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Friday, January 30, 2009

Weird Things (Blog 3)

So I've noticed some strange things.

First, I woke up this morning itching all over....scalp, legs, arms, shoulders, was like I had a case of body lice or something equally embarrassing. I pulled my hair back into a bun and sprayed it down in case it was the first sign of alopecia (hair loss), then went to church. After church I googled "Itching + Chemo" and found out that it's not one of the many drawbacks to chemotherapy, but a very typical side effect of Hodgkins Disease. Weird.

Secondly, I have to vent about something. I am SO SICK of people saying "If I had to have cancer I'd choose Hodgkins." Really? Because so far, not so good. I joined, founded by a young 30-something-er who found that the company of septuagenarians was just not cutting it on the chemo floor. One member started a discussion board called "Hodgkins: The Golden Kids." The whole idea is that we're supposed to be lucky to have such a good survival rate; we're supposed to thank people for reminding us that we are "fortunate." Call me cynical, but 20% death rate does not a happy girl make. I went to my "book club" on Thursday night (In quotation marks because we drink more alcohol and talk more sex than discuss literary accomplishment) and one woman, an internal medicine nurse, said to me, "You are so lucky! If I had cancer I'd want yours." SOLD! It's yours: You are the proud owner of several shiny new mediastinal and supraclavicular tumors, 6 months of chemotherapy, and a year of baldness. ENJOY!

Hodgkins: The Golden Kids!
I should mention that I've had 2 glasses of cabernet and intend to drink more. My doctor says that my hair will fall out a few days after my second round of chemo, which is scheduled for Wednesday. I am prepared to freak out and have asked my local friends to rally around me by attending a spontaneous $!%^& cancer party, during which someone will shave my head and we will all drink heavily. If you live in San Antonio or South/Central Texas, you are certainly invited. I will never forget that during my first oncology appointment, my doctor asked me if I drank. My mom and I exchanged nervous glances (we had just purchased 3 large bottles of wine at HEB), and I anxiously said yes. She then asked if I drank wine and I gave her an emphatic YES (as in “I’m a wino and don’t plan on giving that up, thank you”). She said that her chemo patients who drink wine tend to respond best to treatment....she's not sure why and there's no data out there to support her findings--and she certainly doesn't encourage non-drinkers to take up alcohol--but she finds that wine drinkers do well. Done and done. Now my mom and I call it my medicine, as in: "It's after 5:00. Would you like to drink some medicine now?" Yes please.

Adam is on the phone with me right now. I love you, Adam! Being a broke-ass could be worse, but you are still loved by me. I don't need no diamonds or pearls or Cristal...just some cheap wine and girly movies.

That's it for now: signing out.
Love you all....

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