Goodbye

This post is being written by Cara's husband Jeff.

Sadly, Cara passed away at 4:15 am on Friday, April 24 in a room on the Palliative Medicine floor of the Cleveland Clinic. Her mother and I were with her when she passed. I know how many people loved Cara and were following her struggle through this blog, so I want to attempt to provide some closure.

At Cara's previous doctor's appointment, when we received the news that there had been further progression of her cancer and she would be stopping Zykadia and entering an immunotherapy clinical trial, I remember she said to her mother something like, "You know this is probably going to kill me some day, right?" This startled me. Although I knew she was right, I had never heard Cara say this before. Nor had I ever said anything like it to her.

She did not say it meaning that she expected to die soon. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But maybe a part of her sensed something.

After that appointment, Cara went back on supplemental oxygen for the first time in over a year. Considering how close to death she came around Thanksgiving of 2013, it's really remarkable that she was able to do so well for so long. It's a real credit to the doctors and scientists working in the fight against this horrible disease. Cara was prescribed 2 liters/minute of oxygen. We were set up with a condenser to use at home and tall oxygen tanks that could be wheeled around for use outside of the home. Cara began a draft of a post here that she never finished writing, although she did post her Photoshopped image and caption to her Facebook. The unfinished draft went as follows:

As long as I have to wheel around 5-liter oxygen tanks, I ought to be able to put them on a "corn popper". 

I feel like that's what I have when I'm pushing it around, the only things that are missing are the brightly colored plastic wheels, balls, and the sound.

On Sunday, April 12, Cara and I went to an organizational meeting for the Breathe Deep Cleveland charity walk/run that she had taken the initiative in founding. It was a great meeting; we all shared a lot of ideas and made plans for a wonderful event. Cara talked about how she and one of the other women could go around to businesses to solicit donations for the event, and Cara said it might help get donations if she had her oxygen with her. She might as well take advantage of it while she could, was the thought, since we were very hopeful that the upcoming clinical trial would once more take away the need for supplemental oxygen.

Cara wanted to have the small, portable tanks that could be worn over the shoulder so it would be easier for her to do things outside the house. She needed to be evaluated by Home Health Care before getting this, because the small portable tanks use a pulsed rather than continuous flow and it has to be verified that the patient's oxygen levels can still be maintained adequately, so I called to set up an appointment. She did not want to take time off from work (I know, isn't it crazy that she was still working 30 hours/week??), and Fridays were the only days she wasn't working, so I ended up having to schedule the appointment for the Friday of the next week - that is, Friday, April 24 - at 9:30 am.

In the days after that Breathe Deep organizational meeting, Cara began to have a little more difficulty breathing. She dialed up the oxygen flow she was receiving, especially when she was going up the stairs to our residence on the second floor of a house. On Thursday the 16th, I picked her up from work as usual. When we got home, she really, really struggled going up the stairs.

Friday was her day off, and she stayed home all day. By Saturday, it was exhausting for her to just walk between rooms of our house. We decided that we really needed to go to the hospital. When it was time to go, she said that she couldn't do it; it was too hard. I told her that that was all the more reason we did need to go. Finally, we went. It was a horrible struggle for her just to go down the stairs.

We went to the ER at about 6:30 pm and ended up spending the whole evening there. Cara was given a CT scan and had blood work done. After she messaged her oncologist, he called me and told me he had looked at the CT scan at home and didn't see a dramatic difference from the one of a week and a half prior. He also noticed that her white blood cell counts were very elevated. He said it would be unusual for cancer to change so much in such a short time to explain why she was suddenly having so much trouble breathing, so he suspected she might have an infection such as pneumonia.

Cara was taken to the ICU, and began receiving antibiotics in the hopes that it was an infection. The next day, Sunday, her mother came up from Columbus to join us.

The days that followed are something of a blur. Remarkably in retrospect, for the first couple of days after going into the ICU, Cara began to feel better. She was having less trouble breathing, and the oxygen flow she was receiving was dropped from 12 to 10, to 8, to 6. The antibiotics, it seemed, were working. Who knows the actual reason for this apparent improvement - maybe there really was an infection, but it was only on top of the also significant cancer growth - or maybe receiving adequate oxygen after having not done so for several days was the sole cause. But by midweek, Cara started to feel worse again. Doctors said it no longer looked like an infection. Things now began to look grim, because that clinical trial that had sounded so promising would certainly not enroll someone so sick as Cara (and plus, as her doctor explained, immunotherapy takes a lot longer to cause significant improvement than ALK inhibitors do, so it wouldn't have been a good option anyway), and there wasn't really anything else left that would turn things around, because every treatment normally given for her cancer had already failed.

We all became aware that Cara was dying, for real this time. We didn't know when, but we knew that her days on this Earth were numbered. She wanted to be able to see her home and our cats again before she went. There was talk of getting her home. First, she was moved out of the ICU (she hated it there) and to the Palliative Medicine floor. We thought that, because the worsening of her condition had accelerated after she stopped Zykadia, it might help her some to go back to taking the oral chemo. Maybe this would cause a temporary improvement in her breathing and let her get to a stable enough condition where she could safely go home and then live her last days or weeks in a comfortable environment. (Maybe, I hoped against hope, it would cause enough improvement that we could then try something else and extend her life even more. I knew this was unlikely, but I still didn't want to give up.)

It's all so surreal looking back on it. On Thursday, I went to see Cara in the morning, then went to a meeting at work (I work in a research lab at the Clinic, just a few minutes' walk from Cara's room). There I told one of my coworkers about what was going on, and she was very shocked and saddened. She is a Korean woman who was pretty new to Cleveland, and once, a few months ago, Cara and I had taken her to the West Side Market and then lunch at a Korean restaurant. She said that Cara had seemed to strong when she met her. After the meeting, I spent much of the rest of the day at Cara's room, but also did a little more work in the afternoon. That afternoon, Cara restarted Zykadia. She noticed that she only had a few days of pills left, so late in the afternoon I called in a refill of the prescription. At about 7 pm, her mother and I left her to pick up a few things from our house and to pick up pizza for dinner (she wanted to have Papa John's). At that point in time, she seemed to be doing okay enough that we felt comfortable leaving her alone for an hour.

Cara did get to enjoy her pizza. I sat in a chair next to her bed and watched the second half of the Cavs game as they took a 3-0 series lead over Boston. But later that evening, things took a dramatic turn for the worse. A nasal cannula was no longer keeping Cara's oxygen levels high enough, even at 12 liters/minute, and she had to be given a face mask, which she did not like. Her breathing and heart rate threatened to spiral out of control, so she was given more potent narcotics in her IV. This calmed her down, but as nurses periodically checked her oxygen levels, I noticed the levels were becoming inexorably lower even with the face mask. She had already decided that she did not want to be intubated, knowing that this would leave her unable to speak and that, with the way things were going, the intubation would be permanent.

