Grazelda's Favorite Hits - Part I

For this week's Cancer-tainment, I present to you the first in a series of Top Ten Lists. 
Top Ten Books I Read During Cancer (This is a non-ordered list.)

  Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami
Well, I'm not quite done with this one yet, but once I got past the suggestively boring/heavy presence of "Kafka" in the title, it turned out to be really engaging.  One of those books where I have no idea what's going to happen next!

   Sleeping Naked is Green by Vanessa Farquharson
This book is not very engaging, the author's attempts at "going green" seem mostly laughable to me, and I haven't even read 1/3 of it, but it made a nice, light, fluffy read-aloud while I was in the ER with Grazelda.

   The Shadow of the Wind by Carols Ruiz Zafon
This book is so scary, there were times I couldn't read it before bed.  Seriously.  Good plot and well-written.  

  Everything Changes: the Inside Scoop on Living With Cancer in Your 20s and 30s by Cairol Rosenthal
Interesting.  Better than your average Inspirational Cancer Book.  Tells lots of stories of young folks who have much more dramatic experiences than me.  Trust me, this is the kind of drama I can happily live without, but some of the essence of experiences are the same.  

  Taffy of Torpedo Junction by Nell Wise Wechter
Though written for a younger crowd, this was an entertaining read, and very good for those nights on steroids when I was awake till 2am.  I did love the Outer Banks accents. 


  Twilight (and the rest of the series) by Stephenie Meyer
Just the right weight for a gal on chemo.  I have to admit to staying up later than I needed to keep reading them.  I also have to admit that there's this guy at my church who looks exactly like I envision Carlisle.  (Hey, Mark!)

  Widdershins by Charles deLint
Good characters, good plot intricate fantasy world, mixed with real world stuff.  Also sometimes a little too scary for 2am.  

  The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman
This one I made my Dad read aloud to me when I was in random severe pain (Thanks, Dad!).  I also read it early in the morning during hospital stay #2, and then decided it was a little too scary for 6am.  Very good, very entertaining.  Highly recommended.

  The Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner's Semester at America's Holiest University by Kevin Roose
Also highly recommended.  Entertaining subject with an honest and nuanced perspective, well written, and for a book about Liberty U, America's Holiest University, it even contains the kind of passage that made me stop the read-aloud when the pastor walked into my hospital room.  

  The Geography of Bliss: One Grump's Search for the Happiest Places in the World by Eric Weiner
Now don't take this the wrong way, because this is a fine book on the paragraph/chapter level: The Geography of Bliss made an excellent keep-in-the-bathroom book.  Due to the nature of the author's survey, the chapters read fairly well by themselves and don't require much continuity.  And with some of those nasty chemo side effects, it is important to have good Toilet Literature.  

  The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
I read this book on my Intermission Week because the church book group was discussing it.  We mostly agreed that it was mediocre.  I maintain that it was worth my time reading it so I got to go to book group.  

[were you counting?  If so, just consider yourself lucky you got a bonus!]

Part II will definitely be Grazelda's Soundtrack (top 10 songs during cancer), but after that I am open to more Top Ten _______ During Cancer List suggestions. 

Medical update: I got a cold this week.  Ugh.  And I'm still getting over it, but I am getting over it.  Cough drops and orange juice.  Not being able to breathe combined with the cold(er) weather inhibits my "Getting Buff Again Without Being Stupid About It" project.  That is to say, I probably only biked 20 miles in the past three days, and went dancing twice (contra and samba), so you probably shouldn't feel too sorry for me.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving was beautiful this year.  The Ozarks were at their November best, the weather was gorgeous, and this Tucsonan was, again, fascinated by the proliferation of trees!!  The food, the robot-mugs, the cloth napkins, the behaviorally-challenged canines, the extremely-full car ride, the caboose in the woods by the pond, the grass - each of these could be the subject of its own blog post.  But none of them have anything to do with cancer.  That was possibly the best part - feeling so normal, being so normal, doing things that I would have done this year, and in this way, even if I hadn't woken up in pain four months ago and gone through everything that followed. 

Being together with family was extra-special, particularly Grandma, who's had health concerns of her own to combat.  Also, Grandma has chronically cold hands that felt amazing on my head when I would get a bout of my own personal summer (hot flash).  Needless to say, I was sure to sit by her often. 

My list of things I'm thankful for this year is very long.  I'm glad I don't have cancer anymore.  I'm happy I don't start another round of chemo tomorrow.  But those things (or perhaps more clearly, their opposite - having cancer, needing chemo) seem more like fate, something no one has control over.  So I'm most grateful for the people who have surrounded me and stood by me in so many ways the past few months. Because those people (i.e. you, and others) have made a choice to support me, have gone out of their way to make my life more pleasant by taking care of my physical, emotional, medical, and yes, even social needs in the middle of the yuck.  Thank you. 

Quitting Chemo - and Cancer

I got a call yesterday from my doctor's office scheduling my next appointment: January 20!  I might not go into the office for two months!  In the meantime, I'll get my blood tested and a CT scan.  I'll have some phone conversations, and can call or go in if I have questions or concerns.  And I get to talk to Shirley every week about the thickness of my blood.  I don't usually believe in more than one exclamation point per paragraph.  But I'm done with chemotherapy!!  And that is cause to celebrate with excessive punctuation!!!

