Things are better, or looking up, or maybe i'm just too tired to freak out any further. It could also be that those happy hormones that they say pregnant women produce have started to flood my system. I suppose it doesn't really matter at this point...
Ben (my totally awsome favoritest person in the world) got to a tag and title place yesterday and was able to sort out (mostly) all of our truck stuff. We've been having some bad luck when it comes to cars recently. Both of them have been in minor accidents neither of which were our fault (and Ben was driving both times, it's a wonder he can get behind the wheel at all and not feel as though everyone's out to get him). My truck got a ticket a couple weeks ago for having expired tags... turns out that Ben when he renewed our registration on the Isuzu put the new sticker on the Toyota and now my truck looks like it isn't registered. Luckily i work with police officers and i had them run the tags and at least make sure the truck is actually registered, which it is. Anyhow, we've been having trouble getting them registered in MD, but i think we finally have it all sorted out. I can start driving my car to work again and we can begin thinking about how to get a car with a back seat. Anyone want to buy a little white pick-up?
Meanwhile there are gobs of people out there giving me the same damned speech about how I shouldn't worry, how everything's going to be fine, about how their parents didn't have any money, about how we're going to be awsome parents.... etc. etc. etc... and as much as I love all these people, i think i'm tired of it...
Why does everyone tell you to "stop freaking out"??? i mean freaking out is probably a good thing. I would rather get it all out in one fell swoop, worry my brains out, be totally convinced we're fucked, and then once it feels as though we haven't a snow-ball's-chance-in-a-woodstove i'll be too tired to carry it on much longer.
I'm good at freaking out, i'm good at worrying and panicking...
I really and truely appreciate everyone being supportive, loving, etc... but just like the whole "don't cry" thing... i'm gunna. I'm gunna and there's nothing you can do about it so sit with me while i freak out, and maybe tell me "you know you're completely right, you're 100% fucked, you may as well give up now."
PS: West! Welcome to the e-gads of people who have nothing better to do but spill their beans on the internet... Now we can blab all day to each other!
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Thursday, February 23, 2006
The Urinator
During the 15-16 hrs i was awake yesterday I peed over 20 times. I didn't realize that the human body was capable of such things.
In the mean time. I need help brainstorming how to take care of the kid that is currently only a bundle of cells latched onto the lining of my uterus once it's born into the world as a little humanoid critter, while still meeting my financial responsibilites of $400 a week (after taxes)...
Do i get a new job? Do i find out if i can bring the kid to work with me (that would only be until it started becoming more noisy and fidgety and needed to crawl around... then what?
Do i find people who need a nanny and watch other people's kids along with my own?
Do i find a really well paying part time job?
Do i find a daycare? (not my favorite choice).
Do we move back in with my parents so we can live off of Ben's income alone so i can stay home with the little person? (also not my favorite choice, living with them now is driving me up a wall).
and here i thought cloth diapers vs. plastic diapers was the biggest choice i'd have to make... (not really).
In the mean time. I need help brainstorming how to take care of the kid that is currently only a bundle of cells latched onto the lining of my uterus once it's born into the world as a little humanoid critter, while still meeting my financial responsibilites of $400 a week (after taxes)...
Do i get a new job? Do i find out if i can bring the kid to work with me (that would only be until it started becoming more noisy and fidgety and needed to crawl around... then what?
Do i find people who need a nanny and watch other people's kids along with my own?
Do i find a really well paying part time job?
Do i find a daycare? (not my favorite choice).
Do we move back in with my parents so we can live off of Ben's income alone so i can stay home with the little person? (also not my favorite choice, living with them now is driving me up a wall).
and here i thought cloth diapers vs. plastic diapers was the biggest choice i'd have to make... (not really).
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Friday, February 17, 2006
Flaming Wreck
I am a flaming wreck. I am on some sort of emotional rollercoaster about this pregnancy. After leaving the grocery store with the positive results in a paper bag on my lap Jes and I drove around my work parkinglot while i cried.
I had forgotten that being pregnant could be a good thing. Then When I got home from work that night Ben had gotten all my favorite foods (eel sushi and cheese) and fake champagne and had decorated the living room. he even put a zero candle in the middle of the sushi. He's ecstatic and terribly cute.
Unfortunately... the practicality of it all is getting to me today. How are we going to pay for this baby? Will my health insurance from my new job (which doesn't kick in until april) cover the pregnancy? What are we going to do with the child after my maternity leave is up?
Hell, we don't even own a car with a backseat!
You know the "Everything happens for a reason" concept that people use for faith? I was trying to think of a reason we would get knocked up now... the only thing i can come up with is a forced way for me to learn how to RELAX.
