A World of Pure Imagination

Sometimes people say things to me like "Wow, only two more rounds of chemo! Piece of cake!" And a little part of me wants to smack them in the face, but a bigger part of me is glad that they don't understand how awful chemo is. Two treatments is still a huge obstacle. As of yesterday, only one more. Something to celebrate, but also still scary and hard.

A lot of people have been asking me what chemo is actually like and what actually happens on chemo days. It's like this big mystery. Somebody gets cancer, and we all know they are getting chemo, but we don't actually have any idea what the chemo is or what it does to them. Soooooo I decided to give you a glimpse into the world of my imagination as we take a journey through a typical chemo day -- told through my thoughts.

Tina's thoughts on a typical chemo day:

Ughhhhhhhhhhhh it's chemo day.
If I just go back to sleep, we can pretend it isn't chemo day, right?
Right.
Ughhhhhhhhhh a text message. Probably someone checking to see if I'm awake.
Yep. If I don't message back, we can pretend it isn't chemo day, right?
Nope.
Ughhhhhhhhh fine I'll get up but I won't be happy about it.
I need to eat something or I'm going to throw up.
I'll eat a healthy breakfast.
All I want for breakfast is butterscotch pudding.
...I have cancer. Butterscotch pudding for breakfast it is!
Why does pudding take so long to make?! Doesn't it know I'm freaking starving?!?
Oh look, the 5 minutes is up. Pudding's done!
Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.
That was a solid decision. Nailed it!
Ughhhhhhhhhh I have to get dressed.
...It's chemo day...sweatpants it is!
Man I love sweatpants.
I gotta find me a man who loves sweatpants.
And also he has to love bald chicks. That might be harder.
Psh, totes whatevs, I'm rocking this bald head look.
Oh hey there, sexy lady in the mirror, fancy meeting you here!
Nope, didn't work, still kinda ugly.
I'm so going to throw up.
Welp. I'm dressed.
I can't do this. I don't want to do this. I hate this.
Look, a text.
Well here come the tears, that text was exactly what I needed.
Friends always know. Man I have the best friends.
Maybe I can do this.
OH CRAP I forgot to put my numbing cream on!   [[Side note: Before each treatment I put numbing cream on my surgically implanted port so that when they jam a giant needle in my chest it doesn't make me see stars. But it only works if you remember to put it on...]]
Dang it, Tina, get it together!
Well better late than never, I guess.
We don't have any seran wrap, so I'll just cover my port in this press-and-seal wrap. That's probably fine, right?
I can't do this. I so can't do this. I can't do this.
Ugh I need an ativan or I'm going to throw up. Or faint.
Dang it, Tina, where did you put the medicine??
Oh, right. On the bookshelf. Because that makes perfect sense.
I wonder if Michelle is ready to drive me to chemo.
Oh look, she's dressed and ready. Dang it. That means we have to leave.
Let's stop at Walmart for some chocolate. I deserve chocolate.
Mmmmmmmmmm chocolate.
I should probably go for a jog.
I'll go for a jog tomorrow.
Today I'm eating chocolate. Get over it, you super fit people.
We're totally going to be late to chemo.
We could just keep driving and pretend chemo doesn't exist.
for reals.
Let's just go to the airport and catch a plane.
Fiiiiiiiine I'll go to chemo and live or whatever.
I still might throw up.
Oh look, we're here. Great.
Smile at the other people in the waiting room like we're not all waiting to get poisoned.
It's the polite thing to do.
Time for the weigh in and vitals.
Stupid blood pressure cuff is going to rip off my arm.
Oh good, my heart's still beating. Woot woot!
I hate when they put the needle in my port.
"Little poke!" Yeah, how about I give YOU a little poke, nurse? Hmm?
Just kidding I would never do that. Probably.
Oh good, they just took like half of my blood.
Can ya make sure you took the blood with all the cancer??
Hahaha I'm so funny.
And now we wait.
Oh hey, doctor, let's talk about how miserable last treatment made me.
Yes, I was nauseous.
Yes, I was freaking exhausted.
Yes, my feet hurt and I couldn't feel my fingers.
Yes, my appetite was cray-cray-crazy.
Yes, my skin has random dark spots.
Yes, my nails are dying.
Yes, I have bags under my eyes.
Yes, my muscles are embarrassingly weak.
Yes, my balance is off.
Yes, my brain doesn't work and I forget words all the time.
Oh, that's all normal and expected?
GREAT.
Welp, my blood levels look awful...just the usual...let's pump me full of poision again!
Breathe, Tina, this is just the first two bags, the steroid and the anti-nausea.
These bags are your friends!
Maybe I'll just go to sleep.
Crap, the first two bags are empty.
Time for the real fun.
I might throw up.
Here comes the Bleomycin.
This one's not so bad at first - just causes all the side effects.
Stupid bleomycin. Why'd I ever name my stuffed leopard after you anyway?
Crap, The bleomycin's done.
Time for the red death...Adriamycin.
Oh shit, here comes the chemo taste.
Swallow, Tina, swallow.
Don't throw up, don't throw up, don't throw up.
Where's my bubble gum?! I need my bubble gum.
Okay, I almost can't taste it through this bubble gum.
Maybe I can do this.
Let's go on Facebook and look at pictures of cute boys.
Distraction....might work.
Nope, not working.
Here comes #3...Vinblastine.
More chemo taste.
Chew the bubble gum, Tina.
Close your eyes and block it out.
Ugh, not working.
Oh good, we're on #4...Dacarbazine.
This one lasts an hour, but doesn't taste as bad.
Now I can try to sleep for an hour.
Ugh, the guy next to me is snoring.
There goes the sleep option.
Maybe I'll text that cute boy.
Oh yeah, great idea, Tina, and say what? "Oh hey, just hooked up to chemo and thinking about you?!"
That's a great opener. Not.
No, nurse, I do not want a cupcake.
Unless you want me to throw up that cupcake all over you.
Which you probably don't.
Sorry for thinking that, nurse.
I'll try not to throw up on you. Or on me.
Oh good, I'm done.
Now let's see if I can walk straight.
Ughhhhhhhhh I feel so heavy and gross.
Probably the 3 pounds of poison I have running through my veins.
Okay, Tina, focus on walking. And not falling over.
Just make it to the car.
Made it.
Breathe, Tina.
Chew the bubble gum.
You made it.
Only one more to go.
Get ready to be sick and hate life for the next 4 days.


