Can I get an "Amen!'?

We all know how much I love bread, right? But when you fry it, and then dip it in sugar... Oh, my. Then I love it even more.



Donuts. They are the 6th food group!

(Also, this may well be my favorite billboard of all time. The one thing I adore more than glazed donuts is a grammatically perfect sign. It is true.)

Amen.

I took one for the team today.

What team, I really don't know.

This is what happens when I use sports metaphors - I take them totally out of context (because, let's face it, when we're talking about me + sports, there is no context), and then I start to doubt myself and my ability to speak and/or write effectively.

But still, I'm pretty confident that I'm using the phrase correctly when I say that I took one for the team today.

You know, if "the team" was the whole of the human race. (Or, at the very least, the parts of that human race whom I love and would rather remain cancer-free.)

I went shopping this afternoon for a new steering wheel cover because my car has this weird melty-steering-wheel-oozing-black-goo thing going on. (Okay, okay. Who's kidding who? This has been happening for about 3 years now. There's a hole in the back of my steering wheel and when it gets anywhere near warm - which happens all the freaking time here on the surface of the sun - it oozes. Black goo. Which gets all over my hands when I drive, not to mention what it did to my favorite white skirt last year. But I digress.) I needed a steering wheel cover for the Neon, and lacking a decent boyfriend who'd take care of these things for me, I took myself down to AutoZone this afternoon to pick one up.

I was pretty surprised at all of the steering wheel cover options. I mean, there are options, people. I had about 20 or so to choose from. It was like buying a pair of black heels, but... not nearly as much fun.

So, after a good 5 minutes of looking at different patterns and fabrics and embroidered versus pleather covers, I made a decision. I pulled out the steering wheel cover of my dreams, flipped it over to get the instructions on how to "install" it (shut up - I do, too, need instructions for this... you people know how easy it is for me to hurt myself) and I saw that the rubber contained in the product is known to cause cancer. Oh, and reproduction problems. Awesome. Of course, I dropped that cover like the cancer-causing-hot-potato it was and picked out my second choice. Again, "known to cause cancer". My third choice was also a carcinogenic and child mutator.

I'm not kidding. Check it out.



They were ALL labeled with this warning. What the heck?! ... So I thought about just living with the black goo. And then I remembered that I already have cancer (again), and it's not like I'm going to be growing anything other than tumors in my abdomen any time soon (remember the conspicuous lack of a boyfriend who would take care of this kind of thing for me?). (Also, I'm still bitter about the goo ruining my white skirt.) So I decided to just buy the darn thing and install it myself. I mean, if anyone in my life is going to get exposed to cancer causing elements like unto steering wheel covers, it might as well be me.

So, I bought my little cancer wheel cover and I put it on my steering wheel myself. And then I promptly wiped my hands, the steering wheel and the rest of my car down with Clorox Wipes, because I wanted to kill any and every weird cancer/mutant causing germ that I could. (I don't know that this is even a real threat, but it was worth a shot. Also, I like the citrus smell of the Clorox Wipes a heckuvalot better than I liked the smell of the new steering wheel cover.)

And that is the story of how I took one for the team today.

The End.

*And yes, I am aware that just putting a steering wheel cover on a steering wheel won't actually fix the leaking goo issue. It's the proverbial band-aid. And I couldn't care less. Listen, this car's 11 years old and it's been leaking goo for 3 of them. I'm pretty sure it's not a major mechanical issue. Besides, I found a cute little cover that had flowers embroidered on it. (Which I bought right up, because it was super girly, and so am I.)

And now that I have that little disclaimer out of the way, it's really the end of this post.

The End.

This is what I'm saying...

I love Paul Buchman and would totally marry him.



It's true, I would. Even if it does make him uneasy to think about being the first to "start a cheese", I would marry him.

I've been watching the first season of Mad About You on dvd this week. Paul and Jamie make me laugh. They do! I'd always remembered that I'd loved this show, but I'd sort of forgotten why. Now that I'm watching it, it's all coming back to me.

I so want to move to New York and be a high powered PR Exec, so I can meet some random man at a newspaper stand, lie to him about why I need the last copy of the newspaper (I believe the line is "My parents' obituaries are in this paper!") and then drop my dry cleaning slip, so he'd have a way to track me down the next day and ask me to dinner.

I mean, if that cancer doctor fantasy doesn't play out.

Or, of course, the ever popular Nathan Fillion fantasy.

So, that settles it. If neither plan A (cancer doctor) or B (Castle) play out, I'm so going for the moving to NY in search of a Paul Buchman of my very own plan. I don't care how neurotic he is, he makes me laugh. Out loud. (And that's a very important quality in a spouse. ... Says the 36 yr old who's never been married. This just goes to show you how seriously I take these things. I'm not willing to settle for someone who isn't funny.)

