One month later

On July 30th, I wrote a status report. It's been a month, so I figured it was time to write one again.

So, here ya go...

I'm okay.

Seriously, I am.

I mean... I'm tireder than I'd like to be. But I still feel better than I have in recent months, so I'll take it.

I take two Tylenol PM every night between 7:00 and 8:00, and I go to bed (by which I mean: fall asleep on the couch, watching The West Wing) between and 8:00 and 9:00. Most mornings, I pound two more Tylenol as soon as I wake up (because everything inside of me shifts when I sleep on my side, and it hurts like the devil), but... that's it. I am no longer watching the clock to pop a couple pills every six hours. Really, I'm down to Tylenol twice a day most days. So, that's a win.

I can walk a whole mile now. Some days, even a mile and a half. (Depending on whether I want to walk for 30 or 45 minutes in the 100+ degree heat. ... Yes, it takes me half an hour to walk a mile. Don't judge!) This morning, was my seventh consecutive mile-or-more walk a day, and I cannot even tell you how happy it makes me that I'm able to walk - on the streets - again. I had to re-learn how to walk this time on a treadmill, and it was brutal. This has been the weirdest surgery recovery ever, in that I've struggled with nausea and other weirdie stomach issues... which made it harder to be physically active. Ten weeks later, I haven't felt like I was going to puke for a week. And I'm walking around the block again. Sans earbuds, holding only a bottle of water... I don't even take my phone with me, because I want to be able to see and hear everything out there. I love it!

I've had several people texting/calling/dropping by to ask what's new.

Uh... Nothing. "Nothing" is the answer to, "What's new?".

My guess is that people are looking for an update, because most cancer patients meet with their doctors more than every 60-90 days. (And, I'm pretty sure that my visits will increase in the semi-near future.) As of now, we're still on the wait-until-October-and-then-we'll-do-a-PET-to-see-what's-going-on-in-there plan. I don't actually have that scan scheduled yet, but I'm guessing that'll go on the books in the next week or two. Which means that I have another five or so weeks of blessed ignorance. (It's true, what they say: Ignorance IS bliss!)

So, I'll keep walking (albeit slowly) around the block, eating peanut M&M's like they're vitamins, and chain-watching TV (God bless whoever came up with the idea of Netflix streaming, for real!) as I ease myself back into working full time and living my life.

Life is good.

I may be slow - okay, let's be honest... I've been slower - but I am moving. My strength is constantly improving. I may not see it in the day to day, but I'm still seeing markers on a weekly basis of things I can do that I couldn't do the week before. I never cease to be amazed at what the human body can endure and recover from (and I think I have a sort of lame body... just imagine what some of YOUR bodies could do!). I'm tired, so I'm not blogging as much, or appearing in public as often, but I'm here. And I'm alright. I promise.

I love to laugh... long, and loud, and clear!

As anyone who's known me for, like, half a second knows... I love to laugh.

Hard.

And loud.

And often.

And one of my favorite, surefire, guaranteed, laugh-until-my-face-hurts things to do is go to Jester'Z Improv. I mean, I seriously love that place! I'm a huge fan of improv comedy, period. But I especially enjoy Jester'Z, because I know that I can take anyone with me... my mom, friends from work, my nine year-old nephew... and they'll love it as much as I do. Jester'Z does a live, original, 90 minute show. Every time. And they never disappoint.

I have always loved the people at Jester'Z, but now? ... Now, I love them even more.

The good people of Jester'Z are doing a Cancer Girl Benefit show.

That's right. You heard me... I'M HAVING A JESTER'Z FUNDRAISER! ... And I'm so excited that I can hardly stand it!

The date is September 23rd (it's a Tuesday). The time is 6:30-8:00. The location is the new Jester'Z theater at 1061 N. Dobson Rd. #114, Mesa, Az.

It will, as always, be a 90 minute, original, show. The cost is $13 per ticket (Jester'Z standard ticket cost). And 100% of the proceeds will benefit yours truly.

We're working on gathering donations for a silent auction (if you have any goods or services you'd like to put up on the block, let me know!), and are hoping to put a table up in the lobby to sell baked goods before/after the show. (Maybe some candied bacon? Go ahead and twist my arm...)

Click here to be directed to the site where you can buy tickets to the show. Please note that you can buy tickets in any quantity, from the comfort of your home or office, computer or phone. (You know me. I like to make it as easy as I can for you all to help a girl out...) All you need is an internet connection and a debit card, and you can make all of my dreams come true AND get a good hour and a half of laughs in the deal. (Oh, and a cupcake. Or some cookies. Or both.)

As always, I have nothing but love for all 13 of my original readers, as well as you fabulous people who have been drug here to my (crazy) little corner of the www from the book of faces.

Thank you for having an interest in my life, in my health... in, well... me. I appreciate, more than I can say, the sense of community that the cancer has given me. I have the very best support system in all of the world, and I'm grateful for every thing that every single one of you does for me. Please consider this particular fundraiser my gift to you. (Usually, I just ask ya'll to give me dollars. This time, you're getting a heck of a show in exchange for your donation.) There is nothing I would love more than to fill the studio with people near and dear to my heart... to have you laugh with me, as you're helping me.

