Today is chemo day and I am anxious. The main reason? Last week I didn't get any liver readings. The reason for that? The doctor had decided to only take the readings once every other week. She had no idea how important those numbers are to me, and I found not having them to make a big difference. This was a rough week, filled with emotion and exhaustion, a cold causing even more exhaustion, and then finally losing my voice, a nightmare for someone who cannot shut up.
Add to this a horrible interaction with an angry person who decided to make her point by telling me that, "I thought people who were terminally ill were nicer." That came out of nowhere since the comment I made to her was simply a joke, and such an extreme reaction from her was way out of line, even if she was pissed about my joke. After spending the afternoon in my office crying, I emailed her back and told her how that interaction would have been better handled, and that her comment, even made to the biggest SOB in the world, was cruel and mean. This young lady has some cognitive disability but mostly,she has not been taught limits about what is appropriate or not appropriate to say to others. Certainly, I will make sure she does not cross that line with me again. In the end, I was so angry, I was tempted to travel to where she lives and teach her that she could be terminal too by drowning her. I won't. I won't. But it was a comforting thought for me. She of course made this comment on Tuesday, my worst day of physical and emotional exhaustion after chemo.
What might have helped would have been to have had some good news from my liver numbers. Instead, not having the numbers made me feel like I was in a boat adrift, not sure where I was going. I knew the numbers had been getting better, but what if they weren't this last time? I didn't have them to know. Those numbers get me through each week, because frankly, chemo and having cancer sucks. So any little thing I can grab onto matters.
I've since contacted my doctor twice, once by phone and once by email, asking her to please order these readings every week. Today I will ask the nurse if the order has changed. If it has not, I will ask that the doctor be called. While I will see numbers taken from last week, thank God, if the test is not done this week, I'll have a week of no numbers again. I'd rather skip that experience. Having Stage IV cancer means I'm taken over in terror every once in a while, so the liver numbers are buoys in that sea of "I don't know where this is going." So forgive me for being pushy, but my life is in the balance here. I don't really care if my doctor is annoyed by my asking. She doesn't have Stage IV cancer. I do. And we've already established that I am an Uppity Cancer Patient.
And, oh, in the midst of all of this, I started thinking of responses to the situations coming up in my cancer journey. Sayings like, "Don't Fuck With Me, I Have Cancer," or the label of "Uppity Cancer Patient." My wonderful friend Frank Meyers of VOX801 Design is a talented artist and he graciously agreed to create designs for the sayings. I found a site that handles orders and fulfillment, and now there is a place where folks can buy these wonderful sayings on a t-shirt. If you know someone who is going through this, pass it on. The site is http://uppitycancerpatient.spreadshirt.com. And, oh, in honor of the young lady's cruel comment to me this week, I'll be making another shirt that says, "Nope. Not planning on dying. But thanks for asking."
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