It’s been a rough week for me, mentally and physically. My last chemo rocked my stomach. Lots of nausea and just a little too much vomiting for my liking. 😷 I took the tiniest bite of an edible on Saturday morning after a puke fest in my bathroom sink. That shit knocked me out for like 3 hours! 😳 But it helped. Since, I’ve pretty much been on my nausea meds around the clock. Good news though, I’m beginning to feel a little better. 👍🏻 

Although I wish I could shit…. rainbows would be a bonus. All the meds have me, well you know, backed up. TMI, I’m aware. I can hear several of you now “Oh, Jessica. Gross!” but I told you all that I’d stay honest.

All this working towards feeling better just to be pumped full again today. Today’s treatment was actually on the fence for a bit. My platelets were down again at yesterday’s blood draw. I called the infusion center to see if they would still treat me today but didn’t I get a call back. So I treated it like a Pap smear- no news is good news. And showed up anyway to Taxol number 11. 💁🏻 Hi. Here I am. 

Mentally, I feel flat. No downs, but not many ups. I think much of that has to do with feeling ill. But also, I’m knee deep into this mess and I’m pretty tired of it. Really, I’m just tired. 

Each day that I get closer to the AC (next chemo drug), I get a little more anxious. Maybe it’s the unknown of how I’ll react. Maybe it’s because I’m getting closer to not having my chemo safety net. 

Don’t worry though. I’m still positive as fuck. (Necessary F bomb) Imagine me throwing some punches in the air, like a boxer getting ready for her next big fight. Or have you seen that guy who recently punched a kangaroo in the face to protect his dog? 

You’ve seen that video right? It’s all over the place. In my situation, cancer is the crazy buff kangaroo, chemo is the man, and I am the dog who gets away-hopefully unharmed. And I do it all while wearing some witty shirt to keep spirits up and ease the blows and/or headlock. 

Bare with me…. I’m writing this on some heavy IV Ativan 🙈 Anyway…

Thankfully I still have the greatest support system known to (wo)man to help me get through each round. And thankfully I have fantastic nurses who talk me down AND can put Ativan in my IV to calm me the hell down. 😄 Current Mood: feeeeeeeelllliiinnggggg gooooooooooooood

Recently, I read a Blog post of another girl I follow. She had shared a  Post from someone else who really hit the nail on the head about cancer. I wanted to pass it along. I like the humor in it all. 

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Cancer: the mountain lion in your fridge

What’s it like to go through cancer treatment? It’s something like this: one day, you’re minding your own business, you open the fridge to get some breakfast, and OH MY GOD THERE’S A MOUNTAIN LION IN YOUR FRIDGE.

Wait, what? How? Why is there a mountain lion in your fridge? NO TIME TO EXPLAIN. RUN! THE MOUNTAIN LION WILL KILL YOU! UNLESS YOU FIND SOMETHING EVEN MORE FEROCIOUS TO KILL IT FIRST!

So you take off running, and the mountain lion is right behind you. You know the only thing that can kill a mountain lion is a bear, and the only bear is on top of the mountain, so you better find that bear. You start running up the mountain in hopes of finding the bear. Your friends desperately want to help, but they are powerless against mountain lions, as mountain lions are godless killing machines. But they really want to help, so they’re cheering you on and bringing you paper cups of water and orange slices as you run up the mountain and yelling at the mountain lion – “GET LOST, MOUNTAIN LION, NO ONE LIKES YOU” – and you really appreciate the support, but the mountain lion is still coming.

Also, for some reason, there’s someone in the crowd who’s yelling “that’s not really a mountain lion, it’s a puma” and another person yelling “I read that mountain lions are allergic to kale, have you tried rubbing kale on it?”

As you’re running up the mountain, you see other people fleeing their own mountain lions. Some of the mountain lions seem comparatively wimpy – they’re half grown and only have three legs or whatever, and you think to yourself – why couldn’t I have gotten one of those mountain lions? But then you look over at the people who are fleeing mountain lions the size of a monster truck with huge prehistoric saber fangs, and you feel like an asshole for even thinking that – and besides, who in their right mind would want to fight a mountain lion, even a three-legged one?

Finally, the person closest to you, whose job it is to take care of you – maybe a parent or sibling or best friend or, in my case, my husband – comes barging out of the woods and jumps on the mountain lion, whaling on it and screaming “GODDAMMIT MOUNTAIN LION, STOP TRYING TO EAT MY WIFE,” and the mountain lion punches your husband right in the face. Now your husband (or whatever) is rolling around on the ground clutching his nose, and he’s bought you some time, but you still need to get to the top of the mountain.

Eventually you reach the top, finally, and the bear is there. Waiting. For both of you. You rush right up to the bear, and the bear rushes the mountain lion, but the bear has to go through you to get to the mountain lion, and in doing so, the bear TOTALLY KICKS YOUR ASS, but not before it also punches your husband in the face. And your husband is now staggering around with a black eye and bloody nose, and saying “can I get some help, I’ve been punched in the face by two apex predators and I think my nose is broken,” and all you can say is “I’M KIND OF BUSY IN CASE YOU HADN’T NOTICED I’M FIGHTING A MOUNTAIN LION.”

Then, IF YOU ARE LUCKY, the bear leaps on the mountain lion and they are locked in epic battle until finally the two of them roll off a cliff edge together, and the mountain lion is dead. 

Maybe. You’re not sure – it fell off the cliff, but mountain lions are crafty. It could come back at any moment.
And all your friends come running up to you and say “that was amazing! You’re so brave, we’re so proud of you! You didn’t die! That must be a huge relief!” 

Meanwhile, you blew out both your knees, you’re having an asthma attack, you twisted your ankle, and also you have been mauled by a bear. And everyone says “boy, you must be excited to walk down the mountain!” And all you can think as you stagger to your feet is “fuck this mountain, I never wanted to climb it in the first place.”

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Fun fact: the chemo hair loss has traveled to my mustache 👨🏻YAY!