So I've been holding my breath for various reasons since last august. I guess if i don't exhale now and stop waiting for shit in order to be happy or relaxed, i'll end up suffocating myself.
So here's to relaxing. Cheers.
I had forgotten that being pregnant could be a good thing. Then When I got home from work that night Ben had gotten all my favorite foods (eel sushi and cheese) and fake champagne and had decorated the living room. he even put a zero candle in the middle of the sushi. He's ecstatic and terribly cute.
Unfortunately... the practicality of it all is getting to me today. How are we going to pay for this baby? Will my health insurance from my new job (which doesn't kick in until april) cover the pregnancy? What are we going to do with the child after my maternity leave is up?
Hell, we don't even own a car with a backseat!
You know the "Everything happens for a reason" concept that people use for faith? I was trying to think of a reason we would get knocked up now... the only thing i can come up with is a forced way for me to learn how to RELAX.
So I've been holding my breath for various reasons since last august. I guess if i don't exhale now and stop waiting for shit in order to be happy or relaxed, i'll end up suffocating myself.
So here's to relaxing. Cheers.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Dead Bunnies
Nowadays
a woman who wants to find out if she's pregnant need only make a quick trip to the local drug, grocery, or convenience store; purchase an over-the-counter home pregnancy test kit; and perform a simple test; and she'll know the results within a matter of minutes. Not so long ago, however, it wasn't nearly so quick or easy: A woman who thought she might be with child had to schedule an appointment with her doctor, make a trip to his office, give a urine sample, go home, then spend an anxious couple of days waiting for the office to telephone with the test results.
In the movies and television, a positive result was usually revealed by having a character burst into a scene and announce dramatically, "The rabbit died!" (This phrase was either shouted excitedly or whispered in a hushed tone, depending upon whether or not a positive result was the one the woman desired.) But why a rabbit? And why did it die if the woman was pregnant?
The origins of the "rabbit test" lie with the discovery in the 1920s that a woman starts producing a hormone known as human chorionic gonadotropin (hCG) shortly after a fertilized egg implants itself in the uterine wall. (It was later discovered that the presence of hCG causes the placenta to produce progesterone after implantation, necessary to prevent rejection of the developing embryo.) In 1927, medical researchers found that not only is hCG present in the urine of pregnant women, but that female rabbits injected with urine containing hCG would, within a few days, display distinct ovarian changes. Thus the "rabbit test" was born, and with it the misconception that the rabbit's death was an indicator of a positive result. In those early tests, the rabbit always died, because the animal had to be killed before its ovaries could be examined. Later refinements to the test enabled clinicians to inspect the ovaries without having to kill the rabbits first, but as the example cited above demonstrates, the misconception that the test rabbit died only if the woman was pregnant is still with us today, even though the "rabbit test" itself is not.
Modern pregnancy tests are still based on measuring the amount of hCG present in urine, but they do so directly, without the need of an animal intermediary to serve as a test subject. (Blood can also be tested for hCG; in fact, this type of test is more accurate and can be performed earlier in the pregnancy, but urine tests are still used in home pregnancy kits because they're much easier to self-administer.)
So, save for old movies, the rabbit test is now passé, and about the only time we hear about dead rabbits is when someone repeats the Hare Dryer legend.
a woman who wants to find out if she's pregnant need only make a quick trip to the local drug, grocery, or convenience store; purchase an over-the-counter home pregnancy test kit; and perform a simple test; and she'll know the results within a matter of minutes. Not so long ago, however, it wasn't nearly so quick or easy: A woman who thought she might be with child had to schedule an appointment with her doctor, make a trip to his office, give a urine sample, go home, then spend an anxious couple of days waiting for the office to telephone with the test results.
In the movies and television, a positive result was usually revealed by having a character burst into a scene and announce dramatically, "The rabbit died!" (This phrase was either shouted excitedly or whispered in a hushed tone, depending upon whether or not a positive result was the one the woman desired.) But why a rabbit? And why did it die if the woman was pregnant?
The origins of the "rabbit test" lie with the discovery in the 1920s that a woman starts producing a hormone known as human chorionic gonadotropin (hCG) shortly after a fertilized egg implants itself in the uterine wall. (It was later discovered that the presence of hCG causes the placenta to produce progesterone after implantation, necessary to prevent rejection of the developing embryo.) In 1927, medical researchers found that not only is hCG present in the urine of pregnant women, but that female rabbits injected with urine containing hCG would, within a few days, display distinct ovarian changes. Thus the "rabbit test" was born, and with it the misconception that the rabbit's death was an indicator of a positive result. In those early tests, the rabbit always died, because the animal had to be killed before its ovaries could be examined. Later refinements to the test enabled clinicians to inspect the ovaries without having to kill the rabbits first, but as the example cited above demonstrates, the misconception that the test rabbit died only if the woman was pregnant is still with us today, even though the "rabbit test" itself is not.
