And the moral of today's story is:

Do not walk umpteen miles in a city wearing sandals unless you are prepared for dirty feet. That is moral number 1. Moral number 2 is that Corn Pops are quite possibly the best cereal ever. Those two statements just about sum up my day. I will, however, elaborate.

Today, I ventured downtown, via train, for my weekly young adult cancer group meeting. I had some time to kill before group, so I took a trip to what is known as "Old Town." It's basically a slightly more upscale part of Chicago that used to be factories and old businesses and such. Now there are mostly nice restaurants and boutique-y shops. It was nice to just be able to walk around outside. Since the weather was so nice, and I was feeling sprightly, I decided I should walk back down the street to Gilda's Club. It couldn't have been more than a mile or two away, but by the time I got to Gilda's, my body was like, "Caroline, stop walking! You can't just think you can walk like that when you've been in the hospital and haven't done anything physical in a substantial amount of time." And you know what? My body is right. But that doesn't mean I listen to it. After group, I walked over to Millennium Park, which was probably another mile and a half. By this point, I'm pretty sure my calves were beginning to cramp up. (In retrospect, I was probably also somewhat dehydrated. meh.) But it was all worth it. I had a good, solid walk around the city, and hopefully I'll sleep well tonight. I really, really do love Chicago. I am especially fascinated with Millennium Park, where the infamous "Bean" is located. I could sit there for hours watching the people take pictures of their reflections. But that's just me.

So, my feet were pretty dirty, but I have since scrubbed them clean, and now my feet are pretty happy. And the Corn Pops quelled my accumulated hunger, for now. I hope everyone else's day was as fulfilling as mine was. Tomorrow, I plan on not doing anything, recuperating from today. Because I can. Haha. Pax.

(sadface)

So, I'm not quite sure what happened to me differently this past hospital stay, but I have found myself to be much less flexible since I have come home. Realistically, it's probably a result of my not stretching anymore, but I'd like to blame it on the chemo. I mostly just vegged out while I was in the hospital, since I was only in for three days, one of which I was completely knocked out for. I can still touch my toes, but my 180 degree splits are deceased. I've also noticed my arms don't feel as stretchy, which is strange. I need to get moving around some more though. Come on, movement motivation!

In other news, today was a long day: today was a clinic day. All I needed was one shot, L-Aspariginase, a quick dose of chemo. It took literally ten seconds for my nurse to give me the shot. I had to wait, however, for about two hours for them to finally call my name. I guess today was especially busy as it was the day after a holiday, and sick peoples need their drugs. I did notice something interesting while I was waiting for them to draw my blood though: cancer patients tend to avoid other cancer patients. There is a hallway where we are instructed to wait before they can draw blood, and, as I've mentioned, today was especially busy. So I had to sit between two women while we waited, one of whom had disturbingly blue toenails. But I found it interesting that neither woman looked at me when I sat down. Indeed, they both turned away from me. I was tempted to start coughing horrifically and messily all over the place, but I decided that they perhaps wouldn't share my sense of humor. So I restrained. Otherwise, that was about it. Same old clinic feelings, same old desire to be anywhere but at clinic. Eventually, I made it home, and I haven't done much with the rest of my day. Slept on and off, I suppose. Oh, I had a burrito. Hahaha. Tomorrow I go downtown for group, which should be fun. It's hot and sunny and possibly rainy tomorrow in Chicago. All things one comes to expect at the end of May in Chicago. So happy Tuesday, sad toad. Don't let the world get you down. Peace.

I think it's time for another photog!

Yes, dear friends, it is officially cicada season in the suburbs. They are coming out of the ground, shedding their exoskeletons, and flying around like they own the place. Once shed, they are blue-bodied, red-eyed, and shiny-winged. They are also tremendously noisy. I swear, everything happened so fast while I was in the hospital. When I left home on Wednesday, the cicadas were just starting to show themselves. Now, they are everywhere, and more keep coming. Their little shells accumulate on the sides of buildings, on the trees, on the patio; there is no escaping the 17-year plague. It's a good time. If nothing else, they make for interesting photo subjects.

