duke nuke 'em

I got rid of the bag today.  Hooray!!  Big ole plus in my world.  I hated that thing.  So my movement isn't all hindered as much anymore and I can actually pee like a normal person.  I may not dig that so much tonight when I have to get up in the middle of the night to go to the loo, but I'm going to just go with it.  Such a small thing, but it makes a huge difference.

Now, there was other news as well.  I did have one node test positive for the Big Bad.  They stopped testing after that one positive, as the end result is the same with 1 positive as it is with 39842893 positives.  I had 14 negatives on my left side.  The 8th on my right side was the zinger.  And that zinger means I will be doing a round of radiation and chemo.  I'll have 20 radiation treatments (5 days a week for a month) which will take less time to administer than it will for me to actually strip down into my nuke 'em outfit.  The chemo will probably be each Monday of radiation--4 of those at a half dose.  Doc Specialist says the chemo is a low enough dose that I probably won't even lose any hair.  (Hopefully I will lose weight.  C'mon, gimme something, dammit!)

It wasn't what I wanted to hear.  I cried.  But more than anything, I'm pissed off.  It's just fucking irritating, you know?  I know I'll come out alright--I'm a feisty little fucker.  I'm not going down this easily. 

But I'm certainly going to require more frozen custard.  :-)

Ute Scootin' Boogie!

What, I'm not allowed to make jokes?  Do you know me at all?!

Tomorrow, I am due to arrive at the hospital at 5.45am.  Yes, that noise you heard was me groaning.  That's effing early.  My actual surgery is scheduled for 7.30am so I'm really hoping they're going to be seducing me with fantastic pharmaceuticals between arrival and surgery times.  Both Mom and Dad are going with me.  Everything is being done laproscopic and I'm keeping my ovaries.  Doc is also taking some lymph nodes and if any of them look funky, the surgery ends and I go straight to radiation, do not pass Go, do not collect $200.  CT scan last week showed no funk so I'm hoping it didn't lie.  I'd really rather just have it all out now, ya know?

I'm going to give Mama Pants instructions on how to log in and post if she feels like it.  I'll probably be spending tomorrow night in the hospital (with my finger permanently on that pain-pump button cos--HELLO, awesome drugs!) and I've already told both of my parents to sleep at home in their own bed.  Hopefully they will, but it's not like I can do much if they decide to mutiny. 

I've removed my navel ring, my rook, and my anti-helix piercings.  I guess something in the equipment they use conducts electricity and the piercings can be a bad thing for that.  Hopefully I'll be able to get them all back in, but I'm not especially concerned about that.  The navel--whatever.  I wouldn't repierce that anyway; I don't have the lovely 20 year old belly I had when I had it pierced, not that I respected how cute it was then.  The two ear piercings, I'd probably eventually redo them if they close up.  Mama Pants just rolled her eyes, guarantee it.  At least it's not my tongue, Mom!  (I had my tongue pierced for several years.  She hated it just as long.)

I'm gonna be okay, y'all.  I mean, the first week will probably be a complete crapfest, but it's still better than the alternative, ya know?  Thanks for all your love!  It means more than I can really say.  <3

home new home

So here I am, at the Pants Ranch (casa de Mom and Dad), on the laptop I've already claimed.  It's been a very busy few days.  I've had to launder everything that was remotely dirty, pack up everything remotely loose, and corral all my cats into little carriers that render them the noisiest bastards on the face of the earth.  (Props to Mama Pants who drove them ALL in her big girl car.)  I lost one kitty in that venture.  Medusa went fully feral when I was trying to catch her.  She attacked me and then went insane.  In the end, Medusa chose nature over nurture and went out the window.  I'm sad she's gone--I know I won't get her back.  I'm glad I won't be around my house for a month because i'd be looking for her.  But in the end, her departure also ties up some loose ends on issues I'd wondered about solving.  There are currently five very happy kitties on my bed with me.  I need to focus on these happy, non-feral, non-attacking kitties.  

Tomorrow is pre-op day.  I think probably just blood work, vitals, a chat, and perhaps a heart bloop bloop thing.  (EKG?)  Then Thursday morning is the surgery.  I've been looking around this site and chatting with a gal who went through the same shiz a year or so ago.  We've chatted a little bit and it makes me feel better than I care to admit.  I never thought I'd be signing up for a site like that.  That's still a little weird.  I hope to be able to change my status from "fighter" to "survivor" soon.  It's so weird to think that there's this big-bad inside me when I feel perfectly fine. 

It's still early by my standards but I'm exhausted.  Think I might call it a night.  More tomorrow after I speak with everyone at le hospital.  My vagina is very important, you know.  heh

August 4 = Menopause

Yeah, so uh, hey.  I'ma have a hysterectomy next Thursday, k?  Well, it's really not up for debate.  Doc says it all has to come out and as I got my degree in English and not Broken Boxes n' Stuff, I'm just going to defer to him and follow his instructions.  Yes, I'm making light of it.  Humour is a defense of mine, a great coping device.  Plus, worrying won't get me anywhere, so why not just let the laughter happen?  It relieves stress.

The long and short of it is that I've currently got cervical cancer.  It was found during my regular trip to the Box Doc and confirmed through a biopsy.  My Box Doc had already scheduled me with a specialist at M.D. Anderson and I was in his office in less than 48 hours, going over a course of action with Mama Pants and Big Daddy Pants.  The best case scenario is a full hysterectomy (ovaries n' all) and it was the one the specialist would prefer to do.  I'm fine with that, as pregnancy is not something I've ever desired to experience.  (Mine or anyone else's for that matter.  Bleh.)

Of course, I'll be staying at the Pants Ranch with Mama Pants and Big Daddy Pants.  And if everything works out well, the contractors will be able to go in and fairy-godmother my place all up while I'm in a narc-haze, drooling on my pillow.  I'll be out of work for 6 weeks and will miss the September rush.  I should be back in time for October rush, but that one shouldn't be too major.  I plan on reading my Kindle (which I adore), watching Netflix, drawing in my lap (not on my lap), and taking over Mama P's laptop. 

To sum up:  everything is okay.  I just left a comment on a blog referencing the surgery yesterday and got a "WTF?!" response; I don't remember who knows and who doesn't anymore so I figured I'd just put it all on blast.  Easier, eh?  Cos you all wanted to know about my vagine, admit it.  Heh.

Update on July 27, 2011 at 3:27 PM by Sarah

Whoops!  Mama Pants says I'm keeping my ovaries.  This is why she took the notes while I zoned out.  Now I've confused her.  We'll find out on Wednesday at the latest.