Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): Twas the eve of chemo number fourteen… One chemo closer to the end. After tomorrow, we just have two chemos left. I am in a constant state of feeling like shit. Chemo has worn me down. I am tired. My body is tired. If you don’t hear from me, it isn’t personal. I just don’t have capacity for most things anymore. Rip.

TO THE LONG VERSION!

One of the best pieces of advice I ever received from my mom was to make sure to work in the fast food industry at some point in my life because it is a life changing experience. You learn to hustle. You learn to respect the hustle. You learn to respect human beings in a different way. My mom is a smart cookie (as we all know) so my first job in college was at a chicken wing place called Hot Wingz. You guys…. we had the best chicken wings I have ever had in my life. We had 12 different wing sauces and most of them were made in-house and we had burgers. Our food was the shit and if you have been there, you know what I am talking about.

Because of my two and a half year stint there, I am now a self pronounced chicken wing snob! I don’t fuck around with weak ass wings or weak sauces. Hard pass Domino’s and Pizza Hut! And I am really judgmental about chicken wings. One time, Jose and I went to this local restaurant (I don’t want to say their name because I don’t want to roast them) and I got into it with the cashier at the place because she was trying to tell me the word “Buffalo” (as in Buffalo wings) was in reference to a bone-in wing.

No. No. No. No.

“Buffalo” is a type of sauce. And she argued with me and Jose about it! It is one thing to argue with me and a whole different ball game to argue with Jose. I mean, he worked with me at the chicken wing place. That is literally how we met: over a bowl of saucy chicken wings. Our love is literally made of honey chipotle and honey habanero wing sauce. I ended up trying their wings anyways and they sucked and I wrote a Yelp review about it that maxed out on the character count. That is how passionate I am about wings.

Sadly Hot Wingz closed shortly after our departure and those wings and burgers are but a sweet memory. The most acceptable dine-out wing I have encountered since then is Buffalo Wild Wings’ mango habanero bone-in wings. They are sweet and spicy and generally fried well enough to preserve the juicy meat. I love a good burn. I love spicy anything. It makes me feel powerful and almost immortal? I don’t know why.

But eating chicken wings on a date night is spendy as fuck and I live with a chicken wing cook, so we often times will opt to make our own chicken wings. And we always make chicken wings for Superbowl. It is our yearly tradition to honor the Sunday madness at the chicken wing store. Also football and chicken wings are a classic pair! Obio.

However, the last two years for Superbowl I have had parosmia (thanks COVID-19!) and chicken wings have been a sad experience. In 2021, I was completely anosmic and couldn’t taste them. This year, chicken and most peppery foods still tasted like shit to me, so it was a no go. But something shifted for me after my first red devil chemo and chicken has become more edible. Small wins?

I was feeling nostalgic this week and keep getting targeted ads for Buffalo Wild Wings, so I was like well let’s fuck around and find out and see how my taste buds are doing! Tonight I popped those suckers into the air fryer, got them nice and moist, and bought three sauces from Buffalo Wild Wings: Mango habanero, Buffalo hot, and sweet BBQ. Jose left to go get a hair cut so I was like neat me time! I tossed my wings in the sweetly spicy mango habanero sauce, despite knowing I am not supposed to eat spicy food right now, cut up some carrots and celery, and sat down to watch my favorite food reviewer on YouTube.

Ah. This is the life.

I am so glad that Jose was not home to witness what happened next because it was a fucking shit show. I like to pretend that I don’t have cancer when I want to eat spicy food. Spicy food is my self care. And sometimes the mango sauce is not spicy, sometimes it is. I can’t tell if it was spicy today because I have no cells or it was just spicy in general. Tears were STREAMING down my face as my nose uncontrollably watered. I could NOT get them to stop. I literally swallowed so much snot and salty tears while I ate. I have no finger prints and my nails are lifted, so I couldn’t hold the wings in my fingers and I was getting sauce between my nail and my finger. They also kept sliding out of my hands and getting sauce all over my face. Because of that, the sauce was getting into my nose (remember, I have NO nose hairs) and making other parts of my face burn.

I looked like a three year old eating Spaghetti O’s. I was a mess.

The burn was way more intense than normal. It was so intense that the chicken wing felt temperature hot on my lips, to the point I almost thought I had to stop eating. I died tonight eating chicken wings, but I can confirm that the sauce and chicken wings taste mostly normal to me and honestly that whole journey was worth it.

