Thus spake TripAdvisor

Well, here's what TripAdvisor says are the Top Ten Spring Destinations for 2008! I'm thinking we're more likely to hole up in a condo somewhere warm for a week (or cool if it's summer). Anyway, here they are:

1.	Punta Cana, Dominican Republic
2.	Maui, Hawaii
3.	Outer Banks, N.C.
4.	Bahamas
5.	Cabo San Lucas, Mexico
6.	Key West, Fla.
7.	Bermuda
8.	Puerto Vallarta, Mexico
9.	Santa Monica, Calif.
10.	Turks and Caicos

Another party heard from or: 9:1 ginseng makes the medicine go down

Got a bunny card with an article from a chemist trade journal from my Sis-in-Law today. Haven't heard much of anything from el Freddo's family here in town since I got diagnosed in January, so it was kind of nice to be remembered, however belatedly.

Anyway, turns out there's a relation between ginseng and positive reaction to adriamycin, my chemo drug. (Good thing I speak chemist, huh? My career in law was not a waste-- I speak many "foreign" languages, including doctor, contractor, and a little bit of farmer.)

But back to ginseng. If you have a 9:1 ratio of water to ginseng in suspension, it helps the adriamycin do its job. Is this anything like a teaspoon of sugar helps the medicine go down? Methinks Mary Poppins might be slightly bemused by the whole nasty business.

The Question

Oh! Wait!

I forgot to tell you what Fred asked and Alton's answer!

Okay, Fred asked Alton about the chefs on Iron Chef America. He noted that they always seem to have what they need on Iron Chef. Do they, therefore, know in advance what the secret ingredient is?

Alton said, no. The contest is precisely one hour long and the show, itself, only airs for 42 minutes. What is omitted is all the chefs standing around with their sous chefs, mumbling about what the heck they're going to make. Alton also noted that they don't just happen to have the stuff they need, they just bring A LOT of stuff to the competition with them.

Additionally, in answer to someone else's question, Alton said he does not, in fact, get to taste what the contestants make. He's not a judge, it's not his place, he said. However, Mario Batali occasionally makes him a portion. Alton said he doesn't know why Mario does this, but said that since Mario is pretty much the best chef on the planet, when he gives you food, you simply say "thank you."

We went to see Alton!

Whoops I did it again

Nope, I didn't do a Britney shave. My offense? I spoke too soon.

Absolutely nothing I eat is staying put today. This is one of the first times that I've really had the chemo experience people talk about. It's like the stomach flu, I guess only I don't really have the flu-like symptoms-- aches, pains, fever. None of that stuff. I just don't want to eat, and what I do eat, won't stay put.

I've found a way around that stupid scops patch that, it turns out, is the culprit for unfocusing my eyes-- I put tiny baby band aids over the patch. That way, if I don't get the stuff on my fingers, I can't then get it in my eyes. Granted, I look like I'm concealing the most colossal behind-the-ear zit ever in the history of skin ailments. But so what? I have nowhere to go until Sunday afternoon.

Now I'd best be healthy (or comparatively so) for Sunday, because on that day I'm going to meet my hero, Alton Brown! My homey L-Mac gets the prize for best scoop for a) finding out he was coming; b) getting line tix; c) getting books for him to sign and; d) hooking us up with the whole deal. Thanks L-Mac!

Things are a bit better this go 'round

Well, not to tempt fate or anything, but I'm doing pretty well this chemo. As El Freddo pointed out recently, this time last chemo I could barely lift my head off the couch.

This time, it's true, I'm exhausted as hell. But I am also eating. A little. I am not medicated. I am not...um...revisiting my meals, shall we say? In short, I'd say this is a WILD improvement over last time.

Can I run errands? Nope? Do chores? Double nope. Am I sleeping like a newborn? You bet. But sheet-white, shaky, and nauseous? Not me! (Okay, only if I try running errands, doing chores, changing the channel manually...)

