Let's Add Some Purple.... Why Not?

 Teal, Pink, and now some Purple added to my ribbon collection.  Definitely not the kind of collection I would wish upon anyone, but someone's gotta take it on huh?  So I guess that's me in the great world of statistics.  I get to be the 1 in ....  whatever number each of those ribbons represents.  I've finally quit asking why me, because there just isn't an explanation anyone can give.  Instead I've accepted this is my fate and my path and realize it is all out of my hands and what will be, will be.  

It has taken me almost a month to update and actually put these words into writing.  I'm pretty sure I'm still actually in shock, but each day it becomes more of a reality and I think I'm finally ready to at least make it official and to vent a little bit.  This is the first step of my acceptance of what is surely to be my final battle with the ugly "C" word.  I have to wonder why they make pancreatic cancer a pretty color like purple?  Although honestly I've never liked purple.  Probably has something to do with a little PTSD from the hours upon hours of non-stop Barney cartoons when Britton was a little guy.  Oh Lord I could recite every word to every Barney episode there was back in the day LOL  Anyways, I think the pancreatic ribbon should be coal black.  It is the most aggressive awful cancer with no chance of a cure.  Most of the other cancers out there you have a little bit of a shot of possibly getting better, but when the doctor utters the words pancreatic cancer, statistics say you have been given a death sentence.  And thus far, I haven't read or heard many stories to the contrary.  

Most of you know, along with battling breast cancer over the last 3 years, for the last 2.5 of those years I have also battled what, at the time, was told to me was chronic pancreatitis.  From my first attack in July of 2018, I have never felt that they had this diagnosis right.  Something was off.  But with trying to battle through the breast cancers and dealing with the loss of my fiance leaving me, I put this feeling on the back burner.  I did, however, seek out what I thought through all of my research, was a top pancreas doctor in Missouri who also dealt with BRCA genes.  I felt very lucky I was able to get into him and put my full trust and faith in this man to treat me very aggressively and closely since BRCA has a high risk for pancreatic cancer also.  I have had many MRI's in STL and they have always been the same diagnosis.... chronic pancreatitis, nothing more.  This specialist was supposed to be watching and taking care of me.  And I didn't ever question him.  This is where I went wrong.  I should have pushed harder, sought out other opinions, made sure he was following through.  I did none of this because I put my faith in this man to do his job, that he did not do.  His name is Dr. Jason Taylor and please do not ever see this man, as I believe he is the cause of what will surely eventually be my demise.  

In September I had another acute pancreatitis attack and could not get into my STL doctor.  Desperate for more answers I made an appointment with a GI doctor I had seen before here in Columbia.  I got an appointment 2 weeks later.   He immediately ordered an EUS scope and colonoscopy, things the STL doctor should have done a year ago, as there had been a mass in my pancreas for at least that long, which had shown on all of the MRI's the Columbia doctor received from STL.  I went in on the 30th of October for my EUS scope.  During this procedure they put a scope down your throat to view the back side of the pancreas.  Then if need be, they do what is called an ECRP, which is a more detailed scan of the pancreas.  And if they see something suspicious, they then attach a needle to the scope and go through your stomach from the inside and into your pancreas and take a biopsy of the suspicious area.  Unfortunately this is the procedural route that was taken with me that day.  When I woke up from the procedure, Dr. Halsey was standing over my bed with a look I'd seen before and I knew before he even spoke what was suspected.  He told me had to do the ECRP and took a biopsy and it did not look good.  Believed it would come back as cancer.  I could not believe it.  This doctor in STL that was supposed to be the best, that was supposed to be watching me so very close, had never, not once indicated anything remotely resembling what he thought was cancer, even though each time I saw him I asked him, "so you do not think I should be worried that anything could be cancerous".  His answer was always no.  I should have pushed harder.  I should have sought other opinions.  So for the next 3 days I prayed and prayed thinking there is no way this could be cancer, the "specialist" told me no way.  But I received the call and was told that it was pancreatic cancer and immediately had an appointment with my oncologist and a pancreatic oncology surgeon, as they thought if it had not spread I would be a good candidate for surgery to remove the tail of my pancreas and spleen and we would just move on with our life.  So not a great prognosis, but at that time at least a cure.  The big thing is that it HAD to not have spread, which we were all very positive and hopeful because the idiot in STL had just done an MRI in August.... YES August, and there were no indications of cancer anywhere else at that time.  So I went in for an MRI, CT scan and oncologist visit that next Friday, feeling pretty good that they would find nothing else, since my MRI in August had been clear.  Unfortunately the news was awful and it had indeed spread to my liver over those short 3 months.  Again, just 3 short months before folks, I could have been saved, had this "specialist", the best, would have questioned what was clearly a mass in my pancreas on the MRI in August!!!  Three months....  So that was when the words, which still ring in my ears, that I am still pretty sure I am in partial denial about, were spoken.  Terminal.  3-6 months.  We put a game plan together and I was to get a PET scan to make sure that it had not spread anywhere else and would start chemo that same day as the PET scan which was the next Wednesday.  

Wednesday came and the PET scan was done and unfortunately it showed a few more spots than just the one on my liver.  But thank goodness no where else.  A very small victory, but a victory none the less.  Then over to the chemo room to begin a new regimine of chemo.  This chemo, as I was told by my oncologist, is so toxic that just the toxicity sometimes kills patients, some patients actually shit themselves to death, and some patients just cannot tolerate it or it just does not work at all on the tumors.  So we started off with our first round at half dose, just to make sure I wasn't allergic and could tolerate the half dose before going all in.  The first 4 chemos are given at the center and this process takes 6 hours.  Thanks to covid, we are there alone as you cannot have someone with you right now.  6 hours is a long time to be in a chemo chair alone.  Then the 5th chemo is given through a machine and pump hooked up to your port in which you wear home and for 48 hours it pumps that chemo into you.  Then two days later you go back to have it removed.  This is when I got pretty sick and felt pretty awful for about 5 days.  But today I am feeling pretty good and in fact the last two days I felt well enough to take my beautiful babies to the park and let them run and just enjoy watching their joy at mom feeling well enough to be at the park with her and enjoying the beautiful weather. I was only for 30 minutes, but a small victory these days.  These days I will cherish.  

Wednesday I will go for my second dose of the new chemo at full force.  Not gonna lie pretty nervous and scared.  Happy Thanksgiving to me huh?  haha....  Praying for little side effects! Wednesday I will also meet my new oncologist as my current one who has been with me through all of my journeys thus far is retiring and his last day is Tuesday.  I am devastated.  He was the best and most caring and I am going to miss him greatly and my oncology nurse, who also left, greatly.  I am praying for a good match and that I love my new one just as much! I am also praying this new oncologist will fight with me and know that I am not willing to accept the words 3-6.  And I am going to fight like hell and I am going to need someone who is willing to go into this battle with me to do so and help me navigate all options to be able to fight.  Because 3-6 just doesn't work for me! 

This morning I prayed harder than I've ever prayed, for at least one year.  One year to get to see each season one more time.  One year to take in everything in a new and more observant view of what is important.  One more year to bond with people and nature and to just embrace every moment.  One year to see a sunset on the beach one  more time.  Because 3-6 just isn't acceptable! 

So there you have it.  I've put it in writing.  It's now real and my first step to acceptance.  

I would ask for anyone and everyone to please pray that same prayer for me, add me to prayer chains, church lists, and share my story.  Please, please, if you feel like something isn't quite right listen to your body and fight like hell to make these doctors listen to you.  Keep looking until you find one that will.  I wish that I had! 

Happy First (Sober) Birthday!

The last drop of alcohol I pray I will ever have was the night before I checked into the hospital October 25, 2019. And while some days I hate it, I am proud of myself for staying sober and not giving in to this demon that haunts me, even thought it is one of the most lonely and hard things I have ever done in my life. 

I started drinking in Junior High. I don't really remember a time when I wasn't drinking, with the exception of being pregnant and my son's first year after he was born. Through my journey over this last year I realized I probably was responsible for 90% of my relationships ending and it was due to alcohol. I realized I've spent my whole life making drinking buddies and hardly any real bonded friendships. I've concentrated on partying and nurturing relationships that were doomed to fall apart as soon as the alcohol went away. 

