Tuesday March 17, 2020

As is becoming the norm, things are moving fast, and projections are starting to become ominous. Like that school may be out for forever. 

And that the State of Washington won't give Clallam County any test kits until we have a positive test. What the actual fuck? Here. I don't know if these guys would know anything, or be able to do anything, but it may worth your time to email to our County Commissioners, as well as our the good men who represent the 24th Legislative District: Mike Chapman, Steve Tharinger, and Kevin Van De Wege. 

If you want to make change in your community, do it. Stand up. For all of us.

Oh, and ask them about passing a bill that make sure people can't get evicted for not paying rent, or foreclosed upon, since our entire society is shutting down. Thanks.

Annnnyyywaaaayyyy.....

Nathan's feeling ok; his left shoulder is sore and he's got a nasty bruise on his leg, and his head is ok. Thanks to everyone for reaching out. We sincerely appreciate the support.

Isaac and I got outside for quite some time today. He did some swinging, like he does. He catches some serious air.

I worked on spreading the mulch with a shovel and a rake. We talked about what happened yesterday, and how important it is to have extra awareness right now, and stay away from the hospital as much as we can. Don't be a dumbass and do stupid kid stuff, boy child. Youngling. #YChromosome

Speaking of which, a dear friend of mine had a mammogram this morning, and is fine. Her text about how it went prompted me to call the imaging center to confirm my own appointment for Thursday morning, and was told to be there at my scheduled time.

Um...social distancing? I'm literally breathing the same air as the woman who is touching my breast with her pink gloved hands, putting one breast at a time onto a plate and squishing them with another plate and taking a picture of all the gross mushy red stuff inside! Hello? That's about as intimate as you can get without exchanging bodily fluids...and I sometimes leak during a mammogram bc breast cancer duh! You'd think you'd at least walk out of there with a fuckin lollipop but no. Not even a goddamn Life Saver Mint individually wrapped in plastic. Fuckin bullshit. #NoReachAround

And, yes, I realize the irony of the placement of this image of my son. #Obvs

Annnnyyywaaaayyyy.....

So, then this afternoon, my phone rings and the boys feel it is their duty to let me know, because clearly someone from the outside is trying to get in...which is rare in my world. And it was the imaging center telling me that bc of social distancing, they need to reschedule my mammogram.

That's how fast things are moving. 9am today, "Come on in! You're the next contestent on the Boob Squish Machine!"

3pm: #OfCourse they have to cancel and #ThankJesus I don't have to make that decision.

Because on the one hand, I'm at 5 years. On March 9, 2015 I was told I had breast cancer. On March 20, 2015 I had a lime-sized tumor removed from my right breast. I'm lucky in a way, because even though my type of breast cancer was the most aggressive type a young woman could have, the longer I live, the less likely this specific type of breast cancer can come back. I had a triple negative tumor, meaning that it didn't have any hormone receptors and the chemo was going to suck big time, which it did.

Yet, on the other hand, as a survivor, I know I'm supposed to have an annual mammogram to make sure that I'm not growing any new tumors. My radiation oncologist shot the shit out of my right breast...she wanted to make sure that nothing would grow again, and I know it's likely to not. And, because of all the radiation, now I am able to shoot a green laser beam from my right breast. Because duh. It's pretty hot, you guys.

On the one hand, I have anxiety about developing some type of cancer in my left breast; on the other hand, I just had a very thorough breast exam from my primary provider.

And, in reality, I'm more concerned about people I know and love contracting Coronavirus from a spreader. Please watch this 50 second clip from Max Brooks, the son of Mel Brooks. And if you don't know who these men are, then go read "World War Z" and watch "Young Frankenstein"; you're welcome.

#AndAlso, historically it may have been somewhat socially acceptable to say "you're dead to me" if someone makes a cultural reference that you don't get, or a food you've not tasted...but, in this day and age, that's horribly rude and I'm declaring it no longer funny.

#DontBeASpreader

#ThanksForReading

Love and feathers,
#MaRa

Scantily Clad Barista: The Wonder Woman Edition

Ya know when you're driving and stop at a random coffee stand and the barista is scantily clad in a Wonder Woman outfit, and while it's not at all what you expected, you don't bat an eye? Annnnd THEN, she ends up buying you your coffee for you?

Yeah. That.

Wonder Woman made and bought my coffee. Ok, well, she wasn't really Wonder Woman...but you know what I'm sayin, you guys. And she did make a mean iced coffee on a hot summer day.

