Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): We surpassed chemo number ten! We have six weeks of chemo left! Fuuuuuuuuuck. My nails are getting worse. It is harder and harder for me to type. However, no back pain as of yet which is a great sign because I would rather not be able to open a mayo jar than be laying in extreme pain on my bed. This week is all about taking deep breaths and relaxing. I promised myself I would keep my schedule LIGHT this week so that I can “fully” recover before chemo on Thursday. Oh, and the Madison & Friends charity art fundraiser went swimmingly! What a way to kick off my 30s!

TO THE LONG VERSION!

The first time this year that I felt like I was experiencing a scene in a movie was on February 21. It was an out of body experience. The rain was falling hard. I was crying in my car, listening to the nurse practitioner give me the news I had breast cancer. It was numbing and unreal. No matter how hard I wanted to rewind that moment, it would have happened anyway. Maybe I wouldn’t be in my car, maybe I wouldn’t be 29, but breast cancer was in my cards. It is in my genes. So I cried and listened to the rain cry with me. The world felt just as sad as I did. How cinematic.

The second time this year I have experienced my life as a movie was on Friday for the Madison & Friends charity art fundraiser. Instead of numbing shock and pain, I was full of joy and laughs. I was blinded by the sequins on my dress. I embraced friends and the stories of strangers who had loved ones with cancer stories. I walked around the room and felt hope. It was the kind of hope like at the end of a superhero movie that you clap for or when a plane lands after insane turbulence. You’re just happy to be alive.

The version of me four months ago is so proud of present me, although we both can agree that we DO NOT recommend other cancer patients plan a massive fundraiser while undergoing treatment. I mean you totally can and I will always be the first one to raise my hand to help, but I think you may be better off taking care of yourself and throwing a fundraiser later. But I did it anyways. It was something I really wanted to do and I have zero regrets planning. Life is SO short. I wanted to throw myself an unforgettable party with purpose and nobody knows how to throw a party better than me. Well, my mom does. She is an excellent party host and I learned directly from her. People thought I was a little mad in the head, and it was a lot of work and exhausting, but it accomplished what I wanted and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I probably will, to be honest.

A lot of things did not go as planned on Friday. The perfectionist in me is still raging and picking over what failed. However, a lot of things went right! We raised over $5,000 for the Tri-Cities Cancer Center Foundation, we sold almost all of the art that was hung, everyone seemed to have a decent time, and there was even food left over at the night for me to enjoy. I think I could have done a better job at telling folks there were tamales available though, so I do apologize if you didn’t know there was food. The music was FANTASTIC, the performances were engaging, and I loved seeing so many people from the various seasons of my life there. It is one of the few times in my life where I felt like I was exactly where I should be. And if you went, I hope you felt that way, too.

PHOTO INTERMISSION! Please text me your photos because I shockingly took none the entire night. IRONIC given I am a photographer. Ooops.

It comes as NO surprise that an event like that took me out. Literally all day Saturday and Sunday I was incapacitated. All I had to do was sit down on the couch and my blanket would whisper sweet nothings into my body as I lulled myself to sleep for hours on end. No more parties for me for a while! I am glad I had a three day weekend to bounce back. Today I finally feel less fatigued and functional.

Now that the event is over, I have sworn that I will coast through the rest of treatment but I can already feel myself wondering what is next? I want to keep creating! I can’t help myself. I don’t like sitting still and watching TV. I need to make some art or plan an event or do something. Does anyone need help with anything??? Maybe I will feel differently when I have to go to work tomorrow and I will realize that work is enough. I don’t need to keep doing more. Maybe I should make time for one on one visits with friends. I have so many folks I need to connect with right now and check in with. And people I want to have dinner parties with! I love dinner.

For those of you who have offered so much support and love and help to me for this event, during this event, and even after, thank you. I have so much gratitude for all the sparkly friends in my life who are gracious and kind with their time. It is a long list but I think it is a great use of my blog space to thank people for helping me out.

Thank you Sue for helping me plan this event. Despite you not being there because of sickness, you were amazing. Gina, thank you for filling in for Sue and for your amazing acroyoga talents. Rosie, thank you for helping with the art all night!! Ah you are amazing and I cannot thank you enough for how sweet you have been to me. Val, you’re my girl. Way to tell Russ what is up and for taking care of me Thursday and Friday. Sarah, thank you for sticking around almost to your bedtime on Friday and checking in with me asking if I needed anything. Such friendship. Hi mom and Cassidy! I love you both so much. Geide, Maria, Cindy, Sandra, Cristina, and Wendy thank you so much for the stunning photo booth section. It was my favorite place to hang out on Friday! To Heather and Luke for helping with check-ins and last minute details, I appreciate you both. To my potato Sarah for helping me secure all of the donations and just being a wonderful potato friend, I love you. My dearest Amy and Rachel, THANK YOU FOR MAKING ME THE MOST MAGICAL OUTFIT AND WIG OF ALL TIME. Seriously, you two I owe you the world. You both empowered me in such a beautiful way. Shout out to Ana for my custom gorgeous necklace! LOBA FOR LIFE. And we had dozens of hands helping with the installations of the art and the taking down of the art, but I am thankful for every single one of those hands. And to Ashleigh for helping curate and install the art, thank you for your endless expertise. I am forever indebted to you.

Most importantly, thank you to every artist and every single person who came out to support the event and be part of the magic. I am grateful that we came together to support the cancer center. Cancer fucking sucks, but it sucks less because I have all of you. So thank you. I will need to count how many artists participated in the show and get back to you all on that. I think we had like 40 artists if I remember right???

I feel like I forgot some folks in that thank you paragraph, so I am really sorry. Please yell at me if I forgot you and I will update the paragraph. Basically I am just humbled and grateful for the opportunity to throw a fundraiser at this time in my life. Now back to my nap!

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

“Hold on to what you got
Let go of what you’re not
Hold on to what you’ve got

Livin’ ain’t easy
Call if you need me
Livin’ ain’t easy
Call if you need me”

– Call If You Need Me, Galantis

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): I am in extreme pain. Like it is getting harder for me to mask the amount of pain I am in. These are side effects of my growth factor injections and my chemos. Like holy fuck. The red devil side effects weren’t nearly this bad. We are three days away from my event and I just keep hoping for a miracle that my body will cooperate. I didn’t get any planning done for my event tonight due to pain. Hopefully tomorrow I have it in me to go to the distance and get this shit done.

