So I've been thinking

Which, I suppose, explains the headaches... But no really. If there's any advantage to being holed up in my house with naught but my computer and various books for amusement, I've had a lot of time to think about things. Recently, given current events and holidays, my mind has mostly been preoccupied with the idea of love and the idea of death. Particularly death, since that's a bit more real for me now. Love is still a fairy-tale. I've realized that I'm not afraid of death. I by no means want to die. And I know that I'm not going to anytime soon. I still have a lot of stuff to do. But I've accepted that I will eventually die. And there's a pretty good chance I'll die before a lot of people my age. If something goes wrong in the hospital or if I get an infection. Or if the cancer comes back in any number of years, more malignant and spreading. While fairly unlikely, there is always that chance, that nagging doubt of complete remission. In terms of dying though, I've decided that if I can look back on everything that I've done so far and be happy with it, then it's okay. I figure people are only afraid of death because they feel their lives are incomplete; they have regrets. I am 20 years old. I still have a good number of years ahead to make bad choices. But as of now, I'm happy with what I've done so far. I mean, how many 20-year olds can say that in the same year, they were in a band, bartended, drank South African wine in southern France, drank Dutch beer on a rock in northern Ontario, worked full time at fantastic jobs in addition to school, and got cancer? I mean, come on, who does that? So, if I died any time soon, it would totally suck, but it would be okay. I think also that the fear of death is strongly associated with our fears of being forgotten. It's kind of like, if no one remembers you or anything you've done, what have you accomplished with your life? For the most part, we remember those who made an impact on other people, whether through words or actions or even personalities. Shakespeare, Lincoln, Nixon. Hell, Nixon helped shift the mentality of an entire country. In terms of me though, I have a written account of the person I was and am. I have pages and pages of ink exhibiting various stages of handwriting. Depression, happiness, boredom, pretty much every emotion you can think of, are all chronicled in variously sized notebooks. Even if no one ever reads them (which I hope someone does), my words will live on. And now, with this blog bit, some of them are accessible to people I've never met. But maybe something I say will mean something to them. Maybe not; it's kind of a crap shoot. But to die knowing that you have no regrets and that people will remember you for one reason or another, hopefully a pleasant one, I feel that's a pretty good goal to have. I'm pretty close to that goal now, and I hope to always be, no matter where my life takes me.

And that's my insight for the day. I don't know, I was at clinic this morning, and some of the people there are so sick. It's terrible because you know they're in pain. And it made me wonder, for the ones whose chemo doesn't work, are they afraid of dying? I don't know. I hope not. Anyway, death hasn't been the only thing on my mind. But I won't subject anyone to more musings. If you're interested in what I have to say, call. I'll come up with something mildly philosophic and insightful, just enough so that you're fooled into thinking I'm intelligent. (Don't tell, but most of the time I'm faking.) So that's it for today. Enjoy the long weekend. pax.

It's rather chilly outside.

The clouds have been throwing up on the Chicago-area all day today. We have lots of snow. It's funny: snow is nice to look at, but when you start digging into foot-high drifts of it, it gets real old real fast. Basically, this verbal fluff is preluding the fact that I shoveled our driveway this evening, with the help of me padre. I reiterate the fact that snow is much heavier than it looks. I am pretty freaking tired now though, especially after having had to wake up at 6 this morning. The good news is that I did indeed make a snow-angel in our front yard. I actually made two, as well as a tramped-out heart in honor of the Hallmark holiday tomorrow. Hah, like I need an excuse to eat chocolate. But I won't get into tomorrow. I'm going to read books and watch V for Vendetta. The usual quiet, neutropenic, wander around my house day. And the way things are going, I'll probably end up shoveling again. Yay winter.

In other news, I went to clinic today for chemo. I ended up waiting about two and a half hours for them to clear and finally bring up my drug from the pharmacy. Today's was the special butt-shot drug. It took all of ten seconds; I waited around for maybe ten minutes so they could monitor me, make sure I didn't fall out of my chair and start twitching on the floor; and then we headed home. And that was it. It's funny too because apparently the road we took home was actually closed in the afternoon. So, I guess despite having to wait for a good long while at clinic, the 6 a.m. wake-up was worth it.