My parents were planning to come up from Columbus on Saturday. At about 1 am, I called and told them she was getting worse and they had better come up that morning instead. She was in a calm enough state that I still guessed she'd make it through the night, although I was by no means certain.

It was not to be. At 4:15 she was gone.

At the same time that the nurse informed us of the obvious (for Cara's heavy, labored breaths had suddenly become very slow and irregular and then ceased completely), my phone's text message notification chime sounded twice. Startled, I looked at the phone. "What was that?" her mother asked. I had received two text messages from my mother. Both messages were blank. Was Cara's spirit trying to communicate with us at the moment she left the world? My mother later showed me that she had indeed sent the messages at 4:15, to tell me that she and my father were leaving Columbus. I don't know what sort of glitch caused the messages to appear blank on my phone (and this wasn't the first time it had happened with a message from my mother), but in any case, it was quite an uncanny coincidence that she sent the messages at that very moment. In a way, it was poetic.

That morning after we had returned home, my mother said she thought she heard a knock at the front door. This was odd, but I went down to check. A man from the Cleveland Clinic said he was here for Ms. Cara McManus.

I suddenly remembered the appointment to evaluate her for personal oxygen tanks. All I could do was to say, "She passed away this morning." He was shocked and offered his deepest condolences.

I miss Cara tremendously, and I am still processing the shock of what happened. Less than three weeks ago, we were optimistically looking forward to a new clinical trial that might extend her life for months or even years. Six days ago, we were in the ICU but thought she had an infection that was improving and that she could get to the trial after it went away. Three and a half days ago, we knew things were very grim, but still had no clue how soon it would be over. I remember Cara, as she talked about how she wanted to live out her last days in her home in the company of her cats and family members, saying repeatedly that no one had told her anything indicating she had to get her affairs in order at that very moment. Because of this, she felt irritated at how the doctors seemed to be pressuring her into making decisions and answering questions.

This is undoubtedly a depressing post to read. It has not been fun to write, but it was important for me to do it. Let me try to close on a positive note. Cara was such an amazing person who touched so many people's lives, and the outpouring of love and support we've received since she passed have made me all the more aware of how incredible she truly was. Although I had no idea how quickly the end would come, I can also say that, in December 2013, I would have been stunned to learn that she would live as long as she did. I'm so grateful for all the extra time we got to make so many happy memories together. Without the enormous advances in treatment methods that have occurred in recent years, this never would have been possible. We need to increase our efforts to support this research, so that more cases of lung cancer can be detected early and so that some day even those people who do get the grim diagnosis of stage IV lung cancer can reasonably expect to go back to normal healthy life.

Cara was such an inspiration in the way she persevered and lived her life and I will take that inspiration with me for the rest of my life and I know that many others will too. I will close by sharing her obituary, which includes the details of her funeral arrangements. Rest in peace, my sweetheart.

CARA JOY McMANUS (nee Williams), age 36, avid cyclist who courageously battled lung cancer, died April 24, 2015 at the Cleveland Clinic surrounded by her loving family; beloved wife of Jeffrey; loving daughter of Joyce Williams and Trent Wyckoff; devoted granddaughter of Margie and the late Fred Lon Williams, Jr.; cherished niece of Jean Williams, Janet Hassfeld, Jeri Kinney and the late Joan Williams and William Bryant; treasured daughter-in-law of John and Pamela (nee Harrison) McManus; dearest sister-in-law of Jennifer and Christopher McManus; fond niece to many aunts and uncles on Jeffrey’s side of the family; dear cousin and friend of many. Cara is also survived by her feline companions Mitters and Eponine.

Cara was born and raised in Columbus, Ohio. From childhood, she was a creative and artistic person with a keen sense of curiosity about the world around her. At Dublin Scioto High School, Cara was a proud member of the marching band in which she played the clarinet, an instrument she continued to enjoy playing into adulthood. In 2006, Cara and Jeff’s lives changed forever when the two, having originally become friends after meeting via an online game, fell in love and began a long distance relationship. After meeting Jeff, Cara began to ride a bicycle, and this sparked a life-long passion in her. Cara moved to Cleveland to be closer to Jeff in 2008; the two became engaged in 2010 and married in June 2011. In Cleveland, she became very active in the cycling community. Just weeks before being diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer in August of 2013, Cara completed a two-day, 150-mile MS charity bike tour. Throughout her battle with cancer, Cara’s strength, determination and courage shone through all the more brightly. She continued to show her numerous talents in hobbies such as cooking and drawing, continued to work diligently as a test proctor at Case Western Reserve University, and continued to light up the lives of all those around her with her wit and spirit. She also was instrumental in founding the Breathe Deep Cleveland lung cancer charity walk/run, an event she continued to work on into the last weeks of her life. Cara will be remembered most as a determined, passionate, courageous and effervescent woman who brought great joy to everyone who was lucky enough to know her.

In lieu of flowers contributions may be made in Cara’s memory to Breathe Deep Cleveland, lungevity.org/Cleveland.

Celebration of Life Service Wednesday, April 29, 2015 at 10 AM at THE DeJOHN-FLYNN-MYLOTT FUNERAL HOME OF SOUTH EUCLID, 4600 MAYFIELD RD. (just east of Green Rd.). Graveside Service will take place at Union Cemetery in Columbus, OH at 2:45 PM on WEDNESDAY. Family will receive friends to pay tribute to and celebrate the life of Cara at the FUNERAL HOME TUESDAY 3-5 and 6-8 PM.

Told Ya.

Yeah, so the scans weren't so great. Not like "Oh my god, your lungs are going to explode" but more like my lungs looked "different" and of course, my liver continues to be an asshole.

So yeah, whatever. I actually felt better after hearing the bad news because I knew I felt crappy. It wasn't a surprise, really. Plus...The next words out of the mouth of my oncolgist were:

"I have a plan..."

And yeah, I might've pictured him as Willy Wonka after he said this, only because he was really pretty psyched about this plan - and not like a "OMG THIS WILL TOTALLY WORK FOR YOU" but if you've ever seen a scientist get excited about the way stuff works, the sort of pure whimsy and excitement that you hear in their voice or see in their faces... Yeah, like that.

The (sort of) bummer is that I'm back on oxygen. I say sort of, because I actually feel a LOT better on it. When I got home and slowly crept up the meager amount of stairs to my house/apartment I threw myself on the couch (walking past the condenser) and gasped "Turn it on, please" which somehow magically my mother understood - flipped the switch and handed me the tubes. Within a minute, I could breathe without gasping. An hour or so? I stopped coughing. It's supposed to be for when I'm moving around but they didn't bring me any portable canisters - but I want to go to Target tomorrow so I might have to be that jerk that takes a motorized cart and drags a canister the size of an adult leg behind me. Who knows.