TO THE LONG VERSION!

Murphy’s fucking Law. According to Wikipedia, “Murphy’s law is an adage or epigram that is typically stated as: “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.” In some formulations, it is extended to “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong, and at the worst possible time.” I have planned enough events in my lifetime, both big and small, to know that this law is to be expected. You don’t have a plan b, maybe a plan c if you’re extra like me? You might as well fuck off.

This week Murphy’s Law is in full effect for Friday’s event. My connect for aguas frescas did not come through. We acquired less wine than anticipated. My best friend / emcee / right hand person is now sick and will be out for the count. Oh and I am in EXTREME pain because of my fucking chemo and bone pain from the growth factor injections. I am in so much pain that today at work I bent over and just about passed out. I think that also could be from the fact I am also anemic. BUT STILL. This pain is a gazillion times worse than the red devil. One of my really good friends / old roommate’s dog just died and another amazing friend’s brother passed away. So yeah. Things really suck right now.

The good news (which feels awful to say because everything feels really heavy right now) is that I ordered two 5 gallon jugs and have amazing friends who have offered to help with the aguas frescas issue. I told my mom about my wine issue and she reached out to her fabulous network of friends and we are now back to having enough wine for the winos in my life. I can’t fix my best friend, but I am asking my other best friend how comfortable she feels talking to a large audience. And bone pain? I don’t know how to get around that one but I did just take a CBD gummy. (CBD update: It didn’t really help.)

There are several moments in my day that I forget I am a cancer patient. I just get so wrapped up in my work and I pretend I can do everything I normally would do without cancer. But when I got home tonight, the mask fell and I broke down in tears. My tears fall differently these days. They feel heavier. They remind me of the dark rain clouds that brood in the sky waiting to unleash everything they have been carrying for miles. I let my tears fall in that same way. I let myself feel how hurt I am. I grieve for the version of me that was not in constant pain. I take a second to remind myself that I cannot do it all. I have cancer. It isn’t my identity and it isn’t for forever (I hope), but it is a fact I cannot escape. And right now I am not okay. So I let myself not be okay for a bit. I am still not okay, but I am a little better.

I had to go in to the cancer center today for my last growth factor shot and after, I made a bee line for the snack bar, naturally. Hot Nurse Megan stopped me and told me she had a little birthday gift for me. Me?? How lucky! When she gave me it, she pulled something out of the bag: the socks she wore when she underwent treatment. Little tears started to swell up in me, but I really tried to keep my cool. They are pink and white striped, with the saying “Keep calm and fight on.” I didn’t have a lot of time to reflect on this until I got home, but fuck. I am fighting cancer. She fought cancer. My mom fought cancer. My family members are fighting cancer. And I really hope we make it. I want us all to make it. And the fact that someone who doesn’t know me that well thought of me and wants me to keep fighting, there just aren’t any words to describe that feeling. Cancer has no mercy, so neither will I.

So despite Murphy’s Law, we keep fighting in all respects.

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

“‘Cause it makes me that much stronger
Makes me work a little bit harder
Makes me that much wiser
So thanks for making me a fighter
Made me learn a little bit faster
Made my skin a little bit thicker
Makes me that much smarter
So thanks for making me a fighter”

– Fighter, Christina Aguilera

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): I’ve been MIA all week from the blog. I apologize for my lack of writing. I’ve been in a lot of pain this week. The side effects have been kicking my ass! Whatever energy I have after work has been spent on me sleeping or just attempting to survive as a cancer patient with a full time job and responsibilities at home. I made it to chemo number nine this past week. We have seven chemos left and honestly they cannot end fast enough. My body is falling apart. I also turned 30, which felt anticlimactic in the grand scheme of things. Chemo number ten is this Thursday and my long anticipated charity art fundraiser is Friday.

TO THE LONG VERSION!

Existing this week has been fucking hard. Life doesn’t stop just because I have cancer. Everyone is like, “Why don’t you rest more? Why don’t you take more time for yourself?” It is hard to choose recovery and healing when capitalism runs the world and you have two demanding cats who are constantly up to no good. I’ve been drowning in pain and a never ending list of things to do. I’m exhausted and my body feels like it is decomposing. No, like literally. My thumbs smell like death right now because the nails are lifting off the nail beds. I was rubbing my eyes this week and I was like what is that awful smell?! I thought maybe I forgot to wash my hands after cleaning the litter box or doing dishes. You know sometimes the dish sponge smells a little ~off.~ It took me four days to realize the smell is coming from my thumbs. I am the smell.

I feel fucking disgusting.

And you can literally see the lift between the skin and the nail now. I just hope like a little bug or a piece of corn doesn’t get trapped in there or something. I am not sure how or why I think corn might get in there since I don’t encounter a lot of corn kernels these days, but it is a weird fear of mine now. Keep your corn away from me!

Since we are on the topic of how disgusting my body is on chemo, my feet and palms are peeling and I am constantly swollen. My fingers look like dollar store hot dogs (you know the kind… sketchy and not sure what kind of meat is really inside of the casings.) I feel incredibly uncomfortable in my own skin and very very ugly. Self esteem is like negative two right now.

Combine those symptoms with extreme back pain (thanks chemo!) and now bone pain (will explain why I have bone pain again here in a minute) and I am just a shell of a fucking human being. Seven weeks to go.

Okay so bone pain. I know, we thought we were past this. So somehow between last week and this week’s chemo, my white blood cell count PLUMMETED. I was once a stable potato and now I am a very immunocompromised potato. My oncologist was not pleased with that update in my blood work, so I am getting daily growth factor injections for three days. Remember I would get those on Fridays after the red devil? It is a fun little shot in my stomach (My favorite! NOT!) and it helps my bone marrow create more white blood cells. Downside is bone pain. And as I type not only do my nails hurt because ~I aM dYiNg~ but I also have extreme bone pain localized in my neck and hips. Love this journey for me.

