Beating the Hell Out of Cancer and Chugging Through Rehab

The last few days have been, well, physically challenging. Your pal WunderGlo has had to dig deep and find her ultimate strength of mind, body, and spirit as she's been taxed physically an incredible amount.

From daily shots, the taking of blood, and vital signs being checked -- the easy stuff -- to four straight days of chemo in which the drugs were infused over a six hour period while I alternated lying on my sides every half hour, to dealing with an NG tube that will not be going away anytime soon, to dealing with literal valves sticking out of my abdomen that catch the excess chemo as it's filtered through my body. (These valves are not made of velvet; they are made of plastic and metal.)

I also have a catheter (of course) and some other tubes that I'm not even sure about, but I do know they exist. I came out of surgery with thirteen tubes in my body, including a massive "central line" in my neck which served as a feeding tube. As of tonight, I have three fewer tubes and the line in my neck is gone. My portacath has now been accessed, and that's where I'm receiving my nutrition.

I've rested fitfully throughout these days, although I have gotten good rest at times thanks to my Dad and his world class massages and thanks to my Mom and her ability to scratch my back and my backside when I need them furiously scratched. It's hard not to get sweaty and uncomfortable in this hospital bed, especially when I've only gotten out of bed five times in the last five days.

So things have been a bit challenging. But chemo is over now and I'm draining it out of my system, another tube is out and more will be removed as the days progress, and your pal WunderGlo will continue to battle and get back to full strength.

I've enjoyed reiki sessions for the last two days (free of charge and offered by the hospital). I've enjoyed meeting with spiritual leaders during this time as well; praying to my Creator has given me peace and calm. I've enjoyed emailing, chatting on the phone, and hanging out with family and friends. I look forward to seeing even more friends come into town and getting an acupuncture session from Mary Ellen later this week.

All in all, this hospital experience has been a triumphant one. I have thoroughly squashed cancer, and the rest is really getting back up to snuff, killing the babies' babies' babies of the cancer cells, and planning all of my victory parties.

Thank you all for your support, your love, and your encouragement. I'll be checking in with you as soon as possible (which, as you know, means tomorrow).

Much love from WunderGlo.

My (New) Incision And Me

Say hello to my badge of courage

Keep On Keeping On

Today, I successfully completed my third of four days of intraperitoneal chemotherapy. The process lasts six hours, but the chemo stays in my body for twenty-three hours. Tomorrow I finish up chemo and really get this show on the road.

In review, my surgery on Thursday was a total and complete success. Sugarbaker removed every visible speck of disease and noted that I had already killed much of it with chemo. While my cancer-killing adventure isn't totally over, these last couple of days have been the high point as far as killing cancer is concerned.

I am sore. I am a little sleepy. But filled with joy and gratitude. I am getting stronger every day.

Big thanks to Dr. Sugarbaker, the other doctors and nurses, my three nurses, Vivian, Brendan, my mother-in-law, Rhett, Tim, and Sabrina for being there in the flesh the last couple of days. Big thanks to the rest of you for being there in spirit.

Today

Today, was the best day of my life.

A Farewell to Cancer

On this morning, the morning of my surgery, the morning that leads to the day in which Dr. Sugarbaker and I will annihilate you, I have a few parting thoughts for you.

You tried to scare me, but in spite of you, I became fearless.
You tried to weaken me, but in spite of you, I grew stronger.
You tried to isolate me, but in spite of you, I grew the most incredible support network imaginable.
You tried to make me tired, but I've never felt more energized.
You tried to make me feel hopeless, but my heart is filled with hope and my life is filled with promise.
You tried to strip my life from me, but my life is more rich and beautiful now.

Despite your best efforts, I will live to a ripe old age.
Despite your best efforts, I will be a wonderful mother.
Despite your best efforts, I will return to my job at O'Melveny & Myers.
Despite your best efforts, I will run for mayor of Los Angeles.
And despite your best efforts, my faith in God, the goodness of my fellow man, the body's ability to heal, and my will to survive and thrive will never, ever be shaken.

Thank you for the lessons you taught me, cancer, but it's high time that you get the hell out of my body.

Farewell, cancer.

Talk to you soon, dear readers. WunderGlo loves you!!