One year ago today I checked into Boone Hospital ICU for my second bout with pancreatitis. The first round happened just a year and a half before at the end of July 2018. After that first attack, I was later told my pancreatic blood levels were off the charts, literally, and I'm pretty sure I was dipping one leg into the ground. Of course this was just six months after my first battle with breast cancer, my double mastectomy and full hysterectomy. I really didn't think a year could get any worse than 2018. 2020 gladly said "Hold my bourbon".... ironically LOL 

With a pancreatitis diagnosis, the most common cause is alcohol. In 2018 I was in total denial that was my cause. I blamed it on EVERYTHING but the alcohol. Hell I'd been drinking almost my whole life, since my first experimentation in Junior High with my girlfriends when we would take some hits from our parents liquor stash just to feel grown up and cool. How could alcohol just now decide it was going to wreck my pancreas and wreck havoc on my life. Seemed so unfair to me. I'd already been through so much. Why me? EVERYONE around me was drinking, and usually A LOT more than I was drinking. Why are they not collapsing in pain and agony as well? UNFAIR! Don't get me wrong and I do not wish illness upon ANYONE ever! I just have many moments on my path of recovery of "why me" that in time, I hope I will find the answer to within myself and my healing. After that first round, which I'm pretty sure could have killed me had I not went to the hospital that night in July 2018, I was put on a very strict diet and was told I would never be able to drink alcohol again. With a pancreatic diet your fat intake has to be limited to under 30-40 grams per day. I walked out of the hospital that day in July and thought no big deal. Well I'll tell you folks, go to your pantry and refrigerator right now and add up the fat grams you eat even per meal. You will be shocked. I know I was. Also no more alcohol. No biggie right. I had cut way down anyways due to my breast cancer and all the challenges that had came with that first round of surgeries and healing. But cutting down and cutting it all the way out are two very different things.... and for an alcoholic, yes, alcoholic, it is damn near impossible to fathom the thought of never ever having another drink again. My fiancé and I, at the time, basically lived in the bars or at friends houses throwing down booze just about every single night prior to my first attack. Having to go along with the same routine post pancreas attack was not working for me. So I withdrew. Started staying home more because just being around it was pure torture. I fell into a massive depression and, looking back now, was not fun to be around at all. 

About 6 months after my first attack I saw a specialist in St. Louis and he told me it was okay to have a light beer every now and again or a glass of wine every once and a while. I was so excited. I could finally kind of join the groups again and maybe try to get back into the groove with my fiancé. Try to get him to love me again. Show him I hadn't changed and I was still me, fun (drunk) Kristy, the one he repeatedly said he missed and wished would come back. So we got into somewhat of a groove and I was content and happy. I would go out for a while and then be finished like a normal almost 50 year old, about 10:00 get tired and ready to head home. I felt like for the first time in my life I had my alcoholism and life in general going in the right way. My fiancé didn't slow down the partying however, and would go out without me or take me home after a nice night out and head back out to keep on partying and that hurt me greatly thinking he did not care about my feelings at all. Unfortunately he did finally find someone who could keep up the partying and drinking, because I was no longer any fun and I had made the decision to save my life the only way I thought I knew how. By staying home and cutting myself off from the temptations. By saving my life I pretty much lost my whole life. But as I am on my sobriety path I see now that was not a life. That was sitting in a bar night after night spending tons of money and killing ourselves voluntarily.  It was just several more years that were added to my collection of 35 years of addiction and alcoholic friendships. After my fiancé left me, I once again fell into a deep depression and yes, fell all the way off that big red wagon. Like head first, swan dive right into the bourbon barrel. He left in March and by June 2019 I was back to all night bingers. Back to random sexual encounters where you wake up and don't even remember who they are or how you got home. Ashamed as hell, because I had done so good for the prior year and had almost quit drinking. And was healing both physically and mentally from my breast cancer surgeries. I was finally getting back to a place where I was planning an actual future with my fiancé and didn't quite think about death every day any more thanks to the lovely BC. And now here I was back acting like the totally idiotic addict that I know now I was. But I didn't care. My heart was shattered, my world had been blown apart, I really didn't care if I lived or died, and I was drinking and nothing was happening to my pancreas so I thought well maybe the doctor was wrong...

Until ..... October 25, 2019. Back to ICU. I had been hurting all week at work and knew what was coming, but thought if I waited until Friday after work I wouldn't miss any work. Just be in the hospital over the weekend and back to normal. That was a great plan in theory, but in reality I was in the ICU at the hospital for 6 days. Was discharged with the alcohol and diet lecture and on my way I went. This time alone. You know what I still find crazy. I was STILL in denial that it was the alcohol. True definition of an addict. But this time I was determined to not drink and to get sober on my terms and was going to do it right. Was going to kick my life off and start living. Hell I was almost two years out of my cancer diagnosis and feeling pretty good. I guess God figured I still wasn't going to be able to do this on my own, because 2 weeks after my pancreas issue and my stay in the hospital I found a lump under my arm and of course you know the rest from my other postings. Yes it was cancer, and I was about to begin the second breast cancer battle, this time with a surgery, chemo, and radiation. Oh yeah and pancreatitis, sobriety and a pandemic to boot. Yep there was the "why me". Again. 

One of my very best friends that I worked with at Shelter gave me a daily devotional that was beach themed before I left work in November for my fight. He was also leaving work, to retire. I've never missed someone so much and I hope that he knows how much that book, and what he wrote in it means to me. I read that every single day and it kept me going and in some ways brought me back to a faith I thought was gone forever. I do definitely still question it every day. Because I hurt every day. I want to drink every day. And I don't know why he would pick one person to take on so much. I am a broken person in need of peace and healing and yet it seems like the hits just keep on coming. A month ago I had another attack. I had done nothing at all to spark this attack. My doctors just basically said once the pancreas is damaged, even if you do everything right you will still have attacks and the pancreas will continue to decompose. At this time there is no cure or treatments at all for my chronic pancreatitis condition. Just eat right and stay away from alcohol and pray. 

I will be having a few fun procedures in the next two weeks.... But for today I am going to celebrate me and my accomplishment. I sometimes say "I don't have a choice" to not drink. But that's not true, I do have the choice. I could drink.... and die. And thus far I have made the choice to stay sober and try to live a little longer in this crazy world!

Another Trip Around the Sun

It's been a few months since I last wrote and since I have been released from active cancer treatments part deux.  I was going back this morning and reading my blog entry from last year's birthday and cried a little.  I was so hopeful and so excited for the upcoming year.  That it may have finally been my year of peace.  But as most of you know, this trip around the sun was anything but peaceful and overall pretty shitty! I'm thinking this one tops the last two in the shitty year department.  So MAYBE this coming year will be my year!  The last year in my 40's.  

I am going into this next year hopeful.  Hopeful first and foremost for a healthy year.  Hopeful that I may find a partner in crime.  And hopeful that I can finally settle into being who I am supposed to be and to love myself for that.  

As far as what has been going on with my health and healing journey, I continue to be in a constant state of pain on my radiated side. Thank God for pain meds.  I know they are supposed to be bad but I am thankful for them.   Even though my skin has healed, my burns are deep and in some areas all the way through.  I've been told that since I have no fat, that my bones and muscles were more than likely affected more and it would take some time to heal.  The doctors say most patients turn the corner at about 6 months out.  So I'll be counting down the days for the next 4 months!  haha! Some people have asked me if I'm healed/cancer free.  They do not do scans after treatment is over.  Just basically toss ya back out there and "hope" all of the torture and pain you've been put through is "enough".  The mental tole this takes on me, and every other cancer patient, is a daily battle. Every ache, pain, bump, lump is the constant question, "Is it back".  I do realize as the years pass on and it stays at bay this mental battle will get a little better.  This shit is evil and you just never know.  

I was supposed to begin a chemo type hormone blocker right after I finished radiation.  This pill is supposed to maybe keep the cancer at bay.  In return the side effects you receive to keep the cancer "maybe" at bay are sometime intolerable.  It kills your bones, throws you into early osteoporosis, and leaves some patients in constant joint and bone pain, along with other fun side effects.  And then there is not a guarantee that it won't come back any way.  For me, the pain that I am still in right now from the radiation has made me decide to forego this pill until I get back to ground zero and am feeling like a normal human being again.  And then I will assess and probably try out the pill.  This is a hard decision for me and I am battling it every day.  But either way there is no guarantee that the evil shit won't come back. So I am choosing to get back to "normal" before I begin to put myself back in pain again.  