My oncologist was also once again not impressed with the reduction of my tumor in my breast. Granted, she is just saying that based on her hand exam, but I trust she has touched enough breast tumors in her lifetime that she knows what she is talking about. She threatened me with a third chemo drug, but will decide on the fate of that threat when I see her in three weeks. I get it, she is on my side and my breast cancer is an aggressive fucking bitch, so she is being aggressive back to it. But my body is the battleground and this war is getting harder. Why can’t my breast cancer be nice and just succumb to treatment? Why does it have to be stubborn like me???

So basically I am in constant pain. You see me functioning, but I want you to know I am in pain. I don’t have PFMLA days to spare to take a day off to just be in pain. I need those for my double mastectomy surgery so I am hoarding them. Technically I do have vacation and sick time, but I feel like I already miss a lot of work for chemo. This is a very complex dynamic that I don’t feel like getting into right now. Let’s end this blog post on a less emo note.

FRIDAY! CHARITY ART FUNDRAISER! IT IS HAPPENING. I am panicking. I have so much left to do for it! And the state of my being is dwindling so I just need to make it through Friday and then I can collapse and not worry about anything else for the rest of treatment. I am so excited for the event, but also dreading how fucking tired I am going to be. I have chemo the day before, so Friday will no doubt kick my ass.

Also, in beautiful things that have happened: Moniker Bar created a special cocktail in my honor this week: the Captain Madison. A portion of the proceeds from that cocktail were donated to the Tri-Cities Cancer Center Foundation. I wish that was something I could include on my LinkedIn about me: one time a really awesome restaurant I love made a cocktail named after me that benefited a charity. What a wonderfully rare thing to say! This cocktail should be making one final appearance the night of the fundraiser. I just need to nail down the final details for that one. Stay tuned. Also side note, I love that it was named after my social media handle. I have been “captainmadison” for over… gosh 13 years? I love that it has become part of my identity in a way. I am the captain! Yet, I am in charge of nothing. Nice.

Here are a few snaps from this week!

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

“Sasquatch, Godzilla, King Kong, Lochness
Goblin, ghoul, a zombie with no conscience
Question, what do these things all have in common?
Everybody knows I’m a motherfuckin’ monster”

– Monster, Kanye West, JAY-Z, Rick Ross, Nicki Minaj, Bon Iver

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): We are approaching chemo number nine this week! I have a follow up appointment at the dermatologist office Wednesday to check up on my chemo rashes. They are doing a lot better, but I do not recommend putting steroid cream on without gloves. My fingers are peeling SO bad. Today is also my last day as a 29 year old. Tomorrow I enter my 30’s. Lit.

TO THE LONG VERSION!

I was born on Sunday, June 7 in 1992 at 5:56 am. According to my star charts, I am a Gemini (duh) with a Virgo moon and Gemini rising. I have several houses in Gemini. If you’re into zodiac signs, I am as pure as they come for my sign. In a few short hours, I will turn 30. Entering my 30’s isn’t scary for me. I feel like I am one of the last in my friend group to enter them. Everyone is already pretty comfortable in their 30’s while mine is staring me down, wondering what I will do with my time here. Hell if I know. I am just grateful I made it this far.

I had this weird fear that I would die before I turned 21. I don’t know why. It might have been because one of my cousins passed away around that age or maybe it was my weird depression or maybe even a mix of both. But the clock still struck midnight and I celebrated my 21st birthday wondering if a bar would accept my vertical license if I went out. Now I am staring down death in a different way. It isn’t a figment of my imagination or irrational fear. Death exists in my right boob. And lymph nodes. And spine, probably. I am simultaneously dying while fighting for my life. I straddle two very unique worlds. Celebrating a birthday in the midst of this chaos is… strange.

It sounds like a cliche, but a birthday feels different with cancer, especially one that is such a milestone. It is bittersweet, emotional, and in a weird way also insignificant in the grand scheme of things. I’ve transitioned from celebrating the earth’s rotation around the sun to celebrating the sun’s rotation around the earth. I made it another 24 hours today. I survived another minute. Sometimes with cancer all you can handle is a minute or two at a time. Sometimes it is only a few seconds. I celebrate every chemo, every successful blood draw, every lap around the snack bar at the cancer center because not everyone with cancer gets to live to see and be in those moments. I am grateful to be alive, but have guilt of being here when so many do not. Existing every day is a fucking gift, though some days it feels like a punishment.

I’ve spent the day privately archiving my 20’s in my head. I’ve endured and achieved more than I ever could have asked of myself. The most important lesson I have learned that I can think of right now is you are basically an idiot until you are 27. Or at least I felt like I was. And then things start to make a bit more sense, have a bit more wisdom to them. Even approaching 30, I know I will update this thought in a couple of years. Maybe I am still an idiot. Who’s to say? Life doesn’t come with a guidebook and even if it did, I probably wouldn’t read it.

I appreciate my 20’s for the amount of self discovery I was afforded. I found myself in the corners of parties at 3 am and in the selfies with friends dripping in sunshine. I am shaped by the tears I cried during my deepest depressions and the laughter shared over countless meals with loved ones. I became resilient. I learned to love myself (most of the time). I lost a lot in every sense you can lose anything, but I gained a lot more. And then I also got cancer, so that was a fun plot twist. What better way to end a fucking rad decade with something so unfathomable you would have thought I was lying when I told you when I first found out.

The beginning of my 20’s and the beginning of my 30’s will have this in common though: you do not know what is to come. Anything can happen. You may have inklings, you may have plans, and all of that can get thrown out of the window at any point. The only way out is to go through.

So I cheers to my 20’s and I cheers to my 30’s with my alcohol free drink (because my liver numbers are too high for me to enjoy rum currently.) May I live to see another day, and if I am lucky enough, another year. Fuck me up, fam.