So that's it. That's a typical chemo day. Not the best, not the worst. Almost the worst.
I have one more treatment planned. Prayers are always appreciated!

Oh, and here is a hauntingly beautiful picture of me taken by the AMAZINGLY TALENTED Kynsie Rife. She captured the pain and hurt and loss that cancer has brought into my life, and I'm in love with the pictures she took. Enjoy. :)

Good Spirits!

Everything is awesome! Everything is cool when you're part of a team! Everything is awesome when you're living our dream!

Sorry for the Lego Movie Song moment that just happened there. #sorrynotsorry

It's legit though! This week we moved into our super adult, super beautiful house that Michelle bought with her very own money. I'm in love and I never want to leave my room because it's beautiful. That's a true story. And there are ducks everywhere outside, which makes leaving my beautiful room worth it. Living the dream.

With a new house comes a new ward and church location and all that jazz. Today was my first time at the new ward because I was sick from chemo last week when the roomies went to church. I went to the meeting for new ward members like a good child, and when I told them that I have cancer (which nicely explained my super sexy black Audrey Hepburn hat they kept staring at), one of the men said, "Well, you seem to be in really good spirits!" And I was like, "haha, yeah I guess."

But then I realized something crazy: I actually AM in really good spirits! Which is crazy! Because really, if I think about it, my life is kind of super lame right now and I sort of hate it. I still have 2 treatments to go, I have to wait a month after my last treatment to find out if it even worked so I'm going to be an emotional mess for a month, I'm pretty much narcoleptic and sleep all the freaking time, and I more closely resemble a potato than a real person. Not exactly the best time of my life, but screw it. Because today I'm happy. 

Today is AMAZING. Today I'm just, like, giggling-to-myself-for-no-real-reason happy. Today I feel strong and I can do anything. Today I feel beautiful. Do you know how long it's been since I felt beautiful?!? Today I am excited for the future. EXCITED. I'm excited to see what happens and what doesn't and how life is going to work out! I don't even remember the last time I was excited about the future! Mostly I've just been worried and scared - but not today. Today I'm just stoked out of my mind because life is freaking wonderful! Today I'm smiling because my new ward seems awesome, because a cute guy helped me find Jupiter last night, because my makeup was on point today, because ducks crossed the road in front of my car this morning, and because of so many other silly, little, ridiculous reasons. It's a great feeling. And I know that this excitement and this little emotional high I have going on has an expiration date because I have chemo on Friday, but that makes it even more special because I realize how rare it is. It doesn't even matter why I'm happy - It just means so much to remember that I am even capable of feeling this happy. I'm really good at smiling for people and I laugh all the time, but how long has it been since I've laughed and smiled when I'm alone, just because I'm honestly feeling it? Way too long. 