Modern pregnancy tests are still based on measuring the amount of hCG present in urine, but they do so directly, without the need of an animal intermediary to serve as a test subject. (Blood can also be tested for hCG; in fact, this type of test is more accurate and can be performed earlier in the pregnancy, but urine tests are still used in home pregnancy kits because they're much easier to self-administer.)
So, save for old movies, the rabbit test is now passé, and about the only time we hear about dead rabbits is when someone repeats the Hare Dryer legend.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Isn't it Roooomantic?
For Valentine's day i got a 20 gauge Mossberg shotgun and a tin of chocolates with Elvis on the lid.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Shit.
I just found out one of my dear, dear friends has colon cancer. Some of you have met her before and know how much i owe her. She saved me from myself time and time again. Here is her story:
Dear Friends,
I’m sorry to email you all together like this, but you can see that you are part of a select group, unlike the massive story emails I usually send around at random. This too is a story email, but of a vastly different sort than I usually send. Yes, it is a tale of adventure, and it is full of news and other Kit updates. The adventure is scary and interesting and entirely unlike any other I have ever found, but I didn’t go looking for this one. The news is shocking and not all bad. In fact, the news, relatively speaking, is all good. I’ve prattled on for long enough now, I’m sorry. I don’t really know how to share this news, so I may as well just spit (or type) it out…
I have colon cancer. I’m sorry to blindside you, but there’s really no good way to share this news. I didn’t mean to keep this from you, but didn’t really know how to tell you, and then I began treatment before I could really get my head straight enough to tell the story, and then once I was in treatment, I couldn’t stay awake for long enough to write it. These are excuses. The truth is I dreaded writing this email.
The details in a nutshell are: I WILL LIVE. There is no doubt about this oh so important detail. My prognosis is excellent, partly due to my very good health (cancer aside), and partly due to the fact that on average I’m half, or less, the age of the people in cancer treatment. Lucky me. I am in treatment at Boston Medical Center in Boston, Massachusetts. I have a team of extraordinary doctors whom I trust completely. I was diagnosed in the first week of October (I’m sorry to remain silent for so long, I truly am…), and began appointments in Boston by Halloween. I have completed 6 weeks of radiation treatment and chemotherapy, and now I am nearing the end of my 6 week break for recovery, and I have surgery one week from today, February 16th.
The details out of the nutshell are: I have been diagnosed with a condition called FAP (familial adenomatous polyposis). The fun part of the story is that this is supposed to be an inherited genetic mutation, but since I always do things that are unexpected, I get to be the one to establish the family history of colon cancer. Bonus! I was kind of sick all this summer, but never thought anything of it, since I’ve never been sick before, ever. I lost about 10 lbs. during the month of June, but still didn’t worry. Those of you who know the story of The Hotdog Lady and my ongoing battles to remain in business realize why I attributed my weight loss to the stress I was under all summer in the midst of the chaos of small town politics and bureaucracy. It was July before I even noticed that something was wrong with me, and that my stomach’s reaction to food was abnormal. It was late August before I decided to pay a visit to my brother’s doctor (I didn’t even have my own…), and mid-September before I was able to get an appointment with the gastroenterologist he referred me to. That lovely and compassionate man looked at me for 10 minutes, charged me $130.00 and told me to come back for a follow-up in the middle of November. On Thursday, October 6th I ended up in the Emergency Room after an episode of lots of blood coming from somewhere that it’s not supposed to. I was admitted and had a colonoscopy done the following morning, after being reassured by another gastroenterologist (this one actually WAS lovely and compassionate) that it was better to know what was wrong with me after I asked if I should be nervous about what he would find, since it certainly wouldn’t be cancer.
I woke up after the colonoscopy to find my 2 nurses and my gastroenterologist, Dr. Flavin, on the verge of tears as they told me that they had found hundreds of polyps and two masses that they’d biopsied because they were nearly definitely cancer. Wow. Dr. Flavin kept me in the hospital through the following day for additional tests and scans, and I returned home on Saturday afternoon and found my perspective of my world as I knew it changed.
I spent the rest of the weekend studying online, and found just enough information to make me dangerous in a doctor’s office, but not enough to reassure me, yet. Dr. Flavin was fantastic. Before I left the hospital he promised me he wouldn’t drop the ball, and he never has. He went to work immediately to get me the information I so desperately craved, and also to find a doctor who was capable of treating me. Before the week was finished, he has the positive results of my biopsies in hand, confirming my worst fears, and had also made progress with my insurance company to make sure that I would be treated in Boston instead of in Portland, Maine like they preferred. If I have learned anything at all in this process, I’ve learned that if you’re unlucky enough to be diagnosed with cancer, just be certain that you’re lucky enough to be within driving distance of Boston. It’s the most wonderful thing, driving into Boston and feeling all the medical brains crackling all around you, just waiting for a chance to fix you.