My brain's really fuzzy right now. I blame it on the chemo. Because I can and no one's going to dispute it. I think I mostly just need to sleep though. I actually have a decent headache, and if it's not a direct result of the chemicals, they certainly aren't helping matters. Anyway, so I apologize if this post isn't up to my usual level of trenchant yet deliciously addictive prose. I will try and be more on top of my game the next time I write. Yup, that's all I've got. alright, pax.

Unfortunately, this installment will be lacking.

What exactly it will be lacking, I am not sure of. I am, however, sure that I don't have any exciting new updates on the war against drugs. I mean cancer. damnit, and typing that just reminded me that I have two pills I need to take, right now. Crap, I'll be back. And I'm back. I didn't choke on the horsepill, although the smaller one gave me some grief. Honestly, I am the worst person to have gotten cancer. There are so many things to remember. 5 pills in the morning, one of which I take at night too. And then there's the really big one that I only have to take three times a week, but that's twice a day as well. Not anymore, but when they were giving me one particular chemo drug, I had to put drops in my eyes every six hours. And I have to remember to flush my lines every other day... I'm a generally organized person, but that's because I absolutely have to be. My memory is actually terribly erratic. If my life was messy, I would be so lost all the time. I found some of my handwritten schedules I made for myself this past semester, and they were pretty much scripted to the hour. Haha, if I can't remember to take the nightly pill that will save me from getting pneumocystic pneumonia, God only knows what will happen when I enter the professional world and have deadlines and other people expecting things from me. Should be a good time.

Otherwise, that's about it. They transfused my blood and platelets yesterday. My nose is no longer bleeding like a faucet with a constant drip (when your platelets are low, your blood has trouble clotting, therefore wounds tend to stay open longer. Also a good time). And I don't get as dizzy when I stand up quickly. Basically, blood is a good thing. Every time you stand up without feeling your world start spinning and that blackness coming in around the edges of your vision, thank your normal blood counts. Mmm, there's nothing better than oxygen making it to the brain. Tomorrow I get another drug pushed into me, L-asparaginase. Chemo, kills cell, blah blah. I sort of psych myself out whenever I have to go to the clinic. I know nothing will happen, no side effects or reactions, but I still get anxious about going. I'm going to blame that on the chemo side-effects (anxiety is listed as a side-effect for some drugs). Haha. Or me being a wimp. Either way, I look forward to its being over. Snow is coming to Chicago, and I'm still on house arrest until my immune system gets back to relative-normal. (Incidentally, it's not really that bad. I drink too much hot chocolate and poke around a lot on the computer. I also wrote two new songs today, bringing my set list to about eleven songs. Sweet.) Well, hopefully this post wasn't as lacking as I initially thought it would be. I always seem to write more than I planned. Oh well. Happy Tuesday sad toad.

It's time for another installment of: Fun Times with Cancer!

Starring, Caroline! Dell Inspiron computer! Frosted Sugar Cookies! and Many Blankets! With special guests, Cold Hands and Nose!

Warning: Installment may be inappropriate for small children. Contains excessive bleeding and some mild profanity.

So, I'm all set now. Nurse Pam paid me a visit this morning. She drew about 10 mL of my blood, which was promptly picked up by the blood courier and delivered to an undisclosed location for testing. All I know is that I received a phone call a few hours later from a different nurse, name unknown, who informed me that my blood counts are low, so I will be receiving some more of the sticky red goodness tomorrow. (disclaimer: blood may or may not actually be sticky.) Nurse Karen then called some time later and told me she was on her way to my house to draw some more blood. This blood they sent to LifeSource - they supply the blood - who then test it to confirm my blood type. It's called "type and cross." I'm assuming the cross is cross-check, but I could be wrong. So Nurse Karen came to my house, drew some more of my blood, talked for longer than necessary about her family's three roadtrips to Alaska, and eventually left. I then received a phone call from Nurse Olga who will be infusing me tomorrow. She asked when the best time for her to come is, and I'm pretty easy going, so I told her whenever is best for her. Turns out that when is best for her happens to be at 6 in the morning. So it's an early night for me. I'm getting two units of blood and one thingy of platelets. And let's see, just to finish it off, on Monday my usual nurse, Jennifer, will be stopping by, oh wait, to draw blood! And then on Tuesday I head to the hospital for some chemo, and, you won't believe it, but more blood draws! And my doctor wonders why my red blood cell count is low. Alright, she actually doesn't wonder at all; it's because of the chemo. But nonetheless. Oh, the good news is that most of this will be drawn from my line. I think the only time they have to poke me is when I go to the hospital on Tuesday. That's good; no bruises or holes. Incidentally, when the nurses or doctors need to put a needle in a vein, they call it either "poking" or "sticking." Pleasant. "The more you know. (star!)" But anyway, I'm still doing well. Feeling generally good, and my unhappiness of the other night has pretty much receded to the back of my mind. None of this stuff ever goes away, either the happy or the sad, but mostly I can only focus on one emotion at a time. Right now, I'm anxious for this neutropenic week to end and the dastardly cold to go away. But other than that, it's all good. Peace.

