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Angela sent me a link to this fantastic video about fatigue and dealing with cancer. It’s really well done and I think can apply to everyone whether you are doing cancer treatment or not.  🙂

Ugh… Ruff couple of weeks with a few bright spots.

#1. My dear friends Corey and Eckel came to visit from the UK. I was expecting Corey to visit but not Eckel so it was especially exciting to see him standing in my hallway when I opened the front door. We had a lot of fun hanging out and catching up.

I wasn’t feeling my best during their visit but my energy was on an upswing so I managed to out with them a couple of times. We went to the BC Museum and out for food. It was nice being outside the house in the daylight like a normal person …

Out of the blue I got my period. WHAT? I haven’t had my period in months. The chemo puts you into menopause and my doctor told me to not expect to have my period during chemo. So when … Auntie Flo came a knocking and she knocked me off my feet and right back into bed.

Fuck. Sick. Tired. Crampy. So crampy. Almost threw up from the pain. Come on universe. Give me a break!!! Then the fatigue set in. I could barely get out of bed. Sleeping, napping, nothing helped. I was beyond tired. More tired then I’ve ever been in my life …

Then a menstrual headache moved in and for 3-4 days (I lost count) I lost all track of time. I could barely move. Then I noticed my eyesight was starting to go. Wtf? My eyes have been “going” for a while. I had to get readers and this year I graduated to wearing progressive specs most of the day but can you really lose your eyesight in a week?

Things that were in focus one week ago were now blurry. I could hardly see across the room without squinting and that was WITH my glasses on.

Luckily I had an appointment for a check-up with my oncologist and we discussed my fatigue and eyesight. She said my eyesight thing sounded weird and that I should go see an eye doctor (she didn’t even look at my eyes). I also talked to her about how my lungs get really tight about 4-5 days after chemo and it makes breathing difficult. She suggested this all seemed normal for chemo.

She also seemed to think my overwhelming fatigue was normal (due to chemo). I almost started crying because it can’t be normal to be this exhausted. I kept asking her if she could check my iron levels. She didn’t seem worried about it so I asked if I could take some iron during chemo and she “Sure. Won’t hurt…”

Well guess what? I went and got iron pills … and within 24 hours I felt like myself again. I mean … I don’t know if iron pills can work that quickly but I swear to dog I woke up feeling like a new person. I am pretty sure my body sucked all the energy it could out of that iron pill and put it to work.

I have an appointment with my GP on Tuesday. I’m going to ask her to do a blood panel and check my iron. I don’t understand why the oncologist won’t do it??

And my eyes? I came home so mad that my oncologist didn’t even look at my eyes that I went to Dr.Google and typed “Chemotherapy eyesight problems” and guess what I found? THOUSANDS of people who were having the same problem as me – who simply fixed their issue with some dry-eye drops because their eyes were dehydrated from the chemo. Within 20 minutes my eyes were back to normal.

How can my oncologist not know this is a common issue with chemo patients?

So the last couple of weeks have been kind of shitty. Feeling low emotionally. Feeling low about my body falling apart. Feeling low about my oncologist. Feeling low low low and then before I knew it … it was time for Chemo #3. Ugh.

I didn’t feel ready. I barely had time to recover from #2 and now it’s time for #3? I had a really bad day the day before chemo. Weepy. Low. Sad. I cried so much … told Gerry I didn’t think I could do it. I was a mess.

But then something weird happened. I don’t know if it was the iron or the extra Ativan I took to get to sleep that night but I woke up in the morning ready to kick some cancer ass. I put on my new dress (a birthday gift from my dear friend Isa) and my best drag-eyebrow and I walked into the cancer clinic ready for #3.

Unfortunately despite all my bravado that day – this round has been tough and I fell apart pretty quickly. The cumulative effect of the chemo is starting to add up and all the “things” that happen to me because of the chemo are really starting to drag me down.

Thankfully we have the nausea mostly under-control with the new medication. I would say my nausea during the first four days is around a 4 out of 10. Which is much better than it was the first round which I would categorize as an 11.

Day 2 my face goes bright red. LIKE BRIGHT RED. So red that it makes freckles pop out and so red that it actually burns my face. Portions of my face are so burned that the skin is perpetually dry and flaky. It’s like a sunburn from the inside out.

