I am now a superhero - Super Sniffer. Chemotherapy can intensify one's sense of smell. Since I was a pretty good smeller (is that a word?) to begin with, I am now Super Sniffer.
My powers were especially strong in the first few days after treatment. When Michael and I went for a walk around the neighbourhood, I knew what everyone was barbequeing for dinner - pork chops sizzled at one house, potatoes were grilling at another, while hot dogs graced the grill of another.
The flowers decorating my living room smelled beautiful. The gas of one member of my family was especially malodourous. The wet dog scent particularly annoyed me.
Even today, more than two weeks after treatment, my nose sniffed out the wet straw when we passed a farm and the roads after the rain smelled like dust and dirt.
As Super Sniffer, I have one request to those who visit me. Please omit the cologne or perfume. While it may smell great to me normally, it may offend my sensitive nose now.
So Super Sniffer signs off on this cloudy Saturday and wishes everyone only good smells. (Don't all the really important superheroes sign off at the end of their shows?) ;)
Tina
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Friday, May 8, 2009
Strange things
I've got that tune from the movie Toy Story running through my head this morning. The lyrics croon, "strange things are happening to me." Yup, that's how I feel. No, my hair is still firmly affixed to my head, much to my delight.
It's the other little side effects of chemotherapy making me chuckle. Not because they're particularly funny, but because the combination of all these little side effects, add up to one big annoyance. Of course, nothing's easy and maybe laughing is my way of dealing with them.
Earlier this week, I broke out in a rash of small, red, very itchy bumps on my hands, arms, legs and belly. I thought it was a delayed reaction to the chemotherapy, but my home care nurse (Roman) told me my body/skin will change and I may suddenly develop a reaction to products or environmental allergens. Great!
So I ditched my beloved deodorant Irish Spring, which I suspected as the cuprit, and tried cucumber and aloe Dove. Two days later, my rash is gone.
My body is also drying out. My skin craves lotion, my eyes get sticky, the inside of my nose feels dry and lip balm is my new best friend. Since I've always consumed a lot of water, I suspect this continued habit prevents my mouth from drying out.
I'm also getting these weird red dots on my skin. There's only two (that I know of) right now, but more may suddenly appear after my next treatment. I'm only hoping that we won't have enough to play connect the dots as the weeks go on.
To top it off, chemo also cause pimples. So I'm essentially a middle-aged woman with dry skin, red dots and pimples. Throw in the round belly from the ascities and the impending baldness and I'll be a sight. Sigh.
But again, I have to laugh and find the humour in this situation. You can laugh with me. It is quite ridiculous.
Happy Friday!
Tina
It's the other little side effects of chemotherapy making me chuckle. Not because they're particularly funny, but because the combination of all these little side effects, add up to one big annoyance. Of course, nothing's easy and maybe laughing is my way of dealing with them.
Earlier this week, I broke out in a rash of small, red, very itchy bumps on my hands, arms, legs and belly. I thought it was a delayed reaction to the chemotherapy, but my home care nurse (Roman) told me my body/skin will change and I may suddenly develop a reaction to products or environmental allergens. Great!
So I ditched my beloved deodorant Irish Spring, which I suspected as the cuprit, and tried cucumber and aloe Dove. Two days later, my rash is gone.
My body is also drying out. My skin craves lotion, my eyes get sticky, the inside of my nose feels dry and lip balm is my new best friend. Since I've always consumed a lot of water, I suspect this continued habit prevents my mouth from drying out.
I'm also getting these weird red dots on my skin. There's only two (that I know of) right now, but more may suddenly appear after my next treatment. I'm only hoping that we won't have enough to play connect the dots as the weeks go on.
To top it off, chemo also cause pimples. So I'm essentially a middle-aged woman with dry skin, red dots and pimples. Throw in the round belly from the ascities and the impending baldness and I'll be a sight. Sigh.
But again, I have to laugh and find the humour in this situation. You can laugh with me. It is quite ridiculous.
Happy Friday!