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

“Swift, in a blur, man, the world done changed on us
(Woo) Oh, quick, what’s a five letter word for it?
Ain’t that a… ain’t that a bitch?
And what’s the point when it feel like it don’t matter?
It don’t matter, but it’s a lot of talk, it’s all chatter like”

– Truth (feat. Alicia Keys & The Last Artful, Dodgr), Mark Ronson, Alicia Keys, The Last Artful, Dodgr

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): I had my first breast reconstruction consultation in Spokane on Friday. The doctor took some very unattractive nudes of me in an awful black paper thong for my records. Looks like I will be able to maintain a similar breast size to my existing breasts. I spent the weekend doing too much, per usual, and now my body is paying the price. We are 12 days away from the charity art fundraiser and I have entered panic mode. Send help!

TO THE LONG VERSION!

Chemo is kicking my ass. Or maybe I am kicking my own ass because I keep doing the most when I should be resting. I honestly think it is a mix of both because I can tell the chemo is compounding in a way. Each week I get weaker and weaker and require more rest. But it is June and we are 12 days from my charity art fundraiser and it is the best time of the year because the weather is better and there is so much to do, so I HAVE NO TIME TO REST. I am insanely tired. I need to duplicate myself and I need more hours in the day. Please send help.

You’re about to be shook with how much I did over the course of the last four days: had chemo; went to Spokane for the consult; went for a bike ride at 6 am; tried to take a bath but couldn’t sit still for more than like five minutes; slept and missed the first 15 minutes of my massage appointment; went to the Pride festival; slept some more; spent an insane amount of time on the toilet because ~surprise~ I am constipated again; visited the flea market; put together a planter box with my dad; got groceries; finally attempting to do more work for my event in 12 days.

I did all of this with extreme fatigue and neuropathy in my little finger tips! Yay cancer!

Random photo intermission!

I hope I was not too much of a risky biscuit this weekend. I just am trying to find balance between isolating myself in the name of a weak immune system and living my life because I feel like I am dying all the time. I have a terrible memory but there is this quote I saw on Tumblr once that featured a blue bird and it read, “The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math.” And look I found it! Thanks Google! I guess time will tell if the risks I took were worth it.

Speaking of terrible memory… my chemo brain is AWFUL. I was at the Pride event this weekend and someone came up to me and I thought they were someone else and I just blah blah blah’d to them how great they were on stage and literally 15 seconds later they politely told me that they are not that person but in fact someone else and I about lost it. LOST IT. I KNOW THIS PERSON. I have known this person for several years and my stupid fucking chemo brain thought they were someone else. Oh I was so embarrassed. They were so kind to me and gave me grace in that moment but gosh I felt like an idiot and it is one of those moments I will think about over and over again at 2 am when I am lonely and want to sleep. My unconscious will remember that, but it won’t remember where I am headed 50 yards away from my house. That happened, too. I was driving and literally forgot where I was going for a minute or two. Yikes.

Another yikes moment this weekend: I had scheduled myself a massage at 12 pm on Saturday. My bitch ass decided to lay down at 10 am because I was ambitious and went for a bike ride at 6 am and needed a nap. Guess who woke up at 12:01 pm and almost MISSED their massage appointment? Luckily the folks there were so kind and called me asking me if I was on my way and I live 5 minutes away so I was able to go for like 40 minutes but again, I WAS EMBARRASSED. I am losing my mind. Losing it! It is GONE. I have never missed an appointment in my life. I hate using the cancer card. It makes me feel like people either think I am lying or that I am using it to get the things I want. Which in reality I don’t really want anything. I just want to be cancer free and normal and functional, but that seems to be a lot to ask of my fucking BRCA1 mutated genes. Cancer has taken over my life in every single way like the Virginia Creeper in my backyard.

I have deeply underestimated the side effects that chemo can have. Chemo brain is one that started off quite subtly and has increased dramatically over time. Also constipation. I cannot go a day anymore without taking Miralax because I am getting infused with steroids every Thursday at this point. My parosmia is still a stupid nightmare when it comes to vegetables, so I am counting on other fiber sources at this point to not feel like my innards want to explode out of me. Also I feel like an ugly potato. I feel bloated all the time, swollen, and my nails look like they want to fall off. Did I mention I constantly have a crusty blood nose because I don’t have nose hairs? Very attractive. I feel awful. My self esteem is like a negative two out of one hundred these days.

So yeah, I am living my life while my body is folding in on itself like a dying star. Eight weeks of chemo left. I really hope I make it because damn this shit is fucking hard.

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

“Tell them they can take that bullshit elsewhere (yeah)
Self-care, I’m treatin’ me right, yeah
Hell yeah, we gonna be alright (we gon’ be alright)

– Self Care, Mac Miller

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): Today is full of milestones! Today was chemo number eight. We have EIGHT chemos left! We are at the halfway point! Today was also the last chemo of my 20s. I brought in some cupcakes to celebrate my birthday early, to celebrate Pride month, and to celebrate nurse Rachael’s 40th birthday. There is ONE more major thing that happened today, but you will just have to read the long version to find out. I head to Spokane tomorrow at 8 am to meet my plastic surgeon and learn about how much fat I have on me to make two nice boobs!

TO THE LONG VERSION!

My younger sister and I are only sixteen months apart in age. It was a typical sisterly friendship growing up: everything I did, she generally tagged along. We annoyed each other, got each other in trouble, fought, and defended one another. She was the third wheel when my childhood best friend would come over for the weekend and often the subject of our jokes and pranks. She was my friend and my enemy.

One of my favorite memories was playing this random game called “monster truck.” To play, we would have two of us (generally me and my best friend) climb into bed and cover ourselves in all the pillows and blankets we could find. We would turn off the lights, turn on the black light and lava lamp and disco ball (because my room was lit as fuck), and if it was Saturday night we would have the wedding mix on 98.3 The Key radio playing in the background. While we are buried in the bed, the third person would be down the hallway and then they would run as fast as they could and jump on us while yelling “monster truck” as loud as possible! The first couple of rounds would be fun and we would all laugh and scream until someone would get hurt, which was normally my sister. She would scream bloody murder and we would try to bribe her with something to get her to shut up. Then the game would end, we would get in trouble, and have to go to bed.