I fell and fractured my ankle two weeks after radiation was finished and I was in a boot for a few weeks.  I have been a bad patient and haven't worn it like I should have.  So today for my birthday I will be heading back to the orthopedic doctor to see if it has healed up okay.  Hopefully I won't be in too much trouble!  haha! 

Pinktober = PTSD

Well here we are again. October. Breast cancer awareness month. Where everywhere you look you cannot escape those damn pink ribbons, pink shirts, pink ads.  EVERYTHING pink.  And while, to an outsider, someone who has not had first hand experience of the nightmare that is breast cancer, the pink overload may seem like just a sweet gesture to honor those of us who have had to endure pure hell.  I know some beautiful warriors embrace the pink.  But I know of a lot more that start getting PTSD the closer October gets every year.  We cannot look anywhere for a whole month without being reminded of our nightmare.  I am one of those people.  My Facebook feed is full of every other ad showing something to buy that pertains to breast cancer.  Every where you go shopping there are signs and displays to remind you of that time in your life when you wasn't sure if you would be alive in a year. A time in your life you would love to never be reminded of again. 

For me, a now 2x survivor, it only enhances my PTSD.  Also both of my diagnosis came in November, two years apart, so in general this time of year is very hard on me.  And then to look around every corner of my life and see the pink shit thrown in my face, almost as if taunting me.  You beat me twice.... think you can do it again?  That is my daily demon.  Will it come back again.  If so, the odds of beating it that 3rd time are not real great.  Of course this time they said they got it.... again.  Just as I was told they got it all three years ago as well.  So you just never fucking know.  And this, my friends, is the reality of a breast cancer survivor.  Not pink ribbons, bright shiny happy colors, or anything that resembles any sort of fun. 

Breast cancer survivors have been through more surgeries than most people have in a lifetime.  We have been ran through every scan machine and have sat in more doctor's offices than we care to count.  Sitting there praying to God that the cancer is gone, or hasn't spread, or just isn't there at all.  We have had multiple poisons put into our bodies to kill the cancer and hope that it doesn't also kill us in the process.  We have been burnt so deeply that more than likely there is some type of permanent damage to the bones, skin, heart, or other organs, along with the massive nerve pain that may never resolve.   We have lost our hair, our breasts, and in some cases our reproductive parts as well, due to our cancer being hormone fed.  Thus the need to remove anything in our bodies that could possibly produce hormones to feed the beast. 

This October for me has been extremely hard.  With the combination of just finishing up treatments for my second battle in the midst of Covid, while getting sober, it has been the loneliness time in my entire life.  I now, for the first time in my life understand people who feel hopeless and alone and like no one cares or understands.  I am living it.  I am very thankful for my mom and my sister.  And I get it.  People have their own lives. As we grow older, people have their husbands and children to rely on. Most people's friends are now their spouses and children. Friends are for people in their 20's and 30's.   I neglected my relationships and family a lot in my life to nurture friendships when I should have been doing the opposite and I may not be alone now  This is a lesson I have learned the hard way and now I have to learn how to make a new life for myself.  And I know now what relationships are worth nurturing.  Life is hard right now.  I live alone, I work alone, sobriety voids a lot of friendships and invitations, although I am okay around alcohol, it seems to make other people uncomfortable. And you add Covid to the mix and it's a perfect storm. I know it will get better.  But I also know that I am going to have to make some hard decisions and changes. 

I left town two weeks ago to just get away.  Off the grid and a much needed change of scenery.  I just returned home and I realized I only missed my big bed and TV in the bedroom LMAO!  There was absolutely not another thing that I missed in two weeks about this town.  This tells me I am ready to move on.  Being here seems to no longer benefit my mental health.  There are a few things that were holding me here.  One was my oncologist that I love.  I returned home to a letter in the mail  stating that my oncologist is retiring at the end of November.  As if 2020 wasn't bad enough, I'm now losing my one doctor I had full faith in.  So staying for my oncologist is now not an obstacle.  My last obstacle is of course the most important, my job.  But I have been working from home for almost a year now with no problems at all. Hopefully that may continue to be an option for me.  But right now those are still conversations that will need to be had if I truly decide it's time to move.

So 13 more days of  Pink PTSD and we can move on to the holidays, which is usually a whole another type of PTSD. LOL  But thankfully, not this year!  The whole fam bam will be on the beach this year for Christmas and I couldn't be more excited for a real vacation!

Maybe This Year!

Birthdays.  As you get older, you reflect more on the past and look harder at the future.  

It's been a few months since I last wrote and since I have been released from active cancer treatments part deux. Since finishing radiation, I have fell and broken my ankle and landed in a pile of dog shit in the process. (see hilarious post below LOL) So that was fun.  Haha!   And I have been battling post radiation nerve pain. My ankle has now healed (I actually had the x-rays this morning to verify) and we are working on finding some relief for the nerve pain.  Please say a prayer for me that it happens soon. It's a pain like one I've not had and it sucks!! Oh! And I'm getting HAIR!  I still hate it and wish that it would grow faster, but I am thankful that it's coming in.  My self confidence is pretty much in the shitter, but I am working on that too.  I've made some very hard decisions about my health that were tough to make, but I feel like are best for me now.  I pray it is the right decision.  Also in the last two months I bought a new toy, my Jeep!  Her name is Sunset Chaser and her and I are going to go on some awesome adventures in the future I have no doubt.  Covid is still here and wrecking havoc on my plans to travel as soon as I finished treatment.  But I plan on being on my Sunset Beach as soon as we are allowed to get back to some sort of normalcy.  

I went back this morning and read my blog entry from last year's birthday reflections and cried a little.  I was so hopeful and so excited for the upcoming year.  Hopeful that it may have finally have been my year of peace.  But as most of you know, this trip around the sun was anything but peaceful and overall pretty shitty! I'm thinking this one even tops the last two in the shitty year department.  So MAYBE this coming year will be my year!  The last year in my 40's.  Overall not a horrible decade, but it seems like most of it was wasted.  I spent the majority of it in a relationship that I thought would last a lifetime.  Instead it ended in heartbreak last year.  And 1/3 of it was spent with me being terribly sick and fighting for my life.  Someday when I look back at my 40's and those memories they will be bittersweet.  I had tons of fun on many trips, concerts, and other adventures with my ex, some good friends, and most importantly my sister and my mom over these years.  My relationship with my family has been put back together and that, in itself, is the best blessing I could have gotten from my 40's.  

These years that were supposed to be my "prime".  My son graduated high school and left for college when I turned 40 and boy did  I have big plans.  haha!  I spent most of my "prime" in some state of drunkenness for the most part.  And when not in that state, I was in the state of illness and fighting for my life. However, over the last 3 years I have learned a lot about myself.  I thought getting sober was going to be easy and was cruising through it until my ex left and I fell off the wagon and landed back in ICU.  Then a month out of ICU my second cancer showed up.  My "prime" has definitely not been idyllic.  

BUT today on my 49th birthday, I am cancer free and alcohol free almost 9 months. So MAYBE, just maybe, I have learned all of the lessons God has been trying to teach me now and this year will be my transitioning year into my 50's.  And God willing I will have a peaceful second half of my life, taking all the lessons I have learned about myself in my 40's with me.  

I am going into this next year hopeful.  Hopeful first and foremost for a healthy year.  Hopeful that I may find my forever partner in crime.  And hopeful that I can finally settle into being who I am supposed to be and to love myself for that.  

Next year when I am reading this entry, I once again pray that it will have been a very uneventful year.  A year of peace and healing.  And when I wake up on my 50th birthday I pray that I can say, wow finally a boring year full of love and adventures! 

ISN’T IT IRONIC…. FULL CIRCLE… AGAIN??

Gosh, it seems like forever ago since I was told I could stop chemo early and begin radiation.  And since I was told I was exposed directly to the Rona.  Yet it has only been a month and a half!  This quarantine routine is definitely making me insane.  You guys know I’m a very social being and it’s taken all of my strength to obey the rules.  But I would rather be insane in my house than sick with the Rona, since my immune system is still compromised, so I stay put!