When I called the clinic to talk to a nurse about it she told me to drink more water and put cream on my face. If I drink more water I am going to float away … I tried putting an icepack on my face to bring down the heat and it helped a little.

I also put so much cream on my face that Gerry laughs when I come out of the bathroom because I look like a 1950’s housewife with cold cream on her face … but guess what? 10 minutes later my skin has soaked it all up and I have to re-cream my face again because it’s so dry. UGH!

And then there’s the crazy dreams. The first chemo day I always have a nap and Gerry has to come check on me often because I’m moaning like I’m being murdered. It happens every time … it’s so weird.

The next couple of days are terrible nightmares. Dreams inside of dreams. It’s like the movie Inception only 10x more terrifying and I wake up quivering and terrified.

This time around my breath got real shallow again around day 3/4. I try and go for a walk with Gerry and Fergus every night and Thursday I could hardly breath. I had to stop multiple times to catch my breath. It was like I had baby lungs.

Friday I lay around all day and I still could not catch my breath even with just resting. I talked to the nurse at the Cancer Clinic and she told me if I didn’t feel better to call the on-call oncologist.

Well around 10pm that night I still couldn’t catch my breath and now I had a low-grade fever, felt like I had the flu and my heart-rate was really low so Gerry made the call and talked to the doc about all my symptoms. He suggested I go to the ER and since I’m a chemo patient he would call ahead so I didn’t have to wait.

We arrived and they whisked me into a room. Thank goodness we arrived when we did because it was Friday night at the ER and things were hopping. From the drunk 87 year old man beside me who refused to pee into a cup. To the guy who had cut himself with a knife because he was lonely to the lady with dementia across from me. It was a gong-show and I kind of freaked out because I felt so vulnerable and unsafe. Ugh. Thank god for Gerry. He stood beside me like a guard shielding me from the chaos. My hero.

I had blood drawn. A chest x-ray. Multiple physical exams. They checked my heart with a crazy machine that looked like they were giving my battery a boost and then the doc told me to go home …

He said my films/blood were fine and that it sounds like it’s all par for the course for chemo. Seriously? This can’t be normal? Can it?

So now I’m home. Exhausted. My breathing is a little better. My energy is getting a little better … but I still feel like this is all bullshit. I feel like they are trying to kill me … there has to be a better way.

I made the mistake of tweeting about being in the ER as it was happening and I kind of freaked some people out (like my Dad). I am in such a habit of tweeting what’s happening to me that I didn’t think it would upset people but that’s because I’ve never thought of what’s happening to me as life and death before. It’s just happening … Is that weird?

I tweeted as soon as I knew everything was ok … but it made me stop and think about tweets and why I am compelled to share things that are happening to me in the moment.

For me? I did it because I was scared. I felt really unwell. Gerry was being wonderful and supportive but I could see how freaked out he was that something serious was wrong with me and by tweeting out to the web it made everything feel less heavy and it also gave me instant support … I mean you guys were messaging me like crazy as soon as I said I was in the ER and that helped me feel less scared. 🙂

For some reason I can’t stop thinking about Corey Monteith (who died this week) and how his last tweet was about Sharknado. That’s a weird last tweet to leave the world before you die or maybe it’s exactly as it should be?

I haven’t even thought about dying … until that trip to the ER. Now it’s all I can think about. What if my heart stops when I’m sleeping? Or what if the chemo crushes my lungs and I stop breathing?

Or if I do die … This house is so messy. I will feel so guilty leaving so much junk behind for Gerry to clean up. Ugh. I’m trying to resist the urge to throw everything out because I know it’s just panic but the thought of Gerry having to sift through all this stuff makes me stressed.

Like that’s the thing I should be stressed about … ha ha. Silly girl.

I don’t know where my head is at … but it feels like a Sharknado is coming to get me and I won’t have the strength to fight it. Where’s Ian Ziering with a chainsaw when I need him?

Ok. So … KISS. Ha ha. I don’t even know where to start.  🙂

Gerry and I arrived at the venue and I put on a surgical mask to try and minimize any germs I might come across.