It happened on the way home from our first-ever school clothes shopping experience. My soon-to-be thirteen-year-old son was sitting next to me, so I have a witness. And also, no, really...this was our first time ever going school clothes shopping. Because of lots of the numerous and rather intense health issues my family manages on a daily basis.

He really didn't bat an eye either.

Because, duh, it was a hot day and we were shopping down in the Closest Shopping Mecca and we were heading home and I needed a 16-ounce, iced, white chocolate, triple Americano with cream, but easy on the ice please....

So why wouldn't a bodacious young babe with glasses and long brown hair and a nose ring answer the window to a random coffee stand on the highway in the sticks?

Except that she was also in a red underwire Tommy Hilfiger bra and Wonder Woman Blue Underwear with White Stars, complete with a sparkly gold headband with a red star in the middle, and gold wristbands up to her elbows, with a red star on each...to deflect the bullets-n-bullshit....

Girl's gotta earn a living. Shit, I'd do that if I was living a different life...before kids...and who in the goddam still wears Timmy Hilfiger? Tommy? Whateverthefuck.

And it's just a goddamn coffee. I gotta stay awake on the drive. Jesus, you guys. Parenting a child with special needs, while you're driving? Not for the faint of heart.

Anyway, so as she was opening the window, which was a little stuck, I turned to my nearly 13-year-old boy child and said, "Dude! Wonder Woman's gonna make me a coffee! You want anything?"

To which he replied: "Huh?"

Typical. #GoddamnYChromosome

I mean, maybe his reply was because his brain works a little slower due his epilepsy and other neurological challenges. But, he's also an almost teenage boy, and #JesusKnows they don't fuckin' listen.

So I told Wonder Woman that I loved her costume. Just get the bullshit out of the way. I don't care if you're dressed like this because you're coffee stand is popular with the log truck drivers, but I need a goddam coffee and I gotta parent my special needs child who is sitting in the passenger seat, next to me, while I'm driving, for the next 90 minutes. And, fortuitously, your coffee stand is on the right side of the road.

So here we are.

Besides, those bitches in the stand on the other side of the road used too much goddamned ice and I felt I got ripped off, quite honestly. 

So I looked up at Wonder Woman and said, "I need a 16-ounce, iced, white chocolate, triple Americano with cream, but easy on the ice please."

"Easy on the ice?" she asked, with her hip out, because she just stands that way, you guys. I don't know. Maybe she's got scoliosis. Regardless, she's hot.

"Yes, please, Wonder Woman. Easy on the ice," I repeated.

Wonder Woman Talisman

I turn to reach for my purse and I think at this point my son was playing with his Rubik's cube. Duh. He's a fidgiter. And I stated, "You're good...? Right? You've got your water and your Rubik's cube. You're good."

I reached in my purse and pulled out my Wonder Woman Talisman that my sons gave me when I went through breast cancer four years ago and I showed it to her.

I flashed the Wonder Woman Barista our mini-me and said, "My sons gave this to me when I went though breast cancer treatment four years ago..." and Wonder Woman Barista looked at me like, "What the fuck?" which is how I'd look at me too...

And then I said, "and I'd sit there during chemo and rub her boobs for good luck..." and Wonder Woman Barista looked at me like a goddamn deer in the headlights because she sure as shit didn't anticipate this conversation...but she nodded her head and said, "Oh! That's great!"...because, what else was she gonna say...?

I think she probably assumed that our interaction, based on her knowing what she was scantily clad in...seeing a woman pull in, with her teenager-ish-looking son...and the mom probably doesn't know this is a bikini barista stand. Because I didn't. And, if I had to bet money, she probably anticipated a rude interaction with her female/momma bear customer and a gawking teenage boy.

There was no rudeness. It was a pleasant interaction. My teenage boy didn't gawk.

And, apparently, they have topless baristas over on the I-5 corridor! I had no idea! For real. Until my friend was over there conducting farming business, because farmers get up early and my friend needed a goddamn coffee and unknowingly pulled in to a topless barista stand. Sometimes I'm so sheltered I scare myself you guys...anyway, the topless barista covered up and had a lovely conversation with my Female Farmer Friend. And I know a lot of Female Farmers. Because #ClallamCountyLiving ...it's gonna trend.