Yes, I won't have the five days of yuck, and my hair will start growing back.  I can go back to work, and stop using antibacterial soap unless I just replaced a toilet or something really nasty.  But quitting chemo is not simply a happy occasion.  I worry about having made the right decision, about every little twinge, burp, or upset stomach - is that Grazelda?  Or is it Grazelda's mutant, back for the fight stronger than before?  It sounds like some terrible made-for-TV alien movie sequel. 

In the meantime, I have places to bike, people to see, books to read, music to dance to, and furnaces to start up.  "Sitting out" for a few months can give a person quite the ToDo list, and I have barely started on mine.  That is to say, I may be too busy to worry much.  

I won't say good-bye yet.  I want at least one more blood test before I'll be convinced that Grazelda has been entirely annihilated, and I will definitely be sad to lose you all as such a wonderful audience for my rambling thoughts.  But for now I'll hope for medical boring-ness and try to post weekly.  Emails are always welcome [pennermk AT gmail DOT com] if you find yourself needing a higher dose - I'll do my best to reply quickly.

Oh yeah, and for old times' sake . . .
Chemotherapy Side Effect #92: Ridged fingernails.
I feel a little bit like a tree, but instead of rings counting years, I have ridges on my nails counting chemotherapy cycles.  They'll grow out with my fingernails, but meanwhile I have a reminder, in case I forget. 

Decisions decisions . . .

It was a good news kind of doctor's visit this afternoon.  We all breathed a sigh of relief that my AFP was 7.  The reading of 22 was either a lab error or some stubborn cancer cells finally throwing in the towel, popping and releasing a bunch of that protein all at once.  My PET scan was basically clear except what is probably a little bit of over-active fat some distance away from where Grazelda lived, which will be confirmed by a CT scan at some point in the future.  And I got other little bits of good news, too: I am now officially allowed to floss, have blood drawn from my left arm, and play ultimate frisbee. 

Now what?  Well, now I get to choose whether I want one more cycle of chemo (=one 5-day week + 2 Bonus Bleo days) or that I'm done and watch my AFP count closely.  I've been thinking/talking/writing about it all afternoon and evening, and don't feel much closer to a decision.  Ugh.

So I'm experiencing a mixture of happy that bubbles up and says "Hey - I used to have cancer.  And now I don't.  Life is great!" and a slight headache from too much thinking in circles about chemo choices.

But.  I get to go to Missouri and see my family for Thanksgiving next week, and I'm working tomorrow and there will certainly be some sort of partying this weekend.

7 < 8.4 !!!!

Dr. Hallum called this morning bright and early with some very good news.  My AFP from this last blood draw was 7, which is in the "normal" range of below 8.4. 
I'll still go in later today to ask lots of questions, but I thought I'd share the news while it's fresh.

Happy Wednesday!!!

MORE Awesome!!

Here he is, friends.

I guess this picture gets the "hold you in the palm of my hands" line a little backward, but I needed some perspective.

For even more perspective, here are before and after pictures.  Just add faith (and a little bit of water). 

What sucks is that I'm posting the Grow Jesus pics on my cancer blog tonight because I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow (Wednesday).  I don't know what news it will bring - the results of my blood re-test (AFP tumor marker recount), the interpretation of my PET scan, and the implications for my treatment plan.  That is to say, I may learn that I have more sugary, more chemo, different chemo, or some other unknown. And then I might not feel like putting up Jesus pictures, no matter how awesome he is.

Meanwhile, I go biking and get those delightful endorphins and stay happy.

Socio-Political Side Effects of Cancer

I've written quite a bit about the absence of hair on my head.  I'm bald and female, and in this culture that's weird.  I stick out. 

Here's the other side.  The rest of my hair is mostly gone too - legs, arms, underarms, and all the other places I formerly had hair are basically bare.  Before chemo, I had always been very well-endowed in the body hair department, and now after I disguise my bald head with a favorite headscarf or hat, I feel like I fit in better than I did in my phenomenally hairy, not-on-chemo body.  These days, without spending hours waxing, shaving, plucking, or bleaching, my body looks more like what mainstream media tells us is feminine and beautiful and normal.  And I feel feminine and beautiful and normal. 

Do you realize what I just said?  "Beauty" is definitely not on the list of side effects I was handed during Therapy 1.1, but in the eyes of the media, the culture, and myself Chemotherapy makes me beautiful.  That sounds very very wrong to me.  Dripping poison in my veins makes me feel horrible and gross and sick and ultimately it makes me look good?  Something has got to be badly broken in a culture that holds up as attractive the appearance that arises from such misuse.  Misuse by chemotherapy, by anorexia, by cancer-causing tanning beds, by skin-damaging hair removal products, rib-crushing girdles, and joint-destroying heels . . . (Of course all of these torture devices are targeted at women.  The patriarchal political dominance through cultural opression is so obvious as to be put in parenthases.) Should we not instead value well-ness and celebrate its embodiment?  Should we not seek to live wholly in our bodies as they were made for us?  Finally it becomes a question of transforming the culture we live in while still living within it. 

P.S.  That eyelash is still holding on.