Photo Time

Love that wig.

Dawn and Jeremy - Easter Sunday

My photos

I hope you've followed Luke's link to the haircut photos. Those of you who know me are wondering about now how I could let him take those pictures. As you know, I'm one of those people who hide from the camera. As a teenager and young adult I was petite and thin. As I got older and remarried I grew outward and so hate to see pictures of myself. Photos always surprise and mortify me because I don't look as big to myself in the mirror (or in my mind) as I do in photos. Having said that, then why all these pictures? I'll tell you.

I have to face this thing dead on. I have to look right at every aspect of it no matter how unflattering and say, so what? As I grew heavier I remained proud of my thick, healthy, wavy/curly hair. You can see from the pictures, even though it was short, there was a lot to come off because it's so thick. Now it's gone. And I've been told there's no telling what will grow back. It could be a different color or texture or anything. And I say, so what?

I'm not suggesting this is easy. Having Jeremy and Luke give me a buzz cut was my way of taking a little control. There's so little you can control with cancer. And it gave us a chance to laugh and make fun of the whole thing together.

It's painful to look in the mirror and see dark stuble on a big round head. But it is what it is. Life is change and this is the journey my family and I have to take. Documenting it in words and photos is our way of saying #*@% Cancer!

Dawn's Haircut (Photogallery Link)

Alright here's the photo gallery everyone has been waiting for (or dreading as the case may be). Took the photos with my phone. There were so many shots I put it off site on our regular home page so it would be more convenient. Click Here for the Haircut Gallery.

Hair phase two

For over a week now I've been tugging on my hair to see if it's coming out. I was afraid it would start dropping out of my head at work or in Walmart or something. At first when I tugged my hair held fast, but then a day or two ago I'd get about three hairs between my fingers when I'd tug. Until today. Today with just a gentle pull locks of hair came free.

I decided that rather than wait for it to drop all over the place it was time to take action. The less hair to fall out the better.

Picture the scene. It was a family affair out in the backyard. Jeremy, with electric trimmer in hand, happy to have the chance to pay me back for the buzz cut I gave him when he was 10 or 11. He insisted on leaving one little curl up front. Then he shaved a 42 into the top of my head for fans of "The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy."

Not quite satisfied it was short enough, we decided to go farther. Luke went over my head again with the trimmer set at the shortest it would go (leaving the curl).

Luke called me G.I. Jane. Jay was there too. He's been Jeremy's friend since they were little. We call him our other son. Jay says now I can hang with the cool kids.

Luke, of course, documented the entire scene with his camera phone. He'll post the pictures for everyone to enjoy (or be horror struck by).

Tomorrow I start wearing my hats.

Tuesday

Am very very tired today. I started to get weak at work and now I'm really tired. I'm sure I'll go to bed early. These 10 hour work days may prove too much after a while. But I love my four day weeks. We'll see. I'll just do what I can do.

I managed, at last, to arrange to have the two shots at NPH. Yippee. That'll save a fortune in gas and time.

The good thing that happened: tax refund. Huh? Yep, that's right.

Things I'm thankful for: the new mattresses we got for Christmas. Very comfy!

Catch Up

Okay, been away, but I'll catch you up as briefly as possible. Hehe, yea right.

Thursday went back to the doc for blood tests and to see the doc. My red blood cells dropped too much so now I have to have a shot for that every two weeks. This is in addition to the one for the white blood cells every three weeks (the day after chemo). I'm trying to arrange to have both of these at the local hospital so I don't have to drive to Shreveport each time. There's a lot a hoops to jump through for that.

I met the nurse practitioner, Kate. She was great! After she answered every question and concern I put to her with patience and compassion I told her about my two calls to Dr. D's nurse, one of which is recounted in the blog. The other call I didn't write about, but she basically blew me off and told me to call my primary care doctor. I knew this was NOT what I was supposed to do. Anyway, I told Kate who assured me I wasn't the first to complain about this nurse and they were trying to re-train her (she's new to oncology). Kate gave me her own number and told me to call her directly if I have any concerns or questions. Now I'm feeling a whole lot better about everything. I was getting discouraged there with my dealings with the other nurse.

Even so, since I was alone on the trip, I used the opportunity to purge. I cried the entire 70 miles back home from the hospital. Why? Because I want to be doing other things, things I choose, with my time. Not running up to Shreveport all the time talking to doctors and nurses and being tested and sitting in waiting rooms and sitting in small rooms with examining tables or rooms full of vinyl covered chairs with other people taking chemo.