Then Wonder Woman turned and leaned out the window and handed me my 16-ounce iced, white chocolate, triple Americano with cream, and it was easy on the ice. I looked up at her, like the goddess she is, and said, "What do I owe you?" And she said, "Nothing!"

So I made the face you make when someone gives you something that you didn't expect and insisted I pay. To which she replied, "Nope. This one's on me. It's been a pleasure talking with you." I thanked her, and handed her three bucks and told her it's for her "fun fund" jar.

And then I told the Scantily Clad Wonder Woman Barista to make sure she does a breast self-exam...because that's how I found my lump. Also, if you look really closely at my Wonder Woman Talisman, you can see that the yellow from her outfit is worn off, you guys...because rubbing Wonder Woman's boobs while you're going through breast cancer treatment brings good luck.

That's what I told myself anyway.

A little bit of luck, and a whole bunch of research and science.

And gratitude.

For all the things.

What We Know

What we know is that there is still cancer in my husband's throat. The Man ENT did the best he could, but the margins weren't clean.

There were 24 lymph nodes that were pulled, and 2 of them had cancer; 1 of them was leaking cancer--so the cancer was spreading.

Stage 4 tonsillar cancer. (Or "tonsil cancer" for us non medical folks). 

Fucking Christ. (RIGHT?!?!)

Anyway, so what we know is that Randy needs to have 33 hits of radiation and 3 doses of chemo. Radiation will last roughly 6 weeks, and they'll do the chemo doses at the beginning, in the middle, and at the end of the radiation treatment.

Comparatively, not competitively, I had 21 hits of radiation and 12 doses of chemotherapy. (It's cancer, not a competition, this, this is what I say to my children).  

We met with both the radiation oncologist and the medical oncologist this week and that's what they told us. Both docs are in Sequim; his radiation oncologist is new to the Peninsula (but we liked him) and we get to work with Lynn the Rock Star Radiation Nurse. And his medical oncologist is the same amazing lady doc that I had during my chemo treatments last summer. Her last name begins with a C, but I can't bring myself to call her Dr. C because she's a cancer doctor and that just feels a little icky.

I don't know when exactly he'll start any of his treatments. What we know is that he needs to have the following appointments (not in any particular order) before radiation can start: 

Dental appointment--our dentist needs to examine Randy's mouth and then send a report to the radiation oncologist. Because Randy's tumor was, basically, his tonsil, and the tonsil is inside the mouth, it's standard of care to get clearance from a dentist before starting radiation treatments since they'll be shooting his mouth with radiation. If a person needs dental work prior to starting radiation...then they'll deal with it. Hopefully he'll be in the clear.

Nutritionist--Randy is already limited in terms of the food he is able to consume. Partly because of his autism (I'm not kidding--he says he can taste the chlorophyll in plants and I kinda believe him). Partly because he's still healing inside of his mouth and he really shouldn't be eating, you know, anything hard...so no chips, no tacos (and those are food groups in our house!)...but you get the idea. And, he's lost about 15-18 lbs since his surgery, and the docs have all said he'll loose more weight as swallowing becomes more and more difficult. So, meeting with a nutritionist will provide him the opportunity to know what types of food he'll have the ability to eat that are nutrient dense. Basically, he'll need lots of protein, but he needs alternatives besides those $5 milkshakes I'm whipping up.

General surgeon--Randy has to have a chemo port inserted under his skin so that he can take his chemo. I have a chemo port. It sucks. I'm working on a blog about it, so be patient, please. But basically, it's this piece of plastic that sits under my skin and the nurses tap it and administer chemotherapy this way--because if you inject chemotherapy into a vein on your arm, that shit'll kill you. Well, not really. But it'll jack up your veins pretty good. So, he needs a port.

With all of the members of the health care team, we've discussed having a feeding tube inserted into Randy's stomach so that he gets as many calories as he can during his radiation and chemo. However, according to the research--and this is based upon what the doctors are telling us; not what we've researched on our own, because let's face it, we trust our docs to inform us and we're both freaking exhausted and aren't doing our own research...we learned a long time ago (specifically 5+ years ago when Nathan was diagnosed with epilepsy) that we are one click away from going to ScareTheHellOuttaYou.com and ever since then, we deal with the problems as they come and we do our own research when we feel we need to. Anyway, so the current thinking is that if patients can push through the pain they will have when swallowing, they will be more successful in the long run. It's a use it or loose it type of thing. So, at this point, he's not getting a feeding tube. If, however, he needs one I'll just put whatever the rest of us are eating into the Vitamix and he'll consume the calories...nasty...but reality for the folks who have to deal with that in their lives; don't judge.