Before I began my radiation treatments, I was approved to go ahead and have a Corona test to make sure I didn’t have it before starting radiation. So yep, I’ve had the brain tickler.  Haha!  I am happy to say I was negative and I began my radiation treatments on March 30^th.   Every week day for the last 5 weeks I have ventured to the cancer center to receive daily radiation on a very large portion of the left side of my upper body.  I find it hilarious that throughout my whole adult life I have avoided the sun, slathered sunscreen on my body like a psycho, to make sure I didn’t get burnt and increase my risk of skin cancer.  But here I am, yes, now I’m volunteering to have my body burnt to a crisp, all in the name of trying to make sure the cancer stays away from me this time!!  Craziness I tell ya!   And true to everyone’s account of their experience with radiation, it wiped me out.  I am so exhausted with fatigue by about 5:00 I cannot hardly remove my ass from the recliner.  The burns started out minimal.  And I thought well hell this isn’t that bad.  Haha, I know better than that right?  The 4^th week I began to really burn and blister pretty good.  And yes here I am week number 5.  My final treatment day is tomorrow!!!  My skin started falling off of my chest on Monday in layers.  Needless to say this is VERY painful and without the pain meds and salve I don’t think I probably would have made it through!  But here I am!  They did say it would take a few weeks to a month to recover from the radiation and for my burns to heal, but ONE more and I am DONE!  Time to get my immune system, body and routine back to some sort of normalcy!

Here is where the irony of it all begins.  Almost two years to tomorrow's release date, I was released by my oncologist after my first battle.  I had had multiple surgeries, biopsies, tests, blood draws, and had finally been deemed cancer free with a 3% chance of recurrence.  I was released, after 5 months of hell, back into my “normal” life and was told to go live.  That it was gone.  And after a few months, I was indeed easing back into my “new normal” and starting to get comfortable.  I was living life to the fullest. 

Irony Part Deux….  This coming Tuesday it will be exactly one year since my life fell apart in the worst way and the future I had planned died.  After surviving cancer and finally feeling like I was getting my life back on track, my fiancé left me for someone else.  I was heartbroken like never before.  My heart was shattered into a million pieces.  Some days it feels like it was 100 years ago and some days it still seems like it was just yesterday.  I really cannot believe it has already been a year.  The first few months were horrible and I thought I may never recover.  But the days turned into months and I was finally starting to feel like I might be ready to jump back into that old dating cesspool that all of us single people know it to be LOL….  But instead I got a fun surprise and found out that my cancer had returned, yes almost two years to the date of the last diagnosis.  So dating and living had to be put on hold again and I had to return to fighting for my life. 

Throughout this new cancer journey over the last 6 months of hell, I have found strength in myself I never knew was there.  I had to reach inward and pull parts of myself out that had been hidden away from even me.  I am still dealing with my heartbreak, but I am a lot better now than I was a year ago.  I am also dealing with insecurities with myself regarding my body, my looks, and who I am, as well as my alcoholism.   I now, however, have a sense of peace that I haven’t felt in a very long time.  Although I may forever anticipate and be a little afraid of the months of May and November haha!    

So maybe tomorrow when I walk out of that cancer center (sore as fuck LOL) at 3:30 and I am once again thrust back out into the world with my next “new normal”, I will have FINALLY come full circle on this long and painful journey towards finding me.  I have learned so much about myself over the last two years.  Maybe this was God’s way of helping me to find my pathway to peace through all of the pain, heartache, and trials and tribulations that I have faced.  And with any luck, maybe my voodoo doll holder has been killed and my next blog entry will be about dating and love or dating disasters, anything but stupid CANCER!  Watch out boys.... the next blog may be about you!  LOL!!

Early Parole..... But Wait... There's More...

As I sit here this afternoon, 11 days into my self quarantine routine, still trying to process everything that has went on in my life in just one short week.  It's amazing when you're sick and going through a lengthy illness how things can change so quickly day by day, making your life impossible to live normally for any length of time.  It has taken me several days to try to process everything that has happened this week to even give an update, as I am still not sure how I am feeling about it all.

When I last wrote, I was getting ready to start my new round of a different kind of chemo.  A new drug with, what I was told to be a piece of cake, compared to what I had just gone through.  Told there shouldn't be many side effects and I should just breeze through those 12 weeks.  HaHaHa… for those of you who have followed my whole two year journey on here, you know those words were too good to be true.  FYI... Voodoo doll holder still on Kristy's Most Wanted list!  LOL

Week number one - New chemo, new routine.  Basically I added to my prior routine tons of steroids 6 and 12 hours prior to my infusion and I had to now soak my fingers and toes in ice baths during the infusion.  The ice baths are to help prevent something called neuropathy, which basically is a painful numbing sensation in your hands and feet that could possibly last forever.  I was told the ice baths prevented this.  Therefore, I was willing to do anything if it might help.  Anyone who knows me well knows that I am cold ALL OF THE TIME, so the ice bath procedure was not a pleasant thing for me. With this particular chemo you could have an allergic reaction where your body turns hot and your head looks like a tomato.  They said if it was going to happen it would happen within the first 15 minutes of the first infusion.  So they hooked me up and away we went.  Waiting for my head to turn red.  But all went well and out the door we went.  Looks like this would be okay.  I'm not going to react.  Thank goodness.  Side effects with this infusion turned out to be just very tired and the most awful upper GI pain ever.  Felt like my esophagus down was raw.  I took OTC and prescription anti acids with zero relief.  But all in all it seemed like it was going to be no where near as bad as the other chemo regimine.  

Week number two - Normal chemo morning routine.  No pre-meds this time since I didn't have a reaction.  Pack my ice booties and trays, put on my port numbing cream and off we go.  Check in... $20 bucks lol lol.  Then to the lab.  Then to see the oncologist to go over blood work.  White counts were extremely low but not low enough to postpone the infusion, so off to the chemo room we went.  Everyone on the same page, if you were going to have an allergic reaction it would be with your first infusion so you should be good to go.  Hahahaha! About 15 minutes into this infusion I looked at my sister and said "I feel funny".  She looked at me and yelled for the nurses.  All three of them came running over and started pumping shit into me to calm the reaction.  Apparently my head looked like one of those cartoon characters where it turns so red and then explodes.  Awesomeness!!  The nurses quickly got the reaction under control and I was able to do the rest of the infusion without any further issues.  At home during the week side effects were basically the same, extreme exhaustion and the GI issues.

Week number three - Due to the allergic reaction the week before I had to take the pre-meds again as I did during week one.  So basically this week was pretty much the same as week one.  All went well and had my infusion without any issues and was home resting well that evening.  The key word to that sentence is WAS...  haha...  I was sitting on the couch and all of a sudden I felt that same hot feeling I had felt when I had the allergic reaction the week before.  I went to the bathroom and looked in the mirror and my face was as red as a tomato.  I called the cancer center after hours number and was told to head immediately to the ER.  Have any of you been to the ER at 9:00 at night.  Just that itself is a nightmare, but now add tons of sick people everywhere waiting, which we now know was the beginning of COVID-19.  These people were SICK!  Some of them sitting in the waiting room with oxygen.  I'm sure they were COVID positive but of course then the US wasn't worried about it that much.  I did ask the nurse if these people were being tested for Covid…  she just laughed and said "There are no tests".  This was just two weeks ago folks.  Things have escalated quickly.  But those tests should have been here way before they were!!!  And I had to sit in the waiting room for three, yes three, hours with these people with my compromised immune system from the chemo.  Thank God none of us caught anything from there.  It really is a miracle.  I finally got called into a room and was given tons of steroids, Benadryl, and something to help me sleep and off we went... 3 hours later.  That was a very long night!

Now here's where things get real fun.  On Thursday of that week my doctor's office called and cancelled my normal Monday infusion.  Said that my doctor wanted to see me regarding the allergic reactions.  And scheduled me for Wednesday of last week.  My doctor had been to Africa on a safari and was due back in on Wednesday.  I figured they were going to switch me to a new chemo at that time.