I got a copy of the pathology report and the PET scan reports. I wanted to read them myself. Not that I understood much of what I read. One thing I did understand is that I was wrong earlier (and you'll forgive me for that because you must understand there is information coming at me from all directions) when I said that they hadn't yet tested for the HER2 marker. They actually did test for this and my cancer is not HER2. I think, but I'm not positive yet, that this is a good thing. I'll let you know if I figure out that's wrong.

I haven't lost my hair yet. In fact, it's grown since I cut it.

Thanks everyone for your wonderful comments. I'm neither strong, nor brave, but I have lots of love and support in my life.

The good thing that happened this weekend: visit from a sister.

Sharon Visits

We got a visit from Dawn's sister Sharon this weekend. Below is a photo I took with my phone camera - there was another one but this one is better even though from above their heads (sorry Dawnsy). I learned from Sharon this weekend that I am a "kiss-ass". Damn! And the whole time I thought I was just being cordial to my in-laws! Nevertheless I'm glad she showed up and spent time with Dawn. There's nothing like one-on-one sibling time to get things in perspective. --Luke

Sharon and Dawn

Walkway Flyer

Here's Dawn flying down the walkway of my sister's new house in progress. --Luke

dogwoods and funerals

The dogwoods are blooming. Or at least some of them are. What a weird spring! The dogwoods on some streets are blooming, but not on my street. On my street there are still some Japanese magnolias blooming that haven't dropped their blooms. And some azaleas are going strong, but nary (is that really a word?) a one on my shrubs. In any case, it's a beautiful day.

I feel normal today. I'm so surprised. I guess I expected to just be constantly sick or weak or tired for the entire treatment. Where did I get that idea? I guess from TV and movies. But life is not like the movies. Your body fights back and the shot they give you to boost blood cell count must really work. It better at $6000 a pop!

I don't really feel completely normal. After running errands today I had to rest a while, but I didn't have to take a nap!

A few days ago I ordered a couple of hats and they came today. I tried them on and tried to imagine no eyebrows or hair poking out beneath the rim. Very surreal.

And that brings us to some deep thoughts about death. Huh? I can hear several people shushing me and saying, "Don't say that!" As if simply mentioning or considering death will somehow bring it on. Fear not! It's HEALTHY to think about it.

Anyway, what I've thought about isn't death so much as funerals. Here's the thing. At all the funerals I've ever been to there's a minister or priest who asks the family about the deceased and then gets up and says words of comfort and tries to tie them to the person you knew. Face it, the service could be for anyone.

This is not for me! For my funeral I want something different. Something special. Something PERSONAL. Probably got this from the movies too. First, I plan to be cremated before the service. I don't want anyone viewing my dead body. Let them imagine me dead if they have to, but they don't need to see it. (Sorry again, Chris, I tried to stop them, but they wouldn't listen). Remember me alive.

Secondly, okay a person of faith can speak if it comforts the mourners (supposedly there'll be one or two) but what I want to see (and I will if I'm allowed to watch) is people who knew me personally standing up and saying something. Even if it's just to say, "Boy, she could really tick me off!" That's real. That's personal. I wanted to do this (not say she ticked me off, but to say some personal things about her) when my sister died a little over 2 years ago, but I didn't have the opportunity.

Okay, so you heard it here folks! When I go you better get out your pens and jot down some memory to share!

You can all relax now. I don't intend to go quietly into the night. I feel very much alive and I'm just too busy to go now. This whole cancer thing is just one big inconvenience. I plan to be here next year and as many more as I'm allowed. I have things to do and people who need me.

The good thing that happened today: I finished a writing project and got it in the mail. Whew! And I had lunch with Luke.

On the sixth day

Wow, I feel almost normal today. My bones still hurt some, but tylenol helps. Yesterday I went grocery shopping and after a little rest and food, to the library to do some research. It was hot in there so I was pretty much wiped out after that.

I finally read all this material sent to me by the insurance caseworker nurse. People have been asking me why I don't get in a clinical trial, or do I know about Her2 or does my doctor know about the latest research. I'm a bit overwhelmed, but let see if I can sort some of what I've figured out.