In case you've ever wondered exactly how much I love the X-Men...

Here are some fun little stories about how jacked-up-crazy-town I get when I'm on pain meds.

Scene: Judy is bringing me in pain meds at 2:15 AM. I am asleep in my bed. Judy wakes me to take my pills, and I come to, saying...

"I was just dreaming about the X-Men. Like, I was one of them. My power? ... Not regeneration."

Ya like that, huh?

Well... here's another one from the day I came home from the hospital:

"Lindsay's trying to give me weight training lessons in my head. ... It's not working."

More, you say? You want more?! Okay, fine.

Talking about taking pain meds in the hospital, trying to decide whether to have drugs administered via IV or with pills:

"The IV... The ID... The IV... This is fun for you isn't it? Where's the candid camera?"

Okay, okay, okay... One more.

To Judy in the hospital, as I was waking up (from a drug-induced stupor/sleep... obviously):

"We're cellmates. Living in a paper manufacturing company. And the beeper means that an order is ready."

Isn't it great that Judy keeps a notebook of all my surgeries/dreams/hallucinations, so I can share these special moments with you?

You're welcome.

Mmmmm... Bacon.

Here is a True Story From My Actual Life:

Last week, I fried up a pound of bacon like I am a woman who has both the strength and energy to cook dinner after a hard (half) day at work. (That's right. Bacon for dinner, don't judge.)

And then... once it was all fried up, I took a good, hard, look at that plate of bacon and I thought to myself...

"I should probably only eat half of that, because I don't want to make myself sick."

True story. I only ate HALF a pound of bacon. ... Because I was wanting to take it easy on the ol' gastrointestinal system.

And here's the kicker... even half a pound was too much for my sad little body to handle.

That's right. I CAN'T EVEN EAT HALF A POUND OF BACON WITHOUT GETTING SICK!

(What kind of person says something like that? ... Wait. Don't say anything. ... I know the answer: A lame one.)

...................................................................................................

Anyhoo... I made bacon again this week. You know, because I am not a quitter.

And, instead of eating half the bacon, I divided it into thirds and only ate 1/3 a lb of bacon.

Drumroll, please...

And, good news, kids! My sad little system can handle that!

Wahoo!

Bacon and Laurie = FRIENDS ON AGAIN! (In limited quantities.)

Argh

My one, single, solitary gripe about The Sweetest Comeback in the History of Ever...

I can't, for the life of me, find one of these:

It seems that the people of Hostess chose not to bring back the dang blackberry pie when their product was resurrected and put back on the shelves of grocery stores and gas stations across the nation. Argh.

Now, I know this pie is chock full of sugar (and the crust is 100% white flour), so I couldn't really digest it... even if I could find one.

But man alive... what I wouldn't give for two (okay, three) bites of an old school blackberry pie.

That was then, and this is now

Six weeks ago, this was the view from the top:

And now...

I CAN SEE MY FEET!

(Yeah, that's the same manicure I got the day of surgery. Don't judge. I have more important things to do than paint my toenails. Like painting my fingernails while I watch Castle.)

How I'm doing.

I've had a few (I may even upgrade that to "several") friends and family members call/text/email/facebook me lately to ask how I'm doing... really.

Here's the scoop:

I'm okay.

Honestly, I'm doing quite well.

Really.

I tire easily, but I think that's normal for being just shy of six weeks post-op. I get a little dizzy if I read for too long. I have to eat on a regular schedule so I don't get nauseated, and I take two Tylenol every six hours.

That might sound a little lame to those of you who climb mountains and/or eschew even over-the-counter drugs, but for me... I'm doing quite well.

True story. Just short of three weeks post-op (still on narcotics for surgical pain, mind you), I already felt better than I had in a year. Those darn hernias were bumming me out. In a major way.

I still can't walk a mile straight on the treadmill, but I can walk for almost a mile without feeling like my guts are going to fall right out of my body, even for a second. And that, my dears, if fabulous. (Pre-surgery, I couldn't walk around the block without searing pain. So, when I say that .87 miles on a treadmill is a victory, I'm not kidding.)

I can cough without having to push in/on my bellybutton, and sneezing no longer makes me feel like I was stabbed in the stomach and am going to bleed out in a matter of minutes. (Winning!)

Do I know that I still have cancer cells that are alive and well inside my body, and that there's a decent chance I'll lose my hair to chemo before Thanksgiving? Yeah, I do.

But ya know what else I know? ... That I won't know what those cells are doing, how fast they're growing, until October. So, there's no point in spending energy on all of the "what ifs" and "whens" of everything until I have the information and can see the plan in real time.

I figure, all I can do right now is... live. With what information and energy and drive and will that I have - right now - I am living my life. And I'll deal with whatever comes my way when it comes.

I'm okay.

Really, I am.

I promise.

The Bake Sale

Last week, I showed you some super cute pics of my little cousins and told you about how they were doing a bake sale fundraiser for me in Utah.