Surgery for the chemo port--this'll happen once he has a consultation with the surgeon. Yes, the surgery will happen in Port Angeles. No, I don't know when it'll be.

The Man ENT and the Speech Therapist--we will make another trip to Seattle so that the Man ENT can say "yes, you look great and are healing up nicely...you're cleared to start treatment" and during that trip, we'll also meet with the Speech Therapist so that she can give Randy some swallowing exercises. No, I don't know what the exercises involve. Yes, I've made inappropriate sexual comments. I'm the wife. I'm allowed.

Radiation simulation--the radiation oncologist and the radiation techs will take time to get Randy positioned on the table, make a bite guard for him, and other immobilization devices that they'll use as they shoot his throat with radiation to kill the cancer. They do this because they want to make sure they are zapping the cancer and killing every last cell. When a person receives radiation treatment, they need to be in the same position every single time. And you gotta lay still for like 15 - 30 minutes while you're on the table. So, they have to use these immobilization devices, because, let's face it, it's like everyone who goes into radiation treatment practices yoga or is a nude model. But they gotta make sure you're not gonna move and they gotta position and reposition the machine...so you're laying there for what feels like a fuckin' eternity. But it's only like 15 - 30 minutes. Not that the treatment takes 15 - 30 minutes; the treatment only takes 1 - 2 minutes. What takes time is getting on the table in exactly the right position; the techs getting the machine in just the right position (thank you computer software) lining up your tattoos on the laser beams, and making any last minute adjustments to make sure you're in exactly, EXACTLY, the right position. Every. Single. Time. And they'll do this 33 times.

Randy is 4 weeks post-op. Generally, they give a person 6-ish weeks to heal from surgery before they start any form of treatment. No, he won't have to wait another 6 weeks after the chemo port is placed before they start tapping the chemo port before accessing it for chemo drugs. While I don't know exactly when all of this will go down, I know it'll happen within the next 2-3 weeks. I anticipate that he'll start radiation and have his first dose of chemo shortly after the Fourth of July.

And all this shit has to happen like, next week. And the week after.

And then he'll start treatment.

For Stage 4 tonsillar cancer.

Because, we, clearly...apparently....just have major health...shit...go down in our family.

Of which I'm tired.

But I keep going.

And going....

And we keep moving forward.

Because it's what we do.

And it's what we know. 

And, yes, we'll get outside...

and enjoy the lake...and each other...and our friends who are our family...

and continue to live our lives...and make happy memories...

during this unimaginably difficult time in life.

Fuck you, cancer.

It's what I know. 

Eyeglasses Holder

I recently purchased an eyeglasses holder. 

Like I'm 70 goddeamned years old or something.

Not at all like the hot model in the link above. She looks like she's 22, right?

Yeah.

No, so I'm only wearing it around the house because when I'm home, I'm doing a lot of transitional work. I look down (don't need my glasses) to cut bell peppers; I look up to make sure whatever wrestling maneuver the trolls are doing is within the range of normal. Having to take my glasses off and put them on is happening much more than it used to.

I'm aging.

Gracefully.

As gracefully as I can. 

No, I'm not going to rush out and get bifocals. When I had my eyes examined in December 2015, when I was done with all my chemo and radiation, which you shouldn't get your eyes examined when you're going through chemo because that shit fucks with your vision, so they recommend you don't get your eyes examined or get new glasses until you're done with all of your cancer treatment. Seriously, the shit I learned is amazing. Anyway, when I had my eyes examined at the end of last year, my eye doc said, basically, "your vision hasn't changed all that much, which given what you've been through, it really pretty surprising. Don't buy new glasses because you don't want to waste your money; you'll need to see me in a year and you'll likely need bifocals then. It happens to everyone around the age of 43."

Super. So, bifocals are in the queue, but I'm just hanging for now. I've known it's coming. But I'm waiting. I'm ok. I'll know when I need to see him. I have a few other things on my plate right now....and if I felt I needed to get my eyes checked, I'd go in.

I've not yet worn my new eyeglasses holder out in public.

I don't want to embarrass myself, or my children, by having someone call me their grandmother. Which, it's happened. But that's what happens when you have children later in life. And you live in rural America, people tend to procreate at younger ages. It's not offended me. But it has surprised me.

