Wednesday. 8:15am. Vibrate Day.
It's a Vitamin C day. Far away seems last week, a little bump in the road I would say in the scheme of things. In fact time seems to have fast forwarded as last week the mountains and tree tops stretched out in the glory of summer breeze and sunsets in Tahoe...this morning we woke up to winter snow covered mountains.
I left off last Thursday morning, saying "wish me luck". Got no luck, I was in for it. I guess looking back now it's all but a small bump in the road. But at the time I felt like my head was shriveling up into a pea size and my eyes were about to explode. My first bout of nausea overwhelmed me. I have never had nausea from chemo until last Thursday. I hit a fever of 102.2. My poor mother walked back and forth mumbling "maybe we should go to emergency". Somehow I was able to utter the words, "no, can't. Let's just wait". As much as I felt like I was dieing, I also felt that I was going through the process of having cancerous cells explode in my body.
I heard myself saying to myself, the same thing I say to Kelli, my step-daughter after she's had a terrible night, or she seems like all is lost..."go to sleep, tomorrow is a new day". So after taking a freezing shower, my fever dropped, I slept.
I awoke the next day at about 8am, a new day, a new Margot. It had passed. Friday: Sister, Brian, dad, Enzo and Portia coming...Mike also flying in. Ahhh, I can enjoy NOT getting up to get in the car and drive an hour and half away...No more highway 395 for the next few days. Enzo's little voice stays in my head now, whenever I feel terrible I just think of his rules "No kwaying...no 'itting...no kwaying...no 'itting" (no crying and no hitting).
So that brings us to today. Wednesday. Monday's being my "pass out day", I'll say that this last Monday went very smoothly. I did get home at about 4pm to crawl in bed and stay there until the next day. The weather is starting to change, this morning we woke up to white patches on the ground, not the hard heavy snow but the snow that is so light and powdery. The sky is a brilliant blue. I've started the fireplace.
My mother continues to amaze me. Constantly making me a juice every hour. I've been told to drink green apple and carrot juice every hour while I'm awake by the doctor. She carries a juicer with he to the clinic. She's amazing alright, I called her the Carrot Lady the other day, and then the Green Apple Monster - now she's just the Nazi Juice Lady...constantly shoving the 8 oz in my face and saying "tomatelo hijita - no seas fregada!" (drink it dear, don't be a pain in the ass). The epitome of my mother, a hard ass and sweeter than apple pie. Yuck - bad analogy. The thought of the color green or orange just makes me want to puke! My eyes have become furry and I'm starting to grow bunny ears.
I can't help but think today is my dear girlfriends birthday, and how I so desperately want her to enjoy her dinner tonight doubly the amount she would on a normal seating...in ecstasy with the richness of whatever complex flavors your mouth can catch. In your words, I hope you have a party in your mouth - because I sure as hell can't!
XOXOX
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Alchemy: Blood, Urine, & Oxygen
Written Thursday, Posted today (Saturday)...
Ah, so brutal! if it had not been for the amazing emails I got, which by the way some were hilarious, I’m not too sure I could have survived. Honestly between being down right scared of the chemo and insulin procedure (IPT), I barely had enough energy to squeeze out some tears when Nurse Shirley tried tapping into my port. My only thought was “Hum, tied up again…hum, what is God (The Universe) trying to tell me…?” I guess that is a conversation for another day. But if anybody knows, please share.
I will say, some things are very different than 2002. First off, the amount of information (thanks to Mike) has been overwhelming…I have to admit, sometimes I question my choice in doing the IPT therapy, especially when you can punch it into Google and get a “Quack Report”. Then I think back to round one in ‘02…Ah, yes, some of you that receive this will remember.
2002. My hair never grew back the same, eyelashes never the same, infertile, and MAC loves me because at this point I’m a life buyer of their eyebrow pencil, lumpectomy, radiation, and some more chemo…and the cancer came back! So, when I tend to question the efficacy of combining urine, my own blood, and oxygen together only to be poked with a massive needle to have it given back to me I just think back on the 2002 days.
Stanford doctors told me that I would be probably battling cancer for the rest of my life – but they did nothing to supplement the attack on those cancer cells. I can’t help but question myself either. Did I do enough, see enough, act in defense enough…maybe not. Forgiveness has to be quick right now, there is no time for regrets or thinking backwards, time to move on.