It's not really a negative, though. Yeah, the plastic tube across my face certainly is a kind of beacon that hey, there's something wrong with me. People will probably make assumptions, whatever. Why isn't it a negative? Let's think about this. It makes me feel better. And let's be honest, if wearing neon orange boyshorts in public makes you feel better, do it (unless it breaks some sort of law where you live). No, that's a bad comparison to make. Oxygen = good. Whether I get it straight from the air around me or from a condenser or tank, it's a good thing. I will deal. I'm not even the slightest bit bothered by it, honestly.

So the fact that the medication wasn't doing a whole lot but making me throw up, guess what? I don't have to take it anymore!

I'm in the paperwork phase of another clinical trial (remember that plan?) for some promising Immunotherapy stuff. I'm serious when I say my doc was excited about it. I kind of hoped he would have made some crazy gesture with his arms and would have said "Just look what SCIENCE can DOOOOOO!"

Muhahahahaha!! (Ignore the gun in Boris' hand)

So yeah, we wait. That's okay. In the meantime I will breathe and the world will keep on turning!

I can't even.

I don't want to crap all over my last post, which was pretty sunshine-y but real talk?

I don't feel good. I have scans tomorrow and I don't feel good about it at all. The one thing that keeps me from sinking into a pit of bottomless despair is that I know there are other things we can do.

I've felt kinda crappy for a couple of weeks, ever since I got back from Miami Beach, really. I've never wanted to have a cold so badly in my life. I'm coughing every so often. When I cough I lose my breath. I'm short of breath going up stairs. I don't know what would happen if I rode a bike. I don't have a fever, I just feel lousy.

I'm anxious. I'm scared every night that I take my chemotherapy drug that I'm going to wake up the next morning vomiting. I'm terrified that I'll have to either go to work sick, or call in. I hate being a burden on anyone, much less an employer. I know, I know.

It's not my fault.

You can tell me that until you're blue in the face and it doesn't matter, though. In addition to my anti-nausea pre-meds, I've been taking Xanax nightly to deal with this creeping fear/anxiety. I don't like letting people down. I hate it when people think I'm doing a second rate job (being social, being a friend, writing e-mails/texts, whatever) on something on purpose.

I know 99% of people understand this. I'm not vaguely calling anyone out, I'm just saying what I'm saying to say it. So it can be said. I said it, get it?

Stay with me...

Positives? Okay, sure. Bone pain has been less, overall. I have discomfort in my shoulder the most lately, but a warm heating pad helps. So, there's that - but do you know what makes me SO ANGRY? Earlier, I couldn't really walk any distance because my legs hurt. Now I could probably walk to the drugstore and whatnot but I'm so tired/short of breath that it's a chore. I would kindly like my body to stop screwing with me. 

I think if it were a sentient being, Cancer would unabashedly admit that it enjoys making people miserable. It would laugh and laugh as I cried and cried. Cancer would find my coughing HILARIOUS.  

See what I did there?

Seriously, I hate you Cancer. I wish you'd die (and not take me with you).

So I would say yeah, I've got "scanxiety". I have scanxiety on steroids. I have mega-scanxiety. I want to know, but I don't want to know. If it's working and I've just got a cold or whatever, let's fix that. If Zykadia is a big fat failure, let's move on and not dwell too much on what went wrong (at least I don't want to dwell). 

I hope that everyone is kind to me tomorrow, and if there's bad or less than good news to give - let's focus more on what's next and let's get stuff done - that's what I want to do. I can get better. I've done it before, it's just about trying another key or another piece of the puzzle. 

Today though, seriously...It's hard to be happy. I can't.

Good Morning, Sunshine...

There's something about sunshine that makes me a little giddy. The warm blanket hug of sunshine on my face and hair, the way a fuzzy kitty's head smells after she's been basking in the window for a little while... It's good stuff.

Yeah, it's not very warm yet. If I told you that today's high was going to be around 50, many of you would probably shiver out of empathy - 50 isn't that bad when it comes to Cleveland, not after weeks and weeks of sub-zero temperatures anyway.

My Brother-in-Law is coming to visit us tomorrow, and we're going to see a Cavaliers game with him. It should be pretty good! I'm not interested in basketball in the slightest unless it's the Cavs, and I'm seeing it in person. Snobby, huh? Nah, I just think watching a bunch of athletes running to and fro on a TV screen is boring.

Last year, I made a March Madness bracket and busted it on the first day. Don't care.

Spring is definitely coming - I'm anxious to rip the plastic off of all our windows and mop all the floors/walls/everything so that our house smells like sunshine and Murphy's Oil Soap. I don't think we're at that point though, I'm afraid. Not quite. I really miss the outdoors, though. I miss the smell of sunscreen, I miss eating ice cream outside with bare shoulders. I miss a lot of weird things, but you know exactly what I'm talking about because I bet you've experienced and enjoyed a lot of these same things.

You know that feel, bro. You know.

I can't believe we're less than two months away from the Breathe Deep CLE event, it's surreal. I have such high hopes for this thing. We have 15 people signed up and a good chunk of money raised already but we need more. I want this thing to be EPIC. I know it has the potential to be - if you think about how many people are impacted by lung cancer in some way - or hey, even cancer in general... Come give us a shout out. Walk a few miles (you can borrow my shoes, if you want!) and eat a bagel. Hug someone, ask questions, learn things. It'll be fun. My hopes are so, so high.

Remember what happens on this episode of Saved by the Bell? Well don't worry, I'm not going to go on a speed bender and break down in Mark Paul Gosselar's arms (unless he's available?). I'm just a little scared. I'm afraid of failure. I'm reminded of a time when I had a birthday party and only two people came. One of those people stole some of my presents. Why was I friends with her, again? Never mind.

It has to succeed, it just has to. I'm not saying this because my name is all over it - I just want people to come out, take a walk, and learn things. Understand what a huge impact lung cancer has on us all.

There was a time in my life when I liked sweets and candies and overall horribly bad, processed foods on the regular. No, seriously. A "fancy" dinner for me used to be frozen peas, Shake & Bake pork chops, and instant mashed potatoes.

My favorite lunch was Bagel Bites. Ew, right? I did crave them with one of my treatments, but it was a one time thing. They're cardboard saucers with "cheese" and some horrible sauce. If you aren't familiar, be glad.

My point anyway, was that I also used to hoard Cadbury Creme Eggs. I hadn't had one in ages, so I decided to get one. Hello terrible chocolate with gritty sugar filling! I'm kind of sad I hate them now, but in a way, I'm really not. I don't need that stuff.

My love for marshmallow eggs will never die, though. I'll probably buy one this weekend. Maybe. I think we're going to have a "traditional" Easter dinner this Sunday, with deviled eggs and ham and that sort of thing. In other words, leftovers forever!

Truth is the best medicine?

Yes, this is actually a photo of my pills I lined up on my messenger bag right before I took them. No, they don't actually say "This will make you vomit" but maybe they should, right?

