My cancer, my cancer, my cancer, my cancer... my cancer and me!

I'm not going to lie, these last few days have sucked. I had chemo this last Wednesday and although uneventful (for once), it hit me nasty style the days after. Well, not that nasty, but nastier than usual. Sleep was my greatest ally.

The best news is that I had a PET scan done on Tuesday and... most of the cancer is gone! Yeah!!! To quote my doctor, "Before, you were lit up like a X-mas tree and now there's pretty much nothing. Just a few random spots." So, needless to say, I am ecstatic. However, I had hoped that that would mean less chemo but it doesn't seem likely. She said I would still need to do the 6 months we had originally discussed but my question is, if it's almost all gone after 2 months, why do I need to do another 4 months? It's like, I know that they just want to make sure they get it all, but I'm also concerned with the risks that accompany chemo. I know I should be happy with my results; it's great news. I guess I'm just being greedy, wishing that my chemo sentence had been lowered as well.

I decided I want to look at my medical records; I don't even know why I haven't done it yet. Like, I want to see the PET scans, the CT scans, radiologist reports, doctor's notes, etc. I remember reading someone's warning not to, how you may not like what you discover in terms of how bad your condition was/is. But I wonder how much I even know, or knew, about the true state of my "condition." Like, it's hard for me to believe I have cancer sometimes. I look at myself and I don't see a cancer patient, even though that's what I am, I guess. Maybe I just have a morbid hope that I'll learn I was worse off than what I thought I was. Maybe I need to think that I was sicker than what I thought to justify 6 months of chemo.

I don't know why I even complain. Sometimes I feel bad for feeling sorry for myself because ultimately, I am lucky. Hodgkins is really treatable and curable. Too bad the treatment sucks. But it is good to know that I'll be fine, that I'm still going to live a normal life once this is done. I'll probably be all psycho paranoid about my health but that's ok. I try not to complain too much about this because I can't change it and it's too serious. I'll save my complaining for the trivial things, like the weather, traffic, being broke, having no direction in life... you know, that kind of stuff.

Anyways, two new things are happening this week. Tomorrow I'm going to try to learn how to give myself shots. On the weeks I don't have chemo I go to the hospital to get shots of a drug (Neupogen) that encourages my bone marrow to produce white blood cells. I have to admit that it's a waste of time to go to the hospital just to get one shot (but I go everyday for 3 days) so I have to learn so that I can teach someone else and they can give it to me at home. I just know I can't bear to do it myself so someone else just has to do it!

Now the second thing.... Apparently all my drama with the IV and my veins was just too much, the nurses couldn't handle it anymore. So they ganged up on me and told my doctor who suggested (more like insisted on) something called a pick line.... I felt so betrayed. Why you ask? Well, let me tell you what a pick line is. They take a long small tube and put it into one of your veins from somewhere on the top half of the arm and then a little tube hangs out and that's where they hook you up with the chemo drugs. Basically no more poking you with needles looking for a suitable vein. But there's a tube hanging out of your arm!!! That and the little tube in the vein goes all the way inside to some main vein near the chest. I tried to talk my doctor out of it but she wasn't having it. Damn nurses. Can't a person freak out about their veins anymore before someone wants to stick a tube in there and have another tube hang out?! So on Wednesday I'm going in to get the pick line put in. They said they cover it with gauze and bind it so it doesn't just hang out. I also have to go in once a week to get it flushed (which I think means they clean it). Hopefully I won't pass out on my way there.

Well, that's what's up on the cancer front.