Not being a doctor I'm just sort of paraphrasing the way I understand things. Risk factors... Apparently most women who develop breast cancer have no risk factors so the safety I felt from it was an illusion. Also, while I claimed not to have any risk factors, further study has changed my mind on this. I had no family history of breast cancer, but apparently this connection is overstated and people shouldn't assume, as I did, that no history meant not likely to happen. Here are some risk factors they've linked to breast cancer that I did (do) have, along with, I imagine, billions of other woman.

1. Early onset of menstruation (before age 12).
2. Birth control pills - may increase risk depending on age, length of use, etc. I took the pill for a total of about 15 years. (Not consecutively).
3. Obesity - well we can argue over the word, but I'm definitely overweight and have been for several years.
4. Age - 40 or over.
5. Recently they've done studies that link second-hand smoke to breast cancer. Since I spent my childhood, as many of us did, playing under a cloud of smoke produced by my chain-smoking father, I can easily see this connection. The reason it's linked to second-hand smoke and not smoking itself is because, apparently the act of smoking suppresses the estrogen production that works with the carcinogens in the smoke. So if you are breathing it without smoking you are being poisoned more quickly.

There are other factors, but these are the ones I have.

Some other things I've figured out. I said I thought the third chemo drug was tamoxifen. That was a mistake. Tamoxifen is used to prevent recurrence after the treatment is over. It's used if the cancer was hormone dependent. This, I understand, they won't really know until they do surgery and remove whatever is left of the tumor. I believe the chemo drug I'll be having for the second 4 treatments is taxotere, which works equally well with estrogen-sensitive and non-estrogen sensitive tumors.

Now about clinical trials - several people have encouraged me to look for and participate in a clinical trial. In response to that I have this to say. There is a research coordinator at the cancer treatment center that I'm going to. If there is a trial available they invite patients who fit the criteria to join the trial. I may not fit any trials because of my kidney disease or my age or anything. But if I did I still don't know that I would want to join the trial. If you are in a trial you spend a lot more time at the center. You have lots of paperwork to complete all the time. You have many more tests, some of which your health insurance won't pay for, so you have to. The center is 70 miles away. Already I'm doing a lot of driving back and forth. Sometimes I have to depend on the kindness of others to get me there and home again. Finally, some of the treatment given in the trials takes a lot longer than the traditional treatment. For now, I'll stick to what my doctors recommend. If that doesn't seem to be working than I'll consider trials.

I do plan to ask for a copy of the pathology report from the doc next week. I'm ready to look at that and to dig a little deeper. Everything I read shows a pretty grim prognosis for Stage III breast cancer. The one I have here in front of me says 36% survival rate. That's just impossible. The docs sure don't act like it's so hopeless.

Things I want to do: Take a north pacific sailboat cruise up the coast of Canada and into Alaska with 20 of my closest family and friends.

bones

My bones, my bones ache! Tylenol helps. Barbara told me it was the neulasta shot - the one they gave the day after chemo to stimulate blood cell production. That would make sense, since it's the bone marrow that has that job.

Yesterday I called the nurse and told her I was waking up in the middle of the night feeling nauseaus. At least four nurses and the doctor had told me to call if the nausea wasn't under control and not to wait till it was bad, but to do something right away. It wasn't bad, but I thought, if I'm taking sleeping pills and it's still waking me up maybe I should call. Not only that, but I was so cold I had to wrap my head in a blanket. So I called. This is why it is so hard to be a patient. The nurse basically said to me, what do you expect, you just had chemo? This made me feel stupid and those of you who know me know that's the hardest emotion for me. My voice started to quiver and I fought back tears of shame. She said she'd give the doc the message. Later she called back and said the doc wanted to call in a script for ativan. Guess she caught the shaking in my voice. It's funny how you can feel so confident one moment and like jello the next.

It was a beautiful day when I got home from work so I made myself walk the block. It was slow going, because of my bone tired bones, but I felt better after.

I took the ativan last night before I went to bed and slept through the night. I don't think I feel nausea this morning. Strange, but it's hard to say. I feel okay, but like I'm standing on the edge of sickness and any step could take me over into feeling sick. I'm not going to take anything for it right now, because the med makes me sleepy. See how the day goes without it.

It's hard to explain how I feel. It's not horrible, or excruciating pain, it's more like an ache, everywhere. And a little queasy. It's hard to move around. It's such an effort to do anything. I wish it were summer. I bet it would help to float in Bobbie's pool a little.

Here's what I ate yesterday: two bagels, a cup of chicken noodle soup, two handfuls of cheezit crackers, two jello geletin cups and a strawberry creamslush from Sonic. I also drank a cup of hot tea, a couple bottles of water and a big bottle of seven up. I think I'll have that again today.