Tina
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Prepare for the worst
When my doctor told me to prepare for the worst and then live each day, I felt angry. It felt like she was declaring my diagnosis a definitive death sentence; like she wasn't even giving me a chance.
But last night Michael and I went to get wills drawn up. Yes, I know, we should have done that 11 years ago when Noah was born. We've been chastised. We know better. Still, we hadn't done it. But now that the process is underway, I feel slightly liberated.
I did all the research into our life insurance, pension plans and investments to gather the information for the lawyer. It's now all in one place. It's a process I knew should be done, but never had. The cancer diagnosis was the impetus. Yet, it shouldn't take a serious illness to prompt action.
Tragically, people die in accidents every day. We wouldn't have been prepared if that happened to Michael or me.
So while I know it's a lot of work, I encourage everyone to have a will, power of attorney, living will and a file folder containing all the necessary documents. I'm still working on my file folder. For some reason, I can't find my marriage licence. Sheesh. Almost fourteen years later, I'm missing a critical document. So much for my haphazard filing system.
I'm not sure I'm quite prepared for the worst mentally. Of course, I've thought about it. But I don't think one can really prepare until the doctor says there's no hope. Besides, it doesn't fit with my belief that I'm going to beat this blasted cancer.
On a health note, my ascities (fluid in my belly) is coming back. I'm not happy being all round like Santa, because it makes me anything but jolly. I know the chemo helped bring it down last time so I'm hoping I can wait until next Friday's treatment so I don't have to go through the painful puncturing process of being drained.
Yet, I have a slight cold. Now I need prayers my white blood cell levels will get high enough by next Friday so they don't have to postpone treatment. I'd be devastated.
I think I'm trying to do too much on the days I feel great. I felt so good yesterday, it felt as though I were playing hooky from work (sorry Colleen and Rachael). But I'm more tired today. I guess I just have to listen to my body and get used to the roller coaster of side effects this illness brings.
Oh, and I wanted to mention to those who visit - you don't have to bring anything with you when you come. I'd love to see just you.
Finally, go Team Tina! We now have at least 50 registered participants raising money for ovarian cancer research. I appreciate the efforts of all the runners and am thankful for every dollar donated to this researcher, who may find ways to directly improve my life.
I hope you enjoy this beautiful day before the rain comes.
Love, Tina
But last night Michael and I went to get wills drawn up. Yes, I know, we should have done that 11 years ago when Noah was born. We've been chastised. We know better. Still, we hadn't done it. But now that the process is underway, I feel slightly liberated.
I did all the research into our life insurance, pension plans and investments to gather the information for the lawyer. It's now all in one place. It's a process I knew should be done, but never had. The cancer diagnosis was the impetus. Yet, it shouldn't take a serious illness to prompt action.
Tragically, people die in accidents every day. We wouldn't have been prepared if that happened to Michael or me.
So while I know it's a lot of work, I encourage everyone to have a will, power of attorney, living will and a file folder containing all the necessary documents. I'm still working on my file folder. For some reason, I can't find my marriage licence. Sheesh. Almost fourteen years later, I'm missing a critical document. So much for my haphazard filing system.
I'm not sure I'm quite prepared for the worst mentally. Of course, I've thought about it. But I don't think one can really prepare until the doctor says there's no hope. Besides, it doesn't fit with my belief that I'm going to beat this blasted cancer.
On a health note, my ascities (fluid in my belly) is coming back. I'm not happy being all round like Santa, because it makes me anything but jolly. I know the chemo helped bring it down last time so I'm hoping I can wait until next Friday's treatment so I don't have to go through the painful puncturing process of being drained.
Yet, I have a slight cold. Now I need prayers my white blood cell levels will get high enough by next Friday so they don't have to postpone treatment. I'd be devastated.
I think I'm trying to do too much on the days I feel great. I felt so good yesterday, it felt as though I were playing hooky from work (sorry Colleen and Rachael). But I'm more tired today. I guess I just have to listen to my body and get used to the roller coaster of side effects this illness brings.
