It's official, part 3

No, wait. Chemo is now a week from TODAY. That makes it Friday, March 7 at 10:30 a.m.

I had a FLOCK of tests today, making sure I'm strong enough to withstand chemo. Turns out I am. So, given the time constraints of one of the studies I'm participating in, they asked if I'd like to move up my chemo a week and I agreed heartily. Would YOU like to be going through chemo in during a hot, muggy, disgusting St. Louis summer? I know I would not. So the faster I start, the cooler it'll be outside when I'm done.

I'll also have some genetic testing to make sure I don't have some genes which, long story short, would result in my going back for a double mastectomy with a side order of ovectomies. Can you believe ovaries can be removed on an outpatient basis, too? Good lord. What do you have to do to get admitted to a hospital these days?

Anyway, I've been to the cancer info center today and was given the gift of a cute little pink turban to wear to bed. It's adorable. I might even wear it while I'm cooking so I don't melt my wig hair!

I'm also signing up for all kinds of classes and stuff-- like how-to-paint-on-eyebrows (without looking scary.) That's an important class. Also there's an activities group for kids Liv's age going through a parent's having cancer. I'm stoked about that, too.

So, anyway, Friday's the day. Be there or be square.

It's official, part 2

I did a little research and decided I'd participate in the study. Not for nothing am I the daughter of a Washington University Med School employee.

So, I have a MUGA scan, EKG and bone density test in the morning tomorrow and a check up with my surgeon in the afternoon. For study participation, I also had to have my teeth checked (done yesterday) and go to the ob-gyn (next Tuesday). Once all that is done, I'll get "randomized" for the study and start the chemo the following week.

There is the possibility that my finger nails and toenails will turn black, so I'm already looking at stylish dark shades. Why not make the best of a fashion challenge, right? I'll go for the all-black nail polish-- a popular suburban soccer mom choice, no doubt.

But we all know I'm just DISGUISED as a soccer mom-- I'm still secretly wicked cool.

It's official

It's official; I'm stage I, cancer-wise. The oncologist says the only question is whether I want to join a study that will either give me the cyclophospamide/andriamycin combo (the standard for stage I) or another combo with cyclophosphamide, epirubicin, and 5-fluorouracil. The former would be 1 day every 2 - 3 weeks for 4 doses, the latter 1 day every 3 weeks for 6 doses. I would not get a choice, of course, since it's a study. Any thoughts? Anyone?

Mean wig ladies

So today Mrs Mac and I went to look at wigs again. We went to a store that was just chock full of mean old ladies, and those were the salespeople! You'd have thought they thought I was trying to steal the wigs.

They told me I couldn't have any of the wig names or take any pictures; I guess they don't want to compete with the internet for customers. But she wouldn't let me try on medium length wigs! I tried one unflattering wig on and she refused to get any more for me, telling me I should wear a short one!

When I wanted to try one on, I actually had to sort of wheedle her into doing it. Awful woman. Anyway, I did find out some things about color. The first is that I like Coffee Latte color from Rene of Paris. This is the color, below.
coffee latte from Rene of Paris

The second thing I found out is that the "Tyler" wig I tried on in that awful shade of blonde at the other wig store looks really nice on me in a darker shade. Here it is in close to the correct shade:

and here's a tiny url for Rene of Paris' color chart; I know this is probably not as fascinating for you as it is for me, but I'm having a ball.

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

This evening is my last night before my post-operative oncology consult. In other words, tomorrow they're going to tell me all the chemo details-- the what kind, how much and how long.

I recognize that without chemo I vastly reduce my chances of surviving my otherwise ideally-situated little cancer. My tumor is small, it was caught early, it has not spread; BUT if I don't do chemo, it could still get me, and comparatively quickly, at that. My tumor was aggressive. Not the sort of thing to turn your back on.

But in this comparatively pleasant period between my surgery and tomorrow, while physically uncomfortable in a couple of fairly minor ways-- at least in relation to the big picture -- I have been enjoying the preparations.

