. Does it mean cycling in body armor?

And I really wanted to try out the Gianni Motta this summer.

But I get to keep my hair.

Mom and pop are driving up in their camper. My cousin Hilary is flying out from Atlanta. Silvia sent me a pink Ninento DS and Mario Kart (I'm ready to be Baby Peach, man). I'm knitting scarves for etsy and pagan babies because I suck at hats. I'm seeing Clash of the Titans tonight. These are all the things I know. Everything else you'll have to make up on your own.

A Movie Nearly Every Night: In the Loop

In the Loop (2009)
Dir. Armando Iannuci
Starring: Peter Capaldi, Tom Hollander, Gina McKee, James Gandolfini, Chris Addison


We'll make this easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy. Here are 3 reasons you need to see this movie:

1. "Was it you, the baby from Eraserhead?"
2. "I can see the headlines now. 'Peace-Loving General Starts Brawl in U.N., Swiss Intervene.' I don't know, I'm no expert on spin, but that could hurt your career."
3. "You get sarcastic with me again and I will stuff so much cotton wool down your fucking throat it'll come out your arse like the tail on a Playboy bunny."

I'd list more, but there are too many and it's much better to hear them spray forth from Peter Capaldi's growling mouth than to read them on a page. There are also some surprising supporting people -- like where has Mimi Kennedy been all these years? She's really great and seems to get only bits and pieces in movies and TV. Thank God she's in this.

It's a cathartic little film. I feel better now and it's giving me a lot of fun response lines for tense situations ("You're an idiot. Or are you a fake idiot?").

Okay, that's all. Oh, wait, one more thing.

"Fuckety bye then."