Dr. Flavin wrote letters. He faxed letters. He made phone calls, and by the beginning of the following week had confirmed that I would be treated at Boston Medical Center, the teaching hospital for Boston University, my insurance would cover it completely, and that my surgeon would be Dr. James Becker, the Surgeon-in-Chief of BMC who just happened to specialize in colon cancer.
Dr. Becker is a wonderful man and I trust him entirely. My first appointment with him was on Halloween, go figure, and I never doubted for one second that I was in the best possible place for my treatment. My comfort was also bolstered by his resident, Dr. Kelly Tyler, who gave me her cell phone number when I left the exam room and told me to call her with any questions, and then proceeded to call me every day for the first week and ask what questions I had thought of. She has since rotated out of Dr. Becker’s office, but has told me that she will come back for my surgery, and that makes me happy.
I have two tumors, double fun, and thankfully only 2 lymph nodes involved, and so far, no further spread. I began radiation therapy on November 14 (happy birthday Daniel) and chemotherapy on November 16 (happy birthday Kit). The radiation was a total of 28 treatments, 5 days a week. It’s a funny thing, the word RADIATION sounds like this big scary intimidating word, and yes both the machine and table were very intimidating, but the treatment itself was very anti-climactic. My treatments took about 30 seconds per day, but it took about 10 minutes to get me all lined up properly on the table. My radiation therapists were phenomenal…It takes extraordinary people to make radiation so much better than it so easily could be, and in fact to actually make you look forward to radiation, and they succeeded. I love them all. My chemotherapy was surprisingly and similarly simple too. I now have a portacath (port) in my chest, which is really just a titanium and silicone funnel for drugs so my veins don’t freak out with too many needles. It’s the size of a bottle cap under my skin. Because I have a port, my oncologist was able to send me home with a nifty little pump contraption full of chemo that would provide a slow and steady drip through a tube and needle into my port so that I wouldn’t have to sit in the oncology clinic for hours. By taking the pump home with me (I carried over my shoulder it just like a little purse) I was able to minimize the side effects of the chemo itself. I didn’t lose my hair. I carried the pump for 5 ½ days, and then had 1 ½ days totally free and disconnected. It was a long, long, long six weeks. I slept a lot. I ate very little. I finished my radiation treatment on December 23rd and I finished my chemo on December 24th (the best Christmas present I could have wished for!).
After I finished my first phase (out of a total of 3, hopefully), I earned a 6 week break to recover, and let the radiation and chemo residuals continue to battle the alien in my belly. I slept through the first week, and then decided to take advantage of my only opportunity to leave New England this year and I had a wonderful 2 week trip to California with my sister Dinah, our nearly sister Tana, and my oldest friend, Daniel. Dinah moved out to Los Angeles just before Thanksgiving, and came home for Christmas, and then we all served as couriers to help her move her belongings west. We took a 5 day trip by train from Boston to Chicago to Denver to San Francisco to Los Angeles that was total bliss. We moved a vast amount of stuff, each of us being allowed to check 100 lbs. of luggage, and crossed 3 mountain ranges in the heart of winter. What fun! We arrived in Los Angeles and spent the next week being warm, loving our flip-flops and pilfering every Goodwill we could find in search of furniture for Dinah’s fantastic studio apartment in Hollywood. If the rental car agents could only have seen the strange loads we transported in their compact cars! Another perk of the trip was that I could forget that I was supposed to be sick, and I felt better than I had in months.
I returned home 3 weeks ago and have been immersed in the hospital world ever since. I am constantly being scanned and scoped and tested and sampled in preparation for my upcoming surgery. They can’t tell for sure how my tumors have responded to the radiation and chemo, but they know that they have responded, so that’s good news. I kept holding onto the vision during my first phase that if my treatment was making me feel so crummy, just think about how those god****ed tumors must feel!!!
My surgery will be a complete ileostomy. In real words, that means they will be removing my entire colon. In olden days, that would mean that I would have an ostomy bag for life, but modern medicine being the amazing thing that it is, that is not necessarily my only option. Dr. Becker pioneered a new type of reconstructive surgery called a J-pouch that allows bowels to function in a completely normal capacity even when missing the entire colon, and until this innovation, the only possibility for colon cancer survivors was a colostomy bag. Now, thanks to Dr. Becker and others, many survivors have the option for reconstructive surgery after a colostomy or ileostomy, and hopefully I will be among those candidates. My lower tumor is low enough that he won’t know until he is doing my surgery if I am a candidate for a J-pouch, but he has told me that there is every reason to hope for one, and I take comfort in that. In fact, though, either option is fine with me, as long as it allows me to continue to live and breathe and travel and write and swim, and both options give me all of those luxuries.