I so love those kids. And their moms. And their aunts. And basically, everyone else they're related to. (And their friends - the girls' friends, and their moms'/aunts' friends - because this bake sale was very much a community effort.)

I love people.

But I especially love these people:

On Thursday, Beth's kids and Julie's kids got together at Julie's house to practice their face-painting skills (some of Jule's girls can get a little morbid... we love it!) and bake carrot cake and peanut butter bars and other things that I can't remember (probably because I mostly coveted the carrot cake and peanut butter bars, so they stick in my mind better), while Lisa (aka: Anna) baked over 10 dozen cupcakes and Christie churned out approximately five dozen loaves of bread at her house.

(Sadly, I don't have pics of the loaves and loaves of bread at Christie's. But trust me, it happened.)

Saturday morning, everyone woke up early to frost the goods that were baked the day before, and... voila:

I had to do a close-up of the lavender cupcakes, because they made me cry. Just a little.

For those of you who I haven't had this conversation with... There is no "cancer ribbon color" for Liposarcoma. It's not a cancer that occurs often enough to have its own color recognition. But lavender is the color for ALL cancers. ... So, it makes me get a little teary when I see people using it. Cancer is such a horrible, awful thing. But... it unites people in a way that I don't think any other diagnosis does. And so, to me, lavender speaks to - and for - all of us whose lives have been affected by the cancer.

And here's a closer pic of the signage:

How cute is that sign? I love that the kids drew pictures to detail all of the things they were doing/selling at the fundraiser!

Beyond all of my AMAZING family who donated their time and talents (none of whom do I have actual pictures of... food and face painting pics of the kids, I have, but none of the actual women who made this happen), I also have totally awesome friends who attended said bake sale.

The first family on site, when they were still setting up:

Yeah, those are the Woods. Of Sunday dinner fame. I love them!

A friend I've had for my entire adult life and her sister who drove down from SLC:

Jenni and I worked together at the bank in Provo, and were instant friends pretty much her first day on the teller line. (She quoted Thoroughly Modern Millie. I quoted back. And a friendship that was mean to last through the ages was born.) Lisa was in high school at the time (that's right... she's not in high school anymore), so while she was also a CB-er, she came to the bank a little later in life. I love these women. They're some of my old vacation buddies (you know, from the old days). Central Bank Chicks Forever!

And my adopted sister-in-law, Kim, all the way from New Jersey! 

(Yes, Judy. It's a real place.)

Kim is Dean's sister (Dean of The First Family in Attendance... scroll up). I so love the Wood family! I tell them all the time that they are the reason I'm still single. (I'm pretty sure it would be impossible to find another family that I love as much as I love theirs, so it seems pointless to even try.)

Friends and neighbors of my cousins (also, cousins on their other side) came out to support them in helping me.

I'm telling you... I can't even say what it means to me to have the support of so many people, in so many places, in so many ways.

(Typing through tears now, fyi.)

The cancer is a horrible, awful, terrible thing. I hate what it does to my body, but... I love what it does to my life. The love that I feel is real. It is a tangible, moving force. I'm grateful to more people than I could ever possibly thank.

I'm lucky to have an army of people supporting me, from all corners of the world. And most of the generals in that army are people that I am related to.

Thank you, Cousins. I love you all more than I can say.

Wolverette, post-op

Yeah, so... Look at the pic I found hiding in my phone.

A few days ago, I ran a post in which Wolverette was re-purposed to show where all my little friends were hiding out when Dr. G cut me open and took them out.

No sooner had I laid The Henries line out, than was Judy working up a post-op Wolverette, complete with an 8 inch incision - yeah, she measured it, to be exact. Staples included.

Please note the frowny face and quote. (Also, the strategically placed bellybutton.)

It's true. Surgery hurts.

So much so that I was overheard saying (I say "overheard", because I have absolutely no recollection of having said this... so much for being super lucid this time around) that "I wouldn't wish this on - insert my high school nemesis' name here - and I hate her."

I love my cousins. The little ones, most of all.

Meet Elly (10) and Cami (12):

Elly and Cam wanted to do something to help their cousin with cancer (me), so they enlisted the help of their siblings, cousins, mothers, aunts and grandparents in putting together a bake sale, with proceeds to benefit yours truly.

Here's a sample of the menu/prices:

Aside: How cute is that girl holding a cancer ribbon that's shaped like a heart with the word "you" in the middle of it? I love her!

As you can see, these girls are selling baked goods for WAY CHEAP. And there will be face painting and helium balloons and loom bands who even knows what else! 

I'm telling you, it'll be fun for the whole family. If you're anywhere near Utah County this weekend, you should take your kids and head on over for a good time and a great cause! (I know, I just called myself a great cause. ... I, basically, have NO shame.)

Please, if you can... help these girls help me. They're my cousins' girls, but I couldn't love them more if they were my own. 

There's nothing I'd love more than to know that the girls had a fabulous turnout and were able to turn a profit, so they could KNOW that they made a difference. (Besides. They're adorable. You know you want to go, just to high five them for having the idea and then putting it into motion.)