Oh my God.
An argument about chocolate?
This is seriously the best.

Lindt or Godiva?

Thanks for weired stuff. For misspelled stuff. For stuff I don't even like.

For unprocessed, well-cooked food and raw milk.
Olives, boyscouts and Ninjas.
Magaritas. Martinis. Mimosas. Daquaries.
Stem cells, modeling jobs and paintbrushes.
For perennials, British Hip-Hop, and Home Brew.
Cloudy, stay-at-home days, for oxygen, for shark oils.
For turkey bacon and scrambled eggs.
Below-freezing days when the thermometer reads 42.
Good movies, good actors, good dogs. Good presidents (we haven't had many of those lately) and good phone service.
Music, good and otherwise.
Pencils, and for newspapers, and for chocolate and Duct Tape.
Camping trips.
My guys. My dads. Acting. Marylin Monroe. Hot Cider. Trees. French toast.
For fires and for guitars and campfire songs. Supplements and iTunes and Paris.
Oranges, rum, The Beatles, the 20's, and the Ocean.
Eagle Scout license plates, headphones, four distinct seasons, distractions.
My parents, who like my music, even when they don't understand it. And hey, be fair, who understands Portugeese?
The Theater People, the sweetest visionaries out of Happy Vally Nut House.
For bing undersood, for being accepted, for Edgar Allen Poe.
For Ali.
Balsamic vinnegar, pumpkins and for water. Ice. Shovels. Red wool. Harmonicas. People who play drums really well. Bamboo swords.
For things that make less and less sense the more you read/listen/hear/write/see/taste/smell them.

This is the best Thanksgiving so far. My brothers are headed to Kinston with my grandmother (who is getting lost a bit, and asking my brother, the boy who got lost on the way to his orenteering class, for directions), my dad is asking me to google How to Cook a Turkey (My favorite was "How to Safely Cook a Turkey Without Swearing the Whole Time or Getting Unreasonably Intoxicated". He wasn't amused.), my mum is reading the newspaper, I'm DJing with the help of a icemaker full of champagne and Luna, the Cat Who Likes Rock, World, and Jazz.

Have a good time guys.

I am ONE CHEMO ROUND away from finishing! La lalalalala, lalala tra lalalaaaaaaaaaa! And now, a delightful aria for you...
Maybe not.
But Hey! Guess what? It's raining! It's cold! My dad is getting a new truck! I! Am! Happy!

You know what else? It's almost Thanksgiving. Time to see all your crazy relatives, all the nutcases out of the family woodwork, and for God's sake, don't talk about the big white elephant in the living room.
What really drives me nuts is all my Southern reliatives. Babtist tea-totalers. I don't have anything concrete against Babtist tea-totalers exactly, but when thyr're related and you shove 'em all together...Oh, God, you'd be amazed how bad you need a shot of something strong.
Or better yet, a mini bar.

Of course, I won't be anywhere near Kinston this year. I shall be staying home and depriving everyone of my glorious company because I will be Neutropenic. Ha.
Certian people aren't too darn happy about this, but another year and I'll be back on the rounds. Be happy for me! Do not be bitter! Patience is a virtue, dern it!

Now, don't laugh, but I am not used to a dead bird for Thanksgiving. Pig, sweet potateoes loaded with marshmallows, and Cole Slaw are the norm, with a side of hush puppies and some Sweet Tay. We don't do sweet tea.

I'm going back to Duke tomorrow for some lovely blood, platelets and benadryl, and then I shall be home for the holidays.

Ask for me during normal work hours.

I really do have an excellent reason for not posting in a while. Just wait, you're going to love this:

Tuesday, 12:30 PM: Run to Duke with mum, because I had a temperature that was all over the place and on the high end of the 100's. When I'm neutropenic, this is a Bad Thing, so in I troup.
Got blood drawn, found I needed platelets, no problem, there ALL BLASTED DAY getting antibiotics anyway, go home.

10:00 PM: Nice little surprise--fever again!

10:20-11:00 PM: At Wakemed getting MORE antibiotics. (Note: This was supposed to be faster than driving for an hour to get to Duke, but it took them an hour to get the antibiotics IN THE ROOM, and when they did, they barely knew what a Ferises Catheter was. I'm pretty sure you should know more than your patient, even if it is the ER, no offense, Dr. Citron.)

12:00 PM: Finally at Duke. In a Taj Mahal of a room. I'm serious. This is one of three big rooms in this ward, and it is ENORMOUS.