I just read back through this story and I’m shocked at how long it’s become. I’m sorry to have been out of touch for so long, and now you know why, or sort of...and if you’re reading this email, then you know me well enough to understand how I disappear under rocks from time to time and need to be coaxed back out again…
I hope this finds you all well, and I love you all.
Fondly,
Kit
Dear Friends,
I’m sorry to email you all together like this, but you can see that you are part of a select group, unlike the massive story emails I usually send around at random. This too is a story email, but of a vastly different sort than I usually send. Yes, it is a tale of adventure, and it is full of news and other Kit updates. The adventure is scary and interesting and entirely unlike any other I have ever found, but I didn’t go looking for this one. The news is shocking and not all bad. In fact, the news, relatively speaking, is all good. I’ve prattled on for long enough now, I’m sorry. I don’t really know how to share this news, so I may as well just spit (or type) it out…
I have colon cancer. I’m sorry to blindside you, but there’s really no good way to share this news. I didn’t mean to keep this from you, but didn’t really know how to tell you, and then I began treatment before I could really get my head straight enough to tell the story, and then once I was in treatment, I couldn’t stay awake for long enough to write it. These are excuses. The truth is I dreaded writing this email.
The details in a nutshell are: I WILL LIVE. There is no doubt about this oh so important detail. My prognosis is excellent, partly due to my very good health (cancer aside), and partly due to the fact that on average I’m half, or less, the age of the people in cancer treatment. Lucky me. I am in treatment at Boston Medical Center in Boston, Massachusetts. I have a team of extraordinary doctors whom I trust completely. I was diagnosed in the first week of October (I’m sorry to remain silent for so long, I truly am…), and began appointments in Boston by Halloween. I have completed 6 weeks of radiation treatment and chemotherapy, and now I am nearing the end of my 6 week break for recovery, and I have surgery one week from today, February 16th.
The details out of the nutshell are: I have been diagnosed with a condition called FAP (familial adenomatous polyposis). The fun part of the story is that this is supposed to be an inherited genetic mutation, but since I always do things that are unexpected, I get to be the one to establish the family history of colon cancer. Bonus! I was kind of sick all this summer, but never thought anything of it, since I’ve never been sick before, ever. I lost about 10 lbs. during the month of June, but still didn’t worry. Those of you who know the story of The Hotdog Lady and my ongoing battles to remain in business realize why I attributed my weight loss to the stress I was under all summer in the midst of the chaos of small town politics and bureaucracy. It was July before I even noticed that something was wrong with me, and that my stomach’s reaction to food was abnormal. It was late August before I decided to pay a visit to my brother’s doctor (I didn’t even have my own…), and mid-September before I was able to get an appointment with the gastroenterologist he referred me to. That lovely and compassionate man looked at me for 10 minutes, charged me $130.00 and told me to come back for a follow-up in the middle of November. On Thursday, October 6th I ended up in the Emergency Room after an episode of lots of blood coming from somewhere that it’s not supposed to. I was admitted and had a colonoscopy done the following morning, after being reassured by another gastroenterologist (this one actually WAS lovely and compassionate) that it was better to know what was wrong with me after I asked if I should be nervous about what he would find, since it certainly wouldn’t be cancer.
I woke up after the colonoscopy to find my 2 nurses and my gastroenterologist, Dr. Flavin, on the verge of tears as they told me that they had found hundreds of polyps and two masses that they’d biopsied because they were nearly definitely cancer. Wow. Dr. Flavin kept me in the hospital through the following day for additional tests and scans, and I returned home on Saturday afternoon and found my perspective of my world as I knew it changed.
I spent the rest of the weekend studying online, and found just enough information to make me dangerous in a doctor’s office, but not enough to reassure me, yet. Dr. Flavin was fantastic. Before I left the hospital he promised me he wouldn’t drop the ball, and he never has. He went to work immediately to get me the information I so desperately craved, and also to find a doctor who was capable of treating me. Before the week was finished, he has the positive results of my biopsies in hand, confirming my worst fears, and had also made progress with my insurance company to make sure that I would be treated in Boston instead of in Portland, Maine like they preferred. If I have learned anything at all in this process, I’ve learned that if you’re unlucky enough to be diagnosed with cancer, just be certain that you’re lucky enough to be within driving distance of Boston. It’s the most wonderful thing, driving into Boston and feeling all the medical brains crackling all around you, just waiting for a chance to fix you.