I have ogled wigs. I have sought out recommended products for various common chemo problems. (Although MORE TIPS are ALWAYS welcome.) I have even, as I mentioned, arranged to get a copy of War and Peace to read with my friend, John. And, most importantly, we have purchased a bigger, better Tivo! (okay, not strictly chemo-related, but the cause of much joy in the household nonetheless)

But tomorrow some of this will change. Chemo will become a reality. My very nice, well-respected oncology doctor will look me in the face and discuss what kind of poison he recommends putting in my body.

I remember my mom in chemo. I remember the stricken look on my dad's face. I remember a lot of vomiting.

Yes, this was ten years ago and she had colon cancer, not breast cancer. Her cancer was not caught early and mine was. The meds for nausea are a lot better now than they were then. She died within a year of diagnosis, and I probably won't.

But these are the bags I've packed to take with me on my trip through chemotherapy. I have to confess to being truly afraid of that first step on the path.

I trust that when chemo and my reaction to it becomes more of a known quantity, the horror will subside. It'll be just one more thing to deal with, to get through on my way to dancing with N.E.D.* Then I will deal with it as I deal with everything-- with some smarta$ remark on my lips. But tonight I'm scared.

Wish me bon voyage, y'all.

_________
*N.E.D. = no evidence of disease

It's THAT time of year again

Once every year or so, just to satisfy her intense cravings for girliness, I put makeup on Liv. I always save my most garish makeup mistakes for just such an occasion-- that bright coral I thought would perk up my complexion? It goes right on Liv.

I've even been known to buy those awful shades at the Dollar Tree for Liv's amusement-- aqua eyeshadow, anyone? Next I dusted her down thoroughly with every glittery or glowy powder in my "tool box." She looks like a little fairy princess. And yes, I had to tone down the aqua eyeshadow; I couldn't stand it. Nothing a little taupe shadow and a lot of blending won't fix.

I also put some magnetic earrings on her. She's truly in her glory.

So. Here are some of the results.

Birthday Numero Cinqo!

In our family, we do not actually have birthDAYs. We have birthday seasons. Perhaps I've mentioned this before.

The reasons for this policy are many, and mostly self-indulgent. But you also can't assure yourself of ONE perfect day on a birthday; there are too many factors that could go wrong. But with a birthday season, given the liberal application of presents and high-calorie goodies, you have a much better shot at success spread over a few days.

Take Her Majesty's birthday season. The actual birthday was a three scant days after my surgery and boy-howdy was I still sore. Did I want to go out to Chuck E Cheese or some other hellacious place and whoop it up? Nope. You bet I didn't.

However, I could ride in a car to the local bakery for the selection of a birthday cake. AND I could later hang out while the cake decorator made it. This was purely fortuitous.

It seems the bakery put down the wrong day for us to pick up Liv's cake. So when we arrived, the decorator had no cake to give us. She did, however, have time on her hands and a glassed-in "exhibition kitchen," so we got to watch while she decorated the cake right before our eyes. This was little short of magical for Olivia, and we, veterans of Food TV, enjoyed it too.

Thereafter, we spread presents out all the way through Sunday, letting her open gifts from us and from Laura Mac every so often. Girliness abounded.

Poor el Freddo. One of our gifts to Liv was a trampoline. He went to great pains to put this enormous contraption together in the cold and snow. When asked her favorite gifts this birthday? Liv asserted that they were: Barbies and lip gloss.

Oh dear.

Tonight was actually the official "birthday season dinner." Sort of like a season finale on TV, I'd say. Since I fell sound asleep this afternoon when I should've been making and cooling custard for homemade ice cream, I flipped through some "cheats" on Food TV's website and found a non-cooked ice cream recipe by Paula Deen which would drop a diabetic in his tracks. It was mighty, mighty good. Bear in mind when making recipes from Paula Deen's oeuvre, that I omitted TWO whole cups of sugar by accident and it was still super rich and sweet. Good grief!

Liv got to lick the ice cream maker paddle and, of course, hilarity ensued.

Anyway, aside from mama sleeping away great portions of every day, it appears to have been a successful FIFTH birthday season!