There really is no wrong way to eat a Reese's.

Unless, of course, you're eating a cookie, in which case the aforementioned candy and the various ways of its consumption have no relevance whatsoever. On that note, I have once again confirmed to myself that my reaction was completely right when the doctors first told me my diagnosis, way back in Boston. I broke down on the bathroom floor, sobbing. Not because I had cancer, but because I had to return to a world I had left over five years earlier. The hardest thing in the world for an independent person is to have that all taken away from you. People are expecting me to come out of this whole situation with a completely different attitude, with a new perspective on life. Okay, yes, I appreciate the small things more, and I know cancer will always be a part of my life, along with the unspoken fear that it could return. That definitely constitutes at least a different perspective. But more than anything, this is making me appreciate what I had, and it's killing me that I no longer have it. Most of us discontentedly, unthinkingly go through the drudgery of daily living: bagel and weak coffee for breakfast from the dining hall; rush off to class, struggle to stay awake during the lecture where you wonder if your teacher always speaks in a monotone, or just here; head to lunch for a burrito or a slice of pizza, a sandwich if you feel like risking the often sketchy sandwich-makers; another class only slightly more interesting than the first, except for, "awesome, a project due next week, assigned today. Sweet, thanks." Then work, if you work, minimum wage for college students because businesses can pay that little because there are so many students. Then dinner, maybe some interesting meat product with rather mushy vegetables, then back to your dorm room for a few hours of homework, i.e. Guitar Hero II. If you're lucky, you've squeezed in a nap. If you're me, you've squeezed in a few espressos. Sleep a few hours, awake, arise, repeat. And you know what? I miss that so Damn much. I am trying very hard not to complain about the situation I'm in (I know, sure seems that way, huh.). But it's hard. It's hard living somewhere where you'd rather not be, and it's especially hard when my emotions are pretty much in a constant flux. And I know it's hard on my parents because it's fairly obvious that I'm having a tough time here. I am so grateful that the chemo is going as well as it is, but that's a double-edged sword. It means I generally feel fine, but have nothing to do with myself. At least if I felt like crap I'd have an excuse for loafing around. But you know what? Everyone has tough times, none any less significant than anyone else's. I'm pretty sure a girl I went to highschool with just died, and I can't even imagine what her friends and family are going through. My heart goes out to them because their lives are forever changed. And I've just got cabin fever. I guess it will eventually pass, and it will be replaced by some other dominant emotion to control me for a while. It's how I roll. But I am thankful to be alive, every single day to be alive. And I know it doesn't seem like it now, but I'm grateful to my parents for dealing with me, and I thank even more anyone who's ever called or said hi, offered a brief quip to make me laugh. It's those stupid little things that make every day bearable. Everyone has their own problems to figure out. Hopefully, they'll have someone near and dear to help them through. But if not, from what I hear, things get better. Life goes on. As do my (b)log posts too, apparently. Oh well. Night.

Hear ye, hear ye:

By order of me, I am hereby extending an open invitation to anyone and everyone who needs a break from their lives and would like to visit Chicago. And also see me. I will put you up in a comfortable sleeping space, and I personally will make pancakes in the morning. Or pour your cereal, if you so desire. I'll even give you a choice of juice, milk, or water to drink. We can go downtown, check out the tourist spots of Chicago. I will give you the grand tour of the western suburbs of Chicago, complete with caustic and witty commentary. If lots of people want to come at once, not a problem. Worst case scenario, I'll move my papasan chair into the hallway for someone to curl up in. Hell, I'll sleep in it; you can have my bed. I will offer you treats yet to be determined but which I'm sure you will enjoy. So come, visit the Windy City. And also see me. That is all. We now return to our regularly scheduled blogging.