Here is the schedule: Monday and Thursday are my IPT infusion days with an infusion of DMSO (makes me smell like garlic), and a hydrogen peroxide infusion. I fondly think of these days as “pass out days”. Tuesday and Wednesday are Vitamin C infusions, with UB-Isodes (the urine, blood, & oxygen thing), and an hour in the infrared sauna to help detox the body. I fondly think of these days as “vibrate days”. Vibrate days because the vitamin C being dripped into the port spills into the heart, and the heart pumps it out into the rest of the body – it makes you tingle and vibrate. I also found it endearing when the 17 year old kid in front of me, Andre, said the Vitamin C made him vibrate.
Passing out on Monday was frightening, but I have to admit, for anybody that has ever smoked one marijuana joint in their life (I know none of you have ever done this but just pretend you have), this is what it felt like – for a split, fleeting, nano-second! Then I realized my sugar had dropped so low that I was going to pass out… they injected the glucose back into my system and said “OK, good girl, you can eat”.
“you can eat”, I guess now that I think about it, IPT and getting high have another thing in common: the munchees??? I don’t think I’ve ever heard such sweeter words in my life, I devoured my lunch that my mom and Mike had brought me back. As I was mentioning yesterday to my fellow infuser, I’ve had some of the most amazing dinners (most recently Gjelina, Axe, Nobu…my mother’s arroz con pollo or dad’s ceviche). I am mortified to say, sorry, all of the above have been kicked to the curb.
Let me introduce to you the finest food my pallet has ever experienced. Welcome to the Nevada Center Lunch Special, catered by Mike Murphy and Mom! There is nothing better than a strawberry Yoplait yogurt cooled at just the right temperature being walloped in your mouth by a plastic spoon, followed by some SaveMart broiled chicken, with a dash of green salad and just the right amount of Paul Newman’s salad dressing (who cares what flavor it was it tasted delicious). Oh, and I guzzled a small Sunny Delight OJ like there was no tomorrow. At that point I felt like there probably wasn’t. I invite all of you to question what in the hell would make anybody in there right mind think this is a 5 star meal. Ha, the only thing missing was a good glass of red wine. That’s my Monday and Thursday.
So as I write this it’s about 8 a.m. and I am watching my mother pacing back and forth in the kitchen, she does that when she’s nervous, I realize the week has gone so quickly and we’re back on “pass out” day. Thursday. This time I have a change of shirt so that when the insulin kicks in and I’m recovering I’ll be able to change a Bikram Yoga like drenched shirt and not freeze as I come around and have lunch. Lovely thought, lunch – wonder what I’ll have today.
Please email me, text, facebook, whatever; you all put such a huge smile on my face! Wish me luck. Highway 395 here we come.
PS. Did I tell you how the other day my mom drove back from Nevada to Truckee and had no idea that at a state agriculture stop you ARE suppose to stop! She flew right through the toll! I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt, perhaps she was thinking she had a fast-track on the dash! I screamed at her, she came to a screeching stop and started to reverse; the state trooper was already starting to run to hit some sort of alarm…She did reverse back, and luckily the gentleman was very forgiving, though very red and flustered.
Here are a few of the comments I got from my last email … XOXOX
Ah, so brutal! if it had not been for the amazing emails I got, which by the way some were hilarious, I’m not too sure I could have survived. Honestly between being down right scared of the chemo and insulin procedure (IPT), I barely had enough energy to squeeze out some tears when Nurse Shirley tried tapping into my port. My only thought was “Hum, tied up again…hum, what is God (The Universe) trying to tell me…?” I guess that is a conversation for another day. But if anybody knows, please share.
I will say, some things are very different than 2002. First off, the amount of information (thanks to Mike) has been overwhelming…I have to admit, sometimes I question my choice in doing the IPT therapy, especially when you can punch it into Google and get a “Quack Report”. Then I think back to round one in ‘02…Ah, yes, some of you that receive this will remember.
2002. My hair never grew back the same, eyelashes never the same, infertile, and MAC loves me because at this point I’m a life buyer of their eyebrow pencil, lumpectomy, radiation, and some more chemo…and the cancer came back! So, when I tend to question the efficacy of combining urine, my own blood, and oxygen together only to be poked with a massive needle to have it given back to me I just think back on the 2002 days.
Stanford doctors told me that I would be probably battling cancer for the rest of my life – but they did nothing to supplement the attack on those cancer cells. I can’t help but question myself either. Did I do enough, see enough, act in defense enough…maybe not. Forgiveness has to be quick right now, there is no time for regrets or thinking backwards, time to move on.