I do want to advise other cancer patients to not do what I did; skip the spicy meal, and wear gloves if you do eat spicy wings because it is an hour after dinner and I have washed my hands like four times and guess who has SPICY MANGO HABANERO WING SAUCE STUCK UNDER THEIR NAILS?! My fingers internally are burning. This is karma.

Who would have thought that chemo could fuck you up this much?

Today’s song lyrics of the day are brought to you by Pitbull.

“I was born in a flame
Mama said that everyone would know my name
I’m the best you’ve never had
If you think I’m burning out, I’m never am
I’m on fire
I’m on fire
I’m on fire
I’m on fire

Fireball”

– Fireball (feat. John Ryan), Pitbull

I literally just spent the last hour and a half writing a blog post about self care that was SO good and it didn’t save. I am so fucking pissed right now.

f

u

c

k

I will try again tomorrow. I have nothing left to give today.

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): Chemo number 13 is in the books! THREE CHEMOS LEFT! The countdown feels so good but fuck I am going to be practically crawling at chemo on the last day haha! I have a growth factor injection tomorrow. My white blood cell count is low, which explains a lot of the extreme fatigue but I really hope I don’t have intense bone pain like last time. I am only getting one injection versus three this time. Small wins?

TO THE LONG VERSION!

Sometimes I wonder who I would be if I didn’t have cancer. What would I have accomplished over the last five months instead of going to chemo infusions and scans and napping endlessly on the couch. It is a fruitless day dream because it is impossible to know. Would I have pulled off a charity art fundraiser without cancer the same way I did with cancer? Would I have already done my Head Shot Happy Hour sessions? Would I have traveled more? I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter. But I like to believe there is a version of me in a different parallel universe that exists without cancer. It is a fun theory. Life flipped a coin and this is the version of me that needed to be formed in this timeline. There were people I needed to meet on this journey to enrich my life. There were experiences I needed to have. Not saying that I deserved or needed cancer, but I just need to find the silver lining in this shitty little universe I am living in. Cancer is dumb, but sometimes there are little cancer gifts and those gifts have made this experience bearable.

I am a bald little cancer bitch who loves stealing snacks and being extra as fuck during cancer treatment! That’s who formed!

That is me hyping myself up because honestly I feel like a pile of potato sludge.

Chemo number 13 is in the books and here is what I learned today since I got to meet with my oncologist: I will have a CT scan this month sometime before my final chemo to see the status of my tumors. Depending on how much they have shrunk will decide whether or not I need additional targeted treatments after my double mastectomy. However, NO MATTER WHAT I am DONE with chemo and the next action will be surgery 3-4 weeks after my last chemo.

I also learned that my nails falling off is actually a side effect of the red devil. My last red devil infusion was April 28 I think, so that shit is still fucking me over two months later. I am experiencing some numbness around my mouth and on my tongue, which is a side effect of my current chemos. So that is fun. I told my oncologist and she is aware of everything, but said if I can hang on, she wants me to power through the next four (now three) rounds so we don’t delay treatment. Basically all I heard when she told me that was, “HOLD ON TO YOUR LUG NUTS. IT IS TIME FOR AN OVERHAUL!”

I will continue to receive a monthly dose of my ~favorite~ stomach injection to stop the production of estrogen and attempt to save my ovaries. There is a three month injection option, but my oncologist does not want to go that route because of my type of cancer. It would be risky and we want to keep estrogen shut down. So I think I need a Zoladex count down for the next five years. That is a lot of stomach shots!!!! FUCK. If my calculations are correct (because math is hard), I have done I think three injections already, so that would mean I have 57 left.

Lol 57 stomach shots and not the cool ones you do at random parties in dark creepy basements with strangers.

I didn’t take a lot of photos today at chemo. I was tired and was with my dad, so we mostly focused on stealing oatmeal today. I stole three.

Cancer doesn’t end at chemo, so please don’t ask me, “Oh so you’re good now, right?” No I am not good. I am not good until I hear that I am cancer free in five years and I really hope I get to hear those sweet, sweet words. Until then, I am a war zone fucking around and finding out what an aggressive cancer can do to a body. It can do a lot by the way. But even at the five year mark, I will have a whole new set of problems. Am I fertile? If so, do I want kids? Do I try? If not, do I just have a melt down and opt for a hysterectomy earlier than 40 years old? Will I have other side effects from chemo and radiation down the road? What impact will reconstruction have on my life?

Cancer doesn’t end at chemo. It never ends for me. It is in my genes. Cancer is part of my life now. Cancer be dumb like that. So dumb. For real.

Oh and random piece of information: I have a surprise announcement for you all next Thursday. STAY TUNED! HEHEHE.