I met someone online - another ALK+ NSCLC person who is on Zykadia right now. We shared side effects and ended up being pretty damn similar. In one message the guy asked me, "Do the stomach cramps ever stop?" I wasn't having them at the time, but I know how he feels.

I'm still unsure of whether I have a cold or just trouble breathing. I e-mailed my nurse. I have scans in a week anyway. I still don't like food very much and for me? That's just wrong.

Past Tense

Nil sa saol seo ach ceo,
Is ni bheimid beo,
ach seal beag gearr.

Lyrics (Gaelic) from Aisling's Song, The Secret of Kells

I caught myself speaking about bicycling in the past tense today, and it really bothered me. I was talking to a friend about ways to grab quick carbs and calories and I linked her to some energy cubes and told her;

"I used to use these on all of my rides."

Then I thought, what is this "used to" BS, huh? I can still ride. I will still ride. I do that sort of thing all the time. I'm like the Browns, I feel like I'm in a "rebuilding season" right now. First of all, I've been sleeping - lots. The only thing I can figure is that there's some sort of epic battle going on inside of me. (At least, that's what I hope)

No more saying "when I used to ride".

I also tend to split my life into BC and AD eras, but not how you'd think.

BC = Before cancer
AD = After diagnosis

That's sort of how things are described by me, when I'm speaking about things in the past tense. I don't think that's unhealthy or anything, it is what it is. On the day I was diagnosed it was like a meteor struck the earth and my surroundings, absolutely everything changed and will never, ever be the same again.

We're now officially "gearing up" for this 5k walk/run in Cleveland in June!! Please sign up, make and/or join teams and you'll be in for quite a treat! You can also donate to me directly, if you don't feel like participating.

And now, for my tangent of the day: Have you ever heard of Fordite or Detroit Agate? I want a piece of Fordite jewelry. I'm going to buy this one in a week if it's still there. From the pendant's page:

"Also known as Detroit or Motor Agate. Originally, Detroit auto manufacturers would tow cars on a rail and pallet system through the paint booths. Over time, the paint over spray would accumulate on the rails and skids, requiring the crews to remove the accumulated paint from time to time to avoid mechanical failure of the system. Some of the workers got the bright idea of taking some of this material home to cut and polish for jewelry. And so was born Fordite!

Cars are no longer painted this way, and haven't been since the 80's. Fordite is a generic term that refers to any chunk of accumulated over-spray paint. All Fordite is, by definition, a recycled use product.

The Fordite material used in this pendant was sourced from Detroit and is from the Ford assembly plant in Wayne, MI."

I have seriously put in in and taken it out of my cart 50 times today. I don't need it, so I'm not buying it. Yet. 

Breathe Deep, Cleveland!

I've been talking off and on about hoping to have some sort of event in Cleveland to raise funds for lung cancer research. After nearly a year of planning, I'm happy to say that our dream has been realized, and that Cleveland will have a 5k Fun Walk/Run to raise awareness and funds for lung cancer research!!

The website is a GO! 

When: June 27th, 2015
Where: Edgewater Park

Event Page
Event Facebook Page
Event Twitter
My Donation Page

I know a lot of people are doing a lot of different fundraising things, but I ask you to send a dollar or two my way. My goal is steep - and if I meet it I'm going to go even higher. Lauren Hill has inspired me to raise as much as I can for lung cancer research. If you don't know of her story, click here. She has raised over one million dollars toward cancer research. If we're being honest, I want to do the same. If you know someone with deep pockets, send them to my donation page!

Honestly, though...I'd be happier if a lot of people donated a little - instead of one or two people donating a lot, but I'll take it all.

MOVING ON!

I had a weird dream last night. I blame pain medication.

I was abducted. I don't know if it was by humans or aliens, but they appeared to be human. They took me to a place that seemed to be some hippy-dippy "New Age" healing center. They gave me radiation therapy with gemstones that were unavailable to anyone else. I was told I could choose one person to give the knowledge to, and enough gemstones to start the process of developing more stones.

I chose my oncologist. When I returned home (I got the feeling I never left Earth but who knows - this was a dream after all) I was scanned and was cancer free. Cool, huh?

Anyway, I did a bad, bad thing yesterday. I didn't take my chemotherapy meds. Intentionally.

Why? I really didn't want to throw up this morning. The nausea medicine I was given to take in place of Zofran at night before Zykadia actually does work, about 75% of the time. The other 25% I'm very sick for 10-45 minutes. I take medicine to help me stop throwing up, and then I fall asleep. I'm not entirely sure, but I think I slept most of the day yesterday.

Yes, I'll take them tonight and again the next night and so on. But honestly, it's starting to affect my job a little bit. If it's working, I will pick this treatment over my schedule - barfing or no barfing.

I'm a little afraid to be weighed again. I feel like I at least get one good meal in a day - with some snacking here and there... But sometimes I don't. Lots of times, it's completely my fault. I have frozen fruit in my freezer. I could make smoothies. My goal is to work on that.

Back in the saddle...Again!

I've been so lucky to have caught several days of good weather in the past couple of weeks! Miami Beach was wonderful (even on the "cold" day) and then we saw family in Columbus last weekend for St. Pat's, and then it was pretty decent back home for a day.

I got to go on a short bike ride yesterday, and that was good. It was the first time I'd been on my bike since last fall. It honestly felt a little weird. In Miami Beach I'd ridden a small step-through bike that seemed a lot lower to the ground. Honestly, my seat was probably too low. Anyway, it was weird - but it was good to ride again - even if the ride got cut short (long story!!).

Am I doing this correctly?

I've got my eye on a recumbent tricycle and I hope to test drive it very soon. Riding yesterday wasn't painful - just...weird. My biggest concern was lifting my leg over the seat and crossbar on the dismount. That's a tricky thing right now, and I was careful not to trip over my own bike or hurt my leg any more than it hurts.

My time on the bike was pretty good. I didn't feel any pain in my hips or legs. I did brake a little hard at my first stop light and that scared me. The seat post is a little high, but it can be fixed.

Meanwhile, I've been having some anxiety recently about my health. I'll have a scan in a little less than a month, but I'm fearful that the medicine I'm on isn't working. Xanax helps to allay this fear, which is good.

Since I got back from Florida I've had a bit of a cough (planes are vessels for disease, I know). I am out of breath after going up stairs while carrying something (could be attributable to a cold). I can take deep breaths, I can speak normally. I'm not wheezing, I'm not coughing up blood. I don't have a fever. Surprisingly, I wasn't particularly out of breath after riding my bike.

That, obviously... Is because bicycles are magical.

When I sit in a funny position, my leg hurts more (again, makes sense). Lots of this stuff is probably obvious, and my rational brain knows this.

Fire = HOT!

But my irrational brain thinks of course, that this is the pulmonocalypse and I'm deathly ill. In my defense, that's happened before. I will never not be afraid of things getting worse, or coming back, or spreading... No matter what happens. I could be disease free and would have a conniption if I ever felt short of breath. The fear will never go away.