I checked in on Wednesday with my chemo bag and had prepped as if I was getting chemo that day.  Had my labs drawn as usual and then headed back to my doctor's office.  He came in and was masked as a precaution since he had traveled.  He checked my blood work and then we began to discuss the allergic reactions.  Then he said it....  We're done.  No more chemo.  Let's move on to radiation.  I was in shock.  I'd only had 3 and am supposed to have 12.  What if it didn't kill it all.  But I trust my doctor and he assured me that stopping would be okay and that the chemo I had (7 rounds) should be enough.  From that moment until even right now I'm still not sure what to think.  I'm still in shock kind of.  I'm very happy I do not have to have any more chemo, but I'm also terrified I didn't do enough.  But this is where my faith in the higher power and my faith in my doctors will have to guide my fear into acceptance and peace.  I'm still working on that part.  With that being said, I'm done with chemo!!!  Radiation to start in a week.  I will go every single day for 25 days.  I went back to the cancer center last Thursday and got my new tattoos for radiation.  I am now the proud owner of 5 new freckles on my chest to go along with all of my other scars.  They say scars on the body shows how much a person has lived.  Boy have I lived A LOT in the last two years.  I have so many I've lost count!  haha!! So I left the cancer center on Thursday and headed back home to isolation to heal my body as much as I can before we start radiation as my white count was very low on Wednesday, making me more susceptible to all illness, and even more so to this now quickly spreading COVID19.

Saturday afternoon....  vegging on the couch watching TV.  My phone rings.  It's the cancer center.  I could not even imagine why they would be calling and on a Saturday....  It's my oncologist.  My first thought, they changed their minds and I'm going back to chemo.  Ummmm… nope.  He wanted to let me know that he has tested positive for COVID19 and since he had just seen me on Wednesday he had to let me know.  Soooooooooooo…. I am now on COVID19 symptom watch due to direct exposure.  Taking my temperature every hour and every cough I about shit myself praying it's only a cough.  I have a sore throat, but praying that it is just allergies.  You see folks this shit is real.  For those of you that know me... it has now hit close to home.  Stay at home and just veg out and keep the spreading to a minimum people.  I did EVERYTHING I should to not be exposed.  I haven't left my house in 11 days nor have I allowed anyone in.  The only place I went was to the cancer center where they were taking massive precautions, yet here I am sitting, waiting, and freaking out and praying I did not contract it.  Today is day 5.  I have 9 more days and will be in the clear.  Please today say a quick prayer for me and also my doctor and his nurse and anyone else in the office that day!  #shitjustgotreal #rollercoasterride #weekfromhell

Screw Waterboarding.... Give 'em Chemo!

This is what one of my favorite comedians, Karen Mills, once said about her time in the wonderful land of chemo.  And no truer words have ever been spoken!  Strap them SOB's in a chair and fill them with this shit and I guarantee within 48 hours they'll agree to tell you whatever you need to know, just make the pain and nausea stop! haha!

Last time I wrote, I was just 1 round in and my hair had not fallen out yet, but the clumps were coming.  I couldn't really talk chemo because it was so horrible and I was still processing it and how to deal with what was coming.... 15 more rounds....

This morning, I am almost 3 months into my 2nd cancer journey.  Beginning with surgery the day before Thanksgiving, and now am coming out on the other side of my 4th and final round of AC chemo.  I say coming out on the other side, because there is really no other way to describe what happens between infusion day and the day when you finally feel like you may actually live again each time.  My infusions thus far have all been pretty much the same, for that I can be thankful.  At least I know what's coming, right?  Although some days I'd really rather not know.

So let's talk chemo.  How it goes and the process of how I get to where I am this morning every other fucking week....  As I sit here this morning and think about Monday, I could almost start sobbing at the thought.  But I try not to think too far ahead and just take one day at a time, to concentrate on the week ahead in which I will maybe feel halfway human for at least parts of the days during my "rebound" weeks.  These are the middle weeks in between hell.  I try to go have fun and do as much "normal" stuff these weeks as possible without wearing myself out too much.  Four hours is about my limit however.

Infusion day....  Usually goes something like this.  Wake up at around 3:00 a.m. because my mind is already in full panic and insane mode.  Have a little coffee and some pills to start your chemo week regimen.  Play with the dogs and do any last minute chores.  Because you know for the next 5-7 days you will not feel like doing much of anything at all.  Then shower... because again, a shower for a few days is not a feat that will likely not happen.  Hell you can't even get out of bed at some points.  Then from there you put on your port numbing cream and put some saran wrap over it and tape it down with a couple of band aids.  This cream helps to numb your port.  This way when they go to access it with the needle to put your chemo in it won't sting quite as much.  Bet I only forget that shit ONE time!! LOL  Pack your "chemo" bag with all the crap you think you might need for a few hours of fun (blanket, snacks, ginger chews for nausea, Xanax, etc.) And off you head to the cancer center for your infusion day.

Once you arrive at the cancer center you go to the check in desk and pay your $20.  Yes if you've followed me through my whole journey on this blog, you will chuckle at the $20 reference.  When you are sick, you will go broke $20 at a time! LOL  Then you get your folder and head down to room A.  This is the lab where they draw your blood each time to make sure your counts are high enough to even get your infusion that day.  And yes you always pray they are ok because no one wants this shit delayed any longer than necessary and low counts mean at least a week delay most of the time.  I am 4 down and have been lucky so far my counts have not dropped so low that I had to be delayed.  Once the blood has been drawn you take your little folder and head for room B.  This is where they take your vitals and escort you to see your oncologist before infusion.  He will go over your blood work and just check to see how you are feeling.

Once in the exam room, the anxiety ramps up to about a million, as you know the next step is the infusion room.  Everything is a blur and you really don't hear or see anything that is going on.  You are now in infusion mode.  Because once that shit goes into your body, the next week is nothing short of a living hell I would not wish upon ANYONE!!! And at this point you know that is what is coming next.  Most of the time I want to just run out and say fuck it I'm not doing this any more.  But instead I smile and follow my oncology nurse down the hall to the infusion room.  Because well the only other option is in the ground.  And I'm not ready for that yet either!! haha

What happens next over the next few hours is, most of the time, a blur for me.  Yes I am a pussy and need a little happy juice to get over the anxiety hump.  So you pick a chair of your liking and the next nurse comes over and gets your prepped for your rounds.  First is the prick to the port to get access to your veins.  Then comes the saline flush, followed by steroids, and then the good shit, Adivan.  Oh yeah folks, if you haven't tried it out, it's good LOL  Usually after that I'm a little groggy.  The nurse then brings over the "red devil" (yes it is red) in a tube and puts it into you, followed by the 2nd kind of chemo which drips through the bag. And then before you leave they strap the tic tac box of hell onto your arm. Neulasta.  The sheer word makes me wince and cry.  One tip, if you must do chemo, go in the morning.  They usually have some yummy breakfast choices for you!  haha  My sister always gathers me all the snacks and we have a feast hahaha!  After a few hours you're all done and ready to go home.  Or in my case usually, thanks to the Adivan, carried out, but not before a little chemo dance around the infusion room.  LOL  Yes, the Adivan makes me loopy as a drunk girl on prom night.  We be ready to par te'!  haha

Once at home day one is a blur... thank you Adivan for giving me one day of peace! haha.  Day two is the day of waiting.  Sitting around waiting for the fresh hell I know is about to come on day 3-4.  About 17 hours after infusion the tic tac box of hell beeps and at that moment you know the drugs inside of it are pouring into your body and in about 9 hours you will be sicker than you've ever been in your life.  It is a double edged sword, this drug, as it probably prevents you from having to have a blood transfusion, but man it makes you feel like you are dying for two days.  Once the box empties out, my sister then grabs her gloves and proceeds to remove the box from my arm.  Usually it bleeds a little bit from the needle that had been inserted to distribute the medicine. This medicine makes your bones make bone marrow and regenerate white blood cells at a high rate of speed because the chemo they just gave you is killing them all at a high rate of speed.  Generally speaking at about 4a.m. you wake up with what feels like someone beating the shit out of your entire body in your bones and you're so dizzy you cannot open your eyes and moving at all hurts so bad you just want to cry.  You start pumping the nausea pills and pain pills, but they just barely take the edge off.  And for about 48 hours you do not know where you are or how in the hell you're going to actually live to see the next day.

Luckily come about Friday you start to see the light and feel like you may live again.  You head into the rebound week thinking I'm not going back there.  I'm not doing this again.  Fuck it, I'll just die.  But somehow by the next Monday you're always sitting in that damn chair ready for another week of hell.

This coming Monday I will be starting a new round of chemo.  Different from the last four, and what I've been told, easier.  God I pray that is true. Although the side effects sheet they gave me is enough to scare the shit out of anyone and definitely doesn't sound like it's going to be any easier.  This will be 12 rounds every single Monday, so no rebound week.  Three solid months of pumping poison into my body every week so that I can hopefully live a long and happy life.  I sure hope it's worth it and the cancer stays gone for good this time!  I think that is my greatest fear, that I put myself through all of this only for it to return again.  But I believe this is normal and it is most survivor's greatest fear as well, so I know I am not alone.