It's very important to watch for fever so I bought a brand new shiny digital thermometer. My temp yesterday was 97.7. This morning it's 97.0. I'm getting colder. I better go get in the shower and let the warm water thaw me out.

If you'll glance downward you'll see that Luke has posted some pics for your amusement.

The pictures we've all been waiting for.

Here's a few pics taken with a cell phone camera:

Paper Gown Goddess


Wicked Cute Haircut Girl


Our new friend Connie

One down, seven to go

I did it. It wasn't too bad. In fact, I'm hoping they all go so easily. It's pretty boring and long, but if you're interested, here's how it went:

First we watched a video of someone's grandmother telling us what chemo could do and what to look out for and when to call the doc or go to the hospital. She talked about red blood cells and white blood cells and platelets and fevers and hairloss and all sorts of wonderful things you never think you'll have to worry about.

The nurse, Patti, came back with papers to sign and Luke and I did our usual joking, but I can't seem to remember what the jokes were. There was a nice woman next to me that we were talking to who had ovarian cancer and it came back and she's doing chemo again for something like the third year. But she was cheerful and said it hardly bothered her. Luke took pictures of me and I imagine he'll get them up here when he figures out how to get them off the phone onto the page.

Then Patti pumped me up with saline and steroids. She injected the red one, adriamycin. This is the one I was warned could give you the "ants in the pants" feeling. I got lucky and felt no ill effects. It's also the one that causes complete hair loss. In case you are wondering, as I was, complete does mean complete. Every hair folicle. Even eyelashes. Even... well, you get the picture. It took about 15 minutes to inject.

Next, cytoxan. This one was to take an hour. I settled into the chair which was made, as all chairs are, for people with long legs. I have short legs. You can push a button and the chair becomes a recliner. Naturally, mine didn't quite work. The stool part came out, but it wouldn't latch. When I propped my feet on it the stool would slide back into the chair. I finally just took off my shoes and sat indian style on the chair. I was reading, but then my sinuses started to burn. And I had to pee, but I couldn't because I was all plugged in. Patti came by and I told her about the sinus pain. Yea, that's a side effect. Next time we'll set the machine to take an hour and a half and that might cause less of a problem. As soon as it was finished the burning went away. I did have a mild headache the rest of the day though. The whole time this is going on there are people having chemo in chairs all around and the pink ladies come through and offer to bring you drinks or lunch or anything they can.

We got there at 9 and where finally finished at 1. It should only take about 2 hours next time.

I felt a little off after that. I can't really explain any better than that. Just off. We tried to get a wig then, but the wig store was closed on Mondays.

Later my breathing felt funny and I could feel my heart beat. It wasn't racing, but I could feel every beat in my chest. I didn't want to move too quickly. I felt a little dizzy. But they gave me so much medication for nausea that I didn't feel sick in that sense. Kind of like you are coming down with something or just getting over something. And I was cold. I had to wrap a blanket around my head.

I went to bed at 9:30 and promptly woke at 12:30. I was up all night. Just wide awake. A little queasy, but I rubbed this stuff on my wrist, that was compounded at the pharmacy, and felt better. I tried reading. I tried emailing, but quickly found it was painful to look at the computer screen. I got hungry and ate a bowl of cereal at 1:30. Then I watched TV for a while. I turned it off and tried counting backwards from 100 and reciting multiplication tables through 12. Just couldn't relax. Of course it was the steroids, but I had completely forgotten about that. I should have taken a sleeping pill before going to bed, but it was too late now. I had to get up at 5 for work. At about 4 a.m. I gave up. I got up and cleaned the kitchen (everyone was too busy to wash dishes the night before) and scrambled eggs for breakfast. I was on time for work for the first time in forever. All this time I mostly felt a little weak, a little dizzy, with a mild headache. And my bones had started to ache, like if you sit too long in one position. But I also felt pumped.

Until about 10:30 am. Then, suddenly, I was exhausted. I went home from work and took a nap for about an hour and a half, but then I had to go back to the hospital between 2 and 4 for a shot that helps boost the blood cells. We're trying to arrange these shots to be given at Natch Par. Hospital, but yesterday I had to go to Schumpert for it.