I did get a new medicine to manage nausea that seems to work pretty well, most of the time. What usually ends up happening is that I'll wake up nauseated and then will be sick for an hour or so - during which time I take another medication (anti-emetic) which works but makes me sleepy. Cue me falling asleep on the bed with a constant stream of King of the Hill going on in the background. I can sleep through half a season, sometimes. Later on in the day I might feel human if I eat something. Steak usually does the trick, honestly. I have been known to eat a steak with nothing else - just to get the protein and calories. Also, steak rules.

One thing about Bristol Myers Squibb...They sure know how to cook a steak.

Tonight I'll attempt to eat some corned beef - it sounds good so that's definitely a start! With yesterday's dinner I was pickier than my Brother-in-Law... I got a sandwich at Melt and picked off most of the green stuff, took the shrimp off of the bread and just ate the shrimp. I may have eaten a few pieces of the bread, but it wasn't much of it. I feel like I'm getting enough to eat, I think... Not sure if that's my brain telling me I don't want food because I'm satiated - or my brain falsely telling me I don't want or need any more.

The Breathe Deep Cleveland 5k walk/run will have a website up later this week. I believe it might be live now, but don't want to tell you to sign up for anything yet in case it might still be buggy (my contact at LUNGevity hasn't announced that the page is up, so I'll wait to post about it).

Today I'm giving you homework. It's time to make an upbeat playlist for those gloomy days. In comments, please leave your favorite upbeat song. You can also Tweet me if you'd rather do that, or leave your suggestion in my Facebook comments. Help me out! (Note to Dr. P: Tubthumping is not allowed on the list.)

Om Shimano Pad My Bum...

I have some pretty big dreams for this summer. I promise not to cry too much if I can't achieve them. First of all, I want you to get comfortable - we're going to see if we can't slip you into my brain for a minute. Pardon the worms, and wipe your feet.

My mind is a temple. With worms. A worm temple. Yes.

Listen to this. Don't click till you're ready. This is an investment.

Don't do it if you don't want to, but if you don't listen to at least some of the song, much of this will make zero sense to you. 

If you don't have Spotify, that link probably won't work for you. Try this one instead. I hope you have AdBlock because otherwise it's going to mess with your mojo if you get a Betty Crocker Ad before you get inside my head. Please try to go for the Spotify link, it sounds better. No, I will not help you install Spotify or explain it or anything. If you don't have it and don't want it, go for YouTube. 

Are we good now? 

You sure?

Okay. Press play.

Enjoy the beeping and the booping in the beginning, but once you get to about 0:20 in this song - get ready to spin. This is my legs burning in a fat gear on wide open pavement. 0:58 is the wind and the sun in my face. After that, we're gonna spin some more. We're invincible. Our legs hurt, but it's temporary.

We're in my brain. We're riding a bike, together. You and me, right now - in my brain. 

Know what this song makes me want to do? If you said ride a bike, get out. Of course I want to ride a bike. I have wanted to ride my damn bike since the pain got so bad I couldn't. No. I want to ride in a time trial again. Do I expect to get a medal? No. Not even close. I'd be impressed if my LCPR (lung cancer personal record) was over 11-12 miles an hour. 

But I want to get on my bike and I want to try. I want to rock that TT out and do it proudly. Who cares if I'm not the fastest? I'll probably be the slowest but I'm riding with janky lungs and all sorts of other things. Honestly, this post is probably making my oncologist's toes curl, and not in some Herbal Essences "totally organic experience" sort of way.

I don't know that I'll be able to do a time trial. I don't know if and how much I'll be able to ride at all, honestly. If it's relatively warm and not wet out, I'm going to try - believe me. 

Last weekend my husband and I escaped to Miami Beach and I actually rode a CitiBike for two miles. Those bikes are clunky, awkward and heavy - but they're bikes and I rode one. The only reason we stopped (aside from Miami Beach not being very bike friendly) was that it was 85 degrees out and I was totally not used to riding in that weather. 

I'm hoping my corner of Ohio continues to thaw and I can get back in the saddle soon, if only to see how it feels to ride a bike that doesn't weigh 200 pounds. I'm spoiled, I know. My road bike weighs 23 pounds *snaps spandex*.

So, those dreams. In no particular order, I wanna:

1. Ride in as many Critical Mass rides as I can.

2. Ride in at least one NE Ohio Time Trial.

3. Ride in at least one bike tour.

4. Ride.

5. Ride.

6. Ride.

I don't expect to hit 1000 miles. Who knows if I could even do 100 this summer? Hopefully? I'm not setting any hard numbers. It doesn't matter how far or how fast you go, it's that you're OUTSIDE and you're doing SOMETHING and hopefully, it's fun. That's what I want to do, is put a little fun between my legs this summer.

Perverts.

Don't let it consume you.

I have negative thoughts, but it doesn't mean I believe in them or entertain them. I thought to myself how funny it is that years ago I would call off work for "mental health days" simply because I was being lazy. Now I have days off with nothing to do and I go stir crazy. Blah, blah...Taking life for granted...Yadda, yadda. Nope. But I got a chuckle. Those thoughts are present, and I could dwell on them and let them consume me, but I don't do that. Waste of time. Moving along...

I'm off work today, and spent most of the day resting (read: sleeping). I had back spasms this morning and my leg hurt some. I got a bit overzealous yesterday and unwrapped a rolled up area rug that had been leaning against the wall (vertically) waiting to be put in the dining room. I pushed the dining room table out of the way and once I unwrapped the rug (it was wrapped in plastic) I unrolled it. 

Did I mention I did this "secretly" when my husband was in the shower? Yeah. 

When he was done showering, he asked me why I did it. I know I shouldn't take on such things by myself - but I guess one of the things that bothers me the most is that I can't really do a lot of the things I used to, as far as helping around the house goes.

I feel bad that my husband takes on a lot more than he used to have to. He works so hard all day long and then comes home and works more. I don't feel like I'm contributing like I should be (or could be) and that bugs me - a lot. I used to be able to do dishes, dust, mop... All sorts of things. The mets in my bones sort of make it painful to stand in one place too long. If anything makes me feel bad/terrible, it's this. Once we have our dining room completely together I'm going to call the cleaning ladies I used to use at our old place and start to have them visit us again. They're wonderful women and they were always thorough and kind. 

I do know about Cleaning for a Cause - but I got put on a waiting list over a year ago and didn't hear anything back. Besides, I'm not looking for a handout - I'm looking for a clean house. Don't mistake, our house isn't dirty by any standard. I even joked that I wished it was, then I'd have something to do on my days off (I can push a Swiffer for 5-10 minutes at a time, after all)!! 

Anyway, if you're a cancer patient going through treatment and need some help around the house, check out Cleaning for a Cause. You may have better luck in your city than I did, and it seems like a really good idea. I'll stick with my ladies. 