The show was sold out – and that’s a lot of germs floating around. I can’t get sick. It can be really dangerous for me to get sick with my white blood cells being lowered by the chemo but for the Knights in Satan’s Service I will take the chance.

I got so many weird looks from people because of my mask … I’m not sure why. I mean there were all kinds of people more dressed up than me. 🙂

KISS knows how to make an entrance. They arrived on stage descending from the sky on a giant mechanical spider. WHAAAATTT?? And it just got crazier from there.

Gene mugged and interacted with the crowd as he does – he even pointed and yelled at people who were sitting in their seats. Ha ha. It was awesome.

Paul came over to our side of the stage and did some sexy mugging. I don’t understand how his 61 year old knees can fall on the floor like that every night. 60 is the new 30. He looks GOOOOD. I love it when he prances.

Speaking of prancing … at one point Paul started asking the audience if he should come out into the audience. The crowd was so excited and all I could think was “What a logistical nightmare. How is he not going to be mauled by the crowd?” … and the next thing I knew he was FLYING across the crowd towards a rotating stage in the middle of the arena.

WHAT? I was so excited that I forgot to get video but I did get video of him flying back. Is there anything more wonderful then Paul Stanley prancing around with silver tasseled boots and bedazzled leggings on a rotating stage singing Love Gun? Jesus. I almost died from the joy of it all.  🙂

Gene also got his moment in the sun. Or should I say THUNDER! Gene aka The God of Thunder did a wicked dirty bass solo with his ax bass. He was spitting BLOOD and the crowd was chanting his name and suddenly he was flying through the air! Oh god it was glorious! 🙂

Near the end of the show Gene was brought out over the crowd on a hydraulic lift. He was so close to us and I started crying. Yes. CRYING! I was completely overwhelmed with gratitude.

So many things were rushing through my head as I raised my arms towards Gene and started screaming. Like if my Mum had taken me to that KISS concert in 1977 there is no way I would have understood what was going on. Ha.

Second. The  theatrics of it all … she would have loved every minute of it. I wish she was with me.

Third. I was so grateful to my body for being well enough to stand and dance and sing-along. My body and my spirit … is going through so much right now and having those few hours of fun with a band I’ve loved since I was a kid. Man alive. I’ll never forget this feeling of gratitude I have.

The confetti cannons went off at the end of the show and I have NEVER seen that much confetti in my life.

Just when I thought “Wow. That’s a lot of confetti.” … there was more. And then I’d think “Wow. That really IS a lot of confetti.” then there would be EVEN MORE! The whole show was beyond over the top and worth every penny.

Thank you KISS for being everything I needed as a weird child to escape from the reality of losing my Mum to cancer when I was 10. I would listen to your records and stare at your LP covers and be transfixed by the artwork and the theatrics of it all. You gave me a safe place to fantasize about blood and platform boots and who Beth was.

As for the other night … you delivered yet again. You gave me 3 hours of respite from a really difficult time in my life and I am in your debt and will be forever a solider in the KISS ARMY.

And a big thank you to my girl Leah for helping me get last minute tickets to the show. I owe ya big-time!! 🙂

The daily messages of blessings from all of you is overwhelming lovely. I read everything you guys write me and your messages lift me up when I’m feeling low. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for your support. 🙂

This letter from Ilana in response to my Blah blog post is too good not to share with all of you so with her permission … please read. You may need a hankie after. I certain did. 🙂

Sarah, I’ve been checking in often, hoping to find you feeling miles better. I’m so sorry to see that’s not the case.

I’ve been battling so many of the same things (although, NOT the thrush – ugh.) I think Neulasta is helping with neutrophil production, but I feel like I have the hips and legs of a ninety year old. I feel utterly betrayed by my body, which has always been my willing and able accomplice in a busy life. It’s been a struggle for positivity, because I believe that your attitude has real impact on your body. In my struggle, I’ve been writing things that are going on, and hope you don’t mind if I share one of those here, because it has been pulling me up for the last couple of weeks. (Are there clowns where you get your chemo? Probably not, you’re in Canada, it’s a civilized nation. )

At my cancer center (oh, dear Buddha, I still can’t believe I have a CANCER CENTER) there’s a weird chemo clown thing – women with garish makeup and bulbous red noses – wait, that makes them sound like alcoholic hookers, not nearly alarming enough…women with rainbow suspenders and big shoes (I shit you not) walk around dispensing the most vapid of good cheer. Now, let’s be clear here – I am an adult. The value of a smiley face sticker given to me whilst I get poison pumped into my body is, shockingly, minimal, and in fact causes some out-of-proportion rage in my steroid-racked brain.