Ah, those were the days.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about being a kid and the privilege we had of growing up relatively carefree. We weren’t exposed to a lot of loss or major disease until we were in our teens. Then, everything seemed to collapse by the time I was seventeen, but that is a story for another day. And now within two back to back years, we have had several cancer diagnoses in our family including both my parents and several of my aunts and now me. Being a kid feels so far away. I crave for a moment where the weight of the world as an adult would not exist. I don’t have cancer, my parents didn’t have cancer, my older sister had her mom, and my extended family are cancer free. What would that world be like? Where would our lives be? Who would we be if cancer had not come into our personal spaces? Fucking cancer.

It doesn’t matter now since we are here and on the journeys that were predetermined in our genes (well not one of my aunts and my mom) but I still sometimes wonder.

I wish I had known sooner that I was BRCA1 positive. Wishing that feels stupid at this point. I hate that this fate has been tied into my DNA my entire life. I have always been destined to have cancer because of my gene mutation. It was written in the stars, and genetically, which is pretty fucked. I mean, I can still get other cancers in my life that are not caused by gene mutations. Cells gonna fuck up if they fuck up and write their DNA wrong. But I feel personally attacked by my own body. I feel betrayed and hurt. But there is nothing I can do about that now. I won the genetic lottery. My dad is BRCA 1 positive. There was a 50/50 chance that me and my two sisters would acquire the mutation. I was one of them. My older sister’s mom was BRCA2 positive and she had a fucked lottery ticket from both her mom and our dad to acquire both mutations or one or none. She was unlucky like me and is BRCA2 positive. But today we got amazing news.

My younger sister got her test results back and tested negative for both BRCA1 and BRCA2 mutations!!!! She will never have to worry about breast or ovarian coming after her as it relates to this mutation. I mean, she can still develop breast and ovarian at any time in her life, but her risk level is significantly lower than mine. And today, as an older sister I felt grateful that the genetic lottery picked me. I never want this experience for her and I could not be happier that she can rest easy tonight knowing her body isn’t plotting to kill her in this way.

Like most things in my life right now, life is working in mysterious ways. She got that information today on her way to pick me up to take me to chemotherapy and it really changed how I felt about chemo today. I feared that today could be an introduction to something she might have to do someday and instead it became just an experience for me to share with her that will continue to bond us over time. I’ve talked about it before, but my sister was my mom’s caregiver during her cancer treatment. Unfortunately, that was during the pandemic so she was unable to go with my mom to treatment because the cancer center was not allowing visitors during that time. I felt like today was the last missing piece to seeing the full experience of a cancer patient and I am grateful it was with me. I wish she could have been there for my mom because I know my mom needed it more than me, but here we are.

Life works in mysterious ways.

I really wanted to make the last chemo of 20s special. In true “guac is extra but so am I” fashion, I made homemade funfetti cupcakes (NO BOX SHIT HERE FOLKS) and rainbow Lisa Frank-esque homemade buttercream frosting. Nurse Rachael is a fellow Gemini and celebrated her birthday this past Sunday, so I brought in custom gluten free and dairy free cupcakes for her to enjoy. I like celebrating life these days. You never know if you get another year around the sun you know?

DOPE PHOTO INTERMISSION BREAK!!!!

Okay, so chemo today was weird as fuck. Good news: I put a shit ton of lidocaine on Harry Porter and didn’t feel a thing when the needle went in UNLIKE LAST WEEK. Nurse Kristin and Hanan made sure that I had the cold spray and I had to look away from the needle. I gave blood like a champ. We were on to a good start! By the time we got to the chemo ward, I was alllllll the way in the corner away from cancer patient society. It was oddly hot and lonely. My nurse didn’t seem very chatty with me and we were both frustrated because my metabolic panel took FOREVER to come back. My liver numbers are really high from chemo, so that means I cannot take pain meds or drink alcohol. I meet with my oncologist next week to see how she feels about my liver. Other than that, my numbers are looking good.

It took like 30 minutes for my panel to come back to get cleared from chemo to start premeds so that was the first delay. The second delay came from my first chemo of the day. Taxol took like an hour and a half to be delivered from the pharmacy. It takes an hour to do taxol and then only 30 minutes for carboplatin. I should have been out of chemo by like 3 pm and I didn’t leave until 5 pm. The snack bar was low and when I did my laps; a lot of the nurses were MIA. It was a weird day. But I saw a couple of my favorites and got to give Rachael her birthday surprises! You know I love giving gifts.

But I made it. I made it to the eight week mark! It was the last chemo of my 20s. Tuesday I turn 30 and then Thursday I will have chemo number nine as the first chemo of my 30s. Cancer was not in my 20s decade plan or my 30s to be honest, but I will save those thoughts for another post. This one is already a novel! Oops.

I have my appointment tomorrow in Spokane to meet with the plastic surgeons to talk about reconstruction and see what size of breasts can be crafted from my stomach! Spokane means a Trader Joes run. Much excite. And now, it is time to prepare for slumber. Your girl is a tired potato.

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

“It’s not even my birthday
But he want to lick the icing off
I know you want it in the worst way
Can’t wait to blow my candles out
He want that

Cake, cake, cake, cake
Cake, cake, cake, cake
Cake, cake, cake, cake
Cake, cake, cake”

– Birthday Cake, Rihanna

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): Today marks 100 days since my diagnosis. A lot can happen in 100 days and a lot has happened. And a lot more is going to happen in 100 more days! I am shook I am still alive! Speaking of being alive, I turn 30 in a week. Weird. I mean, not that weird. I am not scared of turning 30. I think my 30s might be kind of fun. I see a lot of plants and home improvement projects in my future.

TO THE LONG VERSION!

“Cancer came to steal and to kill, but turns out that it actually has given me an irreplaceable gift: an immovable belief in unconditional love, and an understanding of what an honor it is to be here- alive and apart of the moving golden world.” – An excerpt from NIGHTBIRDE’s unreleased “A Cure For Loneliness” essay

Ooof. A wonderful friend tagged me in this excerpt on Facebook and I lost myself in the depth of deep emotional abyss because it was a feeling I have been trying to communicate to myself and to others lately and the right words never seem to flow out of my mouth. It is hard to say that cancer can come bearing gifts because that is not the case for everyone and I don’t want to minimize that experience for others. Cancer fucking sucks 99% of the time. But this quote is something that deeply resonates with me. I live (temporarily) in hell but I am surrounded by angels. I have never felt so loved in my entire life.