Oh, and I wanted to mention to those who visit - you don't have to bring anything with you when you come. I'd love to see just you.
Finally, go Team Tina! We now have at least 50 registered participants raising money for ovarian cancer research. I appreciate the efforts of all the runners and am thankful for every dollar donated to this researcher, who may find ways to directly improve my life.
I hope you enjoy this beautiful day before the rain comes.
Love, Tina
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Scary hairy truth
My brain is playing tricks on me. I wash my hair every morning and think "yeah, it's getting a little thinner." I was accepting that quite gracefully, I must say. But when I announced my receeding hairline during lunch on Monday with Angie and my friend, Jacqueline, they both sadly shook their heads at me. Apparently, my hair won't fall out gradually, with my adjusting every step of the way.
"You'll find it all over your pillow one morning," they said, gleefully cackling at my fate. Okay so they were compassionately smiling, but it felt like evil laughter because I was horrified. Sure, I expected to find chunks on my pillow and even pull out sections in the shower, but all at once? Ack!
With my luck, I'm betting little sections of hair will remain, so I'll look like I got scalped by a half-blind hair stylist. When that happens, I'm calling my sister-in-law, Margaret to visit with her razer pronto! Then hats and beautiful scarves will be my friends (even though I don't know how to tie them properly yet).
But currently, I still have my hair. I'm starting to really like it short. Too bad it's going to fall out any day now.
My blog is a little late today because I went to talk to my son's class about cancer. Noah's classmates seemed to know he had this secret and discussed it behind his back. So I alleviated the problems this caused by sharing my cancer diagnosis. I explained the treatment and the side effects. I'm at the school regularly and these kids will see me when I'm bald. I cautioned that Noah will experience feel a range of emotions - angry, scared, sad, etc. - and they may notice it. I touted the benefits of my great support group and asked them to be understanding and supportive for him. Noah was very keen to have me come in and talk to his class, so I hope it helped.
While I struggle to figure out how this cancer affects me, I also have to figure out how it affects my children. Right now they seem really resilient and understanding, but I am continually providing bits of information and giving them opportunities to ask questions. At dinner last night, we talked about when I'll be bald. Both Noah and Tara said, "No offence mom, but you're going to look funny."
As long as we can continue to find things to laugh about, we'll be okay. Laughter can make the serious stuff easier.
It's good advice. So take the time to find something to laugh about today (besides the visions of my bald head).
Tina
"You'll find it all over your pillow one morning," they said, gleefully cackling at my fate. Okay so they were compassionately smiling, but it felt like evil laughter because I was horrified. Sure, I expected to find chunks on my pillow and even pull out sections in the shower, but all at once? Ack!
With my luck, I'm betting little sections of hair will remain, so I'll look like I got scalped by a half-blind hair stylist. When that happens, I'm calling my sister-in-law, Margaret to visit with her razer pronto! Then hats and beautiful scarves will be my friends (even though I don't know how to tie them properly yet).
But currently, I still have my hair. I'm starting to really like it short. Too bad it's going to fall out any day now.
My blog is a little late today because I went to talk to my son's class about cancer. Noah's classmates seemed to know he had this secret and discussed it behind his back. So I alleviated the problems this caused by sharing my cancer diagnosis. I explained the treatment and the side effects. I'm at the school regularly and these kids will see me when I'm bald. I cautioned that Noah will experience feel a range of emotions - angry, scared, sad, etc. - and they may notice it. I touted the benefits of my great support group and asked them to be understanding and supportive for him. Noah was very keen to have me come in and talk to his class, so I hope it helped.
While I struggle to figure out how this cancer affects me, I also have to figure out how it affects my children. Right now they seem really resilient and understanding, but I am continually providing bits of information and giving them opportunities to ask questions. At dinner last night, we talked about when I'll be bald. Both Noah and Tara said, "No offence mom, but you're going to look funny."
As long as we can continue to find things to laugh about, we'll be okay. Laughter can make the serious stuff easier.
It's good advice. So take the time to find something to laugh about today (besides the visions of my bald head).
