I get knocked down...

<Sang to the tune of Chumba-Wumba's one hit wonder>

I actually have a LOT to write about.  I really have about three blog topics rolling around in this big bald head of mine.  However, I'll start out with what I think people are most interested in:  me.

It's very hard to remain positive (get back up again--chumba-wumba reference again) when every time I start to feel normal again, the stupid chemo drugs bring me down.  This time around was very hard.  I don't know if it was because it was actually hard, or because I was just realizing the weight of it all.

Last week I was feeling pretty good.  I had a really good week.  I had some coffee dates, some lunch dates, I took Marie out and about, I was overall doing a really good job at keeping busy.  Wednesday, Troy and I had an early Valentine's day dinner.  We went to the Melting Pot and I ate a LOT of food.  My appetite was back, and in general things were just going pretty well.  Then, on Valentine's day, it was chemo day again.  I decided to go alone this time.  It's not that I had no one to go with, a lot of people offered, but I just figured I'd go by myself and get some rest and relaxation.  So, I dropped Marie off at school, and headed in to Edwards Cancer Center.  My appointment was early, which at the time I was actually pretty happy with, so I went in with high spirits ready to go.  They took my blood, and, as usual, my counts were high.  This kept my spirits up, so in I went to the doc.  He gave me my go ahead to have the "good stuff" (that's oncologist/chemo nurse humor I think--they keep calling the "stuff" that makes me feel like crap "good stuff"...I still don't get it).  I went back into my chair and I was pleasantly surprised to see a gorgeous white board drawing on the board in my room.  My cancer buddy's husband drew it the week before when she was there for her treatment.  I smiled, took a picture of it and sent it to her.  Things were looking well.  I turned on my t.v., and began the drugs.  The nurse was nice and chatted at me the whole time, leaving me alone when she could tell that I wanted to be left alone.  Overall, it went by quickly.  Then, as if on cue, when I was ready to leave they pulled the port out, and it started spewing blood.  It was like my body's way of saying "Hahaha, we got you this time".  I went home, and that's when it started.

I started out feeling fine, as usual, but then (given the earlier time for chemo) my symptoms started earlier than I thought.  I was exhausted, nauseas, and overall pissed off.  AND I had a nice giant bruise where my chemo port lie in my chest, waiting, laughing at me.

But, it was Valentine's Day, and my daughter was expecting fun (or, at least I thought she was).  So, because Troy had to work late, I set about my plans.  I ordered a heart-shaped pizza from Lou Malnati's (my favorite), set up our Wii for her to play (she had never really played before), and picked out a movie for us.  For feeling as sick as I did, I think I did a pretty good job.  

So, she had a good Valentine's Day after all. 

Then, Friday rolls around.  Bruise is bigger--staring at me again.  It's almost as though I could hear it: "this time around is going to suck--be prepared."

I took Marie out to lunch then we went to get my Neulastra injection at the Cancer Center.  I decided to take her this time around because that way Marie could see where I go to the doctor, but not have to see me actually have chemo.  On the way there, I realized that this woman that I had been in contact with may be having chemo while I was there.  I was put in touch with her through a nurse at Edwards, and I decided to call her.  She and her husband were there for her chemo treatment, so I popped in to meet her.  She was incredibly nice and we hit it off (at least I think we did--if she ever reads this, I hope that she's not creeped out).  She has a daughter Marie's age, so we are going to try to get them together soon.  I have two cancer buddies now.  I would have preferred to hang out with these two wonderful women in another way, but I'll take it.  

Saturday, Troy took Marie to Freeport for the night.  I slept in, then my siblings came over.  We pretty much sat on the couch all day.  I couldn't really eat anything, so that sucked.  It's like everything tastes like spoons, which makes me sick.  So I'm not sure if I'm actually sick, or if it is my taste buds f-ing with me.  I was feeling pretty crummy, so I took at Ativan at 7:00 and hit the hay.  I think I've realized that I need the Ativan to get to sleep at night in the few days following chemo.  I actually just took one, so we shall see how long this lasts before I pass out.  

Then on Sunday, of course, our renters had a problem with the townhouse, so Troy had to go fix it.  Marie and I hung out (and by hang out, I mean I watched her play with her toys, video games, and watch tv--mom of the year, I know).  Either way, I have an awesome daughter who is really able to sense when I'm not doing well, and she kind of just hung out with me without being too needy.  I know how horrible that sounds, but my ability to be a fun mom diminishes for a few days after chemo.  

Yesterday, I started feeling a bit better, but still slightly uneasy.  Marie and I met our awesome friends Chloe and Oly for Mcd's and the play place.  We were definitely not the only ones with that idea.  It was awesome. Marie was able to run around like a madwoman with a good friend, and I shared a shamrock shake and fries (unfortunately the first real food that I had eaten all weekend) with a good friend.  Happiness.  

My weekend may have been punctuated with nausea, fatigue, headaches, and overall icky-ness, but it was still a weekend nonetheless, and I was able to enjoy large parts of it.  

(she's making her "arrrrhh maybe" face--that's her way of saying "argh matey")