But Paul? Paul is funny. For that, I love him. (And this show.)

The scoop.

Since it seems like all I ever do anymore is update the blog to talk about my darn tumor, I thought that would be a fun thing to do on a Saturday night. (Also, I went to the movie with Ash last night and Chris and Jo are out of town, so my usual weekend go-to girls are leaving me high and dry for something better to do tonight.)

I got the call from my surgeon yesterday. The biopsy results came back in record time. I'm sorry to have to say that the thing that sounded like a pig, and looked like a pig, is in fact a pig. (Pig = Malignant Liposarcoma.) The upside to this, if there is one, is that it is the same type of cancer I spent last Summer fighting. (It's comforting to know that my body just regrew the same stupid tumor. As odd as it may sound, that's better - to me, at least - than knowing my body had gone all radical and had come up with some other kind of cancerous cell mutation.)

So, it's for sure cancer. Again. (For the love! Two times in 12 months? What the heck?) What this means (in the short term): Surgery. ASAP. March 22nd, to be exact. *The treatment plan, post-surgery, is yet to be determined. I spoke with my oncologist's office yesterday and he wants to wait until I have surgery, they know more, he can talk to other doctors, and I can be on the road to surgery-recovery before we head down Treatment Road. I'll meet with him 2-3 weeks after surgery, once he knows more. So... come the first or second week of April, I'll be able to confirm/deny the rumors that I may or may not have to do chemo this time around. For now, it's just surgery. (I say "just surgery", very much tongue-in-cheek. I've been down this road before. Break out the walker and bring on the stool softeners, it's gonna be a long couple months!)

The most recent word on surgery is that I may not, after all, lose an entire kidney. Originally, that was what was discussed, but after the most recent CT (done during the biopsy extravaganza of Wednesday), word is that I may only need to lose a portion of the organ. The tumor is attached to my kidney, but it's not glommed onto it like a barnacle. Most of the tumor is actually out to the side of my kidney, kind of free floating. So... Maybe the whole kidney will be taken, maybe not. My surgeon said he'll what he can to save what he can. He has to get in there to be able to assess the damage and know for sure. I'm fine with having one and one-half kidneys. I figure, in the over all scheme of things, my having six wisdom teeth will balance that out. I'll be half an organ short, but carry a credit of two extra molars. My body. It is a mysterious (and sometimes strange) thing.

*The one thing I have been told, for certain, concerning treatment: No radiation. (Halle-freakin-lujah! Because have I told you how much I did not love the radiation?) Yeah, I was told that radiation is for sure out, because the tumor was regrowth in the same area and they won't irradiate an area more than once. (Something about the possibility of becoming radioactive... Chernobyl and Dr. Bruce Banner came up in conversation. I kid.) But really, radiation is a definite no, and that's a major win. Keep your fingers crossed, heads bowed, energy focused - whatever it is that you do - that I won't have to do chemo. (Even though one of the girls at work did give me an address for a sweet wig shop here in Phoenix, I'd really rather not go that route if I can avoid it.)

Of course, I'll post more as I learn more. Thanks for staying tuned.

Happy Birthday, Aunt Kathy!

This is my aunt Kathy. Today is her birthday. I always think of her on her birthday (because that's the kind of stellar niece that I am).

Kathy was incredible. She was fun, and funny. She was a Geology student (so, yeah, she was outdoorsy - and related to me - who'd have thought such a thing was possible?), so she knew all kinds of awesome stuff about rocks, and science and how the Earth was made up of layers of different kinds of dirt. She taught me about diamonds, and about rocks that taste like salt when you lick them. (I have one on a shelf in my living room that belonged to her. Let me know if you want to lick it some time.) She made delicious desserts, like Blood Stain Cookies. (Recipe available upon request.) She stood up for me and my extreme dislike of being tickled. She loved me. And I loved her. She taught me so many things about life.

My aunt Kathy died would have been 52 today. She died when I was 9. Lung cancer. (Have I told you how much I hate this stupid disease? Well, I do. I hate it. A lot.)

I wish you could have known her. She had the quickest smile, the happiest eyes, and the strongest spirit of just about anyone I've ever known. I've been grateful, my whole life, that I knew her. The way she lived, and the way that she died (at peace, happy, with faith) is the stuff that legends are made of. She was brave. No, she was more than brave. I don't even know the word for what she was (and I know a lot of words). She was amazing. I remember that her scriptures were always on the table by her bed, next to her glass of water. As a child, I remember thinking that was weird. As an adult, I know that was how she stayed emotionally and spiritually alive while her body was failing her. She taught me how to live, by how she chose to die.