Today’s song lyrics of the day are brought to you by Bee Gees.

“And we’re stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive, stayin’ alive
Ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin’ alive
Oh, when you walk

Well now, I get low and I get high
And if I can’t get either, I really try
Got the wings of Heaven on my shoes
I’m a dancin’ man and I just can’t lose
You know it’s alright, it’s okay
I’ll live to see another day”

– Stayin Alive, Bee Gees

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): June over? Julying! 24 days left on this chemo journey, which includes four chemo infusions, one Zoladex stomach injection, and I am sure other surprises. All of my finger nails are officially lifting, with five that have stopped leaking and are mostly lifted. The finger that took me to the emergency room is the most separated. Both of my big toes are lifting as well. I am basically falling apart and according to my sister, my lifted toes smell bad, too. Shout out to my mom and sister who gave me a pedicure today! My toes are in poor shape.

TO THE SHORT VERSION!

They said I would have good days and I would have bad days. I think “bad” is subjective and I know that my bad days could be a lot worse, but things are getting harder. My energy is not bouncing back as quickly. I feel achy, not in a flu way but my muscles feel worn out. Like it took me 43 minutes to do a 30 minute workout this morning. Fuck. I feel so fucking weak. I feel like I have lost like 30% of my hand coordination. I drop things a lot. My hands run into walls which hurt my lifted nails. I can’t feel the tips of my fingers. Basic activities are getting harder to do. I officially cannot open cat can lids or do dishes. It is hard not to feel depressed being trapped in a body that you know is capable of so much, but currently is at its limits.

I went to a friend’s birthday party this weekend. It was outdoors and it was 70’s summer camp theme. Fun right? She had so many fun game stations set up outside for guests to play at: corn hole, standing foursquare, hula hooping, creating beaded bracelets. I couldn’t participate in any of them except for the temporary tattoo station. I put so many butterfly tattoos on my leg! It was cool. But also being there was depressing as fuck. I wanted to do the zip line, but was worried my hands would give out holding on to the handles while gliding down. I wanted to play games and have fun, instead I was on the side lines in a chair sipping on my water. It was a rude reminder of the mercy cancer does not have. I don’t care if it doesn’t last forever. That provides little comfort in my day to day existence these days.

I went for a small walk alone yesterday and kind of just… cried. It has been a while since I have pity cried. I am so tired of having cancer. I can’t do shit. My body is just tired and falling apart. And it is hard to find ending chemo as a consolation prize knowing I get my boobs chopped off next, followed by getting lasered up like some rotisserie chicken. These are not winning outcomes for me, well aside from potentially hearing I am in remission. I know that is the goal and it is great, but everything it takes to get there is so fucking hard. It feels like it might not ever come.

So I am going to take the evening to wallow in my sadness and then tomorrow keep moving forward. Thanks for listening.

Today’s song lyrics of the day are brought to you by Daft Punk.

“We are human after all
Flesh uncovered after all
We are human after all
Flesh uncovered after all

– Human After All, Daft Punk

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): Today was chemo number twelve! FOUR CHEMOS LEFT! I REPEAT FOUR CHEMOS LEFT! It is hard to believe I have endured 16 weeks of this shit. I cannot believe I made it this far, but the next four weeks will kick my ass. My body is breaking down. My fingers are numb; my nails are falling off. My chemo brain is entering a higher gear. Energy is low. My white blood cell count and neutrophils were low today, but I am not getting injections to boost me, so if you are sick or are around folks who have been or are sick, please DO NOT SEE ME. Be right back as I enter hiding the next four weeks. I don’t want that COVID strain that is going around. It may just kill me or put me in the ER or hospital and delay treatment. Wash your hands folks and stay vigilant!

TO THE LONG VERSION!

I have discovered the secret to fixing my constipation: eat a shit ton of corn, nectarines, and cherries! Bye bye Miralax! The summer fruits are out to save my butt hole!

I also discovered two other things today: I do not have fingerprints anymore and chemotherapy is made to order when I am at the cancer center. Yup! Today was loaded full of delightful fun facts. The more you know. More on that here in a minute.

Do you believe that who you meet has a purpose and that their timing is destiny or at least meant to be when it happens? I do and it has not been more crystal clear than now as I reflect on my life in this very moment that everyone who is part of this narrative is meant to be here. There is an intricate web of connections that are bridging moments with the right people I need to meet and be with at this time. And let me tell you it is damn beautiful. It is the sun emerging in the middle of the storm to remind me that despite all the stupid fucked up shit I am experiencing, there are also some beautiful things that are only possible because of this experience.