Anyway, I just wanted to document this happy day so I can look back on it when I'm feeling like a lumpy little potato on the couch. I'm going camping this week and I'm going to look at so many stars and write my novel and sketch and just generally love my life. See ya later, gater!

And just in case you missed it, here's my super-not-redneck chemo hair from last week. 

What, No Unicorns?

If you are someone whose life is going 100% according to plan, you have absolutely no worries, and you're currently riding on a unicorn eating rainbows, this is not the post for you. So just go sit on your unicorn and be happy in the corner.

BUT, if you are someone whose life is maaaybe going like 62% according to plan on a good day, and your mind is full of all kinds of worries, and you've never even seen a real unicorn, you might need this post.

Listen up, little camper. I don't know your life. And even though you read my blog religiously, you don't know my life. You aren't there when I'm crying because of how people look at me at stoplights. You don't know what I'm feeling in the mornings when every step feels like little garden gnomes are kicking my knees. You haven't experienced my pain when I can't remember a word or phrase that I know shouldn't be difficult. You can't understand how intensely sick I get just thinking about chemo. But, like most things, it goes two ways, folks. I'm not there when you're up at two in the morning stressing about your love life. I don't know what you're feeling when you go to a job where you aren't appreciated. I haven't experienced your pain when you find out that you aren't pregnant. I can't understand how worried you are not finding a job. Like I said, you don't know my life, and I don't know yours.

Guess what, though? I don't think that really matters. Not in the long run. It's hard and it's sad to experience things like that, and I wish there was a magic antidote, but there just isn't. I'm really sorry if this is a spoiler, but life can suck and so far I haven't seen any unicorns. Guess what I have seen? People. People who make every sad, hard, difficult thing worth it because they are magical and beautiful and *cough* even better than unicorns.

My 7th graders read The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton at the end of the school year. If you haven't read it, you've spared yourself some tears but you're also missing out on an amazing book. There's a part in the story where a boy reads a letter that was written to him by a friend before this friend died. In the letter, he reads, "There's still a lot of good in the world. Tell Dally. I don't think he knows."

There's still a lot of good in the world. 

That one sentence has been stuck in my mind for months, and it's kind of become my new mantra because it's freaking awesome. When I'm sitting in the chemo chair trying to forget where I am, I think, there's still a lot of good in the world, and I focus on making it through those few hours. When I wake up and can't think of a reason to get out of bed and try, I think, there's still a lot of good in the world, and I buck up and find something to do. When I watch the news and just want to slap everyone in the face for being stupid, I think, there's still a lot of good in the world, and I want to slap them a little less.

We have to focus on the good. There's so much bad in the world and in our lives that it clouds out everything else. It makes it so hard to find happy moments and reasons to keep going, but the good is there. The bad in the world tends to yell and shove itself in your face. The good is quieter. It's always there, behind the hurt and the sadness, but it doesn't broadcast itself. We don't hear about good on the news everyday and it's not blowing up our Facebook feeds. Why? Because so often the good that gives us the strength to keep going isn't some huge, newsworthy event. The good parts of life come to us in little moments, little glimpses when we can see just how wonderful life can be. Moments like driving through a field of Aspen trees and loving the wind on your face. Moments like hearing a song that somehow matches exactly how you're feeling. Moments like laughing with a car full of friends because they hate laundry too. Moments like buying 7 things of shaved ice and spilling them all over the car on the drive home. Moments like flirting with a drop-dead gorgeous man. Moments like laughing uncontrollably at stupid internet puns. Moments like eating half a watermelon with a fork. Moments like looking around at a family barbecue and realizing you're so lucky that these people are yours. Just moments. Those little things that make you smile and make your heart beat a little faster - look for those moments!

It's okay to have hard days. It's normal to have worries. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one whose life is going maybe 62% according to plan. I can't know and can't take away all of your hard times. Heck, I can't even do that for myself. But what I can do is tell you that there's still a lot of good in the world. Keep going. If you didn't find a happy moment today, look for one tomorrow. Call a friend who makes you smile. Read your favorite book. Watch a Will Smith movie. Jump into a pool. I can't promise you'll find unicorns, but I do know that you can find the good if you look hard enough. Find the good. And once you find it, help someone else find it, too, because maybe their good is hiding behind a wall of bad. We can't let each other forget that the good is still out there. Who knows? Maybe you can be the good in someone's day. Be the person who reminds them that there's still good in the world. There's always a reason to smile and there's always a reason to keep fighting. That's pretty magical. Maybe even more magical than a unicorn.