Dr. Flavin wrote letters. He faxed letters. He made phone calls, and by the beginning of the following week had confirmed that I would be treated at Boston Medical Center, the teaching hospital for Boston University, my insurance would cover it completely, and that my surgeon would be Dr. James Becker, the Surgeon-in-Chief of BMC who just happened to specialize in colon cancer.
Dr. Becker is a wonderful man and I trust him entirely. My first appointment with him was on Halloween, go figure, and I never doubted for one second that I was in the best possible place for my treatment. My comfort was also bolstered by his resident, Dr. Kelly Tyler, who gave me her cell phone number when I left the exam room and told me to call her with any questions, and then proceeded to call me every day for the first week and ask what questions I had thought of. She has since rotated out of Dr. Becker’s office, but has told me that she will come back for my surgery, and that makes me happy.
I have two tumors, double fun, and thankfully only 2 lymph nodes involved, and so far, no further spread. I began radiation therapy on November 14 (happy birthday Daniel) and chemotherapy on November 16 (happy birthday Kit). The radiation was a total of 28 treatments, 5 days a week. It’s a funny thing, the word RADIATION sounds like this big scary intimidating word, and yes both the machine and table were very intimidating, but the treatment itself was very anti-climactic. My treatments took about 30 seconds per day, but it took about 10 minutes to get me all lined up properly on the table. My radiation therapists were phenomenal…It takes extraordinary people to make radiation so much better than it so easily could be, and in fact to actually make you look forward to radiation, and they succeeded. I love them all. My chemotherapy was surprisingly and similarly simple too. I now have a portacath (port) in my chest, which is really just a titanium and silicone funnel for drugs so my veins don’t freak out with too many needles. It’s the size of a bottle cap under my skin. Because I have a port, my oncologist was able to send me home with a nifty little pump contraption full of chemo that would provide a slow and steady drip through a tube and needle into my port so that I wouldn’t have to sit in the oncology clinic for hours. By taking the pump home with me (I carried over my shoulder it just like a little purse) I was able to minimize the side effects of the chemo itself. I didn’t lose my hair. I carried the pump for 5 ½ days, and then had 1 ½ days totally free and disconnected. It was a long, long, long six weeks. I slept a lot. I ate very little. I finished my radiation treatment on December 23rd and I finished my chemo on December 24th (the best Christmas present I could have wished for!).
After I finished my first phase (out of a total of 3, hopefully), I earned a 6 week break to recover, and let the radiation and chemo residuals continue to battle the alien in my belly. I slept through the first week, and then decided to take advantage of my only opportunity to leave New England this year and I had a wonderful 2 week trip to California with my sister Dinah, our nearly sister Tana, and my oldest friend, Daniel. Dinah moved out to Los Angeles just before Thanksgiving, and came home for Christmas, and then we all served as couriers to help her move her belongings west. We took a 5 day trip by train from Boston to Chicago to Denver to San Francisco to Los Angeles that was total bliss. We moved a vast amount of stuff, each of us being allowed to check 100 lbs. of luggage, and crossed 3 mountain ranges in the heart of winter. What fun! We arrived in Los Angeles and spent the next week being warm, loving our flip-flops and pilfering every Goodwill we could find in search of furniture for Dinah’s fantastic studio apartment in Hollywood. If the rental car agents could only have seen the strange loads we transported in their compact cars! Another perk of the trip was that I could forget that I was supposed to be sick, and I felt better than I had in months.
I returned home 3 weeks ago and have been immersed in the hospital world ever since. I am constantly being scanned and scoped and tested and sampled in preparation for my upcoming surgery. They can’t tell for sure how my tumors have responded to the radiation and chemo, but they know that they have responded, so that’s good news. I kept holding onto the vision during my first phase that if my treatment was making me feel so crummy, just think about how those god****ed tumors must feel!!!
My surgery will be a complete ileostomy. In real words, that means they will be removing my entire colon. In olden days, that would mean that I would have an ostomy bag for life, but modern medicine being the amazing thing that it is, that is not necessarily my only option. Dr. Becker pioneered a new type of reconstructive surgery called a J-pouch that allows bowels to function in a completely normal capacity even when missing the entire colon, and until this innovation, the only possibility for colon cancer survivors was a colostomy bag. Now, thanks to Dr. Becker and others, many survivors have the option for reconstructive surgery after a colostomy or ileostomy, and hopefully I will be among those candidates. My lower tumor is low enough that he won’t know until he is doing my surgery if I am a candidate for a J-pouch, but he has told me that there is every reason to hope for one, and I take comfort in that. In fact, though, either option is fine with me, as long as it allows me to continue to live and breathe and travel and write and swim, and both options give me all of those luxuries.