So Monday here we go, another step closer in being finished with this part of my journey.  I am 1/4 of the way finished and even though I cannot even begin to see the finish line yet, I am one step closer.  One day at a time.

The Trifecta of Hell

Heartbreak.  Alcohol Addiction.  Cancer.

I have been struggling terribly emotionally since my new diagnosis.  I cannot seem to understand why, this time, I have had such a hard time dealing with this latest setback in my life.  Trying to stay positive is getting more difficult for me as I go through this long and painful process.

This week I had a full week alone in my house.  It has been the first time since Thanksgiving I've had the house to myself and it gave me a lot of processing time that I had, up to this point, not had.  I thought it would be wonderful and give me freedom and peace.  Instead, it left me feeling terribly alone and forced me to look at myself and to figure out why I wasn't dealing with all of this positively like I had in the past.  Thursday I had a major mental breakdown and cried for 8 hours straight. I figured a few things out about myself and what was really going on.  This is when I realized I am not just going through a cancer relapse, but I am still grieving the breakup and loss of what I thought was going to be my partner for the rest of my life.  And trying to maneuver this horrible ordeal alone without him this time.  I also realized I am grieving the loss of my go to escape friend, alcohol, as well.

Before my recurrence back in the fall, I was finally making some major progress on the heartbreak front.  I was feeling more like myself and thought I was close to being able to possibly date again.  I was beginning to look forward to the future and finding "my one" for good this time.  Then I was suddenly thrust back into cancer world.  My future became cloudy.  And the healing process for my massive heartbreak was put on hold and in a lot of ways went backwards.  I had the support and love of my fiancé during my first go around with the beast and it made a huge difference in healing and attitude I am finding out.  This go around, without that support it is devastating and so hard.  Being sick, weak, alone and bald, the self esteem goes out the window and you're left feeling ugly and embarrassed to be in public. He's not there by my side holding on to me and telling me no matter what, you're beautiful.  Other people say that out of niceness, but it's just not the same.  I have pushed through and forced myself out a few times, but there is not a single second that is comfortable.  Will my wig fall off? My God I would die of absolute embarrassment.  And that stupid wig.  It's uncomfortable, itchy, heavy and kind of hurts your scalp.  When going through chemo your scalp is pretty sore and feels somewhat like you have a permanent sunburn on your head.  And when you're wearing a turban and not wearing your wig, the stares of pity are unbearable.  I do not want pity, I just want to be a normal person living a normal life, but that is not going to happen for a very long time it feels like right now.  So while I have the great support of a few people, without having him beside me it has been quite the rough road for me.  I realized this week I am not only going through horrible chemo and cancer treatments, I am still going through the grieving process of losing him as my main support person and cheerleader as well, making this process for me 100x harder.

Then there is the other elephant in the room.  The fact that I had been trying to get sober for almost a year.  And the fact that right before the recurrence I had fallen off the wagon big time and landed my stupid ass back in the hospital for another round of pancreatitis.  I thought I had it under control.  I had even told a guy that I had been out on a couple of dates with that I could drink wine and be okay as long as I stay away from the shots and hard liquor. LOL  silly girl   I had myself convinced that was true.  In reality there is not a single type of alcohol that is "ok" to drink at any time when you have an alcohol problem.  That wagon tips over way to easy.  You can only imagine how badly I wanted to go drink myself into oblivion once I heard those you have C words again and so many times since then.  But I haven't.  That last bout in the hospital, once again, shook me to the core and I vowed "this time" I'm done.  Today I am 74 days sober, without a single drop of alcohol.  And I can honestly say I haven't even wanted a drink.  I believe it's probably largely in part due to the fact that the side effect of this chemo I am on right now mirrors the very worst part of drinking.  It feels like that worst night of pouring whiskey and shots down your throat for hours, only to come home and lay down in your bed and the bed to begin spinning like a top.  Which then forces your drunk, weak and stumbling body to the toilet where you lay all night praying to that porcelain god.  And just when you think you've survived, you wake up to the most unbearable pain and exhaustion you've ever felt.  Well played God, well played.  If this is what it takes to make me never want to drink again, then so be it.  Because I can honestly say that after I am finished with this next round of this type of chemo and one more dance with the red devil gods next week, I do not EVER want to feel this way ever again! But as any addict knows there will be hurdles as I try to stay sober after this nightmare is over with, but I believe this experience will give me the strength to persevere through this hurdle as well.

So through my alone time this week, I realized I was not only battling cancer and chemo, but also heartbreak and addiction as well.  And this trifecta has made it that much more difficult to maneuver through this season of my life I am going through now.  No wonder I had a breakdown.  And no wonder I'm having a hell of a time dealing with it.  I had a great friend come rescue me Thursday night and gave me the best advice.  Be kind to yourself and allow people who want to love you during this to do so and don't worry about the people who do not.  This is hard for me to do, but going forward I am going to try to do better at loving myself.  I am going to try to give myself permission to be sad, to grieve, to heal and to also let people who want to love me do so.

Hair Today.... Gone Tomorrow....

Hair....  A woman's crowning glory.  Long, short, black, brown, blonde, red.  No matter what style, it is how women, more times than not, define part of their being.  In its definition -  A protein filament that grows from follicles found in the dermis. Hair is one of the defining characteristics of mammals. Attitudes towards different forms of hair, such as hairstyles and hair removal, vary widely across different cultures and historical periods, but it is often used to indicate a person's personal beliefs or social position, such as their age, sex, or religion.


All of my life I have had a civil war with my hair.  Growing up I hated every single piece of it on my head.  Number one, it was red.  Number two, it was unruly and as naturally curly as a poodle's. The irony in this is that both my mom and dad have dark hair and dark eyes.  Both my sister and I have red hair.  My eyes, hazel; my sister's blue.  Genetics are a funny thing, or maybe not so much these days (thanks a lot BRCA2).   Grade school children are cruel, as we all know.  Hell I was cruel I'm sure at some point.  Probably just retaliating for the cruelty imposed onto me by mean little children who didn't understand why my hair was red, when everyone else's was brown, black, or a few of the blessed girls I was always envious of, blonde.  Growing up red headed brought much teasing and name calling.  My favorites... red headed woodpecker, Pipi Longstocking, and carrot top.  Add the fact that it was also so curly there wasn't much you could do with it, except just let it do it's thang, well you can see why I hated it so!  

Back in those days there were no Chi straighteners for those unruly curls, so you just sucked it up and tried to figure out what the hell to do with it.  I hate to admit this as it sounds so ridiculous, but my go to style move was to wet it down and place a baseball cap on my head as tight as possible and when it was dry, well at least the top of my head was semi-straightened out by the pressure of the cap.  LOL  Ridiculous!!!  Also back then parents did not run their middle school girls to the "salon" to get a dye job or to get it chemically straightened.  Maybe some of the "rich" girls got this special treatment, but for me, and I believe most of my friends, we got our hair cut at the local barber shop.  And you just dealt with, as best as you could, what God gave ya! 

When I got old enough to start experimenting on my own with the few styling tools available to us back in the "olden days" I tried everything! Curling iron, which fried the already dry coarse hair; hot curlers, which actually were great life savers during my high school years in the 80's.  I had the biggest hair in my class probably.  You take extremely long, naturally curly hair and wrap it up tight in heated curlers then spray the shit out of it with Aqua Net while holding each piece out and using the blow dryer on it, well you get the picture... the biggest most awesome 80's hair EVER!  LOL   I begged weekly for my mother to let me go to the salon to straighten it.  And always the same answer.  "As long as you live under our roof we will not pay to have that beautiful hair straightened".  LOL 

Well I showed them! haha.  I moved out at age 19 and got married and one of my first things I did was hit the salon and straightened my hair.  I chemically straightened my hair for probably close to 5 years or more.  Then the Chi hair straightener was invented and I was in heaven.  I could go curly or straighten my hair on any given day.  By this time I had accepted the curls and some days I even kinda liked them a little.  It was definitely easy to get ready.  Wash and go and instant style.  

I then moved on to my next phase, which was my grade school envy, and I dyed my hair blonde for probably another 6 years or so.  Pretty sure the old saying blondes have more fun is true, because man I had some fun during those years LOL! 