I started my morning connecting with someone who had breast cancer during the pandemic. She was the second AYA (adolescent and young adult) I have met that is my age. The conversation was heavy, but educational. She really knows her shit! I feel like I need to do more research! But I walked away feeling seen, heard, and ready to learn more from her. I am just saying that if any of you get cancer, be a mentor or a friend after treatment if you have capacity to do so. I cannot wait to share this information with someone else to help them survive treatment. Access to information is empowering and she was just the friend I needed to talk to today.

We left for my blood labs 30 minutes early just in case I needed to do tPA to get my port accessible to give blood. If you remember last week’s ordeal, I had a menty b (mental breakdown slang) because I had to get my blood drawn from my arm and you all know I FUCKING HATE NEEDLES. I sobbed the whole time. So because I am a planner, we went early today because I hate wasting people’s time. Of course Harry Porter and the Prisoner of Cancerban was a good little port and finally spilled the blood with ease. We avoided a tPA moment and befriended a nurse (who I knew from high school but she had no idea who I was aside from being a patient there) who told me I am like the cancer center celebrity. Everyone is always talking about me, my stickers, and wanting me as a patient. Y’all….. how do I capture the essence of this and use it in moments when interviewers or people who are meeting me for the first time ask me to describe myself. “Yeah so basically I am kind of like a big deal. Everyone at the cancer center was obsessed with me and thought I am really cool. It appears I am the kind of person you want to know.” SOLD????

But also that is literally like nicest compliment on the planet. To be loved in this capacity is an indescribable feeling. Despite me wanting to end chemo because poison in my body is hard, I will be devastated and depressed without my nurses and other cancer center staff every week. They’ve become pillars of strength in my life, my emotional support humans. They make chemo worth going to, along with my rotating emotional support humans I bring with me to chemo.

Today’s emotional support human was my friend Rosie. We got to experience a rare snack day! The snack bar had some new snacks including cookies and some sort of “pastry crisp” whatever that means. But the cran grape juice was back (that has been gone for WEEKS) and we got treated to two types of guacamoles for chemocuterie. Fancy!

One of my AYA cancer friends came by and delivered some fresh cherries, too! That was a TREAT. More slick poos for me! My favorite saying during cherry season is, “I am one cherry away from chorro.” And for the folks who don’t speak Spanish, you might have already guessed “chorro” is diarrhea and you are correct. But do NOT get “chorro” and “churro” confused. One is a delicious snack covered in cinnamon sugar and the other… well, you know.

SHITTY SEGWAY TO RANDOM PHOTOS INTERMISSION!

Many of my favorite nurses came by the party pod to say hello, give hugs, and check in. Again, I feel so loved by so many people it is INSANE. I want to bottle up these feelings and put them in a jar for when I am insanely depressed and feel like I have no friends. We are planning a chemocuterie and potato party to say “TA TA to my TATAS” in August. That may be the most exciting party I will ever attend. All my favorite nurses in a room full of cheese and potatoes?! YES PLEASE.

I just rhymed!

I also am contemplating a “Christmas in July” decor theme for my chemo pod the next couple of weeks. If I have energy, I need to find some Christmas lights and a star for my IV pole, maybe some clings for the walls? I don’t know. I kind of like my rainbow shit, though. Is rainbow Christmas a thing? I am giving myself more work. I need to stop.

Okay so I want to circle back to the fingerprints and chemo fun facts we learned today. When I was chatting with my first AYA friend this morning before chemo, she mentioned how chemo took away her fingerprints. And in that moment a light bulb went off in my head: I have a fingerprint reader on my phone and it has been having issues lately. I thought my phone was broken and so I looked down at my fingers and what do I see? I HARDLY HAVE A FINGER PRINT ANYMORE. WUT. I was stunned. SHOOK. And half jokingly I told this girl (that I just met for the first time), “Wow I could get away with killing someone!” She didn’t respond to that so I feel awkward now. I need to tell her I listen to a lot of Crime Junkie and I am in fact not a killer. Stay sexy and don’t get murdered!

Secondly, we were chatting with my pod nurse today and learned that all chemos are made to order! My chemo every week goes through a checklist of people who have to approve my blood results and vitals and other information before the pharmacist can take action and cook up my bag of chemo. Literally, there are people going all “Breaking Bad” on this shit in the building! I literally had NO IDEA and that explains why the pharmacy is sometimes running behind. My carboplatin chemo always comes out before taxol because it is easier to make! Again, shook. When you think you know it all, YOU DON’T. And honestly I would love to see the process. That seems so rad.