HUGE hugs and thanks to my former-MIL, Carolyn, and my current BFF, LauraMac, for all the tons and tons of help, to Suzi for the crayons, to Christine for the cookies and to everyone who keeps me laughing at my computer. Y'all rock.

You know you're tough when...

You know you're tough when you actually GROW HAIR during chemo.

Yes, kids, Auntie Stacey is one bada$$ mother. Yes, indeed. I am 3/4 of the way through my chemotherapy and I am growing hair on my head.

So, as well you might imagine at this point in the baseball season, it became necessary to wear one of the Cardinals tattoos I begged for early on before I grew too much hair.

Thus, without further ado, I present Portrait of the Artist as a Bald Cards Fan:

Three down, one to go-- Friday

Okay, I grant you I don't look super cheery here or anything, but I am just about to start my THIRD of FOUR chemos.

I know that I'll probably feel pretty lousy for a while. I know that the infusion tends to hurt a bit. I know that my vision is going to stay fuzzy and my stomach bilious.

But BY GOD I'm almost done.

Oh, and guess what? You can't see it here, but under that wig? I'm growing a little bit of hair! Whooohoooo!

Ella's birthday pic-a-nic - Sunday!

After one weather-related postponement, we ended up with a glorious day for Miss Ella's birthday pic-a-nic! And, in a truly death-defying act, I ate a hotdog, baked beans and a cupcake. Even if I suffer for it later, it was truly worth it!

The kids all ran around, blew bubbles, shot water guns and had a blast. A grand time was had by all.

Gigant-o dinner

We celebrated part of el Freddo's birthday "season" and my last comfortable tummy day at a local joint, Bella Sera, this evening. Surprisingly good. It's in South County and appears to be one of those places the locals frequent. Americanized Italian.

I had a huge strip steak with garlic butter that clearly came from a happy cow. I seldom eat meat with any kind of butter on it, but this was really yummy. AND I had a very respectable tiramisu.

Eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow we go to chemo!

Small hitch in my plans

Well, dammit.

Apparently chemo can mess with your eyesight. My favorite occupation and my hedge against chemo-induced boredom has been to read. Now, no matter what glasses I wear, printing appears blurry.

Swell.

The websites I can find that deal with this topic say my eyesight should improve 4 - 5 months after chemo is complete.

[Insert long series of expletives here.] Chemo sucks.

Costume day!

On some days when we have nothing better to do, we have costume and makeup day. This was one of those days.

We put gold glitter on Liv's face and also on my bald head! It didn't show up in photos so no glittery bald photos...

Here's the schedule...

Okay, I've got this pretty much figured out. The day I do chemo, the following day, and some of the day following that (usually Sunday morning), I feel pretty good. The industrial strength meds they gave me with my infusion are still kicking.

Sunday afternoon they start to wear off and I start to feel crappy.

I continue feeling like the North end of a Southbound schnauser for the next seven days, until the following Saturday or Sunday. Thereupon, I have about seven to ten days of feeling so-so and falling asleep during crucial moments of Cardinals baseball games. I even get tired shopping. (the horror! the humanity!)

And then I have another infusion.

Whoo. Laissez les bons temps rouler!

iPhotobooth silliness

No news is good news...sort of

Nope. Not in the hospital, just not much going on except a whole lot of sleeping. They're not kidding when they say chemo makes you tired.

Next chemo is next Friday. Blargh.

However, it's been pointed out to me that I am gradually having less violent reactions to chemo. First time I was put in the hospital. Second time I was sick as a dog for a little under 2 weeks. So by that logic, by my fourth infusion I should only yearn for unconsciousness about a quarter of the time, right? Yippee.

Dancing with N.E.D.

We are taking suggestions for a little vacation after treatment is over. I have maybe 8 weeks of chemo left and then 6 weeks of radiation. At that point, I want to get the h3ll out of Dodge for a few days. Maybe with Olivia, maybe not. The lure of getting my husband to myself for a few romantic days (i.e. when I'm not barfing, bald, or b!tching) is almost too good to resist. But maybe a family vacation is in order.