I am who I am because I knew her. She shaped me. She's one of my heroes, and I am grateful for her influence on my life. So much of who I am is because I knew her when I was a child.

Here's another picture that I love. This is my mom and my aunts Cindy, Debbie and Kathy.




What a great "Sisters" picture, huh? What blessings all of these women have been in my life. I am happy, because my mother taught me that life is easier when you're happy. I am the aunt who will take a kid to McDonald's on a whim, or hand a nephew an entire box of cookies for a snack, because of my aunts. I am the woman that I am, because of these women. I love them. I love them for the impact they have had on my life, on how I face adversity, on how I find joy in simple things - on how I live.

My word, I'm grateful for my life and for all of the amazing people in it. I've had so very many examples of love, and of faith. Kathy's is chief among them. I'm so grateful.

I may be overwhelmed, and scared, and confused sometimes - but more than anything else, I always seek to be grateful. Thank you, Kathy, for setting such an example for me, for teaching me about the importance of family and faith. Happy Birthday, I love you, and I will be eternally grateful that I knew you.

The low-down on the biopsy

So, today I had a $5,000 medical procedure done. It was awesome. The procedure itself took about 10 minutes. The prep-work? That was another story. I checked in at 6:00 - did paperwork until about 6:30 - was given the opportunity to pee in a cup (it kills me that I have to have a pregnancy test every single time I go to a hospital ... I'm telling you, folks, it's not a possibility in the world I live in) and changed into a lovely gown at 6:45 - at 7:00, I was in bed while a nice nurse named Trish was chatty in an effort to distract me while she took a half dozen or so vials of blood and put an IV in my am (her plan to distract me didn't work so well, I had to close my eyes so I didn't get pukey, not that anything could have come up, seeing as how I'd been on a total fast for over 8 hours by that point) - at 7:30, Jo was allowed to come back and hang out for a few minutes until I got wheeled to a remote corner of the hospital - at 8:00, I was in a CT room, being transferred from my rolly-cart-bed to a CT bed - I was then covered in EKG-like stickers so they could monitor my vitals before-during-after the procedure, packed in with pillows and heated blankets and then run through the CT tube a couple good times as tests - doc came in about half an hour later, numbed my back with a Novocaine-like substance (seriously, it felt just like getting a shot at the dentist) and then proceeded to stick me in the back with what I would assume was a very sharp and long needle (bless him for hiding it from me) approximately five times (the first few samples were "stringy" - ewh - not sure what that means, but ewh) - the doctor threw a regular band aid on the puncture site at the end of the procedure, told me I can take it off tomorrow - I was rolled back onto my rolly-cart-bed and escorted (by which I mean: pushed) back to Recovery, where I was allowed to order some breakfast off The Most Incredible Hospital Menu of all time. (Cinnamon roll, bacon and apple juice, thanks.) I took a nap for about an hour before they let me come home, then I slept for another three or so hours once my trusty chauffeur got me home.

All in all, it was a pretty cushy - albeit expensive - day. (Thank HEAVEN for insurance! Amen.)

The procedure itself? It was pretty much cake. I did have a slight issue with a sweet little nursing student who tried to tell me that it doesn't hurt to bend your arm, even when you have an IV in it. (I contributed to her education by telling her that she doesn't get to tell me what hurts and what doesn't. Snappish, I know, but what the heck?!) Other than that, it was all very low-key. The highlight of the morning was the disclosure I had to sign before they did the procedure. It made me giggle, and I honestly thought about asking for a blank copy, just so I could quote it here. Unfortunately, I was pretty heavily medicated, so that thought never progressed to action. I'll paraphrase, please forgive my lack of legal/medical jargon. Apparently, biopsies can have an effect on kidney function. Something about internal bleeding... I don't remember all the details, but it did crack me up that I had to sign a form that listed lessened kidney function as a possible side effect of a procedure that I was having performed before they most likely would remove my kidney, regardless of results. My immediate thought? "I'm pretty sure the malignant growth attached to my kidney is affecting it more than this procedure will." True story.

So, there's the scoop on biopsies. Easy-peasy. They cover the wound up with a regular old band aid. And the disclosure is amusing.

Results take 2-3 days to turn, so it will be early-middle next week before I have any answers as to the results, or anything more than a guess as to what comes next. Stay tuned for more info. I'll update as soon as I have intel. (Yeah, I said "intel". Guess who's been re-watching Burn Notice, Season 3, in her spare time?)

So... I'm a stress eater.