Tina
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Statistics suck
I know my title is going to freak out some of the math folks. As a communicator, numbers aren't my strong suit. Don't get me wrong, I can do basic math, budgeting and simple statistical stuff. I'm also still capable of helping Noah with his grade six homework (even though we've moved into ratios and fractions). But there's a reason I went to journalism school.
My dislike of numbers intensified this week when I read the survivor statistics on the Run for Ovarian Cancer website. Quite honestly, I've avoided researching this data because I didn't want to know. But since Team Tina is participating in the run, I read the spiel with all the reasons to run or donate. There is was in black and white - 60 per cent of those with ovarian cancer die from the disease. Arrrrggghhhhh!
Now that little number is stuck in my brain, ready to rear its ugly head whenever my defences are down.
But as a wise person (okay, Angie) said to me yesterday when I expressed my fears, I AM NOT a statistic. I'm younger, stronger, healthier than many who begin this fight. Many women are much older, so they don't even tolerate the surgery and chemotherapy treatments well.
I know my strength and age don't guarantee me recovery or a prevent a reoccurence, but they're factors in my favour. I need to cling to those because I have to be strong and believe I will beat this. Maybe I will die from the disease, but let's say in about 30 years or so.
I did have a good cry last night because this is completely unfair. This isn't the way my life is supposed to be. I'm supposed to grow old with Michael (my soulmate), travel and, enjoy my children and eventually grandchildren without the looming presence of cancer.
After we wiped our tears, I once again repeated my mantra - one day at a time.
So today's a new day and I have to say whoo hoo to Team Tina. It's already surpassed recruitment goals and captured second place for funds raised among all teams participating in The Run for Ovarian Cancer. Way to go!
That alone gives me a reason to smile today. Thank you.
Tina
My dislike of numbers intensified this week when I read the survivor statistics on the Run for Ovarian Cancer website. Quite honestly, I've avoided researching this data because I didn't want to know. But since Team Tina is participating in the run, I read the spiel with all the reasons to run or donate. There is was in black and white - 60 per cent of those with ovarian cancer die from the disease. Arrrrggghhhhh!
Now that little number is stuck in my brain, ready to rear its ugly head whenever my defences are down.
But as a wise person (okay, Angie) said to me yesterday when I expressed my fears, I AM NOT a statistic. I'm younger, stronger, healthier than many who begin this fight. Many women are much older, so they don't even tolerate the surgery and chemotherapy treatments well.
I know my strength and age don't guarantee me recovery or a prevent a reoccurence, but they're factors in my favour. I need to cling to those because I have to be strong and believe I will beat this. Maybe I will die from the disease, but let's say in about 30 years or so.
I did have a good cry last night because this is completely unfair. This isn't the way my life is supposed to be. I'm supposed to grow old with Michael (my soulmate), travel and, enjoy my children and eventually grandchildren without the looming presence of cancer.
After we wiped our tears, I once again repeated my mantra - one day at a time.
So today's a new day and I have to say whoo hoo to Team Tina. It's already surpassed recruitment goals and captured second place for funds raised among all teams participating in The Run for Ovarian Cancer. Way to go!
That alone gives me a reason to smile today. Thank you.
Tina
Monday, May 4, 2009
Thankful
Being diagnosed with a deadly disease has made me realize how lucky I am because it puts so many things into perspective.
First, I feel good today. On Saturday morning, during the first few moments of wakefulness, I realized I didn't feel any pain for the first time in weeks. The achy bones, nauseous stomach and extreme tiredness seem to have taken a hiatus - at least until my next chemo treatment on May 15. It's a welcome reprieve, even if it is only short lived. If I can have these types of days to break up the side effects of the treatment, I'll be able be able to face the chemo with more determination.
Second, the weekend was absolutely beautiful. I was able to visit good friends, enjoy food (something I haven't been able to do properly for at least a month), go for a walk in the forest, have some laughs and enjoy good conversation. It was exactly what I needed.