I just hope I am loved because I am me and not because I am sick and people are worried I might drop dead at any time. Or that they want to say they loved me if I do die. I mean it is better to love when you are here than wish you had loved more when someone is gone, but I am like have I always been this loved and didn’t know it or is this new because cancer? Is it weird that I am concerned with these thoughts? Is this my depression and anxiety talking? I think about the times where I was severely depressed and my phone lay silent next to me and all I could wish was for it to ring. And now my phone is constantly flooded with texts and thoughts and notifications and I have zero energy to keep up and I wish I could turn my phone off.

Does any of this make sense? I hate that I second guess why people love me. I probably should bring this up in therapy. I am sure it is rooted in my trauma somewhere. Wait nevermind, I kind of know why haha. I will save that for therapy.

Speaking of unconditional love and wonderful things, I have a funny story for you all. I enjoy taking walks on my union sanctioned breaks. (Sorry being a smart ass.) I spend my time patrolling the park for cute squirrels to feed and birds to chase. I have a lot of weird energy. Anyway, I was on my way back into work and my car in the parking lot caught my eye. The windshield… it was all black??? What the fuck? I was with my co-worker and I was like “Yo, what is wrong with my car???” and she got really concerned. And then I realized there was nothing wrong with my car, rather there was something covering my windshield! I don’t have a windshield reflector, so we walked a little closer. Here is what we saw:

So if you recall, I saw this SAME WINDSHIELD REFLECTOR leaving chemo on May 19. I thought it was dope as fuck. Little skellies giving off spooky cancer vibes? I’m in. I attempted to Google it so I could buy one, but then got quickly distracted and chemo brain took over and I forgot I wanted this. Well… here is the thing about having amazing friends/co-workers who read your blog: they do shit for you. This was attempt #2 on behalf of this co-worker to plot amazing surprises for me. The first was setting out three bowls of lemon KitKats on my desk while I was away in the break room. I caught her in the act, but wow like so freaking nice. And today was the second attempt. She must have taken my keys off my desk since I am lazy and always forget to put them away. Seriously, I am so lucky to be loved and blessed by so many of you with your random acts of kindness and attention to my blog. I might have to stop talking about things I want in here because it is making me feel guilty that I am not returning the favor!

Remember when I talked about love languages? My giving love language is gift giving. I love giving presents! My receiving love languages are acts of service and time spent together. Receiving generosity and gifts is really challenging for me because my first impulse is to give something back immediately. Could that be rooted in trauma as well? Why do I feel like whenever someone gives to me I have to give back? Rather, I want someone to feel loved as much as they made me, but I feel like a failure when I am not able to accomplish that right away, like right now. I am working on it, but damn it is hard. To accept gifts, help, and love is something I am not good at. Lots of room for improvement with me. Excuse me as I keep trying to be okay with all of this unconditional love stuff.

Today’s song lyric of the day is brought to you by Alper Tuzcu.

“Me siento tan afortunado
Estoy tan agradecido
Me siento tan feliz,
de haberte encontrado”

– Afortunado, Alper Tuzcu, Nicoh Kwan

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): Whew! I took the whole weekend to just kind of… be. I spent large chunks of my time recovering from chemo which involved many naps, but also trying to find pieces of myself. I am only a short three days away from chemo number eight, which will mark the halfway point in terms of total treatments. I also have a meeting in Spokane this Friday to meet with the plastic surgeons to learn more about breast reconstruction! A busy week!

TO THE LONG VERSION!

I love spring on Badger Mountain. Greens, yellows, purples, and creams paint the rolling switchbacks like a cleverly painted Bob Ross canvas. The beetles are out, lifting their little stinky black butts up when you walk by them on the trail. The air is fresh and not too hot. The trail feels new. And if you hibernate like I do and take the winter off from hiking Badger, the first couple of treks up the mountain make you feel like you’ve never exercised in your life. I love the struggle. By summer, I am well conditioned and challenging myself to beat my time, but nothing quite compares to the first spring time climbs.

Normally by this time of the year I am well acclimated to hiking the mountain. Last spring, I went every weekend and sometimes during the week. I would hike up the steep side and run down the longer switchbacks or run around the back of the mountain. But cancer has made exercising a bitch. I mean, I exercise but it not with the same intensity as before. Lifting ten pound dumbbells feel like fifty some days. Not to mention the horrible neuropathy I have in my fingers (particularly my thumbs) makes grasping onto weights a challenge on its own. Any sort of cardio leaves my body feeling fatigued. I guess it is less of the cancer and more of the chemo at this point, but I blame the cancer! The chemo is just trying to kill it. Cancer is just fucking around and finding out that it is not welcome in my body.

I’ve cried so much over the loss of my physical strength lately. I know my body is fighting a more important fight, but it is hard not to mourn all the hard work I had put into conditioning my body to lift weights and run. Hell, last fall I ran a 5k in 28 minutes. That was a HUGE DEAL for me. I had worked all summer training and preparing. And the moment I got my diagnosis in February I knew my spring and summer routine was changing and it has changed. I am able to exercise on these “easier” chemo treatments, but gosh it just about knocks me out. I fucking hate it. It makes me feel weak. I know this is a temporary blip in my timeline, but it fucking sucks. I don’t care that it is temporary. It feels like fucking forever.

I haven’t been up Badger all spring until today. I asked my best friend if she would go with me on the easier side of the mountain and let me see how far I could get. She was patient and kind and helped me be realistic about my goal of reaching to the top. There were offers to stop if I needed it, but I powered through the fatigue. Forty minutes and two miles later, I was at the top. It felt like hiking for the first time. My body was TIRED but I accomplished something that felt so sweet on my mental and physical health. I know my body will pay for it later, but it felt so GOOD to do something I wanted to do and that was good for me. It was hard, but today I thank my vessel for its resilience. Existing is hard right now, but I want to keep going.