Anyone who knows me, knows this. I have absolutely no guilt reflex associated with food. The calorie count is moot, esp when I'm eating something that is delicious and pleasing to the taste. I'm pretty sure this comes, to quote a favorite movie, "from my mother's side of the family". (Jude's been known to mix a cup of cake batter up and then eat it with a spoon, for a quick chocolate fix. It's true. I come by it honestly.)

I love food, especially food that is based in the Chocolate Food Category. (Yeah, I have my own food pyramid. Don't judge.) But when I'm stressing about something, I eat more than usual. As in, more often and in greater quantities. Sort of like a crazed, mad woman. One could liken it to chain smoking. For example, yesterday I pounded down almost a lb of peanut M&M's in under 12 minutes at work. One after another, before I'd swallowed what I'd chewed, I had another M&M poised and ready to pop into my mouth. And when they were gone, I was a little bit amazed that I'd eaten them so quickly. ... And then I was sad that they were gone. I mean, sad.

See, the thing is that I'm a little stressed by all this talk of The Return of the Tumor. And while I do my best to maintain a positive outlook and a belief that this will all work out (somehow) and I'm sure that I will be fine, there are a lot of questions that I don't have answers to just yet. (It's hard for me not to know what's going on in my life, control freak that I am.) I hate waiting, and there's nothing worse than waiting alone. Which is why, this weekend, I enlisted my friends Ben & Jerry to keep my company while I waited. Great plan, right? Until I wound up staring at the bottom of an ice cream carton and realized that Ben & Jerry would no longer be able to keep me company. Or provide me solace. It was a dark moment, I tell you. Thank heaven for my friend, Microwave Popcorn, (yes, I just capitalized that, like it's a proper noun) or I'd have never made it through the day. Honestly.

Tonight, fresh out of peanut M&M's and my favorite flavor of Ben & Jerry's ice cream, and on the verge of an emotional break, I ransacked my pantry, looking for something edible. Something soothing. Something chocolate.

And this is what I found.

A box Thin Mints? All to myself?! Major win!

I ate 4 cookies shy of one tube in about 20 minutes. It's true. And then my stomach told me that was enough, so I stopped.

Two hours later, I'm hoping my stomach stopped me because it was full, and not that the "must stop now" feeling was a premonition of food-poisoning-to-come. This box of Girl Scout cookies is ... well, was, actually ... over 5 years old. (When I moved here in 2006, I brought this box with me, and just never got around to eating it.) Here's hoping the preservatives those little Girl Scouts use are effective. :-)

*I'm going to the store tomorrow to buy a big bag of peanut M&M's. Oh, and probably some ice cream. As delicious as those darn cookies were, I'm thinking that taking my intestinal life into my hands when I went on a stress-eating-chocolate-binge might not have been such a bright idea, after all. Oh, brother. When will I ever learn?

My afternoon field trip.

I took myself on a field trip this afternoon to the local Asian market, hoping to find some Guarana to take to my brother's birthday party tomorrow.



No such luck. No Guarana to be found. (In fact, the typical Brazilian aisle seemed to be oddly missing. The Indonesian aisle? Check. The Tawain aisle? Double check. The Hispanic aisle? Of course. But no Brazilian cheese puff mix or Guadana to be found. Poor Spencer and Kirk. I had such great intentions, too.)

But I did run across all manner of other interesting (by which I mean: unusual and gag-reflex-inducing) foodstuffs. Like:




Really? Like I wanted to drink grass in the first place? No. No, I did not. (I am not one to add wheat grass juice to my Jamba Juice. Maybe some protein powder, but most definitely NOT the wheat grass.) Add the word "jelly" to the grass juice, and it just takes on a whole new level of horror.

Then there was this can of aloe vera drink:



What the heck? ... Uh, no. Nope, I'm pretty sure you couldn't pay me to drink this. (And I don't care how much honey you added to aloe vera plant, I don't know how you could make it delicious.) There were at least five different brands/versions of aloe vera juice/soda. What the heck?!

On the other hand, I am a big fan of pretty dishes:



Seriously, I spent a good 20 minutes in this aisle, just checking out blue and white faux china patterns. (I heart blue and white china. I really do.)

Look at this bowl:



It was, like, $3.50 or something. I sooo wanted to buy it, but then I remembered that I already have too many serving dishes in my cupboards that I never use, so I made myself leave it at the store. But seriously, I wanted it. Badly.

But what didn't I want? I will show you. Look at this bizarro fruit:



I can't remember what it was called, but the word "fresh" was in the name of it (or was on the sign, anyway). I don't know if that means that they were actually fresh/new whatever-they-were, or if fresh is part of the name of the fruit. (Or maybe it's a vegetable. I don't know. It was in the produce section, so it could go either way.) All I know is, I had never seen anything like it. They were about the size/shape of watermelons, but they were pokey. And more than a little bit scary to me.