Here's a picture of us eating watermelon. Just, ya know, for your viewing pleasure. Also, I do not have a unibrow - that's just my glasses mocking my lack of eyebrow hair.

Just keepin ya up to date!

Break out your party hats, you happy people, because we are almost done with chemo!! I've completed 9 treatments and have 3 more. For those of us that aren't into the whole math scene, that's 3/4 of the way done! Can I get a WOOT WOOT?!? Isn't that wonderful?? I'm super excited because, come on, only 3 more treatments?! I got this in the bag.

After my treatments are finished, which should be July 29, we have to wait a month and then we will do a PET Scan to see if the cancer is gone. And we're just gonna bank on the fact that it will be gone and then we'll be done! :)

Hots and Colds

Life is like a freaking roller coaster! It's SO exciting and SO scary and SO wonderful and SO crazy all wrapped up in one crazy adventure!

I don't really know how I'm feeling about cancer right now, because I'm so up and down about it. It just depends on the day. Or the hour. Or the minute. It's normal. Don't believe me? Here are some highs and lows. These are real things, people. Real. Things.

High: Rocking my Audrey Hepburn hat and getting alllll the likes on the social media. Talk about validation, amiright?!
Low: Looking in the mirror at my bald head, scars, bags under my eyes, and my pale skin, and legitimately feeling textbook-definition-ugly for the first time in my life.

High: Everyone constantly saying how they love you and will always be there for you.
Low: Not wanting to call anyone when you're crying at two in the morning because you can only ask so much of people.

High: Accomplishing a whole lot at school!
Low: Trying to take out the trash, not being able to lift it, and collapsing in tears on the floor.

This is not a picnic. Or if it is, it's the worst freaking picnic ever. I've learned a lot about life and people, though. That sounds like a total cliche, and maybe it is, but it's also totally true. I've learned that sometimes the people who you thought would always be there for you flake out when you need them most. The people you thought would have your back don't even return your calls, and that's really, really, really hard. But on the opposite side, I've learned that sometimes people surprise you. The people you haven't been the best friend to come out of nowhere and give you support and love you couldn't even have imagined. Your real-life BFF's don't give up on you even when you're sad and no fun, and they cry and laugh and call even when you don't want to talk. Your family reaches out and makes sure you aren't ever really alone. People are genuinely GOOD inside, and that is awesome and something that cancer can't take away. I've also learned how important it is to have a purpose and something to fight for. When you're told that you actually have to fight for your life, you kinda wonder why. For me, at least, it made me step back and think about what matters to me and why I love living. Again, sounds cliche, but 100% real. Maybe one day I'll let you in on what I decided about my purpose in life. If you're lucky. ;)

It's a tough ride, people. But guess what? The school year is almost over and I am finishing the year with TWO AND A HALF UNUSED PAID DAYS OFF. This is big. This is like my-pride-and-joy big. When I was diagnosed, I was so worried that I would have to take a leave of absence from teaching because first year teachers don't have short term disability. I had already used one of my sick days, and I used like 4 more on tests and surgeries before treatment even started. That meant I went into chemo with only 9 paid days off I could take. If I used those, I could take a few unpaid days off, but then a leave of absence was really the only option. But guess what, I'm a freaking rock star and I only took one day off after each chemo treatment! And I have no idea how I did it. I do know that pretty much every day since the beginning of chemo I have fought with myself to get out of bed, fought through the day at work, and then come home to take a bath and go to sleep. But I did it! I made it through with paid days to spare. DAYS TO SPARE, PEOPLE. Not to brag, but like, that's super impressive. I'm pretty impressed with myself about that, and I think that's okay, because when you're legit too weak to lift a pickle jar, you gotta find something to be proud of. Suck it, lymphoma.

Hey You Guys!

It's been a while since I posted, because honestly I forgot I had a blog for a few days! How do you forget you have a blog, you ask? Well, try a severe case of chemo brain combined with the end of my first year teaching. Plus I've been writing in my super secret diary like a crazy 7th grader, so I haven't felt the need to write on the blog.

But here I am, writing on the blog again! Want to know something crazy I learned? When I don't write on the blog for a while, there are people who get anxiety and think I'm dying, which is rough. So here's an update!

I had chemo #6 a week and a half ago and the side effects haven't been nearly as bad as chemo #5, so that's super wonderful! Plus my a-maz-ing BFF Farrari knows a dealer and got me some stuff that's really helped. Oh stop your judging people, obviously I'm talking about essential oils. What were you thinking I meant?? ;)
Frankincense has worked wonders on my neuropathy in my feet and peppermint helps with practically everything else, so it's been rockin!