So goals this week: Don’t get sick, don’t end up in the ER, and make it to chemo number thirteen. Got it. Oh and eat a lot of cherries. Poop town here I come!

Today’s song lyrics of the day are brought to you by the Chance the Rapper.

“The highs and the lows
The highs, the lows

I’m an emotional rollercoaster (ah)
With highs so high, could put Bol Bol on a poster (mm)
But when the bread get low like four loaves in a toaster
Or the shoulders can get cold as ten toes in Nova Scotia”

– The Highs & The Lows, Chance the Rapper, Joey Bada$$

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): THERE ARE ONLY FOUR CHEMO TREATMENTS LEFT! FOUR! One, I am very excited for this journey to end because chemo is kicking my ass. Two, I am depressed for this journey to end because it means not seeing my nurse friends once a week AND I am that much closer to getting my breasts chopped off. Yup, I lose both of my breasts in like six weeks, probably. F U C K. I know we all wanted to forget that horrifically sad detail.

TO THE LONG VERSION!

I was in 7th grade the first time I lost my big toe nails. I was trying out for the basketball team and I didn’t have sneakers and I thought the Nike sneakers my mom had were SO cool, so I wore those to tryouts. They were a grayish silver with a big red “N” on the side. Now that I am pondering this, I wonder if they were actually New Balances? Nike doesn’t put N’s on shoes…. well anyway. The thing is my mom is like at least a half size smaller than me in shoe sizes, which I did not factor into this decision. I just wanted to wear cool looking shoes, which by the way were not meant for sports. Basically the whole time in tryouts you are jumping and catching the ball and my toes kept slamming into the front of the shoe, ultimately damaging the nails and lifting them. I wore cool shoes for nothing because I ended up on like the C team I think and my nails began their nasty transformation of falling off. Womp womp.

Because I was a fucking weirdo (still am) I did my best to preserve my toe nails falling off. If you’ve never lost a toe nail, basically it lifts and a new nail will form underneath and it kind of just sits there like a weird turtle shell. And the new nail is so fascinating! Mine kind of reminded me of an oyster shell with those interesting waves and layers. Anyway, the old nail is basically dead and in my case, was still hanging on to the nail bed which I was fine with because it gave the illusion that I still had a fully formed toe nail. I remember the nail on my right toe was fully intact, but was hanging on like the cover of a book. I gently ended up removing it and well…. I was so impressed with myself that I saved my toe nail in a box for many years. I don’t know why I did that? It was a weird keepsake and it ended up finally meeting the trash can when I cleaned out my room before we moved after my senior year of high school.

I am now losing my big toe nails again and six of my ten finger nails are currently in various stages of falling off. I can see my right toe once again has almost fully lifted, along with my right thumb. The biggest differences from the experience I had in 7th grade and now are that I am not able to grow new nails right now since chemo is killing a lot of my cell growth and I also will NOT be keeping my nails when they fall off. I promise I will throw them away, but not until I have observed the shit out of them. I guess I am still a weird freaky kid. How often do you get to see your nails fall off intact?! It is a rarity indeed.

Okay all jokes aside, my nails are fucking nasty these days. Don’t look at my feet or my hands, please. I am disgraced! I feel like a puffer fish. My ER finger is looking better, but is still gross and leaky. Like last night it was especially leaky and I literally flexed my finger and strange juice came out of it. It squirted across the floor! It kind of looks like baby snot and smells like a dirty belly button. You know exactly what I am talking about. And if you don’t, you should touch your belly button right now.

I have lost most of the ability to button clothing, open containers, pick the black heads on my face, tie my shoes, pull my retainer out of my mouth, wash dishes, and pick the dead skin off my feet. Between the neuropathy in my fingers and my nails falling off, my hands feel rather useless to me now. The next four weeks are going to suck hard.

I just need to survive four more weeks.

Today’s song lyrics of the day are brought to you by the Bow Wow.

