An Awesome Day for Acupuncture

Seriously, I may be the most spoiled cancer warrior ever. I have the most dedicated doctors, the strongest support system of family and friends, and I also travel around the country to get acupuncture treatment from the masters of five-element acupuncture. Honestly, am I milking this thing too much? My life is pretty stellar, folks.

Needless to say, I had a fantastic day in Boulder. I slept in, got detached from my bag o' chemo, and had enough of an appetite to take down half a vegan club sandwich and a few fries. Before I knew it, it was time to head over to Louisville, CO, where I'd get my consult with the ever-fabulous Judy Worsley.

The session went really well, especially considering that today is supposed to be the day I feel the most tuckered out from chemo.

The first part of my consult consisted of an "interview" of sorts, when I gave Judy and her practitioner pals a rundown of the last several months and how I'm feeling about everything that's gone on in my world. I told everyone about the successful chemo treatments and "pick it out/pour it in" surgery, and proudly showed off my scars. We discussed whether I felt any fear or if I ever have down moments -- both of which I honestly and truthfully replied "no" to -- and how this cancer-killing adventure has affected my relationships. A great discussion with some even better food for thought for yours truly.

I don't know about you, but I feel perfectly normal talking to about a dozen people about my will to live and all the organs I've lost while resting on a table in my underwear, only covered by a thin blanket...all while being videotaped (for teaching purposes, of course). I guess I'm lucky that way.

After our chit chatting, Mary Ellen got me a robe and took me to a treatment room where I awaited Judy's prescription for feeling good. She was right on the money. Almost immediately, I felt more refreshed and energized -- as if today wasn't a chemo day at all. As we did more points, I felt more and more relaxed. Even now, hours later, I feel revitalized -- like I'm taking deeper, more measured and enriching breaths, and my body is loving it.

Now I'm back in my cozy B&B, relaxing with Will, drinking some lovely house-blended herbal tea, chomping on a vegan chocolate chip cookie my mom baked me right before I left L.A., and feeling deeply thankful for everything and everyone in my life. I am so humbled by the incredible people that have helped me along my journey, including Mary Ellen, Judy, and the other wonderful practitioners I met today.

I might be spoiled, but at least I'm grateful.

Colorado-Bound!!

I'm grabbing my bag o' chemo and my hubby, and in a few hours we'll be off to Colorado. The plan is to spend this evening in Denver so I don't tire myself out too much (we're flying into Denver), and head to our final destination -- Boulder, CO -- tomorrow.

We're headed to Boulder because the queen of five-element acupuncture, Judy Worsley, will be doing individual consults at the ITEA (Institution of Taoist Education and Acupunture), and I'm lucky enough to be getting one of those consults. Mary Ellen will be there too, of course, and I'm told the consult will take place in a classroom-like setting with plenty of practitioners checking me out and watching the session. This is similar to the trip I took to Seattle last year, and I'm sure it will be equally awesome, if not more so. Acupuncture has been key to my cancer-killing adventure, and I look forward to getting some tip-top treatment and to be reunited with one of the coolest people I've ever met. 

After acupuncture (on Wednesday), I'm hoping to feel well enough to do some hiking on Thursday. I'm told it's super gorgeous out there, and this will be my first extended trip to Colorado. We'll be staying at a pretty sweet Bed & Breakfast in Boulder that boasts organic (and vegan) breakfasts as well as 30 different organic loose leaf teas that are available upon request. This place even has a meditation room! My old self would've probably laughed at my getting excited for a mediation room and vegan breakfast, but my old self had cancer so what the heck did she know?! 

Keep your fingers crossed that the airport folks don't give me too much grief over this bag o' chemo. Dr. Lenz gave me a note to present, and you'd think the TSA wouldn't be rude to someone undergoing chemotherapy treatment, but I am ready for anything. If they don't behave, I might have to bust out the a**-kicking part of me, which nobody really wants to confront. Chemo-laden or not, your pal WunderGlo is not to be messed with -- just ask cancer. :)

Chemo Round 11

The day started early, but I was ready to go. Not only was this my 11th round of chemo (that means only two more to go after this), but I was also finding out the results of my most recent PET/CT scan. Tricky gal that I am, I neglected to tell you that I went in for my scan bright and early last Friday morning.

It's my policy to never tell you guys about scans until the results are in, because I don't want you to worry.

And you would've had no reason to worry. All is well in scan land and WunderGlo is still running away with a big win over The Big C.

Chemo went well -- I clowned around with Dr. Lenz, snoozed in my hospital bed, chowed down on vegan potato salad and lentil soup, and was out of Norris by 6pm. I took it easy for the rest of the night and gobbled down a healthy and hearty dinner at Native Foods Cafe.

I'm getting pretty good at this chemo stuff, but I'm looking forward to the finish line. Full steam ahead to victory!

It's remarkable how far I've come -- how far we've come together -- over the past several months. Life is a mysterious, challenging, and wonderful thing. And I'm so glad to have more of it.