Today is my ninth day of session two; my chemo started nine days ago. So now is when I start to become neutropenic. The doctors say it takes about 7-10 days for the counts to start falling. It may sound odd, but I actually have a very good relationship with my body. Meaning, I know when something isn't right with me. I might not do anything about it, but I'm usually pretty aware of when something is wrong. Right now, I can tell my blood counts are falling again. I've been getting the lightheadedness that comes from moving too fast or standing up too quickly. I've also been irrationally tired recently. I don't know how it works, living at home with a compromised immune system. Am I allowed to go out? Can I walk outside or go to the store? I feel like I need to get myself to the gym, but that's probably the last place I should go. All those people with their sweating and their coughing and their germing all over everywhere... Meh. Realistically, I'm pretty sure I'll be spending most of the next 7-10 days in my house, how long it takes until my counts start coming back up. I'll probably still be okay outside today and tomorrow, but after that, I think my immune system will be such that I'm really not supposed to be in public much, if at all. So we'll see. I have to confirm all this with my nurse.

Currently, I'm sitting in my front living room, a bright spot with comfy chairs that I think I will make my nest for the duration of the neutropenic stage. I have books and music to entertain me, as well as some work that I should probably at least start thinking about doing. Right around 2:30, the sun starts shining on my chair, warming me up considerably. So it's not too bad here. After this week of confinement though, you can bet I'm going to be outside and happily soaking up the germs of the world. Haha, because I'll be able to fight them! It just sucks for this week. But the last thing I want is to go back to the hospital with an fever, so I'll play it relatively safe for now. Well, enjoy the rest of hump day. I, for one, am going to try. Word.

out of title ideas.

C. Willie Miles. He's a comedian, and I am currently listening to him on the radio. It is just about the freaking funniest thing I have ever heard. I can't ever repeat people accurately, and I'm not going to try, but he's pretty much just making fun of Midwesterners, and it is hilarious. I haven't laughed this hard in a while. Oh wow. Alright.

S'anyway. I went to the young adult support group at the cancer club downtown this evening. It was interesting. There were five other people tonight with five different types of cancer, all in varying levels of health. It was good to go, to hear what other people have/are going through. They were all really interesting, and most of them were at least a few years older than me. They work; they're mostly out of school; but because they dealt with the same thing I'm going through, the rest isn't hugely important. One of the stipulations of joining the group is that you have to go to at least 12 sessions. After that, you can come and go as you please. So I think the group is pretty fluid. There is no set attendance list. You come when you can, and new people join fairly often. The moderator, who I'm pretty sure is a social worker or therapist or something, said today that there are probably about nine people in the Monday group now, but it fluctuates. It'll be interesting to see over the coming weeks who comes and goes and if I'll have anything substantial to contribute. Because, at least today, it seemed like most of the others are either finished with treatment or are in a later stage. Certainly, they've been dealing with it for longer than I have. They've gone through a lot of what I have ahead of me, and I'm sure I'll learn a lot. They certainly covered a wide range of topics during today's 90-minute session though. Everything from working out to dealing with infertility to the fact that people with cancer are considered disabled under the Americans with Disabilities Act and whether or not that means we can get handicapped stickers (consensus: probably). Referring to the infertility bit, that's something I really haven't thought much about. But all of the drugs they give me list infertility as a side-effect. The women there tonight were just talking about how much that screws with your head. I mean, I'm only 20, and having kids is pretty much not in my radar. But some of the others are in their mid, late 20s. It's not such a foreign idea to them. It's just weird to think that you don't even have a choice regarding pregnancy. So that's pretty important and is an issue I'm sure will arise for me in the future. Again, it will definitely be an interesting weekly group.

In other cancer-related news, today is my seventh day of session two of my chemo treatments. This means that any day now my white blood cell count is going to start falling. I'll become neutropenic again, although I'm pretty sure my counts won't be quite as low as when I was in the hospital. But it will be interesting to see how my body reacts to being immuno-suppressed while living at home and interacting with people. Should be a good time. I hope I don't get an infection, although that could possibly be my ticket to a helicopter ride. Is it worth it? All things to consider. And with that, I'm going to go curl up in a ball under six layers of blankets and flannel pajamas and fleece slipper-socks. Oh, and also, just to clarify at least one "caroline quirk", pax is actually Latin for peace. I don't know why I started saying it; I say peace too. It's not that I'm necessarily advocating peace, although a little bit, but more that that's just what I say when I say goodbye, particularly online. So, peace, or pax, or what have you. Enjoy Tuesday.