U-P-D-A-T-E

Hi, friends.

I keep hearing that it’s been awhile since I wrote anything. Is that true? Has it been awhile? I’m sorry.

I think when we last spoke, I was deep in the throes of my final round of Adriamycin/Cytoxan, which is to say that I was being ripped end to end by some poison that I pay professionals to infuse into my bloodstream. The drug made me constantly tired and really ill, but I lost 12 pounds and reached my goal weight (thanks, chemo!), so it wasn’t all garbage! It felt a bit like a “milestone” or something to “celebrate” when I finished those four treatments, and I was almost excited to move on to Taxol- the once weekly drug that my oncologist built up as ‘not that bad‘.

I’m now six rounds of Taxol deep, with another six to complete, and I’m feeling pretty good. By pretty good, I mean I’m not vomiting, I don’t experience nausea, I don’t have to be left alone in a dark room for days on end (a piece of me enjoyed that part), and I’m no longer addicted to potatoes. Soup is not the only thing I can eat! I don’t have to endure Neulasta, which boosts your white blood cell count, but makes you feel like even a sneeze in your general direction is the most painful thing that’s ever happened to you. And I no longer rely on my 29-going-on-78 pill-box to get me through the day which is a real breath of fresh air- if that fresh air is still polluted, but only slightly less so.

The reality is that Taxol has actually not been that bad. Sure, my fingernails look like I’ve been living in a sewer and surviving off the garbage that rats don’t find fit to eat, but I’ll take it. And sure, my eyebrows finally fell out, but that just seemed to add to my sexy alien appearance. I even got cat-called as I walked into the cancer center last week! #blessed (Men are pigs.) But at its worst, Taxol has given me a wicked case of acid reflux and has run me into the ground, physically and emotionally. I didn’t know I could feel so exhausted at 6:30 AM when my alarm is going off…but again, it could be worse! I could have a shitty brain that doesn’t cooperate and intentionally mangles words and phrases, just to really goad the English major in me.

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Actual photo of my brain.

But, I suppose I should be honest and say that my writing has been slacking because I’ve been out enjoying life- something I never thought I’d take pride in typing. There’s been much less time spent dwelling on things recently, and while I think that part of that has to do with the “bitch, you got cancer live ur lyfe” attitude, I also think that I might just be happy.

SHOCK.

HORROR.

I know, I know. I didn’t expect it, either! What sort of demonic entity could drag me away from the safe haven of the Internet that I so dearly love? Could it be that I am just now understanding the concept of immediacy and participation? Because here I am, looking forward to getting up, looking forward to doing things with people, and looking forward to living this crazy life with my chosen humans. Naturally, there are still a ton of things to bitch about, but why do that when I can wake up to Justin and Mini-J: two people as thrilled to be going to the state fair as they are about Halloween? Who would have ever thought I would look forward to something like that? But here we are.

Don’t get me wrong, the irony of a death-invested person just coming to this conclusion is not lost on me. I know I have a lot of work to do once this time in my life is past (and if it passes without my passing??!!). My goal of becoming a mortician and assisting people in their end-of-life care is still very much alive and, as a I wrestle with my own mortality, is much more meaningful. I’ll get there; just not within the timeline that I had originally anticipated. Such is life, no? In the meantime, I’m staving off that pre-30’s meltdown (what’s 30 when you look like you’re 20 but feel like you’re 60?) and growing my hair out.

 

A special thank-you to everyone who sent me kind emails and bath bombs. You’re the bomb. Literally.

No longer floating in the stratosphere of stupid (and other updates).

Remember all that chest bleeding that was going on last time we spoke?

Well.

It didn’t go away. In fact, it got worse. I had to see my surgeon again to have him drain it, which meant being juiced while having my left drain removed simultaneously. Neither one felt particularly pleasant, in case you were wondering. We all hoped that, with the compression of an ace bandage and pressure to the area, the bleeding would stop and the chest flap would adhere to my muscle. In typical Elspeth fashion, this did not happen, and my surgeon scheduled a “right mastectomy exploration” surgery. Exploring, what fun!

On Tuesday morning, I went in for surgery and came out with no explanation for the bleeding, plus two new drains. As disheartening as it is, I am hopeful that the extra drain time will help me heal enough so that I may get on with treatment. In the meantime, I’m collecting photos of the nasty (beautiful) things my body produces so that, at some point in the future, I can create a photo collage and make my big break as a modern artist. El oh el.

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Why, yes, those are Larry David leggings! I wore them to the hospital for good luck. All of my nurses loved them, even though most of them thought they were Bernie Sanders. Speaking of nurses- it is Nurse Appreciation Week! Have you profusely thanked all of the nurses in your life? If not, please take the time to do so. I have been incredibly blessed by the excellent care that the nurses of Methodist Hospital have provided for me in the last two months. Without them, I would still be peeing purple and trying to use WebMD to cure my blood balloon boob.

All of this does put off starting the chemotherapy process, though. I need to heal and have these two saddlebags removed before I can have my port placed. It also means that I am doing well enough to start back at work, which I was less than thrilled about. I’ve really enjoyed having time to write, spend time with Justin and my mom, and focus on getting better, as opposed to stressing the fuck out over whether or not we should be purchasing cups for the med office. If I had it my way, truly my way, we would pack up and move out to LA where we could play in the sun all day and I could make my break into the green burial scene. Home viewings! Natural burial! New age death positivity! Woo! I’d even settle to stay in MN and work from home as a tortured writer figure… But since that isn’t happening, I’m back to an 8-4 routine. At least I have good health insurance and some wonderful coworkers!

The last update I have for now is a very exciting one (at least to me)! If you’ve known me at any point during the last year and a half, you know that I’ve been desperately trying to get divorced from an anthropomorphic chicken nugget, and that it hasn’t been going well. But no longer! The final nail has been hammered into the coffin and I’ll be free sometime in June or early July. Hallelujah, hallelujah, thank the dark lords! For months, my attorney had been proposing fair and equitable settlements to him and his counsel, and they kept refusing them, all the while making terrible comments about me and throwing around unfounded accusations. It all came to a head when we had to sit down for a third party-mediated FENE, which is basically financial uncoupling. I won’t go into details, but I will say that I held my ground and walked away satisfied with the outcome. Sometimes things do go my way.

#blessed