Wednesday: Nothing more exciting than MORE ANTIBIOTICS happened until around 10:00 PM, when I became seriously engaged with a prolific nosebleed, a bag of platelets, and muchos benadryl. I proceeded to sleep through the platelets and half the subsequent red blood until 4:00 AM or so, when I awoke, and the floodgates opened forth again (...Okay, so maybe it wasn't quite floodgates, but you get it, right?).
So I get more Blood'n'Benadryl, happiness overtakes me, and the blood is outa there before you know it.

Thursday: I am completely, totally (very much reversibly, however) unattached fom my constant companion, The Pole for most of the day, so my mum and I take a walk over to Duke Gardens a little after lunch. We find an nice sunny hill and lay there for a while just looking at the ducks and the pond and the blue heron and the trees and the sky and...Almost falling asleep too, but I won't mention that.
Gorgeous day. Whole year should be like that day. Could deal with it being about 7 degrees warmer, but apart from that, it was perfect. And Duke Gardens is a really nice place to spend a perfect day, too. I mean, at the risk of repeating my self waaaay to often...It's perfect.

Today: No fever in over 48 hours. No bleeding in over 24. Blood counts are trending upwards. Chance of getting the heck out of there by two: 100%, babe. If it wasn't, I would require a thorzine drip and several rolls of Duct Tape.

Ugh. Fever is NOT HAPPENING AGAIN, do you HEAR me??? Not. No. Never. I don't care if I get a closet for my next Chemo. NO. MORE. FEVERS.

So did you love that or what?

Aaaah!!
Kill me quickly...

My brother looks so good in eyeliner. Darn it, he looks better than I do. Hmmm...

Maybe death would not be preferable.
Have to think on this.
He's going to a boyscout Hallowe'en party tonight, with all my guys and dads...
I wish him luck. Mum says he looks like a drag queen. Which, as soon as he's out of boyscouts, might work.

Okaaaay...
MORE reactionary platelets, after they pre- and post-meded the heck out of me.
WILL THEY NEVER LEARN????
My parent's insurance company is paying through the teeth (not that I give a darn about the fuchening insurance companies). I think I deserve to at least GET SOMETHING OUT OF THIS!

Whoo, okay, breeeeathe...

Meanwhile, back at the ranch:

Nutropenic

Anemic

Corybantic? (That's just a great word)

I am full of ick.

We get a whole hour back!

...Why I am so excited about this, I couldn't tell you. Heck, it's probably something wacked out, but being excited about the sun going around the earth is exciting, right?

But it's October, there's hot cocoa on the stove, and life ought to be enjoyed.
Please, for me, don't think about the fact that tomorrow's Monday. Be happy! I am...

Well.

I feel good.

On the low end of the scale, there was the Hospital Mother Bear Story, which had a happy end, because hysterics are good for you. And crying detoxes.
(If you don't know what I'm talking about, visit Caringbridge.com and look for me.)

High end, I just got Hungry Eyes, which isn't very high I guess, but it's one of those songs that just makes me feel happy. Like Trees.

And I also stabbed myself with a Heperin needle, which is not nearly as exciting as it sounds, because it was only on my thumb and it had just come out of the wrapper and it was completely sanitary. It was just deep enough to draw blood and hurt and make me feel dumb.

Life does have it's high points...

Yay! An other week in the Hospital, where not only will two people live in a room the size of a Hamster's cage, not only will I be taking a pill the approximate size and shape of one of the Dakotas (Lord knows, I don't care, I guess they can't tell me from a horse, which is not the most reassuring ting in the world), not only will I be hooked up to several bleeping monitors day and night, but hey! I'm also going to be feeling VERY CRAPPY for most of my stay! Rejoice with me, peoples!!

Fixing me is obviously their top priority right now, not making me better.

Okay.
Breathing deeply (still).

Twelve Hours.

Twelvehours.

TWELVE HOURS!!! AT DUKE!!!

1. Blood Draw
2. Blood
3. Washed platelets
4. Ferises (if that's really how you spell it, getting my stem cells taken out of me now, so they can be put back in to me later)
5. Unwashed platelets (for which the pre-medicated the heck out of me)
6. Lupron shot

Home awaited us. Of course, little did we know that it would await us at 9:30 PM.
8-8 at Duke.

God, I feel like an unpaid employee.

The Chemo Diet! Look at the weight AND inches I've lost! I'm so sure it'll work for you!

How many ways can you spell EVIL??? (That was a rhetorical question, by the way).

Ooh, but on the up side, I'm very un-Nutropenic now! Minions! Be happy for me!

Okay, picture this: over my temple, a black widow, with a spider web blosoming out from it.

In face paints, naturally.

Please. Did you honestly think I'd get a tattoo? Been there, people. SO not getting a tattoo anywhere NEAR my face.
My spine was bad enough.