My husband, spying the approaching clown, immediately begins to murmur “be nice…be nice…” like a mantra. He’s the nicest person in the world, and he knows that sometimes…uh…I am not. But, I work hard, bite my tongue and remember what a friend of mine told me: Somebody likes the clown. By which she means: I am not the center of the universe (although, as a youngest child, I struggle to remember this fact) and while the clown doesn’t appeal to me, she appeals to someone. So, when she smiles and hands me a card, I smile back (probably a bit grimly) decline the smiley face sticker, and she keeps walking. I look at the paper in my hand, and it’s one of those barftastic affirmational messages: “I am…worthy…loveable…blah, blah, blah.” I stop reading when I get to “huggable” and tuck it into my book.

And then, I am sideswiped by the lesson. The clown walks to the next chair, and the woman occupying said chair, who has clearly been traveling this terrible road far longer than I, greets her like an old friend, even though their conversation makes it clear that they have never met before. She gratefully takes the smiley face sticker and proceeds to talk for at least twenty minutes. During this time the clown listens intently, occasionally murmurs softly, but mostly just listens. I am utterly shamed. Somebody likes the clown. Somebody NEEDS the clown.

And again it washes over me – a sense of my good fortune. My husband sits beside me through every chemo, hands me countless tissues, listens to every gripe and whine, tries to alter the axis of the earth so I’ll suffer just a tiny bit less. My family and friends give me food and books and gum and company, bring their dogs to visit, send me hats and funny emails and whatever else they can think of to make this awful journey a little less awful. I don’t need the clown. I am so lucky. And I’m ashamed of my reaction to her.

But even here, the clown gives me a pass. Later, I go back to my book, and I pull out the little piece of paper, and I see the other side. All it says is “Be gentle with yourself.”

So, be gentle with yourself and if you can manage it, remember how lucky you are to be loved. Sending you all the strength I can share – Ilana

That’s how I feel right now. Blah. All I do is lay like a lump on the couch and feel like shit. Chemo is killing my enthusiasm …

2nd chemo went better. The new anti nausea meds they gave me helped … my nausea was a 3 instead of an 11. So that made the first 2 days easier. Then the third day a write off. I felt like I had the worst flu. No temperature or much nausea but I could barely move. I felt like I was dying … I spent almost the entire day sleeping and I’ve felt exhausted ever since.

I can feel chemo chipping away at my health. My nails are turning weird. I woke up the other morning to find a mouth full of Thrush. I feel unsteady in my body and had to come to the heartbreaking decision to cancel my trip to Seattle to see the Go-Go’s.

I was really excited to see Jane and the rest of the ladies. They’ve been so amazingly supportive of me during this cancer and I wanted to give them all a big thank-u hug. *sob* but I can feel that my body is not recouping as quickly as I had hoped and I am completely depleted of energy. Better to stay home in case something else crops up.

By the way. Thrush? Is the worst. I won’t go into details but my tongue looks like yogurt. It’s disgusting. I hope you never get it.

This fatigue is bullshit. It takes EVERYTHING I have just to have a shower and get dressed. It’s like having Chronic Fatigue all over again. I never ever thought I’d be back here again struggling to have energy. It’s really depressing.

A friend of mine asked me what I did all day to occupy myself. She said “I know you must be going stir-crazy because you like to be out and about.” My answer? Not really.

I am a TV set full of static.

My days are a blur of malaise. I don’t have the brain power to read or clean or even carry on an intelligent conversation. One day bleeds into the next and because I have to nap a couple of times a day … I barely know what day it is. It’s all one long blur of feeling shitty …

The other day my Auntie Jean send me a nice email wishing me a happy birthday and I was like “Huh? What? OH YEAH! It’s my birthday.” I can’t believe I forgot …

Life is weird right now and I’m not really enjoying myself so to get myself out of the dumps I try to focus on the positive. I mean … that’s the only way I’m going to get through this. Right? Try and focus on little things that pop up during the day and give me pleasure.