Locked, Loaded, and Ready for Chemo

After a great weekend, it's that time again: the Sunday night before chemo. Round 11 starts tomorrow, and I've been prepping all week for it.

So what does prep look like? There's no actual, doctor-mandated preparation, but it's something I like to do on my "off-chemo" weeks to get pumped up and ready for treatment.

The first part includes eating as much healthy food as possible. Green juice, veggies, water, herbal tea, beans, brown rice, almonds. I try to load up in my off-chemo week just in case my appetite during chemo week is less than stellar. Generally, I let myself eat anything I want during chemo weeks -- except animal protein or alcohol, of course. I try to offset the random chemo week craving for sweet potato fries with wheatgrass shots the week before.

The second component is increased exercise. This morning, before kicking off Mother's Day festivities, I hit the pool at LAAC and swam a quarter of a mile in about twenty minutes. Yesterday, I hit the weights before going to my friend Sabrina's fundraiser event. And all last week, I was a regular at Educogym and on the basketball court. I truly believe that building muscle and getting back in fighting shape has been key to sailing through these last rounds of chemo.

Acupuncture and plenty of sleep are also essential to my build-up to treatment. And finally, I make sure that I spend plenty of quality time with family and friends. After all, there's nothing more motivating than being with the people I love. I definitely did that this weekend: great times with friends and family (especially my mom - Happy Mother's Day!) abounded, and I had a blast.

And now your champion is ready for chemo: my body is strong and well-nourished, my heart is full, and my mind is focused. Time to rock this next round.

Seeing Myself

No, this is not one of my introspective posts. I'm talking about actually seeing myself. Physically seeing...myself. It'll all make sense in a moment. 

The other day, Dr. Sugarbaker's wife and human being extraordinaire, Ilse Sugarbaker, sent me a little something. Something that I'd been asking for for a couple of months.

Pictures. Pictures that Dr. Sugarbaker took during my "pick it out/pour it in" procedure. Ilse said that, in the last three years or so, not a single patient had requested intra-op photos. You know me, though. Of course I wanted to see them. All the blood and guts and cancer. All that GRAPHIC stuff.

I had many reasons for wanting to see the pictures. As crazy as it may sounds, I wanted to stroll down memory lane. The "pick it out/pour it in" procedure was certainly the toughest physical challenge of my life, but I have to admit, I had a pretty damn good time with it. First of all, I felt great going into the surgery -- like I didn't have a speck of cancer in me. Secondly, despite having lots of specks of cancer in me, I emerged from the surgery squeaky clean. Third, post-op recovery in the hospital wasn't too bad, given the constant care and attention I received from my three nurses, the actual nurses at Washington Hospital Center, Sugarbaker's team, and my fantastic friends and family that came to visit. Fourth, I relished the physical challenges of the hospital -- getting through each hurdle just proved to me what a bad a** I really was. Fifth, I wanted to see the cancer, living and dead, that had been chilling out in my body -- a "know your enemy" type of thing.   

Finally, and most importantly: when you really get down to it, the "pick it out/pour it in" procedure saved my life. And I love my life. So, of course I love the "pick it out/pour it in" procedure as well as any and all reminders of it.

So Ilse sent the pictures. And I opened them immediately. 

The first is a far away shot of my abdominal cavity (my legs, chest, and head are covered), opened up to the world. I can make out the other side of my skin -- you know, the bloody side -- as well as various tubes sucking fluids from my cavity. Dr. Zappa is standing above me, evidently seeing what I had to offer. 

The second and third pictures are of my dearly departed body parts: the fallen soldiers who had gotten way too close to comfort with "the cancer." I can make out my spleen...or maybe it's my gall bladder. But the rest of it is kind of a mish-mash. I don't know what my uterus looks like, but maybe it's in the picture. The organs have various growths along them -- "the cancer" itself -- but all, in all, I think they look cool. I've been joking about it all looking like Korean BBQ, and it's pretty true. Even my cancerous parts look appetizing. (Talk about a positive body image, right?) 

The fourth picture captures the dead cancer. Part black and part white and bubbly. All dead and glorious. 

The fifth picture is my abdominal cavity again, but this time all cleaned and stitched up.

Seeing myself in this way was a thoroughly positive experience. It filled me with gratitude for Dr. Sugarbaker and his team, for Dr. Lenz and his team, and for Dr. Ramos and his team. I like to give them all a hard time, but my doctors are the best -- the best physicians and the best people. Last September, I was really sick. Like, really sick. And these guys changed all that for me. Gratitude can't even begin to describe what I feel for my doctors. 

Looking at the pictures also filled me with pride. I've gone through a lot since last September, and I endured each challenge with toughness and positivity. I never let weak thoughts invade my mind, and I never let "the cancer" get the upper hand. I never stopped believing in myself. Seeing my own body during that operation -- one of the most invasive and aggressive surgeries around -- just proved to me that, yes, I can survive and thrive through just about anything. 

The pictures symbolize what this whole cancer adventure has been to me: challenging, bloody, tough to look at, but incredibly satisfying and even inspiring. 

I bet you still don't want to see 'em. :)