Anne SG and the Big C

The past couple of days have been brutal. I had just gotten to the point in my post-surgical healing that I felt strong again, and they cut me back to size quite promptly with the chemo cocktail. Then on Wednesday I went in for an oncologist-prescribed PET scan. Had I known what this was before the tech sat before me, needle in hand, I would have refused. Apparently, they injected radioactive gunk in my veins and then did some MRI type scanning to see if the gunk fed happily anywhere, which would indicate a tumor in my brain or organs. This was neither fun nor entertaining, especially as I could not eat or drink before the test, it took 2 hours, and I had post-chemo nausea already creeping around.

The nausea, for which I was given a couple of drugs, is brutal indeed. The drugs do help but they knock me out, so I’ve been useless as well as miserable. My poor kids! Thank merciful heaven Gammy was able to rush up to Tampa to help tonight. A mom at school had heard that I was having a tough time and had sent home “sick” food–soup, soft drinks, crackers–and my neighbor showed up and asked if she could help clean out my pool and blow the leaves off the deck (our massive live oak has apparently taken up solidarity with my losses by shedding massive amounts of leaves, choking the pool skimmer). I’m very, very blessed to have these wonderful people supporting me–to speak nothing of the family friend who has donated platelets in my name and offered marrow. This particular friend lost her husband in a most unfair way, and it seems to me the most generous offering imaginable. How do I dare complain amidst all these incredible people?

But I do, baby that I am. The reflux that plagued me last semester is back. The ovarian pain is back. And now, here I am at 12:30am whingeing on the web for all to see. I had such high hopes for soldiering on, and instead I’ve been blubbering on the phone to anyone with the patience to listen–or avoiding the phone altogether out of trying to get some sleep. And I did sleep all day, which is why I’m up now.

Perhaps those vampires who keep coming after me for my blood have turned me into one of them.

And to top it off, my eight year old is now somehow convinced I have cancer in my big toe.