I just read back through this story and I’m shocked at how long it’s become. I’m sorry to have been out of touch for so long, and now you know why, or sort of...and if you’re reading this email, then you know me well enough to understand how I disappear under rocks from time to time and need to be coaxed back out again…
I hope this finds you all well, and I love you all.
Fondly,
Kit
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
The Modern Mullet
Luke Skywalker and I have the same hair cut.
The funny thing is that when i found this picture the URL said
"mullet madness"
Oh dear... what have I done?
Monday, February 06, 2006
Tagged
Tagged by Seeks So here it goes.
FOUR JOBS I'VE HAD
1998-Assistant Manager of a Bed and Breakfast in Sedona,AZ
1999-Admin Assistant by day and Techie Crew by night for a Repertory Theatre in Portsmouth, NH
2002-Manager of a Web Hosting Company in Rockville, MD
2003-Events Coordinator for the Adult and Master's degree programs for Prescott College in Prescott, AZ
FOUR MOVIES I CAN WATCH OVER AND OVER
Rushmore-and all movies by said director including (Life Aquatic, Royal Tenenbaums)
Last of the Mohicans- I still cry when I see Alice jump
Lilo and Stitch- because it's really, really funny.
The Princess and the Warrior-german, really good.
FOUR PLACES I HAVE LIVED
250yr old log cabin in the middle of protected watershed in the last bit of rural Maryland between Baltimore and NY.
Sedona, AZ- first place I moved after I left home at seventeen. It was beautiful and waaaay too expensive for me so shortly thereafter i ended up moving to the less expensive and less beautiful but not far away town of Cottonwood.
Portsmouth, NH- After about a year in Sedona I left with my restored '78 F250 and drove east stopping in Boulder and the like for fun. Then somehow in the next 5 months I ended up in Portsmouth, NH living in a subsidized house with at one point 5 men and me.
Prescott, AZ-I moved to Prescott to go to school. I lived in the best apartment in a building that was built in 1909 and very crooked. I had all sorts of Rock climbing in my back yard, adventure, adventure, adventure. I think perhaps those were the golden days.
FOUR TV SHOWS I LOVE TO WATCH
I only have three because I don't really watch TV and the episodes i do see are all on video.
-Six Feet Under- if you haven't seen it, you should. Really awesome and sometimes really messed up.
-Scrubs-very funny. I love internal dialog, even if it is cheesy.
-Dharma and Greg- It's not on the air any more. This is my embarassing fetish. It's really funny... i know i'm a dork.
FOUR PLACES I HAVE VACATIONED
-Russia-St. Petersburg and Moscow
-Scottland/England-London, Inverness, Edinburgh, Bath, Stonehenge, Drumnadrochit, Lochness, Ullapool.
-Alaska-Juneau, Sitka, the Yukon(i know, Canada), Anak Tuvuk Pass(inside the Arctic Circle, Brooks Range), Prince William Sound, Fairbanks, Anchorage, and much, much more.
-Telluride, CO-when i was 18 my boyfriend's dad was rich and took us skiing for a week in Telluride.
FOUR OF MY FAVORITE DISHES
-Longanesa with Rice and Eggs-it's a filipino sausage, really good, very fattening.
-Ben's Thai Curry-we made a deal that if he cooked me one good meal he would be allowed kitchen priveledges (up to this point he wasn't allowed to cook in MY kitchen, i'm a little OCD). So he made me an amazing curry, now it's all I crave but he hasn't made it since. :(
-My father's Venison Tenderloin with onions, mushrooms, and potatoes from the garden-oh my, i'm drooling
-Grits, eggs, venison sausage- good fat country breakfast
(oh and because i looooove food i can't leave it at 4 things) Mexican anything!!!
FOUR SITES I VISIT DAILY
Craigs List-Because i'm furniture shopping for our new house
Hotmail- checkin' e-mail
My own blog-I'm so egotistical
Santegroup.org-that's my work website, i use it to get to databases, e-mail, etc.
FOUR PLACES I'D RATHER BE RIGHT NOW
Anywhere
home with Ben
Playing in the snow (which doesn't seem to exist)
in my office (I forgot my keys to my office and am waiting for someone to let me in... i might be waiting for a while).