I'm overwhelmingly thankful for the plethora of gifts with which I've been showered recently. Michael and I can't begin to thank everyone enough for their generosity. So many of them will help ease some of our everyday burdens as I focus on fighting.
I also love the phone calls, emails and visits - many from people who just want to touch base and find out how I'm doing. It's nice to know so many people care. I'm not fighting this alone. I have a whole "village" behind me.
Which brings me to Team Tina. On Friday, I learned my friends at London Life created a team in my name for the Run for Ovarian Cancer on May 24. I can't even put into words how amazed I am that people are running and raising/donating money in my name to fight this horrible disease. There are so many people on my team - some of them don't even run! One woman's daughter is fundraising - and she doesn't even know me. It's astounding!
I cried.
Michael promptly signed up and will start training with Ginger. I'll be there in all my bald glory, proudly wearing the t-shirt designed for Team Tina. I'll try to walk the 5k (or at least the 1k) and enthusiastically cheer my team on.
The Run for Ovarian Cancer raises money for a research position at London Health Sciences Centre. The researcher works directly with ovarian cancer patients and oncology doctors, as well as spends time in the lab; making this the first local project fully dedicated to ovarian cancer. This is also one of the first positions of its kind, an innovative type of research position bridging the gap between pure research in the lab and the bedside of the actual sufferers of the disease.
I know some of you are going to ask how to join Team Tina (to sport the fancy t-shirt). You need to let me know by Wednesday, May 6 if you want to participate and I'll let the organizer know. You also need to register on the site.
http://www.runforovariancancer.ca/
Go to the running shoe on the right side and click on the link. If you go to the team names on the right side (click on more), you'll find Team Tina. If you need help, feel free to contact me.
If you're not a runner, but still want to help, sponsor one of the runners. Every dollar counts.
So I'm going to continue being thankful by going out to lunch with my sister, Angie and my friend, Jacqueline. It's a beautiful day and we should all take advantage of it.
Cheers,
Tina
First, I feel good today. On Saturday morning, during the first few moments of wakefulness, I realized I didn't feel any pain for the first time in weeks. The achy bones, nauseous stomach and extreme tiredness seem to have taken a hiatus - at least until my next chemo treatment on May 15. It's a welcome reprieve, even if it is only short lived. If I can have these types of days to break up the side effects of the treatment, I'll be able be able to face the chemo with more determination.
Second, the weekend was absolutely beautiful. I was able to visit good friends, enjoy food (something I haven't been able to do properly for at least a month), go for a walk in the forest, have some laughs and enjoy good conversation. It was exactly what I needed.
I'm overwhelmingly thankful for the plethora of gifts with which I've been showered recently. Michael and I can't begin to thank everyone enough for their generosity. So many of them will help ease some of our everyday burdens as I focus on fighting.
I also love the phone calls, emails and visits - many from people who just want to touch base and find out how I'm doing. It's nice to know so many people care. I'm not fighting this alone. I have a whole "village" behind me.
Which brings me to Team Tina. On Friday, I learned my friends at London Life created a team in my name for the Run for Ovarian Cancer on May 24. I can't even put into words how amazed I am that people are running and raising/donating money in my name to fight this horrible disease. There are so many people on my team - some of them don't even run! One woman's daughter is fundraising - and she doesn't even know me. It's astounding!
I cried.
Michael promptly signed up and will start training with Ginger. I'll be there in all my bald glory, proudly wearing the t-shirt designed for Team Tina. I'll try to walk the 5k (or at least the 1k) and enthusiastically cheer my team on.
The Run for Ovarian Cancer raises money for a research position at London Health Sciences Centre. The researcher works directly with ovarian cancer patients and oncology doctors, as well as spends time in the lab; making this the first local project fully dedicated to ovarian cancer. This is also one of the first positions of its kind, an innovative type of research position bridging the gap between pure research in the lab and the bedside of the actual sufferers of the disease.