This Thursday I give winter the finger and head down  to a warmer climate for the weekend. I don't really remember what warm weather feels like, so I thought it'd be a good idea if we went somewhere to remind ourselves. Hopefully I'll feel up to renting a bicycle to explore some, we'll see. I'm looking forward to sunshine and the smell of the ocean. 

Until next time!

Hey, sleepyhead!

This is me, lately. I have been wiped out, and have really enjoyed naps and sleep. This weather hasn't been kind to me, to be honest. My chest tightens and I ache. I walk slower. Foolishly I went out on Sunday without taking any pain medication (my stomach hurt that morning and I didn't want to chance it) and ended up pretty sore after only walking around a store for 20 minutes.

I went home and took pain medication and took a nap for a couple hours. Much better.

Tonight, I have water aerobics and I'm just coming off of a three day stint of feeling absolutely crappy (nausea, etc...) and I still don't feel entirely right so I kind of  just want to take it easy. I really can't tell if this is laziness, or my body just telling me to slow down and take it easy. The idea of running to a car soaking wet from swimming doesn't appeal to me right now - but staying warm in my house, does. This is common sense, right?

Getting out of the pool is a little tricky (mets in leg) so I think I'm dreading that as well. They're tearing down the pool this summer and will have a new pool in a year or so (complete with steps instead of an old "ladder" that is really cement/tile that is built into the wall).

I think for now, I will listen to my body. I feel a need to be home, cuddled and comfortable right now. I will have my days in the sun.

I just wanna fly.

Here. Have an earworm.

When you have cancer you forget that you can also get "sick" as in get a cold, get a stomach bug...

I forget, anyway.

I sort of felt off the past day or so, I have a little cough that doesn't amount to much and my nose has been running for what feels like two years (no, seriously). This morning I woke up early because I had forgotten to do something for work before I left last night so I had to get up and send an e-mail, and I notice my throat hurts and sort of has that yuck factor to it. We'll see, but I'm pretty sure I've got a little cold.

This happened not too long after I left the hospital in November of 2013, too. I'd been in the hospital over two weeks and had undergone a fairly major procedure during that stay. I got a little virus and...

Freaked. Out.

That's when my doctor and the clinical trials nurse I was seeing at the time introduced me to Xanax. I can still remember sitting in the atrium area of the cancer center one late afternoon in tears, when the nurse asked me if I'd ever dealt with anxiety before. I really hadn't - at least, not from any medical standpoint. I've never really been one to hop on any drug bandwagon, so it never really crossed my mind. Cancer is stressful. It makes you worry, so what? You deal.

Except in some ways, I wasn't dealing. I did have issues with anxiety that I was not addressing. I do not mean for this to be a glaring advertisement for Xanax or anything like that, but there have been some times where it has really helped me out. Anxiety medication is not intended to be an escape. It will not make those problems go away - that's important to understand! Sometimes I feel like I'm a broken record because I get a pretty serious feeling of déjà vu when I start to type out the words "ask your doctor" but it's honestly the best thing to do if you're not feeling right, or you have a question about your care and well-being. 

Moving on, I meant to write about something last time and I completely forgot. The topic contains so much content I didn't feel like editing my last entry, but it didn't feel like it warranted its own new post either (maybe it does, who knows?).

I am really afraid to make plans. Two years ago we'd made plans to go see Andrew Bird perform at one of his rare Gezelligheid shows in Chicago - they're shows that are usually performed in cathedrals/churches (video) in only a few cities. They're more intimate shows, and I just love the acoustics in big churches. I'd really wanted to go to one for a long time, so I persuaded my husband to buy tickets for a show in Chicago in December of 2013. When I asked him, I was actually feeling good and figured it'd be a good time. 

I didn't get out of the hospital until just a day or two before the show. I was in no condition to ride in a car that long, or sit at a concert. We didn't go, and I was heartbroken. I really didn't feel like I could, or wanted to ask to go anywhere again. There have been no Gezelligheid shows since.

Now, we have plans to travel in May and June. I'm excited, but I'm horribly pessimistic about it. There isn't a day that goes by where I don't worry about whether I'll be able to go or not, or who will go if I can't, or... Well, the list goes on. I have told my husband that if for some reason I'm unable to go on these trips, he should still go - and he does not agree with me. Go. Go. 

Take the damn trip, you!

I really should just think positive about it - just like with everything else... But it's hard. What I kind of want to do, is have a tantrum about it. Dammit, can't I just go on these stupid trips? Cut me a break, here!! Even if I have little to do than be a lazy tourist, I want to be one. I want to go to California. I want to go to Colorado. I have never seen these places before and I hardly see a point in waiting to go. LET ME BE A STUPID TOURIST, OKAY!? (end flailing)

Waiting for what? When is the perfect time to go, really? 

I don't feel like I can make these plans though, or that I deserve to in some way - and I know that's cruel to say (even about myself) because I totally deserve to go on a trip, I don't care if it's 50 miles away or 5000 - I should be able to go. I'm sick of feeling this way.

I'm going to go. Don't mess with me, universe. 

Update, kinda?

We have chemo. It's been such a weird weekend that I truthfully had to go back and see what I'd written about last. What did I do this weekend? Let's see... Oh yeah.

Spoiler Alert: Boo didn't have Oxycodone.

I got a new (but old) prescription filled for Oxycodone on Tuesday. I say old, because I was prescribed Oxycodone when I was first diagnosed and I barely used it. It expired, and I essentially took it back to the pharmacy where I originally got it so they could safely dispose of it. I didn't like Oxycodone, and in lots of ways - I still don't. The pain I was having was immense, however... And this does the job.

Caremark dropped the ball and I had to wait an extra day for their special order pharmacy to deliver my chemotherapy. I didn't get to start it until Saturday night. I take five capsules once a day, at the same time each day (on an empty stomach).

Actual size* of one Zykadia capsule (*lie)

I woke up Sunday morning and didn't feel too bad. My appetite hasn't been spectacular for a while now, so there wasn't a real change. I felt like I needed less pain medication on Sunday, but still took some. I woke up this morning pretty ill, though - as in sudden onset. My husband had a morning meeting so I asked if he'd swing back and get me a little later so I could get my nausea/vomiting under control.

I relaxed some and even fell asleep, and when I woke he was calling me to ask if I wanted to be picked up. My boss also asked me to make sure I felt well enough to work. I thought about it and still didn't feel right, but could have dealt with it. Then I realized there's a portion of my shift where I would not be able to quickly access a bathroom should I need it, and decided to give myself another day to adjust to the medication. More sleep. Sleep has been nice. I kind of wish I could do it more.

So that's it for now, just hanging in there. I'm sort of tired of winter, I'm sure Boston is more than I am. Can I have sunshine now, please?