Finally, I went for the wig. I had to go alone, but I think I did okay. I tried a bunch on. I tried one on that made me look like Sharon Osborne! Ultimately I picked a short one in a style close to what I've worn and close to my hair color. I think I'll probably mostly wear hats. I've got to go online and order some hats.

Luke's mom made me some caps. I told Luke that I needed a soft cotton cap to sleep in and it'd have to be pink so I could have some sense of femininity. Since I'll soon look like a bald fat man with a little head. Anyway, when I got to Flo's the cap she made was soft pink cotton! I slept in it and it was nice and warm and comfortable.

And that brings us to today. I feel weak today, but not sick. Just weak and tired. I took a nap in my office at lunch time today. Then I was much better for the rest of the day. I'm glad I don't have to go anywhere tonight. I've had enough of that. Now I'm going to brown some hamburger for dinner. Patti told me to eat a lot of protien and that's fine, because I don't really want anything.

I keep feeling my lump, but it feels the same. I know it's only been a couple days! But heck, give me sign!

Singing old 70's tunes on the drive home helped me feel better, so a blast from the past, everyone sing with me:

Oooh ooh, child, things are gonna get easier
Oooh ooh, child, things'll be brighter!

countdown to chemo

We've gotten the scripts filled, cut my hair, cleaned the house. Still haven't fitted for the wig yet, but I'll do that in the a.m. before they start the chemo. I tried surfing the web for cancer hats. That was depressing. Most of them look way too hot for the south. I'll have to keep looking.

I couldn't clean the tubs today because the tape on my chest from the port incision is still there and it pulls. Luke did a great job of saying, "Sure thing" when I told him he had to clean the tubs. He also swept the kitchen, vacuumed the living room, folded some clothes, paid the bills. I think he may have done some other things, too, but I was busy.

After cleaning I spent most of the day writing. I'm working on a YA fantasy novel. It was a good day. I'm afraid I'll be too tired to write when this gets into full swing. I also plan to continue working and it was already a challenge to work full time and get quality writing time in. We'll see what happens.

A little more about the port. It sticks up in my chest below my left collar bone like a third booby. Okay, it's considerably smaller than the other two boobies, but it's quite visible. You know how you dress with certain things in mind: Am I going to work? Is it casual Friday? Do I want to be comfortable or look presentable in public? Well I'm picking out my clothes now based on: do I want to have easy access to the port or do I want to hide the port. That's my criteria. Nothing else matters.

First treatment is tomorrow. Will someone stop this ride? I want to get off.

Hair now, gone tomorrow

I got my hair cut really short today. Shorter than ever before. It's an adjustment but I think it'll be easier to be bald if I get used to really short hair first.

Note to self: When telling someone for the first time try to remember it's a shock and they haven't had a few weeks to adjust to the idea. Especially keep this in mind when talking to someone who isn't used to your particular brand of humor.

Prayer

Everyone is telling me they are praying for me. Some of them have put me on their prayer list at their churches. I've been thinking about this. Prayer requires people to think about you and having so many people thinking about you is humbling.

This is the advantage (and some say disadvantage) of living in a small town. You just aren't anonymous like in a city, because people know who you are, even if they don't directly know you. They may care about someone who cares for you and so they pray for you without knowing you personally. It's overwhelming.

When I moved here I didn't know anyone. I'm kind of an introvert (no, really) around strangers so it takes me a long time to establish a friendship with someone. For example, I don't call people because I don't want to bother them. But there are so many people here who have reached out to me. I'm sure my drama would go mostly unnoticed, but for family and a few long time friends, if I had remained in the area where I grew up.

So today I'm thankful for prayers. And for the decision I made 11 years ago to go back to college here.

Things I want to do: own a Jeep Liberty. Man, they are so cute!

Pharmacology

I went back to work today. Feels like I've been gone forever, but I've only missed 5 workdays. It was a good and productive day. Right up until I went to the pharmacy to pick up my prescriptions for nausea defense.

One of them, the one that has to be taken in the morning before I go for the chemo, is so expensive they don't keep it at the pharmacy and they have to order it. Normally this wouldn't be a big deal as they can get it the next day. But today is Friday and they won't get it till Monday. Monday, I'll be in Shreveport having the chemo. I could feel myself getting hysterical inside.

"What can I do? I need it Monday morning." Geez, I thought I was handling this better, but I just heard the pitch in my voice go up. I'm practically tone-deaf so it must be really obvious to everyone in the drugstore.