A few years ago I decided I had damaged my poor hair enough.  It was broken and dingy, so I decided to go back to the red, curly hair I was born with.  These days it comes in a little grey, but the roots get painted my natural color.  I had let my hair grow and I finally felt like I had come into myself and my hair.  It was beautiful and I was loving it.  So of course my voo doo doll holder realized I was happy with something and decided it was time to take that away from me too.  BTW there's still a reward out for Mr. Voo Doo.  LOL

When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer in December 2017, I was devastated over the thought that I was going to lose my hair due to chemo.  But after all of my surgeries and pathology reports it was determined that I did not have to have chemo.  I'm serious ya'll I cried all the way home from the doctor's office that day and probably for an hour after.  Tears of joy.  I was not going to have to have chemo and was not going to lose my hair.  

When I found out my cancer was back I knew I was headed for the chemo chair this time.  Which meant I was going to lose my beautiful, long, red, curly hair.  Isn't it funny that I spent so many years hating the exact hair that I am now crying daily over the thought of losing.  Craziness!!  Rumor has it that most people lose their hair on this type of chemo right around day 12-14 after the first infusion. So the day before my first infusion I left the house with an intention of cutting it off, I just didn't know where.  I drove around aimlessly and since it was a Sunday, I knew my choices would be limited, but I felt the urge and needed to do it while I had the balls.  I ended up in the mall at JC Penny.  Why, I do not know, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't by accident.  I walked up to the desk and the man was helping another girl but said I'll be right there. He turned around and asked me what I was needing.  I immediately started sobbing ya'll.  Me, sobbing in public to a guy I've never met.  He looked like "oh shit, I'm getting a nut job".  LOL  I then explained to him I would be starting chemo tomorrow and I have to cut my hair so it won't be so devastating for it to all fall out because it was so long.  This amazing kind man, who's name is Ray, took me into the salon.  To the back chair where I would feel comfortable crying, and said "everything is going to be okay, I'm going to take care of you".  He talked to me and calmed me and even made me laugh a few times through my tears as he cut off most of my beautiful long hair. He braided it first and then cut the braids first.  I decided I would keep them as a reminder of my strength on this day.  I truly believe Ray was put in my path that day to help me get through what needed to be done, with kindness and such compassion I feel truly blessed to have met him.

Today I am sitting on day 12 from my first infusion.  I took a shower and was terrified to wash my hair for fear it would all fall out when I touched it.  But so far so good.  But I know that any day it is going to happen.  Day 13, I decided to go see my buddy Ray again and cut A LOT more off.  Him and I talked and gossiped and bonded as if we were old friends and I didn't even cry once this time!!  I still believe this amazing man was put in my path for a reason.  Pretty sure I've made a friend for life! And while I hate this new look, I know it is what had to be done to alleviate the inevitable, and when it starts coming out in chunks, it will lessen the freak out a little bit.



Today, day 16....  I ran my hand through what is left of my hair this morning and it is starting to come out by the handfuls.  I am terrified to shower this morning, knowing what is coming.  I know I am going to cry like a baby. But I'm as prepared as I can be.  I  have my wigs, my hats, and my inner strength to once again push me past this next emotional hurdle.  

One thing I do know for sure, when it comes back in and starts to grow, I don't care if it is straight or curly; brown, black, red or purple, I will NEVER complain about my hair again.  I will be grateful that I have it and pray that this awful shit stays away for good this time and I get to keep my hair forever this time.   Love what God gave you.  You never know when something you thought you hated will become something you will become devastated to lose!

Raising from the Dead -- Part I

Geez it's been a while since I've updated on the health front.  Honestly, here I am two years later and I am still in the belief that this is just a terrible nightmare and one day I will wake up and it will have been just that.  I guess maybe that's how our minds trick us into thinking that it is really not as bad as it is at the time we're going through something terrible.

Carving the TurKristy
Surgery went as planned the day before Thanksgiving.  For those of you that didn't know, it was to remove lymph nodes underneath my left arm, as this is where the cancer has made it's fabulous return.  The procedure is called an Axillary Node Dissection (I think)…  haha...  Where the surgeon basically cuts your armpit in half and digs out the nodes that could possibly be riddled with the lovely C word.  Which has now, once again, left me without the use of my left arm.  Raising it and any range of motion will be a minimum until physical therapy starts.  My surgeon took 10 nodes this time, so along with the 5 that were taken from my very first surgery two years ago, I'm now down 15 lymph nodes under my left arm.  Unfortunately this can cause some other problems down the road, but I'm not even going to begin to worry about that shit right now!

I spent Thanksgiving day in the hospital.  Which was not a fun way to begin a holiday season that is supposed to be filled with fun, parties, family gatherings, etc.  But it is what it is. And was released a few days later, back to my house and my comfy Healing Chair.  Ready to get to healing so I could get on with the next phase and back to living my life.

A follow up with my surgeon a few days later was just the news I needed to hear.  Out of the 10 nodes that were taken only 1 had cancer!  That was the best news possible for this type of surgery.  And she pulled my drains out that day too, so big day!  haha... The drains are a pain in the ass (refer back to February 2018 posts for more fun gory details) LOL...  The discussion was then regarding next treatment plan.  At this point the plan was 4 chemo infusions and maybe radiation, maybe not.  You see you can only radiate so much and then that is no longer an option and she is thinking saving that in our back pocket in case of another recurrence might be the best plan of action, but in the end it will be my oncologists final decision.

I still have little range of motion in my arm, and lifting my arm past half way is a biach!  I am to start physical therapy sometime soon, but chemo is wrecking havoc on that plan of action, so for now, it will just have to wait.

Glitches are Bitches - Part Deux
Remember way back when in 2018 when it seemed like I had a win and then it was taken away by some shitty ass glitch because, yes, my voodoo doll holder hates me!!  LOL

Here we are again 2 years later with another gut punch.  The original plan was 4 chemo treatments over 8 weeks.  I was going to be sick... yes.  I was going to lose my hair... yes.  But as of the Friday before my first infusion I had finally accepted all of that and was ready to get these 4 infusions out of the way and back to living life.  A little chemo.  A little PT.  And back at it!  hahahahaha! Wrong answer.

That very Friday morning my oncologist, out of the blue, called to let me know that he was adding 12 more chemo infusions to my regimine.  The last 12 would be once a week for 12 weeks.  Are you fucking kidding me??  This now puts me into almost July .... 5 months of chemo....  I'm not even gonna lie I lost my shit.  Laid in bed and cried for 12 hours.  Depression took over and I, up until now, haven't even really been able to talk about it much.  I thought it was overkill.  I had one lymph node out of 10 and they took it.  My PET scan was clear other than this area.  WHY???  But no explanation on the phone, just a call to let me know of the game plan change.  I was to be in the office the next Monday for my first infusion and he said we would talk then.  Uh yeah dude we're going to F'n talk alright!!

Chemo Day --- Number One of 16
The most terrifying day of my life thus far.

The morning started with a visit with my oncologist.  And of all days, I forgot my Xanax.  WTF.  And I was already prepared to rip him a new asshole for the conversation the Friday before regarding 12 more chemo treatments.  Words like overkill, and just using me for more money, etc. all were on the tip of my tongue as I walked down the hall into his office.

Here's where things get fun....  He walks in and says we need to discuss my pathology of the cancer they removed from the lymph node.  Well fuck... yep here we go.... glitches are bitches...  my cancer has now taken a more aggressive turn and the physical make up of the tumor has changed.  Basically, without giving you numbers and information you have no idea what I'm talking about, it went from a 4% aggressive tumor to a 53% aggressive tumor over the last two years.  Therefore, now the extra chemo and treatments are necessary to make sure that it hasn't floated into some other part of my body to come back and get me again.  Sooooooooooo the good doctor escaped my ass eating on that lovely Monday morning.  But again, deflated over the news of more chemo.

Next is the dreaded walk down the hall to the infusion room.  Another one of those walks where the inmates must feel like as they walk to the gas chamber....  Terrified as hell, talking so fast and jittering all over the place, I was a mess!  Then the nurse sticks the horrible needle into my port to flush it and get things going.  But what happens next is lovely.  Ativan.  LOL....  Let's just say Kristy does not remember the rest of Monday, which isn't a bad thing!