Here is the schedule: Monday and Thursday are my IPT infusion days with an infusion of DMSO (makes me smell like garlic), and a hydrogen peroxide infusion. I fondly think of these days as “pass out days”. Tuesday and Wednesday are Vitamin C infusions, with UB-Isodes (the urine, blood, & oxygen thing), and an hour in the infrared sauna to help detox the body. I fondly think of these days as “vibrate days”. Vibrate days because the vitamin C being dripped into the port spills into the heart, and the heart pumps it out into the rest of the body – it makes you tingle and vibrate. I also found it endearing when the 17 year old kid in front of me, Andre, said the Vitamin C made him vibrate.
Passing out on Monday was frightening, but I have to admit, for anybody that has ever smoked one marijuana joint in their life (I know none of you have ever done this but just pretend you have), this is what it felt like – for a split, fleeting, nano-second! Then I realized my sugar had dropped so low that I was going to pass out… they injected the glucose back into my system and said “OK, good girl, you can eat”.
“you can eat”, I guess now that I think about it, IPT and getting high have another thing in common: the munchees??? I don’t think I’ve ever heard such sweeter words in my life, I devoured my lunch that my mom and Mike had brought me back. As I was mentioning yesterday to my fellow infuser, I’ve had some of the most amazing dinners (most recently Gjelina, Axe, Nobu…my mother’s arroz con pollo or dad’s ceviche). I am mortified to say, sorry, all of the above have been kicked to the curb.
Let me introduce to you the finest food my pallet has ever experienced. Welcome to the Nevada Center Lunch Special, catered by Mike Murphy and Mom! There is nothing better than a strawberry Yoplait yogurt cooled at just the right temperature being walloped in your mouth by a plastic spoon, followed by some SaveMart broiled chicken, with a dash of green salad and just the right amount of Paul Newman’s salad dressing (who cares what flavor it was it tasted delicious). Oh, and I guzzled a small Sunny Delight OJ like there was no tomorrow. At that point I felt like there probably wasn’t. I invite all of you to question what in the hell would make anybody in there right mind think this is a 5 star meal. Ha, the only thing missing was a good glass of red wine. That’s my Monday and Thursday.
So as I write this it’s about 8 a.m. and I am watching my mother pacing back and forth in the kitchen, she does that when she’s nervous, I realize the week has gone so quickly and we’re back on “pass out” day. Thursday. This time I have a change of shirt so that when the insulin kicks in and I’m recovering I’ll be able to change a Bikram Yoga like drenched shirt and not freeze as I come around and have lunch. Lovely thought, lunch – wonder what I’ll have today.
Please email me, text, facebook, whatever; you all put such a huge smile on my face! Wish me luck. Highway 395 here we come.
PS. Did I tell you how the other day my mom drove back from Nevada to Truckee and had no idea that at a state agriculture stop you ARE suppose to stop! She flew right through the toll! I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt, perhaps she was thinking she had a fast-track on the dash! I screamed at her, she came to a screeching stop and started to reverse; the state trooper was already starting to run to hit some sort of alarm…She did reverse back, and luckily the gentleman was very forgiving, though very red and flustered.
Here are a few of the comments I got from my last email … XOXOX
text to me: There is nothing worse than a Latina mom
driver, except maybe a Chinita (translated to little Chinese for the Spanish
impaired) mom driver!
…By the way, your mom is not the only bad driving mom.
My mom has been able to increase her insurance premium by hitting 1 moving car
and 2 other times hitting parked cars at supermarkets. My dad is not a happy
camper.
…be strong and all will go well. say your prayers. kiss your mom and
dad. smack mike in the back of his head. everyone is here to love you, it will
be Christmas again. Enzo and Portia will be laughing and playing near the tree.
you will be healthier and stronger. you will be 37.
…I was boxing today and
when I was hitting the bag I was thinking of it being the cancer in your body
and I was knocking it out!!!
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Paranoid
It's 8:53pm and I'm ready to head to bed. I was scared. Actually more paranoid today than I ever thought possible. Perhaps because in 2009 I was 29 and totally ignorantly blissful about life and just exactly how chemo treatments worked...at 36 knowing what I know now....well I got a little paranoid. I think I stoped the nurse several times to ask her questions that had already been answered but the "just in case" thought would compel me to sit up in my chair and say ..." what about my heart, I'm not 29 anymore and Adriamycin is so toxic". She would respond..."Yes, it is, but at 1/10 of the suggested dose it will not do anything to your heart". I would sit back down, another thought would pop up...and I'd stop her, "what about the port, what if you hit it outside of where you are suppose to puncture it...will I die?"...her response with a cute little smile "no dear, not at all".