I know some of you are going to ask how to join Team Tina (to sport the fancy t-shirt). You need to let me know by Wednesday, May 6 if you want to participate and I'll let the organizer know. You also need to register on the site.
http://www.runforovariancancer.ca/
Go to the running shoe on the right side and click on the link. If you go to the team names on the right side (click on more), you'll find Team Tina. If you need help, feel free to contact me.
If you're not a runner, but still want to help, sponsor one of the runners. Every dollar counts.
So I'm going to continue being thankful by going out to lunch with my sister, Angie and my friend, Jacqueline. It's a beautiful day and we should all take advantage of it.
Cheers,
Tina
Friday, May 1, 2009
Crazy cautious
I've never been one to worry too much about the typical germs in society. I believe exposure to organisms and bacteria (within reason) only builds our immune systems. Don't get me wrong, I regularly washed my hands, sometimes used hand sanitizer and was extra cautious when I had a cold so as not to infect my friends and family. Overall my immune system was strong.
With chemotherapy killing my white (and red) blood cells, I've turned into this crazy cautious person. Hand sanitizer is all over my home and in my purse. I cringe away from sneezes. I nag my kids into using Kleenex and then diligently washing their hands. I've turned into the germ police.
I now view my kids' school as a germ-infested hot spot and the grocery stores a danger zone. It's ridiculous.
Even my beloved lime that I put in my Diet Coke and soda water is suspect. When I'm home, I wash it thoroughly with soapy water before slicing its juicy goodness. But in a restaurant, it's a quick squeeze and then the spent rind sits discarded on the table. "You never know who touched that or where it's been," my sister told me. That's never crossed my mind all those years I've quaffed my lemony ice water or lime-infused drinks.
And most people needn't worry.
The advent of the swine flu brings another source of worry. It's fairly benign to those with normal immune systems, but mine isn't. I just dread the day it's discovered in the London area and I pray the germ dies out quickly.
I don't want to be afraid to leave my house. That would be terrible for my emotional well-being during my fight. While it's okay to be extra cautious, it's not a role I enjoy.
So I'm planning to get out this weekend and visit good friends (Diane and Pete) in Port Franks. "Come to the spa," they say. I'll be able to sit on their porch (weather permitting) and get some much needed laughter. Yes, I'll be extra careful, and I don't doubt they'll watch over me to make sure I rest when needed.
It's one week after my first chemo treatment and I woke up feeling better than I have all week. I hope it lasts.
Try to learn something new today, laugh with a friend or colleague and tells someone you love them. There's no better time than today.
Happy Friday,
Tina
With chemotherapy killing my white (and red) blood cells, I've turned into this crazy cautious person. Hand sanitizer is all over my home and in my purse. I cringe away from sneezes. I nag my kids into using Kleenex and then diligently washing their hands. I've turned into the germ police.
I now view my kids' school as a germ-infested hot spot and the grocery stores a danger zone. It's ridiculous.
Even my beloved lime that I put in my Diet Coke and soda water is suspect. When I'm home, I wash it thoroughly with soapy water before slicing its juicy goodness. But in a restaurant, it's a quick squeeze and then the spent rind sits discarded on the table. "You never know who touched that or where it's been," my sister told me. That's never crossed my mind all those years I've quaffed my lemony ice water or lime-infused drinks.
And most people needn't worry.
The advent of the swine flu brings another source of worry. It's fairly benign to those with normal immune systems, but mine isn't. I just dread the day it's discovered in the London area and I pray the germ dies out quickly.
I don't want to be afraid to leave my house. That would be terrible for my emotional well-being during my fight. While it's okay to be extra cautious, it's not a role I enjoy.
So I'm planning to get out this weekend and visit good friends (Diane and Pete) in Port Franks. "Come to the spa," they say. I'll be able to sit on their porch (weather permitting) and get some much needed laughter. Yes, I'll be extra careful, and I don't doubt they'll watch over me to make sure I rest when needed.
It's one week after my first chemo treatment and I woke up feeling better than I have all week. I hope it lasts.
Try to learn something new today, laugh with a friend or colleague and tells someone you love them. There's no better time than today.
Happy Friday,
Tina
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