So. Suggestions please. Doesn't have to be fancy. Doesn't have to be expensive. Does have to be wonderful. Can be anywhere; we're open to everything except "roughing it." (no camping and nothing where bringing along a medical kit is advisable.) What do you suggest?

Unsucktastic day #3

Hell, I'm going to get all used to feeling fine and then they're going to chemo my a$$ again here soon. Grrr.

Well, after the shootings in Kirkwood some weeks ago, there've been a few benefits held for the families of the victims and we've, of course, participated. Today, a bunch of stores and restaurants donated portions of their proceeds and the like, so we ate out in Kirkwood.

This is not unusual. We like to patronize Kirkwood business if we can. It's just part of living in this wonderful place. But today we went to Dewey's and Ben & Jerry's. Yep. We "took one for the team," didn't we? YUM.

So, anyway, aside from sleeping more than your average newborn, or possibly even more than my dogs, I've been feeling pretty good. I had my favorite Dewey's pizza-- goat cheese, sundried tomato and pine nuts on white garlic sauce. Three or four days ago I couldn't have been in the same room with that pizza; today I devoured as much as I could.

We also bought the gift coupons they were selling for the benefit, so if any of you want to go to Dewey's some time, I'm there.

Cancer-wise, not much going on. My head actually has a little stubble on it. Goes to show you I got me some tough hair! AND my eyebrows and lashes are still hanging tough. Here's hoping.

Also, I had a random thought. Since I'm on chemo, which is essentially toxic, what happens to a mosquito that bites me? Naturally I'm hoping it dies a painful death, but I'm open to other theories...

Saturday in the park

First non-sucktastic day since chemo

Okay, well, now things are looking up a little bit. After a post-lunch nap we went to the park (I slept through a party we were invited to-- whoops) and played with Liv. Then I actually ate a meal. Honest. With a side salad and everything. (Okay, you got me-- no dressing. But still...)

It rocked.

In addition, here are some mud pics of Liv taken in between rain storms. I'm glad to see she's not too much of a girlie girl to go out and get muddy. However... do you see that muddy hand print on the glass door?

The chemo diet

Okay, those of you really determined to lose weight-- try chemo. I lost 5 lbs since last Friday (seven days ago).

Somehow I don't think this is going to catch on with the Lindsay Lohan crowd...

Scops

There's a patch that folks going on cruise ships, etc. have been known to use; it's called the scops (pron: "Skopes") transdermal patch. It's what my oncologist prescribed recently to ward off my ever-present nausea. Happily, despite package warnings of severe withdrawal symptoms, it seems to be working.

Naturally, I'm calling it the Scops Monkey Patch.

Still sleepy in my comfy chair, umbilically attached to my Tivo

Those fiendish oncologists have not dislodged me from my comfy chair as of yet, but I could scarcely be less comfortable if they had. One advantage to being incarcerated in the hospital is their marked tendency to pump you full of soothing medications without your being aware of it.

Here, if there's to be soothing medications had, I gotta get off my patootie, figure out what I can have, schlepp it down with a ton of water and then write down the time I took it before drooling sets in.

I can literally take a medicine, turn around, and forget which medicine I took and when, even if it was just a few minutes ago. Here are two iPhotobooth photos of me sans hair (you're welcome, Jeffe)-- I couldn't get through them without yawning.

Yeah, I'll be taking a limited role in the preparation of our taxes this year.

Survey

Okay, everyone who's surprised my nurse thinks I'm "unusual," raise your hand.

Uh-huh. I thought so.

Yes, apparently, my symptoms are unusual, not like your average chemo patient. Lucky me, right? I'm still queasy and my stomach is still sore. They're throwing around terms like "clear liquid diet" again. But I'm telling you what I told them, I'm NOT going back in that hospital. They'd have to come get me and DRAG me back in there.

It sounded like the nurse was inclined to let me drink my dang bouillon in peace in my own home. Lord knows it would be a waste of resources to call out the National Guard to pry me out of my comfy chair...