I also made art this weekend! I really haven’t made anything other than my stickers since January. Gosh I miss just creating for the sake of creating. My soul needed that. I’ve had this bubble gum piece stuck in my head for months and I finally was like fuck it, I want to do this. I had purchased two large tubs of Dubble Bubble gum a couple months ago in preparation. I have been on the hunt for the most PERFECT box. Saturday, I bought two more tubs of gum and a pink eyeliner and we were in business. I love that art can be just that: 1200 pieces of bubble gum and a cardboard box. Don’t let your dreams be dreams. Yesterday you said tomorrow so JUST DO IT.

On a more random note, I ate chicken wings this weekend and my lovely friend gifted me the most delicious candles from Snarky Cancer. “Smells like Scanxiety” is my favorite because it smells like baked bread! I kid you not. If you love the sweet scent of carbs caressing your face holes, this candle is for YOU! I also have scanxiety, so this candle just makes sense for me as a human. I would also recommend “Chill TF Out” as well. Classic candle smell. I do enjoy chilling the fuck out. I love that this business is local and they do quite a bit of fundraising efforts to support cancer patients. 10/10 recommend their candles if you want to gift someone in your life something magically delicious.

I also confirmed that I am still very much into strawberry freezer jam. I want to be jammin’ all summer long. Hehe.

Now. I am going to stop blogging because I am forcing myself to take a bath because I went up a mountain today. I am pretty sure my body will be fucked if I don’t soak in some epsom salts.

Today’s song lyric of the day is brought to you by Saweetie.

“Beep-beep, is that my bestie in a Tessie?
Fresh blow out, skin on tan, ooh, she ready
Bitch, you look goodt, with a T at the end
I’ma hype her every time, that my motherfuckin’ friend”

– Best Friend (feat. Doja Cat), Saweetie, Doja Cat

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): Chemo number seven is in the books! We have nine chemo treatments left, assuming all goes to plan. I am not sure what factors could screw up this plan, but I just have to throw that information out there just in case something goes amiss. I had an appointment yesterday with the dermatologist to evaluate some interesting rashes and discoloration on my hands. I also met with the physician’s assistant for the plastic surgeon to go over reconstruction and what I know so far. Reconstruction feels like a million miles away, but it is great to have information now.

TO THE LONG VERSION!

“Do you… like cheese?” My emotional support human looked at me funny when I asked that question. I have no idea why I asked her that because I have known her for like almost fifteen years and we literally had just eaten asada fries smothered in nacho cheese an hour prior. Chemo brain be dumb. She giggled and said yes, but didn’t want the cheese snack that nurse Meg offered to get for me from the special fridge. She came back with my favorite chemo treat and we got up to steal some Ritz crackers from the bar. I love an impromptu charcuterie moment. Sometimes you gotta make do with what you have. I mean it could have been a FULL ON CHARCUTERIE if they restocked the hummus and pretzels, but those seem to be an item that is hard to get. Someday I will get my salty delights.

I was especially excited and insanely nervous for today’s chemo for a couple of reasons. I brought my favorite nurse with me today as my emotional support human and she had bought me a banner that says, “Nacho Average Fiesta.” We brought nachos to give to the nurses in honor of the new banner decor. I was nervous because I knew I was getting my hormone blocker shot in my stomach today and I hate knowing when I will get it. It amps up my anxiety. You all know by now I HATE NEEDLES and today was a rough needle encounter day. But I was excited because my nurse friend was very excited to see this needle. We are a unique pea pod.

Okay so what made today a rough needle encounter aside from my hormone blocker was that I didn’t properly soak Harry Porter and the Prisoner of Cancerban (aka my port!) with enough lidocaine. Or if I did, something went wrong. When we went to stick me for the IV, it HURT. It didn’t hurt for long, but it was so unexpected. It was the first time that sticking me actually caused me pain and it caught me off guard. MADISON WAS NOT HAPPY. I did produce blood which is great, but fuck. Fuck needles.

Removing my IV was painful too so I need to just glob the lidocaine on next time earlier and with more coverage. I really hope that works. It is possible that as I move forward with treatment this could be more of an issue. Hopefully not because ugh HARRY PORTER YOU HAVE ONE JOB.

The best part of the day (aside from my amazing emotional support human) was hanging out with nurse Meg. I have reached a status that nurses want me as a patient! THAT IS THE GREATEST HONOR. And of course she is like the nicest human and so sweet. I am obsessed with going to chemo to see all the amazing humans there. Seriously. And of course Hanan gave me my injection, I saw Rachael and Jennifer and Linda, and just felt so loved. And Sarah (my trusty steed) is always around when I go to chemo and I know she reads this blog (devoted follower!) so thank you Sarah for always showing up and caring for me, too! I wish I could capture that energy and affection in a jar and give it to them when they feel sad so they can be reminded how wonderful they make my life and the lives of others.

I love the cancer center for the friendships and love. It makes getting treatment less scary. I am hanging out in hell and they are there with me. And news of my “Fuck cancer! Enjoy rainbows!” stickers have spread like wild fire! Two of the front desk girls wanted one, so I gave them one, and then some of the nurses were asking about them during chemo. So glad they are a hit! I will bring more next week.

So chemo was gouda today. Please laugh. We ate cheese, talked about cheese, celebrated cheese, and I walked out one step closer to the finish line.

Yesterday’s appointments were important but I don’t have a ton to report back on. At the dermatologist, we chatted about my rashes and discoloration in my hands. She prescribed me a heavier topical steroid to take to help and I have to come back to follow up on June 8. Reconstruction mostly focused on going over the information again, asking more in-depth questions, and making sure I understand the process. I expressed that I want to do tissue-based reconstruction (read more about that here!) so we went over that. Honestly, that surgery just kind of scares me mainly because of the recovery time. Like I am completely useless for six weeks. I cannot lift my hands or do much. She told me I shouldn’t even type and typing and designing is literally my job for work like… how will I endure?! That process is like a year and a half away, but it induces so much anxiety. And the fact I will be flat chested for so long also is depressing. I guess we can address that Everest later since I had a great day.

Today’s song lyric of the day is brought to you by VeggieTales…. don’t judge me. This song slaps. And it involves cheese.