My school held their lymphoma society fundraiser and it was the BEST and I will write about it later.

I'll have chemo #7 on Friday. That's in two days. Gross. I get really nauseous even thinking about it, so Michelle is going to drive me. If she drives me, it means I get to take an anti-anxiety pill before we go, so that will help and life will be good!

I have 7 more days of teaching this year. WHAAAAAAAT. Summer is calling my name, and I'm going to enjoy it all covered up to avoid the sunlight and all isolated to avoid crazy crowds and too sleepy to do anything crazy... yeah... it's gonna be a summer to remember!

...Only 5 more chemos after Friday. And only 67 days until mom and I run our 5K. Watch out, finish line, here we come!!

How to Parent an Adult with Cancer: 401

Cancer is hard! It's hard for me and it's hard for my family. Luckily, I'm surrounded by champs! I do wish there had been some kind of warning label for them before this all started so they knew what they were getting into. So, in true teacher fashion, I created a mock syllabus on what to expect as a parent of a cancer sicky. Enjoy. Or don't. Your choice. ;)

Welcome to the advanced course of How to Parent an Adult with Cancer: 401. If you have not already taken the prerequisite courses (How to Parent a Bald, Chubby Baby: 101, How to Parent a Rambunctious Child: 201, and How to Parent a Stubborn Teenage Girl: 301), this class will be beyond your skill level. Expect this course to include late nights, tears, and plenty of driving time. The course may not be fun, but if we all follow the syllabus, we'll make it through.

Required Materials for this course include:

1. Textbook: The Book of Mormon, The New Testament, The Pearl of Great Price, and The Doctrine and Covenants will be used extensively. The Old Testament will be referred to occasionally, but as it is rather dense, it will not be required reading. You will also be required to conduct multiple internet searches on topics like lymphoma, chemotherapy, and remedies for side effects.

2. Class Fees: The cost of this class varies from month to month, so be prepared to dedicate substantial financial means to your success. Anticipated expenses include: gas money, chemo foods, carpet cleaning supplies, and cheese sticks. Lots of cheese sticks.

Class Assignments:

You will be assigned multiple roles. As this course is happening in real time, assignments are subject to change and the instructor reserves the right to alter or add to the assignment list at any time.

1. Written Reports: Once a week, you will be contacted and asked for information that, more than likely, you don't have. Use your required reading and the internet to compile your answers. Sample questions might include topics such as: sleeping aids, how electricity works, insurance issues, chemo side effects, how to remove the smell of vomit from a car, etc. After compiling your answers, proofread them for correctness. These reports will be delivered via text message.

2. Interpersonal Communication: You will be expected to update and correspond with countless people who are interested in your child's well being. Don't be surprised when you are stopped at the grocery store, church, the gym, work, or your own living room by someone asking, "How is insert child's name here doing??" You need to be prepared with an answer for each person that is polite, honest, positive, and appropriately serious. Throughout the course, you will learn how to alter your answer to fit the following three kinds of people: (1) the curious bystander who will repeat everything you say in their weekly gossip meeting, (2) the caring neighbor who is actually willing to help and listen, and (3) the person who doesn't realize your child has cancer and is about to be emotionally traumatized.

3. Cleaning Assignments: A required part of this course is easing your child's burden, and much of that comes through cleaning. When you visit your child's home, you can expect to clean up messes the likes of which you haven't seen since course 101 - the toddler section. You will also be taking loads of laundry home to wash, dry, fold, and then bring back so that your child doesn't look like a hobo in dirty clothes.

4. Emergency Phone Calls: Due to the nature of this course, you can expect to experience emergency phone calls at every hour of the day. How you respond to these situations will have a great impact on your grade in this course. For example, when your child calls you from outside of chemo sobbing because she has just thrown up all over her beautiful car and is too sick to walk, the ideal response is to hop in your shiny new truck with a carpet cleaner, pick up an aunt along the way, and drive straight to chemo. Take the sick child home and then spend your day cleaning the vomit out of her car as she sleeps. Hey, no one said this class was going to be easy. If you want easy, switch classes now and take "How to Parent a Self-Sufficient Adult who Can Handle Their Own Problems: 101." 

*This syllabus is subject to change due to chemo scheduling, unexpected side effects, mood swings, emotional traumas, or laziness.*

FYI: I give my parents an A+. And I never give A+'s. Just ask my students.