“They’re playing basketball (uh all around the world)
We love that basketball (uh to the beat y’all)
They’re playing basketball (let’s go, all around the world)
We love that basketball (this is so so dat)”

– Basketball (feat. Jermaine Dupri, Fabolous, & Fundisha), Bow Wow

I am 30 years old with stage 3a breast cancer, unverified stage 4. What I knew when I was diagnosed was that I would get treatment and had a great chance of entering remission, with “curative” marked as the goal of my treatment plan. I knew I would lose both of my breasts because I tested positive for the BRCA1 gene. I knew I would lose my hair. I knew this journey would be fucking hard. What I didn’t know was the impact of treatment like chemotherapy, surgery, and radiation can not only end a current pregnancy and/or cause extreme complications, but can also impact my ability to bear children in the future. I will have a hysterectomy by the time I am 40. There is a very high chance that my treatment will leave me barren, but at the same time a pregnancy during treatment would result in me needing an abortion.  ⁣⁣
 ⁣⁣
Today, Roe v. Wade was overturned by the United States Supreme Court, overturning a decades long precedent ensuring a woman’s right to bodily autonomy by accessing legal and safe abortion services. It will have catastrophic consequences for women of children bearing age like me with a cancer diagnosis. Imagine a woman finding out she is pregnant during her cancer treatment or prior to her treatment, in need of an abortion, and prosecuted for the side effects of cancer treatment essentially criminalizing cancer.  

According to the Washington State Department of Health’s Facebook post, “Abortion was legal in Washington state before Roe v Wade, has been legal here for more than 50 years, and remains legal now. Washington state has a long history of supporting the full spectrum of reproductive rights and will continue to do so. At the Washington State Department of Health, we work to make sure that sexual and reproductive health services are available across the state.” I realize that while I live in this state with our existing governor, these services will remain accessible, but I fear for the future. I fear that there could be a time when these services are removed.
 ⁣⁣
I recognize that my specific story is just a small example of the many reasons women seek abortion services, but the conversation around fertility has been a large one during my treatment. I receive a hormone blocker once a month that has caused me to enter chemically induced menopause. My ovaries are currently shut down and I no longer make estrogen, for my cancer is hormone positive and feeds off of that hormone. But I am still at risk of becoming pregnant during treatment. If I become pregnant during treatment, I will need an abortion. Period.

Cancer has taken so much from me. It has taken away so many of the choices I can make about my own healthcare and body for the rest of my life. It is horrific and I wrestle with that every day. But I also believe that no other human being has the right to take away someone else’s choice with their own body. Bodily autonomy is so important. Abortion is healthcare. ⁣⁣The removal of access to safe abortions will not stop abortions. Women will die.

Special thank you to my friend Heather for helping me capture this image. I have altered the previous narrative I wrote for it the first time I shared it on Instagram to match the updates with Roe v. Wade.

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): Today was an emotional chemo session, but chemo eleven is in the books. Five chemos to go! Harry Porter was a little bitch and didn’t give blood and it was a Zoladex day. I am drained.

TO THE LONG VERSION!

The first thing I do every morning is scan my body. How am I feeling? What hurts? What feels normal, if anything? Did I sleep well? Mood? Dreams?

I go through my morning routine. I attempt to poop, put in my eyes (my contacts), feed the cats, and hopefully get in a 30 minute exercise session. I go through the motions of benign tasks that masquerade as being normal. I find comfort in the mundane tasks of life these days. It is mindless work that has purpose on a cellular level and I am grateful I am functional to do it. In those moments, I don’t feel or think about my cancer. I feel a glimpse of the past version of me. Do I dare to say that I feel somewhat normal?

But then I have moments like today at chemo, where I look up at my IV pole to see how much of the drug is left in my bag and I realize that I have cancer. I have fucking cancer. I am at the cancer center receiving my weekly dose of life saving drugs as I hold hands with the reaper. I walk through the shadow of death every day, disguising my fear and anger and pain with basic tasks to just feel alive.

The last 24 hours have been hard. I pretend that they aren’t as a coping mechanism. The emotions compound. The chemo compounds. Everything is getting harder. Harry Porter wouldn’t give blood today and there was not enough time to keep trying so I was sent to the lab across from the lab that does blood draws from ports to get it drawn from my arm. I cried the whole time. I was mad at my port, mad at my body, and anxious because it just feels like a lot has been going wrong. And if you’ve followed the blog long enough, you know about my needle phobia. Some people might say I am being dramatic or that needles aren’t a big deal, but all of this is overwhelming for me sometimes. I hate needles. I hate fucking cancer. I just want this nightmare to end.

Someone at the beginning of my treatment said that it might be a silver lining for me that my needle phobia will lessen because I will encounter them so often. I wish that was true, but it feels traumatic every time I have to deal with one. It is a constant reminder of how sick I am and how much I hate to be poked like a Thanksgiving turkey.

Also, I had a feeling my hormone blocker shot was on the menu today and indeed it was. Nurse Christie nailed the delivery of the injection, but it left me again teary. I am so fucking sick of needles in my stomach!

