Poker Face

It’s my last day of receiving chemo in Juneau! Definitely a day to celebrate, but it was hard to get too excited this morning as I tried to get out of the house. I had hoped to get things done last night in preparation for today, but all hell broke out when Aurelia ate a plant leaf and I had to call poison control. Then I developed a migraine so all pre-plans got pushed to this morning. To say our morning was slightly chaotic would be an understatement. Lena went to bed at 10 and woke up at 6 am. Aurelia went to bed at 11 and joined her sister at 6 am. This does not make for hapapy girlies. Aurelia peed through her diaper and jammies and her sheets needed to be changed first thing. I was running around the house trying to get all my work done that needs to be done before checking out for the next four days. Chillcat was flying from wall to wall attacking anyone that dare cross his path. Addison was trying to pack for his bear hunt because he leaves tomorrow AM. My mom who flew in last night was trying to recover from Chillcat scratching her neck and pouncing on her face while she slept resulting in her eyes turning red and bulging out. Meanwhile, Yasha hid like an ostrich with her head under our bed and the rest of her body sheepishly sticking out. Yasha knows when to stay out of the way and remove herself from the chaos. I wish I could stick my head under the bed on certain days and just let the world around me spin out of control.

My last chemo treatment was the worst. I felt sick from the moment I walked into the hospital. I saw Dr. Urata this week because Dr. Fisher is out of town. He suggested I take one of my anti-anxiety pills before going into the hospital and that should help with the feeling of wanting to ralph every time my port is flushed. Tamara is also going to wait a bit longer before starting the chemo and let my anti-nausea meds kick in. We’ll see how it goes this weekend. I am going to try to stay on top of my anti-nausea med and keep a very positive attitude.

I am looking forward to being near the end of the finish line, but there is something holding me back from jumping up and down and running across it, and that’s my Aunt Pat.

I mentioned previously that my Aunt Patti has ovarian cancer. She has done a remarkable job fighting it for years, but right about the time my cancer was diagnosed, hers came back, more aggressive than ever. Aunt Patti is such a fighter that she refuses to give up, her will to live is incredibly strong which is why she didn’t die a few years ago. But sometimes a person’s will to live is trumped by the reality of the situation. The surgeons have said they will no longer operate on her. The doctor has said she will no longer be getting chemo. They removed her food tube. She has now requested to leave the hospital and go home where she can be in comfort. I don’t want to use the word die in comfort because Aunt Pat is still not giving in. Her body may fail her and give in to the cancer, but she never will. I admire that type of courage. She’s been drinking milkshakes lately, so she is allowed some happiness throughout her day. We’re kind of just waiting. It could be days, it could be weeks. Months are optimistic.

Yes, it’s hard to celebrate me being near the end of being sick when someone I care about is near her end. It’s such a crap shoot who will be given a treatable cancer, who will be given a cancer that stays in remission for a long time, and who will be given a cancer that kills them only after a few years. It’s a shot in the dark who will live and who will die. A man my exact age has been getting chemo treatments for sarcoma on many of the days I get treated here at Bartlett. He died two weeks ago.
Until my diagnoses, I only knew 8 people who had cancer 2 are still with us, 5 have left us, and 1 is hanging on as hard as she can hang. Since being diagnosed, my number of encounters of people who have cancer has spun out of control, especially those I know on a personal level. I’ve got Wendy, a childhood friend who has a rare form of melanoma and they’ve given her anywhere from 2 months to an unknown amount of years for it to possibly come back. Then there’s Brynn who has Non-Hodgkin’s, another terminal cancer. My pen-pal Eve in Georgia who I was introduced to by a mutual friend when she found out we both had Hodgkin’s. Eve is cancer free now and done with all her treatments! And lastly, there’s my friend James’s little five year boy old who has been fighting a terminal sarcoma cancer since he was 18 months old. That boy has been through so much chemo that it’s amazing they know his actual hair color is practically neon orange, just like his daddy’s. I didn’t even touch on all the people I meet every two weeks as I come in to get my infusions. I guess my point is, it’s everywhere and no one is immune no matter how safe you play it.

So I don’t really know where I’m going on this. I am super high right now as I’ve been given more meds than I usually take to combat the nausea. I guess I just don’t understand how the cards are dealt in situations like these. For a child to get cancer has got to be one of the cruelest and crappiest deals ever. For brides about to get married, for mothers with young kids, for pregnant ladies, for fathers, brothers, grandfathers, and grandmothers….it’s all the same.

To my mother’s regret and sadness, I’ve never liked gambling because I think it’s a waste of time and money. (My mother is a slot machine queen!) I don’t like it because you never know what cards you’re going to be dealt, so I like to hold my money in my pocket, spend my money on a fancy meal, and watch others take the gamble.

Unfortunately in life, you don’t always have that option of not taking a gamble. So when you’re forced into playing the game, you might as well just stay coy and put your game face on. My Aunt Pat has been my role model for this whole thing. Even though she was dealt one of the worst cancers she could have been dealt, she has remained strong for those around her, wearing her poker face proudly and encouraging other cancer patients to do the same. She’ll do it till the day she dies, even though inside behind the face, she’s already lost the game.

My infusion chair for all my infusions at Bartlett. It wasn't nearly as deary as it looks.

The girls wait for me outside the hosptial.

My infusion nurse Tamara. She is amazing! We both got teary-eyed saying our goodbyes.