I am trying not to post on Facebook much. I realize it probably looks like whining/complaining so I've been hiding from social media overall. I'm pretty happy. I wish I wanted to eat more, but I'm hoping that gets better soon. I wish marijuana was legal in Ohio - I'd love to try some High-CBD edible (low psychoactive - I have had Marinol and I haaaaaaaaated it). Get your heads out of your asses, Ohio. Weed could actually help some people.

Just the basic facts, can you show me where it hurts?

Come on, now

I hear you're feeling down

Well, I can ease your pain

And get you on your feet again...

-Pink Floyd, Comfortably Numb

There's something a little freeing about a bad diagnosis.

When I stopped the clinical trial, pain came. My right hip started to hurt again. My legs got stiff. Recently, my shoulder started to ache and make my neck stiff. I blamed the cold air, anxiety about the lack of current treatment... But you can't diagnose yourself.

Listen to your body - even if you're afraid of what it's telling you. I have such a good oncology team and I can communicate with them as needed. I mentioned the pain, and my doctor wanted to get a bone scan. The scan turned up additional spots on each thigh bone, and my shoulder area.

When you can't have a cure, answers/explanations are the next best thing - for me, anyway. So that's why my shoulder hurts. That's why my legs have felt weaker. An answer, even one that could have really been a lot better, feels like a weight lifted. I'm going to try a new (to me) medication that is another ALK inhibitor (Zykadia) and see if that works. It looks like radiation will probably be on the menu, soon.

I'm destined to be zapped, hooray!  I mean that hooray seriously - I've responded well to radiation in the past.

I've been ridiculously sad lately. I called off twice last week because of the pain. I contorted myself in odd positions and plied myself with pain meds and trash television to take my mind off of it. No matter how sad I get sometimes though, I choose to live. We will try and try again.

No news isn't always good news, and bad news isn't always as horrible as it seems - sometimes it just changes your path.

Never give up. Never surrender.

The Chemo Monster

Today I would like you introduce you to my liver. 

That's right, that's my dirty pig of a liver - gobbling up chemo but not really getting any better. Dirty piggy liver, it eats it up and...Nothing. I had a CT scan, and yesterday was the first day an oncologist would not feign a toothy grin. Truth be told, I appreciate that. Battling cancer isn't all sunshine and roses. Most anyone who pens a blog and says it's been easy or only tell you the good parts is hiding something - maybe for your sake, or maybe for theirs. 

My liver hasn't wanted to cooperate for a really long time - the best response I had was on Alectinib... And even then there was slight progression. When I stopped Alectinib there was a lot of progression and that was what led me to go to traditional chemo (which didn't work on the liver either). 

I'm numb right now, and I'm annoyed. I'm not mad at my doctor - he's doing everything he can. In a way he almost seemed as pissed off/confused as me. I also think he and my nurse expected me to burst into tears. Not going to happen. I had my cancer cry when I was diagnosed...I still get upset but I'm not going to get discouraged. 

Right now, I'm in a little pain. I don't know if it's because it's cold or if it's the cancer. I sent an email to my nurse. I hope to be on a new drug next week. Until then, I wish I could just sleep. I really, really want to see some improvement/control in my liver. Please let Zykadia work. 

Fighting the Good Fight

Today we visited the Radiation Oncologist to discuss Thursday's MRI. On the day of the scan itself, all we knew was that there were new spots (worms, except not really - it's cancer!) on the brain. We found out that the spots are "teeny tiny" and that they're not an immediate concern, considering I am on treatment for the lung and other mets (bone and liver) via chemotherapy.

We're giving copies of the MRI to my current oncologist to see what he thinks. Right now, the verdict is that the brain metastases are so minor and non threatening at this point, that the Radiation Oncologist wants to follow up in two months and see if anything has grown. My guess (as well as the doctor's) is that the liver is a greater risk/threat and should be stabilized/treated before we'd do anything for the brain. I'm excited for next week's scans to see what has happened. All I know is that overall (aside from the occasional nausea/pukefest) I'm feeling pretty good!

There was a time before I started this trial where I wondered if I'd ever know what it was like to not feel pain again. After two infusions and an adjustment in my pain medications, I started to feel better. Now, I'm exercising and am able to walk a lot more. Today, we walked quite a distance within the hospital and I walked with my husband to the parking garage, instead of having him pick me up. Right now I feel like I've got a little cold or something, because I'm sniffling a lot and it's been a little harder to breathe, but it doesn't feel like it's in my lungs. My O2 saturation is 99/100 and I don't have a fever at all. I'm treating that and just relaxing today.

I honestly expected the worst, today. It's easy to be pessimistic when you've been diagnosed with lung cancer only a day after a routine office visit. Nowadays, I prepare myself for the worst before every visit. I don't think of it as being negative, I think of it as being realistic. Today was a bit of good news, in my mind. Even if radiation is in my future, I feel like I know what to expect. I know if I get radiation, it's possible (if not likely, depending on the type of treatment) that I'll lose my hair. Big deal. All I really want to do is live - and if I have to deal with unpleasantries to survive, then that's what I have to do.

Either you accept that it's truly going to be a battle, or you don't. There really is no middle ground.

Just an ordinary day...For once.

I almost don't want to jinx this, but this is probably the best couple of days following chemotherapy I've had during this trial.

On the evening after treatment I normally have aching legs that feel like growing pains (remember those?). Friday night? No aching at all. The following days usually have me sluggish and nauseated, and I've had none of that. In fact, I spent a good portion of the afternoon straightening up my house. I went shopping in the evening and walked a lot...Without pain. I woke up this morning feeling fine, and ate a normal breakfast with no nausea.

I've had some headaches lately and was actually a little worried, but I finally got to opening the nasal spray the doctor prescribed (because I'd been complaining of a runny nose) and it works. I feel MUCH better. Some of you already know this, but I can be a little stubborn with meds. I've had more than one nurse give me the "don't be a hero" speech.

I got some curtains hung in our "office" room (with the help of my mother), and that seems to be helping a lot with the draftiness. I have curtains to hang and will recruit my husband to help with those - probably not today because, football.

I commented to my mom and husband yesterday that for the first time in a while, I didn't feel like I was sick - almost like I don't have cancer at all. I highly doubt that such a miracle has occurred, but it's a good feeling. Don't worry, I'm fully aware of my illness and don't foresee any future meltdowns the next time I have a twinge of pain or if I throw up. I know. 

I got an Amazon Fire Stick for Christmas, and it's really cool! We have a Playstation in the living room to watch Netflix and other things on, but the television in the bedroom doesn't have anything like that. #firstworldproblems

Anyway, now we can watch videos/movies on Amazon Video, Netflix and a bunch of other stuff in the bedroom. I really wanted to have it for the days I feel bad and need to rest. It's really great though! I've tested it out a few times and it was super easy to set up. I promise I'm not a shill for Amazon, I just really like it. 