The pharmacist started calling around to all the other pharmacies, but no one stocks it. All the pharmacists (there are 3 others) and clerks are listening to our conversation (not to mention the other patrons) and trying to come up with solutions. Maybe in Shreveport. No they won't have it till Monday and won't open till 9. Chemo is at 9. I'm panicking inside, but trying to appear calm outside. It's one thing to panic, but you must never let other people know it. Just my philosophy. You may choose to make it perfectly clear to others that you are panicking.

Just then an older man comes in. Totally oblivious to what is going on with me, he gives the girl his Rx and says, "You know what I love about this place? You always have everything I need, no matter what my prescription!"

Nolton, pharmacist and proprietor, can't help himself and laughs. "Don't tell Mrs. B. that. Apparently she has found the one thing we don't stock."

I had to laugh too and the tension was broken. Everyone visibly relaxed.

They found a pharmacy in Many (pronounce Man-ee) that could get it tomorrow so it looks like another trip. Many is about a 50 minute drive west on hwy 6. At least we'll have different scenery for the drive. A nice change from I-49.

The good thing that happened today: Fried catfish at Sea & Sirloin. I'm trying to enjoy food now, since I expect not to want to eat anything later.

Port - ability

Trip to Shreveport again today. I wish I had a friend that lived there. Then I could just stay there for a few days when I have all these things scheduled.

Today they "accessed the port." I feel like a cyborg. I have this thing embedded under my skin so they can attach hoses to it to draw blood and administer the chemo, etc. Wouldn't it be cool if I could plug my laptop into it? Be one with the borg. Hmm, I guess not.

I have to say, having the port is a million times better than being stuck three times to draw blood. I also had a bone scan which calls for contrast - again administered through the port. Painless, that's what we like.

I saw Dr. D. and besides the bone scan he had results for all the tests, PET, CTs, MUGA, brain scan. Finally an answer to the question everyone has been wondering - yes they found I had a brain. Sorry to disappoint those of you who bet against it, but there you are.

There was no cancer in any organs, just the breast lympth nodes and the neck node. We're still at Stage IIIC. Dr. D. thinks the bone scan will be fine also, because most likely anything would have shown up on the PET scan, but we do the bone scan anyway just to be sure.

Okay treatment will begin Monday. A&C followed by T. What? These letters stand for types of chemo that he said too fast for us to record in our notes, but I got that the first four treatments (one every three weeks) are a combination of A and C (whatever they are) and the last four treatments are T, which I think stands for Tamoxiphen or some such, but don't quote me. He gave us prescriptions for three anti-nausea meds that you take at precise times and/or days for the duration of the treatment.

I don't think I'll say what the god-awful side affects could be that he went over besides tiredness and nausea that you already know about. It will ruin the surprise when it happens. Or maybe it won't happen unless I talk about it and set the mojo free. In any case, mums the word. Some things are better left unsaid.

There is valet (sp?) parking at the Cancer Treatment Center (I always think of these words with capital letters). I think Luke is establishing a real rapport with Londell, the valet. It's good to make new friends whenever possible.

I feel good. I feel strong and healthy. I just can't imagine what they say is coming.

Things I have to do: 1.) Get a haircut. Really short so when it falls out it won't be a big wad of hair in my hand. 2.) Get fitted for a wig. Doc says it'll start falling out sometime between the first two treatments. 3.) Fill prescriptions. 4.) Clean the house really good.

The good thing that happened today: Actually two good things happened: 1.) we found a Semolina's in Shreveport. 2.) Walmart has new carts so I managed to run through the store without leaning to one side or bouncing the cart to compensate for a flat wheel.

Things I want to do: See the Grand Canyon.

Happy Birthday to me!

Today's my birthday. No tests or doctors today. I needed a break. I feel like a pin cushion. I didn't go to work, even though I'm feeling better and didn't even need a pain pill for the port.

Bobbi brought me lunch. Flo came by to see me and give me a card. Christi sent a balloon bouquet.

Luke and Jeremy sent me flowers. Four white and one red for forty-one years old. What do I want for my birthday? To be 42.

Tuesday

Waiting for Tracy. She’s taking me back to Schumpert for MRI (brain scan) and MUGA. I can’t drive myself – pain killers.

Nell C. called. She's been through this too. She gave me her number if I want to talk.
Wow, people are just wonderful.

Bobbi came by and brought me red beans and rice.

Things to look forward to: Not having to shave my legs or anywhere else. Maybe I'll lose wieght.