Speaking of everything moving at warp speed, it only took about four days for my tastebuds to be annihilated by the chemo demon. I have reached the point where water tastes funny. I had ice cream for dinner, and even that tasted not so good. I don't remember how long it took for my appetite to return to normal the first time I went through this, but hopefully this won't last too long. One thing my nurse cautioned me against was comparing this cycle with my first month of chemo. In terms of drugs, the cycles are the same, but there is no guarantee at all that my body will react the same way. So I guess I'm just biding my time, waiting to see how things turn out. She also told me that, hopefully, I won't become as neutropenic this time, which would be nice. I am looking forward to enjoying some fun lakefront activities downtown without having to worry about catching anyone else's germies. Otherwise, that's about it from here. Oh, this is the first major holiday that I haven't been in the hospital, which is also exciting. I missed Christmas and Easter, but Memorial Day, here I come. So that's worth celebrating at least. Alright, well enjoy Monday, and look for more pictures of creepy little bugs. Peace.

And, I'm back.

It has been a long and stressful past few days, but I am finally back in my own house with my own noises and my own foods. Actually, the past few days weren't really that bad at all. The worst day was yesterday. Yesterday morning, around 4 A.M., I woke up and decided that I was going to be sick. So my feet carried me to the toilet, and up came whatever small dinner I had had earlier. Pleasant. My nurse came and brought me some anti-nausea medication called Ativan, which is one of the really heavy duty ones. Basically, it knocked me out for the rest of the day. I threw up two more times throughout the morning, but they put more medication in me, as well as more chemo, and I literally slept all day. So like I said, now I'm home. I don't feel great; I have certainly had better days, but I'm glad to be out of the hospital. I'm currently working through a little bit of nausea and a fair amount of tiredness, but I'm sure I'll be back to happy after a good dinner and a good night's sleep. It is seriously much pleasanter to be out of the hospital after only 3 days as opposed to 20. I approve of my doctor's decision to discharge me. Anyway, that's about it. I go back into clinic on Tuesday for an injection, but that's not too big of a deal. Oh, and this will be my first major holiday weekend I haven't been in the hospital! Woo! Memorial Day Weekend, here I come. And by here, I mean literally here, in my backyard. Save travels to everyone who is traveling. Enjoy your gas bill. Peace!

mmmm, drugs.

So, before I become too brain-dead from staring at the TV, I suppose I had better provide the details of my happy day. I started the day by meeting my current team of doctors. The head doctor on the team also happens to be in charge of the study that I'm on. So she has heard a lot about me recently, especially given my complications with the Campath. It was nice to finally meet her. She is also friends with the doctor at Dana Farber in Boston who will be taking care of me in the fall. I guess what I'm trying to say is that she's the head honcho of this whole shindig, and she's a pretty good person to have around. How's that for mixed metaphors. Anyway, so here's something amusing... While the team was in my room, food service brought my breakfast. One of the doctors nearest the door took it and placed it outside the room. When he brought it back, and they left, I noticed something missing. Something very essential to my not getting scurvy. My orange was missing. My bagel, cereal, and tea were still all hanging out, but the round, mildly knobby citrus fruit I love so dearly was gone. Eventually my nurse came in and was like, "Yeah, your doctor took your orange. I guess they put you on a neutropenic diet." (Neutropenic diet: no fresh fruits or veggies, fast food, sushi, or unwashed food.) Anywhoo, it was irrationally upsetting to me that the doctor just took my orange. I mean, come on now. But oh well, what can you do.