I explained to one of the doctors on my team that I've been doing strength training. She seemed concerned and insisted that I don't do things like lunges and squats (I don't). I explained that I have been using resistance bands and I even use an exercise ball for crunches (are you having déjà vu yet?). Water aerobics start tomorrow night, so I'm really excited for that. 

My mom just left to go back home, and so it looks like it might just end up being a lazy day for me. I have never ventured into the basement to do laundry, maybe I'll do that.

Health is everything, when it's in stock.

I've been sick most days (but not today, woo!) and I almost entirely blame it on a certain pharmacy that I'll just refer to as Voldemort (in other words, I shall not name them).

Wheehee! I fill prescriptions!

I called them on the the 30th (of December) and asked for a refill for an anti-emetic I have. At the time, I still had 7 pills. They said it wouldn't be immediate because of the holiday, but that the prescription would be filled on Friday. I got a phone call shortly after my treatment on Friday from Voldemort and they said it would be Monday. Frustrating, but okay. My nausea is usually worst the few days after treatment happens, and I was running out of my medicine. We went Monday night to fill the prescription and they still didn't have it. Voldemort said it'd probably be Tuesday or Wednesday.

Guess who didn't have the prescription Wednesday night?

My bad.

Almost every day since I have had treatment, I've thrown up. I have other things which I've been told can act as an anti-nausea/emetic but they take a while to work. Not good in my situation, where I don't start to feel crappy until right before I get sick. 

I work in a small office with one other person, usually a student. In these cases, I am in charge - the assistant I was with yesterday was new and wouldn't have been able to be left alone. I started to feel sick, so I excused myself. I came back, watery eyed and chilled, only to have to leave again 5 minutes later. I panicked, to say the least. My hands were clammy and I was trembling, I didn't know what to do. What if this didn't stop? I didn't tell my assistant I was ill, that's a weird hangup of mine. I don't particularly like to announce that I'm nauseated and will probably have to run out of the room at any second to toss my cookies. 

#breakfastFAIL

I went back and sat down with a cup of water, and proceeded to get very, VERY sleepy. I couldn't keep my eyes open, and all I wanted to do was sleep. Either my assistant was oblivious or very polite. In either case, I was grateful. I decided I should probably eat, and warmed up the diced steak and ramen noodles I'd brough. By the time I had a few bites, I was awake and alert and actually felt pretty good. I made it through the rest of my day with no troubles.

It's Thursday and I still have no medication. I transferred the prescription to another (competing) pharmacy. Voldemort was not apologetic in the least. Whatever, Voldemort. 

The good news is that I started lifting weights again. If you're a cancer patient and miss physical activity, check with your doctors. The consensus at this point is that I can exercise "as tolerated". Because there are metastases in my hip, some exercises I used to do are pretty painful. You can modify things, though.

Instead of sit-ups/crunches on the floor, I do them on an exercise ball with a medicine ball in my hands. 

That way, my pelvis isn't on a hard surface. It takes the pressure off but still lets me get some core training in. When I'm stronger this will be helpful (for you know, biking eventually). 

I use resistance bands for both upper and lower body exercises. I don't have to have a metal bar or heavy weights to contend with in case my strength fails me. One example is a chest press that looks like this:

Again, no barbells. My gym has bands with varying degrees of resistance - you can still get a pretty intense workout! It's good to push yourself, but know your body. You will know what's too much. I still do a bench press with the traditional bar because I'm stubborn and I prefer keeping proper form, which is harder to do with that exercise using resistance bands (for me, anyway). 

Having cancer doesn't necessarily mean an end to physical activity. Check with your doctor to see what he or she thinks you're capable of. I'm starting water aerobics soon, which is an impact-free way to get in some cardiovascular exercise. I used to think that water aerobics were for frail old ladies (sorry, old ladies) but it's actually pretty challenging! I did however manage to do a Zumba class. I only stepped out for one song. I was not in excruciating pain, but felt that I might suffer more soreness than I was willing to contend with had I stayed in the whole time. 

Treatment (Cycle 2, Session 2) is tomorrow. My mom will be here today, I'm happy about that. She takes the bus to see me and has no music to listen to, so I'm giving her an mp3 player when she gets here (loaded with music). 

Happy Thursday!

♬ Come with me, and you'll be, in a world of cancer fascination...♬

Part of what fascinates me about cancer is how it finds creative ways to try and kill you.

For me, it started with a huge blood clot in my calf (deep vein thrombosis). I very nearly shrugged it off as pains from being the Magnificent Cycling Goddess™ that I once was.

We got massages at the end of the first day of a 150 mile bicycle tour in August of 2013, and a friend bragged that he had a masseuse that made it "hurt so good" and I was jealous. I had a lady who wanted to anoint me with oils while she tenderly stroked my arms and legs. I felt cheated. Had someone really gone to town on that leg, something really bad could have happened.

That September, it tried to kill me by flooding my pleura with 3 liters of fluid.

November, it filled my pericardium with fluid. I was in the hospital a very long time.

Maybe it weirds you out that I find this fascinating, but I do. I didn't do anything to cause my cancer that I know of, but something in my body decided it should make those cells and "divide and conquer" my body.

Why'd you do that?

It's weird, right? Sometimes people are more prone to cancer because of their genes, but not in my case. Not in a lot of cases, really. Smoking increases your risk factor for cancer, but think of all the people that smoke for years upon years that never get lung cancer. I have been pushing for my parents to stop smoking for a while now - my Dad has COPD and emphysema and still smokes a lot. 

I know what it feels like to not be able to breathe. I remember getting exhausted walking from my driveway to my old apartment, it's terrible - it HURTS. I don't hold it against them, I understand there's a chemical addiction, and that their brain receives some signal that tells them "Yeah, this feels GREAT!" when they smoke.  I just wish they wouldn't do it. 

It's not like the flu or some other virus or a bacteria. Fun fact? You can simply exist, and get cancer. 

Tell your friends!

Which, by the way - I'm terrified of getting the flu. Yes, I got a flu shot like everyone should... But the main strain of flu that's floating around isn't covered by the most recent vaccine. Well, that's just FANTASTIC - coupled with the fact that I work in an office where there are plenty of hygenically-challenged people coming in. I should buy stock in Bath and Body Works hand sanitizers. It is always amusing to talk to a candidate when I have a face mask on, though.

Wait, why are you running away? Stop!!

I don't always wear one, but when someone comes in and appears to be particularly sniffly/coughing or snotty, it's on. 

I had the ick this weekend after chemotherapy. I started the second cycle of the clinical trial I'm on. I was okay on Saturday for the most part, but got very cold (nope, no fever - in fact my temp was 95.8 on two different thermometers) and sicky. My main issue with vomiting/nausea is that sometimes I can't tell the difference between imminent barfing and "hey, you should probably eat some chicken or something". I felt kind of off this morning and decided to stick to baby cereal but the ick didn't go away so I chanced it and ate some chicken adobo. Guess who feels a little better now?  

One guess. 

Who knows what tomorrow will bring.