But ever since I purchased my glasses holder I've noticed other ladies wearing them. Now, mind you, they're all significantly older than me. But I'm seeing them. For example, last week, I noticed this, like, septuagenarian who was wearing some eyeglasses holder BLING! 

I mean, her beads were WOW! They were kinda like this.... 

I'm not saying I want those. I mean, they're 33 bucks! Right?!?!

And I had no idea that eyeglasses beads were a thing! They are a freaking fashion accessory for the fashionable senior citizen! And they can be so expensive!

Seriously! NO IDEA!!!!

So, now, I'm looking at old ladies, and I'm like, "I'm gonna be like her. She's hot." Because some old ladies are hot, with their hair, and their clothes, and their glasses bling.

It's all about setting your intention.

And about being healthy.

Today

Today is the first anniversary of the death of my father-in-law.

Today is also the day we found out that my husband's tonsil cancer is considered Stage 4.

OH! Lemme get the good news of the day outta the way--the Beautiful Physician's Assistant (and she is quite beautiful--and she's fuggin smart--bonus!) at the Man ENT's office who gave us this devastatingly shocking news did take out all 17 of the surgical staples today. And lemme just say I'm thankful those goddamned things are gone. No more Frankendaddy. The boys feel much better about it.

So, the four of us made an early trip for a post-op appointment in Seattle. Thank you iPad for helping us through that. And Jack-in-the-Box for nuggets and fries and shakes (not for me; I ate fruit and nuts, drank my water).

Stage fucking FOUR.

The boss level.

The pathology report puts it at Stage Four. Actually, that's Stage IV, according to the American Cancer Society. Goddamned Roman Numerals that nobody can read.  There is no Stage Five or V (again, Roman Numerals--so glad that shit's done!)

The Man ENT took a total of 24 lymph nodes from Randy's neck, and of those 2 tested positive for cancer, and one of them was leaking cancer. Leaking. Cancer.

What. The. Fuck.

Like a balloon that's leaking air....

There's still cancer in his neck, because, as good as the Man ENT is, and god knows he did his best, there's only so much he can do...and he got the best margins as he could. But he couldn't get it all out.

Perhaps that's why he was a bit jittery after surgery.

I picked up on something...but wasn't sure what it was...thought it was a bit normal, you know, since the man had just recently had his gloved hands in my husband's neck.

But he knew. He even said something like "got as much as I could"..."margins were as clean as could be..."

He did his best. The science he has studied for years and his skills enabled the Man ENT to do his best to help my husband.

So, Randy will be starting radiation soon...probably in July. We meet with the new Radiation Oncologist at the Sequim Cancer Center next week. My Radiation Oncologist is no longer there, which is unfortunate. BUT, Lynn the Rock Star Nurse is there, and so I sent her a direct message in Twitter when Randy was first diagnosed, and really, we're going to meet with Lynn and break the new doc in.

According to the Beautiful Physician's Assistant, typically radiation is every week day (Mon - Fri) for 6 to 7 weeks. Right. So, mathing that, that's 30 - 35 doses of radiation.

To his neck.

His fucking neck.

Thyroid gland?

Swallowing?

Tasting food?

Jaw?

Teeth?

Feeding tube?

WAIT! WHAT!??!

Stop. Stop the fucking ride. I wanna get off. Gimme your hat so I can throw up in it.

I can't.

I can't rally the troops.

I'm exhausted.

I'm scared.

I'm more scared for him than I was for me.

Mine was just a Stage Two (or "II" as the Romans say) tumor. No lymph nodes involved. But mine was a Triple Negative, which means there were no hormones attached to the tumor, so they had to give me the biggest doses of the most effective forms of both chemo and radiation.

He gets more radiation and less chemo. The Beautiful Physician's Assistant said that they typically do chemo in conjunction with radiation, two treatments, maybe three, during the 6-7 weeks he'll be receiving radiation.

I've seen those people at the Cancer Center. The ones who wheel their IV (and I mean "intravenous," not "four") pump on a pole from the infusion area over to the radiation area. And my heart bleeds for them. Every time. Because that takes a lot of energy to do that. It takes an indomitable will to take a chemo infusion and take a does of radiation at the same fucking time!!!!

Randy Anderson has an indomitable will.

I have faith in him.

And I hope that we, that he, will survive.

I'll do my best to be at peace during this stage.

I love you, dude.