Like how about when I took the dog for a walk around the block and saw an urban deer staring at me from my neighbours front lawn.

Or that Fergus is always watching me and making sure I’m ok… 🙂

Or how beautiful that summer breeze blowing through my windows is…

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Or the fact that I’m going to see KISS on Friday!!

I was so upset about having to cancel my trip to Seattle to see the Go-Go’s that I bought tickets to see KISS.

The concert is a few blocks from my house so I feel like I can safely go see the show and if I feel tired/sick/overwhelmed I can easily get home without too much fuss.

I have been a KISS fan since the 70’s and I distinctly remember my Mum promising me she would take me to their concert when they played in Regina in 1977. I don’t remember the reason why we didn’t go. Maybe because I was only 9 years old at the time (ha ha) but it’s haunted me my whole life. So now’s my chance to fulfill that childhood dream.  🙂

And in the immortal words of KISS: If you don’t feel good, there’s a way you could. Don’t sit there broken hearted. Call all your friends in the neighborhood and get the party started. Shout it, shout it, shout it out loud!!

As soon as I started to feel better from Chemo #1 and recovered from my port surgery … I started going down to the store and slowly packed up.

So much stuff. Holy crap. So many fiddly bits to put away. I was going to move all my merchandise to my house and set it up in my office and try and keep the online store going but I filled a few new online orders during the week and found it all very overwhelming. I decided to close the online store temporarily until we get over the hump of this heavy chemo and then we’ll see how it goes. Thank you for understanding. 🙂

Moving the store into storage was easy thanks to my dear sweet friends. I facebooked that we needed help and this manly motley crew showed up the next morning and had me moved out/moved into storage in under 2 hours. I could not be more thankful to these wonderful friends of mine.  🙂

And then it was done.

I’m really sad to say good-bye but thrilled to announce that my dear friend Honor is moving her jewelery store ADORE into my space in July. She’s a perfect fit for the location and she sells gorgeous locally made jewelry. Next time you’re bumping around downtown go visit her. 🙂

So with the store packed up and put away … my hair also decided to pack-it in! I’ve been losing hair for a little while but one day I woke up and my pillow and towels were COVERED in sparkly silver stubble. It was driving me crazy… so itchy. Like after you get a haircut and your clothes are full of hair-slivers.

Gerry suggested we see if we could gently pull it out with packing tape and it worked! Holy cow. Was it ever easy to pull out …

Suddenly I was Lady Lex Luthor! 🙂

A few days later and it was time for chemo #2 and I kind of melted down…

What a whirlwind. Closing the store. Doing surgery/healing from the port surgery. Dealing with how hard chemo #1 was. My dear friends Dad is sick with a sudden diagnosis of cancer. A close family member is also dealing with cancer. Another friends brother died suddenly. Another friend had major surgery. It feels like Armageddon right now and I’m trying not to stress out too much but just go with the flow… but the universe is not making it easy.

I bawled my face off the day before chemo. Gerry and I even had a weird fight and we never fight. There was so much stress in my body from the last month of everything … that I just lay on the couch and blubbered it all out.

Chemo #2 is more scary then #1 because now I know what it’s like … Had a long talk with my oncologist and they are switching me to a different fancy-pants anti-nausea med. It’s like the Cadillac of nausea meds. Fingers crossed it works better.

I think the thing I was the most upset about was the fact that I had to miss out on my niece Heidi’s 18th birthday and her graduation from highschool. I was planning on flying out to Winnipeg to celebrate and obviously this cancer business got in my way. My family sent me tons of photos from the event but I still feel heartbroken about missing it. I’m so proud of her … 🙂

But bawling my face-off really helped to release all that tension because I woke up the next day feeling stronger and ready to take on the day. I wore my favourite Fluevog shoes and went in ready to do #2.