But the platelets went over a dream today. Literally. I slept right through it. Benadryl, benadryl, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways...

Okay, so maybe it isn't so great. I mean, I thought Tylenol was THE BEST until mum told me all about that stuff it does to you liver. Or maybe it's your kidneys... Whatever.

...And, after an OTHER reaction yesterday ( and not to the blood, to the PLATELETS, which they decided I needed after I could not hold the ones I received on Monday), it has been decided that I will not only be receiving massive doses of benadryl (Stuff of Gods, man), but also "washed" platelets.
I have decided I really do not need to know what exactly these are, knowing generally will suffice.
In the mean time, I will be happy to chew out any nurse who comes within a mile of me with unwashed platelets.

Ha.

So yesterday, I got a platelets transfusion and had an Anafalactic Reaction. I mean, I felt like I couldn't breathe when I was lying down, my nose got all stuffy, my ears felt like they were filling up, I got this rash on the back of my head, and my throat felt like it was burning. Oh, and mum says that my lips were puffing up and my eyes got rather red.
So I got benadryl, which nocked me out till a few hours after I got back from Duke.

Now all this anaflactic stuff would be terrifying if I knew what it was. I mean seriously. Terrifying. There were three doctors, two nurses and my mum in my room, watching me eat (it was, like, one or so, so I reserve that right).

And Duke will once again be graced with my presence today. I'll be getting a red cell infusion for FOUR HOURS today, so...

Fun.

Alright, so I am now growing this very dark, low hairline, that dad says makes me look like Eddie Munster (but mum thinks it makes me look more like Curious George).
And my eyebrows are coming in darkdarkdark, which gives me hope that my hair will grow back black. Or, at the very least, dark brown like my dad's was before he shaved it.
My hair was very thick and BLACK when I was born, but it lightened considerably, and I am rather disappointed.

Oh, and I saw Monty Python and the Holy Grail! I can see why that movie has such an ENOURMOUS cult following, but really, I kind of like And Now for Something Completely Different better.

Okay, I am typing in hospital gloves and they are making my hands very sweaty and they are also waaaay too big for me so I can not see the keys sometimes and that is annoying.

Where can I buy a few Commas?

And now I am back from Duke, and my Amazing Grandmother has sterilized EV-ER-Y THING. There is not a surface in this house that has not known the touch of a Lysol wipe.
Even the mouse has been sterilized. The keyboard was sterilized, while I was in the middle of writing a long email to one of my friends, and I think it was deleted.

No, actually I am positive it was deleted.

Being immuno-compromised is not in any way fun.

(On the plus side, this is the home keyboard and the home computer, and these keys do not stick or drive me completely BONKERS.)

...And now thanks to dad's pop-up blocker and sticky keyboard, I don't know if leterary is spelled with one or two t's! Just don't read that last post. In the long run, it will most likely do you no good and be hazardous to your health in the meantime.

And really, I don't see what dad's sticky keyboard has to do with it, except that the space bar sticking is really annoying me.

Well, what can I say? Chemo pretty much sucks. I know that isn't very literary of me, but my food intake and urine ouput are being monitered at the moment, and I am sorrry to gross you out, but I don't have time to waste being literary.

So, yeah...

Doing...okaaay.

I just had my dressing ripped off by one of my many nurses. At around 11, my own stem cells wll be implanted into my body, from whence they were harvested painstakigly several months previously. How is your morning going?

There, now you can't say that wasn't literary.

Ways I Am Like a Pregnant Woman:

1. Cravings.
2. Morning Sickness.
3. This nausea medication for pregnant women to prevent morning sickness.
4. Pregnancy tests with my blood (like I am so going to run out and have promiscuous sex in the middle of my cancer treatments, people).
5. An Ultrasound (but don't worry, it was one of my heart, so that's okay).

By brother is OUT IN THE WOODS AGAIN, so my other brother and my dad are out looking for him. At night. After Five. In the woods.
Not only did my darling go out without a walkie-talkie again, not only has he been out since lunch, but he also left his water bottle.
Is my brother a genius or what?

Well, okay, not completely irredeemable.
The photographer I told you about took a bunch of pictures of me for the Joan of Ark thing, and he and his wife were really nice, and the fact that he bought me a box of Godiva that I was FORBIDDEN to share more than once didn't hurt, either.

I have learned that professional photographers are crazy, though, just like professional actors. They all share a love of the human form, then ignore it completely when it's time to eat.

And did you know that you can cook Sushi in a dishwasher? You wrap the Sushi in question in foil so it doesn't get soggy, put on the top wrack of a loaded dishwasher, start it, and Voila! For instant Japanese, just add soapy water!