On the bright side, I had some amazing emotional support humans (and dolphins?) today to support me and carry me through treatment. Those are my silver linings and that makes surviving purely out of spite possible. My emotional support human brought inflatable dolphins, a new rainbow heart banner, and delicious fruity pebble rice krispies to chemo today. We called pod number three the party pod today. Several of my favorite nurses stopped by for a treat and to ask me about my finger. Despite all of this fucking shit, they made my day.

Photo intermission! We love a rainbow moment.

I am drained. Currently there is a growth factor injection on my schedule tomorrow. I chatted with the nurses about it today and they will contact me tomorrow to confirm whether or not I need it. My numbers were good today and technically I don’t need it, but I am not sure if my oncologist just put it there assuming my numbers would drop again or if she just wants to maintain higher numbers. Please standby as we wait to find out if I get another fucking stomach shot tomorrow.

My finger is feeling better for the record. After I publish this post, I am going to soak the other fingers in water and Epsom salt to help encourage draining to avoid another infection. My body seems to just be infection prone. And then I will sleep. I am drained from crying and enduring. I don’t want to be “brave” anymore today.

Today’s song lyrics of the day are brought to you by the AlunaGeorge.

“Always more to sacrifice
Insatiable appetite
When you look in the mirror
And there’s no one that you recognize
Now that you’ve been sacrificed
I know that you’re looking, looking for paradise

– My Blood, AlunaGeorge, ZHU

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): Tomorrow is chemo day! Woo…. Today I ended up in the ER for my finger. It just became too painful and we had to drain that bitch! Today is a short post, so if you are into semi gory details and you like cyst videos, this might be a fun read for you.

TO THE LONG VERSION!

I have decided that chemo has increasing levels of intensity, kind of like the gyms Ash Ketchum would have to fight in Pokémon. You start off at a basic ass gym and there is like a really stupid Metapod you take on. No biggie. You destroy his ass. Metapod is a loser. And then at the next gym, there is like a Voltorb, so you know things are starting to get interesting. And you keep going until you’re lost in a dark ass cave battling it out with Mewtwo and you keep dying, but luckily you saved your game so you can easily come back each time to keep trying, but that shit is hard. You end up in a Pokémon Center because you died and blacked out. Rip. The game isn’t over, but you know things are really fucking hard. You need to weaken and defeat Mewtwo!

So my breast cancer is basically Mewtwo and if anything I just said to you makes zero sense, I am really sorry. I definitely was transported back to my life as a young one playing Pokémon with my sister on our Gameboys on our way to the ocean. But it was all I could think about today when I ended up in the ER for the third time during this ~delightful~ cancer experience. The farther I get into treatment, the harder things are getting and obviously the risk of things fucking up for me get higher. I am not having fun.

Okay so we all saw my fingers in my last post. If you haven’t yet, go look at them, those ugly little swollen rotten hot dogs. I briefly discussed how swollen my finger was last night. I got my antibiotics around 10:45 pm last night and I took one pill before bed in hopes that I could start the healing process and destroy the infection. I dreamed all night that I was cured but woke up with my finger more swollen and tender. I tried to ignore it and tell myself I was okay, but by 11 am at work, I knew it was time to go to the ER and take care of this problem. So I called my best friend and we galloped into the sunset after I shoved a handful of Cheese Its into my mouth.

The ER was lit. I did my best to use my cancer card to get a room quickly. I am just saying if you ever get cancer and need to go to the ER, use your literal and figurative cancer card. The two people across from us in the waiting room refused to wear their masks normally and I was THIS CLOSE to telling them to pull their masks up because I have cancer. I mean I basically play a game every time I go to the ER and try to guess why everyone else is there. And honestly, just because they seemed fine made me feel extremely suspicious. I didn’t want them to get me sick. Do they wonder why I am there? Is it obvious I am a cancer patient with a turban, wearing a nice dress and earrings to the ER? I think my anxiety makes me think weird thoughts. Also it is a fun game to pass the time.

We ended up with a room relatively quickly and our PA (Cade) was super awesome and funny. Ultimately we agreed it was time to drain my finger, but not before we got a little education on the two types of infection that could be happening in my finger: paronychia or felon. According to American Family Physician, “Paronychia, which can be acute or chronic, is an infection or inflammation of the nail fold. Treatment involves warm soaks, topical antibiotics, and abscess drainage, if indicated. A felon is an infection of the distal pulp of the finger. Treatment often involves surgical drainage and oral antibiotics.” I luckily was still in the paronychia phase, but I was on my way to be a felon. This infection was a crime against the humanity of my finger! And honestly we all should be glad I did not have a felon because the process to drain that involved a scalpel going through my finger sideways through and through. Hard pass.