We also did the chemo through my port and it was much easier to take in…

After chemo I was feeling well enough to run a few errands. We popped into the v-cbc.ca and picked up some “items” to help me with the nausea. Also stopped into the BC Smoke Shop to pick up a vapor apparatus to help me consume these “items”.  🙂

Came home and took a long post-cancer nap … holy cow it was a deep nap. I had a dream that my face was made out of pancakes and Fergus was trying to eat my face. Weird!

I woke up still feeling bummed out that my chemo date was messing with my social calendar. I also had to miss the Serena Ryder show… my friend Hill is playing with her and I haven’t seen her in ages and I was really excited to see her but unfortunately my chemo coincided with her show.

But Hill and Serena sent me love-notes via text messages. Made me so happy … almost as good as seeing them in person.  😉

It’s been a really stressful month and I’m so thankful to all my friends for kicking in and helping to make things easier. I’m trying to remember to let it flow. Let myself go. …Slow and low that is the tempo. 🙂

My kiss curls are on their way out. It’s so weird how easily it comes out …

Like pulling spaghetti out of a box. Is that even a good analogy? Ha ha!

I forgot to mention that my hair started falling out today in full force and not just the hair on my head. ALL my hair is falling out including *cough* down there.

It’s so weird. It’s just like in the movies when the person puts their hands up to their head and come away with clumps of hair.

My doctor said I would start losing my hair 2 weeks to the day of my first chemo. Well it’s only been 12 days … but I’m always ahead of the curve.  🙂

Had my port installed on Friday … it was easy. I wasn’t even nervous. I think the mastectomy was such a BIG deal and I was SO ramped up for that surgery that getting this tiny surgery feels like barely a blip on my radar.

Although the 5am wake up time to get to the hospital for 6am was not cool. Fergus was not amused.

I was so happy when I saw I had the same nurse I had for my mastectomy. She was the one who told me that “God knows where the veins are…” when she gave me my IV and I have to give her props because her IV is the only one I’ve had that didn’t bruise. 🙂

She was even more lovely the 2nd time around and took wonderful care of me. It’s not often you get a second chance to see the same nurse so I told her how good I thought she was at her job (and it wasn’t just the morphine talking) and how much I appreciated her care. 🙂

While we were waiting for me to go into surgery Gerry saw this sign he said “I sure hope they’re better at cutting then they are at spelling…” ha ha ha.

Right before surgery they put you in a holding area. This one was different then the last. There was a bank of computers in front of me but they were all turned off so I used them the do some “square breathing”.

One breath in for 4
Hold breath for 4
Breath out for 4
Hold breath for 4
Repeat

I was SO BORED. It took forever and there was nothing to look at … so I decided to talk to my body again.

“Body. I know we’ve had a rough couple of weeks. The chemo has been really hard and we have just started but you’re doing great. I’m so thankful for your resilience. It’s a good thing that we are doing this surgery now instead of later because you’re still so strong. Even though you might feel tired and slightly compromised from that first round of chemo you are still healthier than the average body. You don’t drink, smoke or do drugs. You eat healthy. You rest. You exercise. You are awesome. So let’s get through this surgery and heal up quickly so we can rest and get ready for your upcoming chemo.”

And then they wheeled me into the operating room.

My surgeon was cool. We had a long talk about how he could insert my port without ruining my chest tattoo. I suggested he cut along the outline of my tattoo and from what I can see through my bandage – I think that’s what he did. You gotta love a doctor who respects your tattoos.  🙂

I woke up to someone in the recovery room screaming for help. I said to the nurse “How come every-time I wake up from surgery someone is freaking out? It’s very upsetting.” He laughed and said “Does this happen often?” I said “Every time I come here…I’m sick of it.”

Thank goodness it was just day surgery and I didn’t have to spend the night. Gerry bought me a purple Popsicle for the car ride home and I’ve been laying around recovering ever since. Not a lot of pain just a little uncomfortable.

My Power Port comes with a key-fob and an ID card that I have to carry with me in my wallet. The port sits just under my skin and they can access it for chemo/blood/etc …

If you want to read more about the port go HERE. It’s kind of amazing. I’m like the BORG.

I especially love that the port is purple. You all know how much of a fan I am of diminutive purple things. 😉

And the randomly chosen winner of the Vegan Police Tank Top is … Courtney Zubyk-Lennert!! Shoot me an e-mail with your mailing address!