Huh.

The Asian market. Always a good time. ... Until you get sick of breathing through your mouth so you don't gag and you have to leave before you lose it. (I tell you, it's the live fish they keep in the back of the store. When I first walk in, it smells a little fishy, but I think I can take it. After 20 minutes or so of walking the store, perusing unusual foodstuffs, I realize I'm about to be done in by the smell of fish and I have to run for the exit like I'm running for my life. Every time.)

It's Ba-ack...

To be read in a sing-songy (semi-creepy) tone, of course.

Some of you may recall a little post I made last summer about my body growing an abnormally large tumor. I'm so sorry to have to say that it's back. (The good news? This time, they caught it while it was little. To date, it's about the size of a chocolate Easter egg. ... Much better than the size of a watermelon, right?)

I had my first 90 follow-up CT at the end of January and met with my oncologist on Feb 11th to get the results. He told me at that meeting that I was a vibrant young woman (I told him that I loved him for that). He also told me that it looked like the cancer may be back (I told him that I still loved him, even though that is the opposite of what I wanted to hear). He advised that there was a growth on/near my left kidney that appeared to be in the resection bed (where they'd scraped the original tumor from). He wanted to do an MRI to get a better, clearer picture of the mass. I had the MRI last Friday, and met with my surgeon today to get the results of the MRI. The MRI shows conclusively that there's a tumor on my left kidney. (Look, I'll show you a picture. Don't judge the arrow pointing to the little gray/tumor area just to the right of my kidney. I do not have photo shop skillz. Obviously.)



So, that's the little egg shaped tumor that's attached to my kidney. It must come out. (And by "it", I mean the kidney.) Per my sweet doctor, he wants to take the kidney out, so this can't happen again. Before he takes the kidney out, however, he wants to do a biopsy to make sure that this tumor on my kidney is, in fact, a recurrence of liposarcoma. The last thing he wants to do is remove a vital organ if it's something other than regrowth of the same cancer I spent all summer fighting. The plan is to have a biopsy done next week. After he gets the results of the biopsy and can confirm if it's the same type of tumor/cancer, or if it's something new, decisions will be made about surgery and possible treatment plans.

The best news I've heard all day/week/month is that if it's the same kind of tumor/cancer, he should be able to just remove my kidney and call it a day. As in, no follow-up treatment. (Can you hear the angels singing? Because I sure can!) This, of course, isn't a for sure done deal until we have more information - and is subject to change up until after surgery, after my oncologist has been able to review everything and make a final decision. But for now, the thought of only having to recover from surgery is enough to make me weep for joy.

So, it's back. But it's definitely not worst-case-scenario. Yay!

I'm incredibly grateful for doctors who had a much more aggressive treatment plan than I thought made sense, because they caught something that had grown in the last 90 days. I'm grateful for office staff who know my face and remember my name. I'm grateful for doctors who care about my body and my spirits, that both of my doctors have delivered news and then asked "How are you?". I love them, and that makes it so much easier this time around.

I'm grateful for my family, and for my friends. I have always known that I had the most incredible people in my life. The last year has proven that to me on so many levels. Thanks, all, for being the kind of people you are. I love you, and I'm so glad I have you! (Even when I don't have the cancer, I love you. But somehow, when a girl hears some truly hard news, it makes the love all that much stronger.) You're all my favorite! (And I'm not just saying that because I may need someone to come over and vacuum in March. And April. And maybe May. I promise.)

Stay tuned for further updates and/or service opportunities. :-)

Stuff I love-love-love

It's Valentine's Day, so I thought I'd make a list of the things that I love in my life. Why? Because it's always fun for me to make a list. And it's Valentine's Day. So, there.

I loooove...

Kit-Kats
Oranges
Good books
Blue cheese
You've Got Mail
Banana popsicles
Julie's cinnamon rolls
My favorite aunt
My sister
My parents
My brothers, and their families
Kazoozles
Wheat Thins
Symphonies (the candy bar AND the musicians)
Cotton candy
Winter grass
Musicals
Fleecey throws
A good bra
My friends
My cousins
Lillies
Daffodils and tulips
Blaring trumpets in a big band
A ticking clock
Holding a baby
The smell of baking bread
Clean sheets
Fingernail polish
Grape juice
Ben & Jerry's
Sunshine
The sound of running water
Red smudges on my fingers from eating raspberries out of a bowl

And so many other things. And people. Like you. Whoever you are, reading this.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Love, Me