And the more important news: I received three chemo drugs today: Vincristine, danorubicin, and cyclophosphamide. The last one is the worst; I know I've mentioned it before. It's the one that burns while it infuses. Today wasn't too bad though; I was chewing on ice chips that helped cool me down. Other than those, I've been on my hydro drip all day, so I have had a lot of fun bathroom time. Although sadly, having to pee all the time is not as much fun as it sounds. Otherwise, I've just bummed around. I am currently eating pudding and watching So You Think You Can Dance. Eating pudding and wishing I could still dance... haha, I'm in a great state of mind. Nah, I've come to terms with my total inflexibility and penchant for pudding. I'm just biding my time until I'm back to feeling healthy, and then I'm planning on starting dancing again. Otherwise, that is all. Less chemo tomorrow, hopefully no side effects - there were none today. Let's see how it goes! Pax.

oh wow, I am a super nerd.

I have spent my evening eating Fun Size Milky Way bars and getting too excited over the season finale of Lost. It just ended - on quite the cliffhanger, I might add - so I figured I should get my write on. I feel my evening's actions are justified though. I have happily consumed the small candy bars knowing that after tomorrow, I probably won't want to eat chocolate for at least a month. That's right folks, tomorrow, I start up again with chemotherapy Session A. Happy, happy infusion drugs for three straight days. But here is the great news: I was told I will be discharged this Saturday, which is only three days away! No more three week stays.

So, comparatively, today has been pretty good. I had another bone-marrow biopsy this morning, which went surprisingly well. I don't know what the doctor did differently this time, but I barely felt anything. And then they admitted me, and I've spent the rest of the day reading, mostly. Once again, I am on the same floor that I'm used to. I'm actually in the room next to the first room I ever stayed in. Aah, memories. It was funny because immediately when I got on the floor, all the nurses were waving at me through my window and say hi and asking where my guitar was. I assured them it is on its way. I like the nurses; they're both friendly and good at their jobs, which is always a good combination. But it's been a long day, and now I think I need to start thinking about sleep, although it is only an hour or so until the night nurse comes around to take my vitals. Haha. I'm not going to say it's good to be back, because it absolutely isn't, but I am more comfortable being here now that I know what to expect. Also, it helps a lot that they told me I could be discharged on Saturday. Hopefully I'll survive these next few days with no side-effects so I can get me home. Otherwise, happy Thursday to all, and to all a good night.

I guess it's Bob Dylan's birthday?

Or so my radio station tells me. On further research, however, Dylan's actual birthday is May 24th. I guess this is more of an early celebration. Regardless. Sometimes I am convinced I was born in the wrong era. I feel I would have fit in better in a smoky coffee shop on Bleeker Street, listening to the latest Ginsberg or a young Bob Dylan - before he became huge and inaccessible. I am too restless for the now, too unsettled to be wholly comfortable in my generation. But then again, I don't think I would have done well in the 70s and 80s. Living now, although I don't get to experience the fifties and sixties, I can at least read and listen and imagine what it would have been like. And realistically, I am probably idealizing the beat and the hippie generations. Oh well.

In other news, it always shocks me when I realize my body can't handle the stresses I once put upon it. Case in point: this past weekend. I ventured, once again, to Culver, Indiana, this time for my dad's 45th reunion. I pretty much didn't eat real food while I was there, as I am partial to the various ice creams offered by the restaurants in town. And then Saturday night, I didn't sleep at all. I stayed up too late in the first place, my cot was terribly uncomfortable, and I was kept awake by the various night-sounds that occur when you share a motel room with two other people. Basically, by the time I got home Sunday afternoon, I felt pretty awful. I had a low-grade fever, and I was exhausted. I think I napped for about three or four hours on Sunday, and then I slept twelve hours Sunday night. I felt great today, which is the good news. It was mostly just another reality check reminding me that I can't afford to neglect my body, even for one day. It's lame, but my health is in a precarious state that could easily take a turn for the worse. And I don't want to take that risk. So sleep and healthy food are in order. That's about it. I go for another biopsy and hospital stay beginning Wednesday, so the countdown is on for that. Should be a good time. Have a happy Tuesday and all that whatnot. Peace.