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.

This is important!

I feel I should make this public: I feel great. Not like, oh man, I'm tired, but I have enough energy to move from my bed to the couch; not like, oh man, I think I could walk to the park down the street; and definitely not like, oh man, I feel like sitting in my backyard watching the robin attack the chipmunk (which he does. It's amusing.). But really, I feel just about normal. I think most people expect me to be somewhat weathered or ill-looking, and there is a small level of surprise when they see me and I look like anybody else. I know it must be difficult to visualize my life right now, despite my excellent descriptions of everything (haha). If you're reading this from halfway across the country and you haven't seen me since December or longer, you have probably formed a general mental picture of me right now. Whether I'm thinner or fatter or yellower or paler or possibly somewhat taller is up to you. Possibly I'm wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt, just sort of lying around, trying not to freeze. That wouldn't be wholly inaccurate, although I can't remember the last time I wore sweatpants. For the most part though, I'm doing a bad job at playing the role of a sick kid. I am desperately trying to be Caroline-trendy, which is pretty different from trendy-trendy, but I like it, and I think I'm succeeding. I still do my push ups and crunches; gotta keep that six-pack. And, right now at least, I'm pretty sure my blood counts are all normal, so there is no extreme paleness going on. And like I said, I feel great. The fatigue of the past few weeks is all but gone. Tomorrow I am going back to my highschool again; it's my dad's reunion. So it's going to be a great weekend as well. And don't worry about me. If you saw me on the street, I know you would be thinking, "Oh man, who is that hot chick walking my way?" You wouldn't think, "Dude, that chick totally has cancer." That's what I imagine anyway. Next week when I go back in the hospital, we can all have a little sad-Caroline time, but for now, live in the present, and join me in enjoying it. That's all. Have a wonderful weekend. Pax.

mango juice + Caroline = happy.

I recommend its deliciousness to everyone who is looking for something a little different from your morning orange juice. I can't believe it's already Wednesday, almost Thursday. I honestly haven't had all that much to report, which is both a good and a bad thing. Good because it means there have been no terrible cancer-related complications, but bad because I fear I might be disappointing my loyal readers who check back daily for an update. But then again, summer is just about officially underway, and I'm not sure whether my readership will shrink or not now that most of my friends won't be sitting around trying to do anything except their homework... Gah. I am sitting here, trying to put coherent thoughts together in my head that I can then type out, but I am having some serious trouble with it. I'm not sure if I'm just tired or depressed or dumb or what, but something is blocking the smart part of my brain from working. Mostly I am succeeding in writing really long sentences, but that's about it. So before I go and type something grammatically horrendous (if I haven't already), I should probably stop. Oh but briefly, my hair is comb-able now. Well, close enough. I have hair, and it's exciting. Too bad I'll lose it again in about three weeks. Oh well. Alright, I'm going to go to bed. Have a splendid Thursday. Bulls game 6!! Go Bulls! Peace.

Another weekend over?

I haven't done much of anything these past few days, so I haven't had much of anything to write about. Most significantly, on Friday, I chose to stop the Campath. I figured that the benefits would not outweigh the killer side-effects. So I have spent Friday, Saturday, and today trying to get back whatever energy I had. It's slow going. This stupid drug has honestly worn me down more than anything else I've had so far. I suppose it could have affected me so strongly because I have already gone through three months of treatment, in which case the next three months won't be much better. But I think all this is the fault of the drug. So no more tri-weekly injections. I have to go to clinic tomorrow to get blood drawn, but then I don't have anything until the 23rd, when I have a bone-marrow biopsy. I'm just glad this is over.

On another note, I would like to send a shout-out to my mom. Today is Mother's Day, and while it is yet another highly commercialized and saccharified (totally a word!) holiday, the idea behind it is noble. Basically, despite all the strife and mother-daughter issues, I don't know what I would do without her, especially now. She moved me out of Boston. She is (along with my Dad - who is also indispensable) doing all the insurance stuff, which is grossly ridiculous. The other day, when I was too exhausted to really do anything, she helped me clean my room. Oh yeah, and she works a full-time job, and she occasionally does laundry. I know that tomorrow I will probably go back to my bitter and ungrateful self, wishing only that I could be anywhere but here. Right now, however, I acknowledge that I am indebted to my mother. There is nothing I could do to repay her. Except for possibly to do my own laundry sometimes. And the moral climax: thank your mom for putting up with you. I certainly thank mine. Enjoy the week. Hugs and spinal taps, Caroline.