“‘Cause you’re his cheeseburger
His yummy cheeseburger
He’ll wait for you, yeah
He’ll wait for you”

– His Cheeseburger, VeggieTales

Fast facts (if you don’t have time to read the full post): Chemo number seven is two days away! I am feeling pretty great today. It seems my new pattern might be a dip in energy Friday through Sunday and then I start to pickup. The dip is not nearly as dippy as the red devil, but enough for me to realize that if I do *too* much, I will sleep for hours on end. I also have a meeting with someone from the plastic surgeon’s office tomorrow at 8 am. It is my second of three meetings. My final meeting is next Friday in Spokane.

TO THE LONG VERSION!

I didn’t know a chemo bag was a thing until my mom told me that she was working with a friend to build me a bag to take to treatment. I need a chemo bag? My purse is not enough??? WRONG. Chemo bags are like the quintessential item for surviving treatment, aside from the chemo itself, duh. If you hear of a friend starting treatment, you should build them a bag. You may be asking how or what to put in that bag and I am so glad you asked! As your unofficial cancer guide, I am here to offer some ~pro~ tips! (I should add “cancer pro” to my LinkedIn skills section!) Customize as you see fit, but I am just saying that a chemo bag was one of the nicest, most considerate things anyone has ever given me.

First you need a bag. I would say almost any bag would do, but specifically a bag that is more duffle like in nature and has lots of zippers and pockets to hide and conceal snacks is probably the way to go. If you want to make it next level, find a bag that has a dope pattern or reminds you of the person you are building for. Nothing says “You’re my friend and cancer sucks” more than a bag that reflects its new carrier. Naturally my mom found one for me that kind of looks cheetah print-ish. It has a dope front zipper pocket and sturdy straps, with the option to add a larger strap if you like your bag to hang lower.

The next important item for a chemo bag is a nice fuzzy blanket. Bitches love blankets! The nurses always offer me a warmed blanket from their magical blanket warmer thingy, but since I am in menopause I have been steering clear of those since I don’t want to trigger a hot flash. I also have my own blanket which someone gifted me and is insanely soft and fluffy and pastel tie-dye! I get lots of compliments on it. That is my other pro tip: buy your cancer friend nice things. Compliments are so nice to get from strangers while you are getting treatment. Your life sucks and when someone says they like your things, it makes you feel a little better, even for a second. Or maybe I am vain and I am the only one that feels that way. Whatever. I like it when people admire my blanket.

Now let’s get your friend a smaller bag to put into the bigger bag that can house other essentials. Organization is key here, folks! Inside of my make-up looking bag, I have everything I might need in an emergency. The definition of emergency kind of varies. Regardless, one must be prepared. I have an eye mask for emergency naps (thanks Benadryl!); queasy pops, tummy drops, and gin gins candies to combat nausea and bad tastes; dry mouth spray; kleenex; hand sanitizer; chapstick; lotion; tea; and an aromatherapy stick. Sniff sniff!

If your friend is anything like me, they need decor to amp up the ambiance in their chemo pod and impress the nurses. A friend gifted me some watermelon lights which have been perfect for my IV pole and I bought a “crying is cool” banner on Etsy. We love a conversation starter and making our spaces feel less dreary. I’ve heard from other nurses that past patients have decorated their IV poles for the holidays or put goldfish stickers on their fluid bags to make things more festive and less scary. Decoration is not for everyone, but something to consider while building your bag.

Of course I have some emergency snacks. Sometimes between the blood draws and waiting to see my oncologist I get hangry. I don’t get access to the chemo snacks until I am in my pod, so you have to come prepared. Currently I have some sweet potato chips, a brown sugar oatmeal, and some chickpea vegan white cheddar snacks. You never know when hunger will strike!

Finally, I have a very organized cancer specific planner. It is called a Canplan. I am not going to lie, I haven’t used it since I started my treatment and that is partially because I have been really lucky with my symptoms and treatment. I remember that during my mom’s treatment we needed to track everything. She was really out of it and relied heavily on documenting when she was taking meds, how she was feeling, symptoms and side effects, etc. at all times. I mean I have to take my temperature several times a day to monitor for fever and signs of infection, but my only med I am on right now is anxiety, so there isn’t a lot for me to track and my treatments are weekly and not super intense. But I do recommend getting your friend this planner! I think it is super useful and awesome. Don’t forget to include some pens!

I was digging around in my bag and noticed a few miscellaneous items you could pack for your friend. If you know their phone type, a phone charger would be useful. Chemo days can be long and you might be on your phone a lot playing games or something. Maybe laughing at some cancer memes. Who knows. Bring a charger and make sure that the charger is like three feet long. It is nice to have that freedom in your charger. I also had a hat in my bag just in case I wanted something warmer for my head, but I recently took it out since it is getting hotter. I get fucking hot flashes now, and I am more confident walking around the cancer center in my bald state. Feels good, man.

OH! Get your bag some dope key chains! Mine has a yarn pineapple and some rainbow beads that a co-worker made for me and a breast cancer themed key chain. That key chain is the only item I have that I like that indicates I have breast cancer. I just think a lot of the breast cancer pink stuff is overplayed and kind of annoying. That is just me, though.

Other great ideas you could include that are not in mine but people have given me are coloring books and pencils, word puzzles (gotta keep that brain going), cards with affirmations, stuffed animals, notebooks for feelings, vomit bags, and more smaller bags so that you can steal and conceal your stolen snacks.

I am sure some folks would disagree, but I think chemo bags are essential to surviving the day at treatment. My chemo days are not super long, but I would imagine the longer the day, the more important your bag becomes. It also makes you feel like you are going to a sleepover in a way, minus the secret telling and fun. I mean, I have fun at chemo but I realize most folks do not. And sometimes you get handed a shit ton of paperwork or random things between appointments, so it is nice to just house it somewhere so your hands are free to steal pudding.

If you ever need help building a chemo bag, you know where to find me!

Today’s song lyric of the day is brought to you by Harry Styles.

“I don’t want you to get lost
I don’t want you to go broke
I want you

It’s ’cause I love you, babe
In every kind of way
Just a little taste
You know I love you, babe”

– Music For a Sushi Restaurant, Harry Styles