Tuesday came and went as a blur.  I do not remember much at all except feeling like I was dead and alive both at the same time.  I could barely lift my head up to even drink or make it to the restroom.  Not going to lie folks, it's vicious shit.  I pray to God you never, ever have to go through this.  There were moments this week that I just wanted to walk into the doctor's office next Monday and just tell him that I quit and that I am not strong enough to handle this.  But I know I have to.  For myself.  For my son.  For my future grandbabies that I want to live to see.  And all the places I haven't been to yet that are still waiting for me as well.

Wednesday morning came and I was rebounding a bit.  Yes!  I got out of bed and went to the chair.  Miracle!  haha! Silly me.... the euphoria was only temporary as once the Neulasta contraption attached to my arm deployed a whole new kind of hell began.  I woke up in the middle of the night on Wednesday and felt like my bones were being beat with hammers.  The pain was so intense you could not even touch my body without pain shooting straight through to my bones.  This lasted all day Thursday as well.  You see the Neulasta contraption helps to replenish the white blood cells that are destroyed by the chemo infusion.  So once it deploys it immediately goes into your bones and is forcing your body to make bone marrow.  And we all know our body has a mind of it's own and doesn't like to be forced to do anything.... obviously.

Friday and Saturday have came and went as well.  Thank goodness I am feeling somewhat better, but the exhaustion is absolutely incredible.  I cannot believe that a walk to the mailbox makes you feel like you've ran a mile, but it does!  Hopefully I will continue to rebound this next week, before my next round of hell begins on the 13th.  And even though I will not want to, and will probably cry all the way down the hall again, I'll be back in the infusion chair again for Part II.  Love you all and please keep the prayers coming!! ❣

2019 - WTF Was That???

One year.  Doesn't seem like a long time in the scheme of things.  But when it's a bad one, it seems like it was 20.  And when it's two in a row, it seems like a lifetime since I have felt any sort of normalcy at all.

One year ago I was sitting on a rooftop overlooking downtown Columbia getting ready to kiss 2018 goodbye, good riddance and adios!  We had just gotten back from St. Louis and purchasing my dream convertible car as a celebration for surviving the year.  My fiancé and I were going to celebrate the fact that the horrible awful year was over and we were looking into 2019 with hope for a healthy, happy new year.  After all I had survived cancer, 4 major surgeries, an ICU stay that changed my life, two pet deaths, and my grandfather and aunt's house fire.  It was time to celebrate that we had survived and that it was all over with!  We were ready to start a brand new year happy and healthy! With champagne and sparklers (yes sparklers, I was so excited) in hand, we rang in the new year with hope and excitement for a new beginning.  2019 was going to be our year! BUT as per my new normal, my voodoo doll holder had other plans.  Seriously folks, there's a reward out for the voodoo doctor! LOL!

So here we are, one year later.  Getting ready to flip the big middle finger at another year of hell going out the door!  This year, however, there will be no rooftop celebration.  No convertible.  No fiancé. No sparklers.  No champagne.  Instead I will be probably vomiting, or shitting myself to death, or at the very least, so tired I will not be able to raise my head up off of my pillow, from the poison that will be input into my body the day before.

2019 offered up to me a broken heart, sold my dream convertible, sold my home, the loss of my ex husband who was also one of my best friends in this world, the loss of my only aunt, continued pancreas problems which landed me in the hospital twice, and yes, the gift that keeps on giving, my cancer returned, this time in my lymph node, had another surgery and will be beginning chemo the 30th.... Irony at it's best.....  I cried all the way home from the doctor just one year earlier after finding out that I would not need chemo.  I was so relieved.  Yet here we are... one last bite in the ass from 2019!

But I am also able to look back onto 2019 and realize that I have gained tons of knowledge and massive inner strength that I had no idea was inside of me.  I am emerging from 2019 mentally strong and amazingly self aware.

The biggest and best take away of the year.  Cherish and love your family.  They will always love you and be beside you no matter what.  When my life went to hell in May and again last month and I needed someone, it was my family that was there for me.  Not a man, not even my "friends".  They, for the most part, disappeared this year as well.  But my mom, sister, and dad were all there, by my side.  And for this I will be eternally grateful.  God has given me my sister back.  We have not been close for years, but through this year, our amazing adventure to New York and all of my illnesses, she has been there for me and we have bonded again, as sisters should always be.  I have always believed everything happens for a reason.  Sometimes it sucks, but I think in the end the outcome is because something else is supposed to happen.  My fiancé and I had a whirlwind trip to New York planned to celebrate me beating cancer and just to get away and finally have a good time.  Two weeks before our trip of a lifetime, our relationship came to an abrupt and shocking end.  I had already paid for the trip and it was non-cancelable.  But as it turned out my sister was in a position at the time that she could take 11 days off with very short notice and agreed to come along.  Then we decided mom had to come along also.  You see us three had NEVER had a girls only trip anywhere.  So while it sucked that my relationship was over and a trip that had originally been planned as a romantic thank you for taking care of me while I was sick trip didn't happen.  It was the best mom and daughter trip ever!  We laughed, cried, ate, walked, shopped, played awful tourists, and just bonded.  This, I believe, was the work of a greater power.  I believe it was supposed to happen this way.

Another biggie for 2019...  I got sober.  Yes I was forced to due to health issues, but for the most part I did it.  Was I perfect.... hell NO!  I fell off the damn wagon a few dozen times.  BUT....  I can assure you it was the first year in a very, very long time that was not an all out drunkfest.  And I know that I am going into 2020 with a strong will to never drink again.  Will I achieve this goal?  Maybe so.  Maybe not.  But I at least have the will to get healthy after chemo and radiation and not put toxic shit into my body ever again.  Baby steps.  But steps nonetheless!

2019 also brought some great trips with friends and checks off my bucket list.  I looked back through my pictures from the year and man they were great trips!  Of course the Canada and New York City trip in May was a bucket list dream trip with my mom and my sis.

Florida, back to my mother ship, Treasure Island, with two amazing women whom I am blessed to call friends, over the 4th of July.  I am so glad they agreed to go with me.  This holiday was going to be hard and I just had to get out of town. I learned so much about myself on this trip.  Treasure Island was the planned location of our retirement home.  We had been there over the past 6 years at least 10 times.  I wasn't sure that I could enjoy it or face it after the breakup.  But with the help of my girls, we laughed, cried and just had a blast.  I reclaimed it as my own and I still, some day, will live there come hell or high water!  I gained amazing inner strength from this trip.

And finally Vegas in October, again with my two travel BFF's.  In Vegas I checked my bucket list and saw The Eagles and Aerosmith on two consecutive nights.  It was amazing!   I danced, sang, cried and had the best time ever.  All by myself.  And guess what, I was OK.  Again inner strength was gained.

This year I also won a gold medal in the Corporate Show Me State Games for bowling. I was chosen to go onto the field at ACS day at the ballpark in St. Louis for the Cardinals game and represent all cancer survivors.  I attended 10 concerts throughout the year besides the Vegas ones and also I volunteered to work Roots and Blues Festival.  I attended several different fund raisers throughout the year for many different organizations.  These events definitely make you grateful for the life you have, even though it may be a shit storm at times.  I attended my 30 year class reunion (yes I'm old LOL). And made amazing new friends through a cancer retreat.  It was an intense 3 day weekend and the bond made sure we will be forever sisters.

Another biggie, for the first time ever I went to restaurants and bars and ate by myself, table for one, and survived.  While I do not prefer to go and do things alone, this year I learned that I was going to have to learn how to be okay alone.  Friends disappeared and my option was to stay home and feel sorry for myself or go and just do it.  Two years ago I could not have ever done that!  I have learned so much about myself and who I am and who I want to be.  I know I will be going into 2020 stronger than ever in my faith in myself.  And while I have learned I do not need anyone, I do know I want that one special person in my life to share the rest of it with.  But I now know that I do not have to push it and do not have to settle for less than the fairy tale.  And while I am waiting for Prince Charming, I am going to be OK with me, myself, and I.  This is a huge self awaking for me.  Being alone does not mean you're desperately lonely.  It just means you love yourself enough to never settle.

And while 2020 will definitely not be starting out as a celebratory year I can assure you that when I am standing in some magical place when the clock strikes Midnight December 31, 2020 this chick will be, with God's grace and a shit ton of luck, kissing the man of my dreams, cancer free, and living the best life I have in front of me to live!  That is my New Years wish for me! Happy 2020 everyone.  May it be your best year in the books yet!!