Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Red Tide: or, Why I shouldn't have thrown out my tampons
No, this is not the Janet's Blog version of "a very special episode of [insert name of family sitcom here]."
The dry, winter air, combined perhaps with regularly being infused with Avastin (which can cause such side effects) has resulted in some fairly predictable nosebleeds. I learned from She's the Man that tampons are good for absorbing those unexpected nasal flows--or at least that was Amanda Bynes' justification for having them in her bag when she was supposed to be a boy.
Walking around with a rolled up cylinder of toilet paper in my nostril this morning (also last night), it suddenly occurred to me that I could have used my remaining box of Tampax Pearl to help my current situation, and it's a sad waste that I threw them out. Rolling up little wads of toilet paper is ok, but the toilet paper dissolves easily and then I'm left with dissolved bits of toilet paper clinging to my nostril and upper lip once the flow is staunched.
Brian has valiantly searched, but the humidifier--which got packed away for moving--eludes him. I have been using a nasal gel called "Ayr," but it can only reach so far. My cracked, Saharalike sinuses will not be soothed by half-measures and see fit to regularly release the red sea.
Blech.
The dry, winter air, combined perhaps with regularly being infused with Avastin (which can cause such side effects) has resulted in some fairly predictable nosebleeds. I learned from She's the Man that tampons are good for absorbing those unexpected nasal flows--or at least that was Amanda Bynes' justification for having them in her bag when she was supposed to be a boy.
Walking around with a rolled up cylinder of toilet paper in my nostril this morning (also last night), it suddenly occurred to me that I could have used my remaining box of Tampax Pearl to help my current situation, and it's a sad waste that I threw them out. Rolling up little wads of toilet paper is ok, but the toilet paper dissolves easily and then I'm left with dissolved bits of toilet paper clinging to my nostril and upper lip once the flow is staunched.
Brian has valiantly searched, but the humidifier--which got packed away for moving--eludes him. I have been using a nasal gel called "Ayr," but it can only reach so far. My cracked, Saharalike sinuses will not be soothed by half-measures and see fit to regularly release the red sea.
Blech.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
Breast Cancer Barbie
I saw an ad for Pink Ribbon Barbie for the first time at the University of Michigan Cancer Center at my infusion appointment. I was resuming chemotherapy after a two month break, and decided to read a women's magazine promising me fashion advice and information on how to have the best butt ever. It was an older magazine from October, and had a feature on breast cancer prevention (I'd like to point out to people writing breast cancer awareness month articles that whereas regular self-exams and mammograms are key in early detection, they don't do SQUAT to prevent breast cancer...nobody knows how to prevent it, so call your article something else).
In flipping through the magazine, I turned the page and beheld Barbie's smiling face. Her impossible figure is bedecked in a dazzling gown; her hair is flawless. Sales of Pink Ribbon Barbie promise to help support the Komen Foundation.
That's great, and I certainly don't object to Pink Ribbon merchandise, but Barbie as an embassador for breast cancer is a little bit ridiculous. I sat in my infusion chair, bloated, eyebrowless, expecting that my nasty, scraggly hair would begin again to fall out, and praying that chemo wouldn't give me awful fatigue and nausea.
As an alternative to Mattel's Pink Ribbon Barbie (which was perhaps well-meant but not exactly on the mark), you might consider Breast Cancer Barbie.
"While Pink Ribbon™ Barbie® is dressed up for a charity ball in a gorgeous gown and has her flowing blonde hair up in a bouffant hair-do, Real Breast Cancer Barbie is spending the evening alone with her bald head in the toilet."
Breast Cancer Barbie more accurately reflects the experience of breast cancer. She has lost her hair, gained weight from the steroids given to prevent nausea, and has an IV for her regular infusions. She needs a pill case because the chemotherapy makes it difficult for her to remember if she's taken her medications or not.
Bidding is open now! This item is one-of-a-kind. Proceeds will help send the creator of Breast Cancer Barbie, Linnea Johnston, to the 7th Annual Conference for Young Women Affected by Breast Cancer, which is certainly a worthy cause.
Labels: baldness, chemo, eyebrows, infusion, nausea, pink ribbon
Uhm...Response May Be Tardy
For those of you awaiting thank-you notes for shower and wedding gifts, I haven't forgotten. I've just been drastically procrastinating because I read somewhere that brides have a whole YEAR to get around to sending thank-yous.
It looks like my deadline is looming.
I just wanted to assure you that I haven't forgotten, I am still planning to mail out notes, and even though I may not remember exactly what everyone gave me, I loved everything and am very grateful.
Apologetically,
Janet
It looks like my deadline is looming.
I just wanted to assure you that I haven't forgotten, I am still planning to mail out notes, and even though I may not remember exactly what everyone gave me, I loved everything and am very grateful.
Apologetically,
Janet
Labels: wedding
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Anniversary!
For a while I've been marking cancerversaries. November 5: my surgery date. November 3: second bone scan and confirmation of metastatic disease. December: hospital stay. I don't think I will be able to forget and keep from feeling unease when late fall rolls around again, but a new marker of passing time is coming up.
February 25 will be Brian and my first wedding anniversary. I confess that when we got married, I was not entirely convinced that I would be seeing an anniversary, but I am thrilled and relieved to comment that my notion of impending doom was silly and that we will be seeing many more anniversaries.
February 14 will be my first Valentine's Day as a married person. April 13 is the anniversary of our first date (at La Shish...Brian rode his Harley for optimum impact). Spring is considered to be a time of renewal and rebirth. Usually this is represented by bunnies, tulips, and Cadbury eggs. I represent it by throwing off the shackles of my wheelchair, walker, and Fentanyl patches, and by celebrating what is good instead of being mired in what's miserable.
February 25 will be Brian and my first wedding anniversary. I confess that when we got married, I was not entirely convinced that I would be seeing an anniversary, but I am thrilled and relieved to comment that my notion of impending doom was silly and that we will be seeing many more anniversaries.
February 14 will be my first Valentine's Day as a married person. April 13 is the anniversary of our first date (at La Shish...Brian rode his Harley for optimum impact). Spring is considered to be a time of renewal and rebirth. Usually this is represented by bunnies, tulips, and Cadbury eggs. I represent it by throwing off the shackles of my wheelchair, walker, and Fentanyl patches, and by celebrating what is good instead of being mired in what's miserable.
Labels: anniversary, bone scan, Brian, cancerversary, fentanyl, hospital, metastasis, motorcycle, surgery, walker, wedding, wheelchair