But it went well. The insulin did what it was suppose to, at one point I really did feel faint and clammy - what they call the therapeutic moment, according to the IPT treatment protocol- cancer cells are getting angry and are desperately seeking their nourishment, sugar! As your body stops producing insulin and the insulin receptors on the cancer cells (about 20x's that of a healthy cell) start grasping at anything - you get the "Aha" moment, and feed them. You feed them chemo! I felt evil in a fun way, thinking to myself "die f#$%$^...die". But at the same time I was kinda getting a little too jittery...and was scared that I was going to go into coma (paranoid).
The facility was about 1 hour away from the Truckee house so I guess just as bad if I were going to Stanford or UCSF - unlike those drives, we were blessed with rolling mountains and the feel of Montana (never been, but that's what I picture it to look like). The oncology room was totally full, and as sad as it is to see people in chairs getting transfusions it was a relief to know that I'm not the only one embarking on this "alternative" journey. In fact most of the people were from out of state.
A gentleman sat about 4 chairs down from me, and when he spoke he sounded like he was purposely trying to sound like a woman. This is what esophageal cancer sounds like. Kaiser had sent him home to get his final weeks in order when he had decided to make a special trip from Seattle to visit this clinic. Now two weeks later, the tumors around the neck and charlie horse were dissolving. I heard all of this as he explained it to a visiting doctor. Actually my mother, Mrs. Nosy heard it all, and told me, of course in Spanish so the poor man would not know that she was talking about him.
Our morning started at 7:30am and now my mom, after dropping Mike off at the airport, was driving us back to Truckee. Now, picture this...my mother, who at 65 has NEVER driven to Tahoe up until a day ago (her knuckles were white), is now driving us back from Reno. Sounds easy enough, except that half way home, the freeway lanes start to all merge into one. Does not sound bad except that it feels like you are driving in the most narrow of roads, with a cement divider to your right and to your left, trapped, with about 2 inches of space so that if you slightly move to the right your done, and if you slightly move to the left you've crashed onto the oncoming traffic. Well, we made it! But I don't know anymore which was worse the chemo or my mom driving. I'll be driving on 395 South to Carson City for the next...I don't know how many weeks.
Goodnight and thank you for all of your prayers and thoughts!
But it went well. The insulin did what it was suppose to, at one point I really did feel faint and clammy - what they call the therapeutic moment, according to the IPT treatment protocol- cancer cells are getting angry and are desperately seeking their nourishment, sugar! As your body stops producing insulin and the insulin receptors on the cancer cells (about 20x's that of a healthy cell) start grasping at anything - you get the "Aha" moment, and feed them. You feed them chemo! I felt evil in a fun way, thinking to myself "die f#$%$^...die". But at the same time I was kinda getting a little too jittery...and was scared that I was going to go into coma (paranoid).
The facility was about 1 hour away from the Truckee house so I guess just as bad if I were going to Stanford or UCSF - unlike those drives, we were blessed with rolling mountains and the feel of Montana (never been, but that's what I picture it to look like). The oncology room was totally full, and as sad as it is to see people in chairs getting transfusions it was a relief to know that I'm not the only one embarking on this "alternative" journey. In fact most of the people were from out of state.
A gentleman sat about 4 chairs down from me, and when he spoke he sounded like he was purposely trying to sound like a woman. This is what esophageal cancer sounds like. Kaiser had sent him home to get his final weeks in order when he had decided to make a special trip from Seattle to visit this clinic. Now two weeks later, the tumors around the neck and charlie horse were dissolving. I heard all of this as he explained it to a visiting doctor. Actually my mother, Mrs. Nosy heard it all, and told me, of course in Spanish so the poor man would not know that she was talking about him.
Our morning started at 7:30am and now my mom, after dropping Mike off at the airport, was driving us back to Truckee. Now, picture this...my mother, who at 65 has NEVER driven to Tahoe up until a day ago (her knuckles were white), is now driving us back from Reno. Sounds easy enough, except that half way home, the freeway lanes start to all merge into one. Does not sound bad except that it feels like you are driving in the most narrow of roads, with a cement divider to your right and to your left, trapped, with about 2 inches of space so that if you slightly move to the right your done, and if you slightly move to the left you've crashed onto the oncoming traffic. Well, we made it! But I don't know anymore which was worse the chemo or my mom driving. I'll be driving on 395 South to Carson City for the next...I don't know how many weeks.
Goodnight and thank you for all of your prayers and thoughts!
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