Tagging Becky, Heidi, Rowen, and Jesse
FOUR JOBS I'VE HAD
1998-Assistant Manager of a Bed and Breakfast in Sedona,AZ
1999-Admin Assistant by day and Techie Crew by night for a Repertory Theatre in Portsmouth, NH
2002-Manager of a Web Hosting Company in Rockville, MD
2003-Events Coordinator for the Adult and Master's degree programs for Prescott College in Prescott, AZ
FOUR MOVIES I CAN WATCH OVER AND OVER
Rushmore-and all movies by said director including (Life Aquatic, Royal Tenenbaums)
Last of the Mohicans- I still cry when I see Alice jump
Lilo and Stitch- because it's really, really funny.
The Princess and the Warrior-german, really good.
FOUR PLACES I HAVE LIVED
250yr old log cabin in the middle of protected watershed in the last bit of rural Maryland between Baltimore and NY.
Sedona, AZ- first place I moved after I left home at seventeen. It was beautiful and waaaay too expensive for me so shortly thereafter i ended up moving to the less expensive and less beautiful but not far away town of Cottonwood.
Portsmouth, NH- After about a year in Sedona I left with my restored '78 F250 and drove east stopping in Boulder and the like for fun. Then somehow in the next 5 months I ended up in Portsmouth, NH living in a subsidized house with at one point 5 men and me.
Prescott, AZ-I moved to Prescott to go to school. I lived in the best apartment in a building that was built in 1909 and very crooked. I had all sorts of Rock climbing in my back yard, adventure, adventure, adventure. I think perhaps those were the golden days.
FOUR TV SHOWS I LOVE TO WATCH
I only have three because I don't really watch TV and the episodes i do see are all on video.
-Six Feet Under- if you haven't seen it, you should. Really awesome and sometimes really messed up.
-Scrubs-very funny. I love internal dialog, even if it is cheesy.
-Dharma and Greg- It's not on the air any more. This is my embarassing fetish. It's really funny... i know i'm a dork.
FOUR PLACES I HAVE VACATIONED
-Russia-St. Petersburg and Moscow
-Scottland/England-London, Inverness, Edinburgh, Bath, Stonehenge, Drumnadrochit, Lochness, Ullapool.
-Alaska-Juneau, Sitka, the Yukon(i know, Canada), Anak Tuvuk Pass(inside the Arctic Circle, Brooks Range), Prince William Sound, Fairbanks, Anchorage, and much, much more.
-Telluride, CO-when i was 18 my boyfriend's dad was rich and took us skiing for a week in Telluride.
FOUR OF MY FAVORITE DISHES
-Longanesa with Rice and Eggs-it's a filipino sausage, really good, very fattening.
-Ben's Thai Curry-we made a deal that if he cooked me one good meal he would be allowed kitchen priveledges (up to this point he wasn't allowed to cook in MY kitchen, i'm a little OCD). So he made me an amazing curry, now it's all I crave but he hasn't made it since. :(
-My father's Venison Tenderloin with onions, mushrooms, and potatoes from the garden-oh my, i'm drooling
-Grits, eggs, venison sausage- good fat country breakfast
(oh and because i looooove food i can't leave it at 4 things) Mexican anything!!!
FOUR SITES I VISIT DAILY
Craigs List-Because i'm furniture shopping for our new house
Hotmail- checkin' e-mail
My own blog-I'm so egotistical
Santegroup.org-that's my work website, i use it to get to databases, e-mail, etc.
FOUR PLACES I'D RATHER BE RIGHT NOW
Anywhere
home with Ben
Playing in the snow (which doesn't seem to exist)
in my office (I forgot my keys to my office and am waiting for someone to let me in... i might be waiting for a while).
Tagging Becky, Heidi, Rowen, and Jesse
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Craziness
As always things have picked up and I envy past Libby's boredom. It's been an interesting few days at work as the network has been down since last friday and very little can be done without it.
February has come in like gang busters. This weekend is a Welcome Home Girl party at my Aunt Mary's house for my cousin Rachel who has just returned from a year in Africa doing AIDS and HIV education and intervention. It's wonderful to have her home.
Next weekend is the Mid-winter Ball
Weekend after that my sister comes home for a visit
Weekend after that Ben and I move into our new place and My folks leave for Costa Rica
And Weekend after that it's March. Where does the time go??
Meanwhile i'm plugging away.
And in response to Becky's question: no, it's the last little white house going south on York Rd.
February has come in like gang busters. This weekend is a Welcome Home Girl party at my Aunt Mary's house for my cousin Rachel who has just returned from a year in Africa doing AIDS and HIV education and intervention. It's wonderful to have her home.
Next weekend is the Mid-winter Ball
Weekend after that my sister comes home for a visit
Weekend after that Ben and I move into our new place and My folks leave for Costa Rica
And Weekend after that it's March. Where does the time go??
Meanwhile i'm plugging away.
And in response to Becky's question: no, it's the last little white house going south on York Rd.
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