As too many pairs of David Kahn jeans. Especially if you buy them on eBay. I know, I said I would never buys jeans on eBay again, but the third time must be a charm because these are absolutely perfect. I found my favorite pair of jeans that I bought about 18 months ago (and since have been discontinued) but two sizes smaller. They fit beautifully.
Oh right. I went to the oncologist today. Dr. K is back! I forgot to ask him about his vacation... I was too busy bragging about the 4 mile run. Anyway, my WBC is up to 8.2, my crit is 37 (up from 25), and platelets 223. That's pretty damn good. Pretty damn normal. Normal enough to start chemo. I was like "whoa there, I don't want to take Cytoxan because I don't want lymphoma and I possibly DO want babies." And Dr. K was like, "Jessie, I wrote a paper about how Cytoxan in such small doses as I'm giving you has no effect on whether you get cancer again and EVERY drug I give you has the possibility of rendering you infertile, but you're young and we'll just see..." And I was like, "meh, good enough, shoot me up."
Cytoxan in. Ara C shot #1 (of 8) done. This was the last big one. There are lots and lots of small drugs to come, but the Cytoxan is the last drug that will send my counts down and make me feel really bad. Ara-C just makes me not hungry which is awesome since I found out by reading my chart that my ideal weight is FORTY FIVE POUNDS less then I weigh right now as 5'8" and a size 10 (with huge breasts, I might add). Will someone redo the BMI already? I think we all realize that it's totally fucked up to call me obese.
The Cytoxan should take full effect sometime early next week so I'm planning on gettin down and partying at Brandon's b-day tomorrow. And perhaps visitors from the South will arriving on my doorstep? Have I ever mentioned what BAMF friends I have? I have BAMF friends.
It's so good to keep doing the "lasts." A couple weeks ago I could tell my nurses, "this is my last Adriomyacin." Today I was able to say to everyone "this is the last Bad Drug I have to take." It was almost scary. On one hand I totally hate chemo and I hate what it's done to my life, but who will I be and what will I do when I have to merge back into the semblance of a normal life? I mean, luckily I have monthly chemo for years, but when they pull the Hick, when the big stuff is over, when my social life doesn't revolve around the nursing staff at the Swedish Cancer Center... My therapist was like, "the transition back can be rough." And I was like, "hah!" But today I had my first taste of panic. I've gotten really good at being a cancer patient. I'm like the best cancer patient at Swedish. Everyone loves me. I do everything I'm supposed to... anyway, I'm good at normal life too, I just saw the light at the end of the tunnel today and it was really bright.
4 years ago