So we numbed a bitch up (right at the base of my finger) and Sue held my other hand tightly as Cade released the Kraken! I refused to watch but Sue likened the experience to an excellent cyst video on YouTube. The pressure was so immense blood sprayed out and Cade had to dodge the chunks and fluid that was released. It sounded impressive and incredibly gross that my finger had that power! And at some point he dug a needle under my nail, which I semi felt and did not appreciate. But the relief…. oh sweet relief! I ended up with a blood sprayed blanket and a relieved finger and I got to have ice cream after surviving another fuckening.

So I am still typing like a five year old but my finger is feeling less sketchy. I told Cade I hope I don’t return, but would definitely recommend his drainage skills on Yelp and would ask for him again if I had another rogue fingernail, which is very possible at this point. I’d endorse that skill on his LinkedIn. He was awesome.

Today I took on another “gym boss” like in Pokémon and I defeated it. We get closer and closer to the final gym aka my last day of chemo and I just wonder what kind of fuckery is left for me to encounter? I don’t think I am being pessimistic when I say that, but rather a realist because just when you think you’ve seen it all and survived it all, your finger could get swollen and want to kill you. Just another day in the life of a cancer patient I guess!

Today’s song lyrics of the day are brought to you by the Beach Boys.

“A lotta guys try to catch her
But she leads them on a wild goose chase now
(You drive like an ace now, you drive like an ace)

And she’ll have fun fun fun
‘Til her daddy takes the T-bird away
(Fun fun fun ’til her daddy takes the T-bird away)”

– Fun, Fun, Fun, Beach Boys

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): We are two days away from chemo number eleven! Six chemos left! My right middle finger is now officially infected, with what I can only guess is some sort of fungus or maybe corn found me like I feared? Just kidding. But I am in pain and it has taken me three times longer than normal to write this post. I need to hire someone to write for me for now. Rip. I am also paranoid about losing my finger?

TO THE SHORT VERSION!

One of my favorite movies is “Shrek.” I think it has some of the funniest and most quotable content. “IN THE MORNING, I’M MAKING WAFFLES!” Like, I say that every time I make waffles and I only hear Eddie Murphy’s voice in my head when I think of that quote. I also love the soundtrack. “Accidentally in Love” by Counting Crows is perfection. I actually think that is from “Shrek 2” but whatever. I wish I could say that song could be the soundtrack to my life, but it isn’t. However, it could be if we changed the title to “Accidentally Infected” because guess who has another infection?! Yup, the fuckening is back, literally 61 days since the last fuckening! I am happy to report that the fuckening is not happening on my head, but instead happening on my fingers. Okay, I am not happy but I guess it is a small step up from having a head infection.

This post has taken me way longer than normal to type. My middle finger is incredibly swollen and in a ton of pain. You’d be surprised how much typing involves your middle finger. I dare you to go type right now and pay attention to how instrumental that finger is. My finger looks like a rotten hot dog that sat in the way back in a dark corner of your fridge next to that bag of shredded cheese you forgot about. It is swollen and weirdly green. I would say my finger looks like Shrek’s but honestly that is disrespectful to him. At least his are healthy and normal.

I called the triage nurse today but I called too late. I called at 4:30 pm (they close at 5 pm) because I was in meetings all day and did not prioritize myself to make time to call earlier. I told her my symptoms and what was going on and wanted to know if I should go to the ER. I even took my temperature over the phone to see if I was having a total body reaction to the localized infection. My temp was normal. The moment I told her about the coloring and how swollen it was, she asked to call me back to contact my oncologist. I waited about 14 minutes and she called with a minute to spare before 5 pm. Definitely an infection and the PA prescribed some antibiotics since my oncologist was gone. It is 9:35 pm and my prescription is still not filled and my finger is THROBBING. I hope it makes it through the night.

I really hope this is the last fuckening I have to deal with on chemo. It is really annoying when other parts of my body are trying to take me out, as if my cancer infected right boob was not enough. First an ingrown hair and now a mindless nail bed. Cancer be dumb.

Today’s song lyrics of the day are brought to you by Counting Crows.

“How much longer will it take to cure this
Just to cure it ’cause I can’t ignore it if it’s love (love)
Makes me want to turn around and face me
But I don’t know nothing about love, oh”

– Accidentally in Love, Counting Crows