Cancer Selfies

Averted emergncy post!

Cycle 1 Day 8

The PICC line goes directly from your forearm, usually non dominant, to your heart, following large veins. This makes it a extremely dangerous potential route for infection to easily and directly reach your heart, with consequences as dire as you'd like to imagine.

I have two red lines that, if crossed, I'm told I must immediately go to the ER for emergency intervention. They are above 38 for an hour, or above 38.3 at any point. When I'm running any sort of fever (for me, I've set my cutoff at 37, because I rarely stray beyond 36.5), I'm to take no medications that lower a fever.

All my painkillers are Tylenol based. They all lower a fever. So I'm also in a lot of cancer pain, with a cold style headache on top of it.

Long preamble to say that this morning I had a fever that peaked at 37.8. I didn't panic, but I did have a very tense couple of hours. Yesterday, I got my 2nd Covid-19 booster (hurray bivalent vaccine), which was almost certainly the cause of this. But I also had my PICC dressing changed, and the nurse was extremely careful, but who's to say I didn't get an infection (well, I am, now, but at 5AM that was not clear).

The tldr of it is everything about cancer treatment, or any treatment, is a trade off of risks and benefits. The PICC is a tremendous risk, but also a fantastic benefit. I was not ready for the level of responsibility I have to take for my own body during this. But it's a wild and fascinating ride

From the comments

James Petrosky: To be clear, I'm in no danger. I never was actually in any danger. And if the situation had turned, I had everything ready to go to address the situation before it turned truly dangerous.

My partner and I have talked through all this stuff with the oncologist and nurses. We're not expects by any means, but we're informed and empowered and ready to act when needed. ❤️

Also, the side effects were much more minor for me this time. I got a proper fever all the other times, and were I healthy and working I'd probably have gone in today without even noticing it. So yeah, bivalent vaccine: 👍👍

Superstar, criminal kittycat & pumpkins

Cycle 1 Day 7

Lots today, let's do bullets!

• Thomasin is a cute criminal (but very much a criminal)
• Thomasin is surprisingly good on a harness ❤️
• You should imagine me, driving down Balm Beach Road (short bit of highway between two towns, 80 limit), windows down, singing along with Karen Carpenter to Superstar, because I was on Balm Beach Road four times today and it happened each time (add karaoke to the remission list)
• I love carving pumpkins, but I love eating pumpkin seeds even more (a project for tomorrow)
• I love garlic bread as much as I love pumpkin seeds
• Get your fucking booster, it's one of the things anyone can do that takes no effort that makes my life, and the life of all immunocompromised people, a little easier (it also helps you ❤️) (Ontarians of all ages can get the bivalent vaccine starting the 26th) I got mine today because I'm immunocompromised now and we qualify early
• That's all, friends have a great night ❤️ (and maybe to listen to Superstar, if only to sing along to the chorus)

Addendum:

• Sweet Chilli Heat Doritos remain the best instantaneous cure for nausea available commercially, which honestly makes no sense but has been true since at least 2007

From the comments

Good days are possible with chemo

Cycle 1 Day 6

Even when you're sick with a potentially terminal illness, some days are just days. I did hobbies today. I played video games. I listened to podcasts without skipping around to only get light subject matter. I got some okay chip truck fries and baked them in a convection oven twice to make excellent chip truxk fries. I fired up my 3D printer for the first time since I was in trade school to make a joke at my own expense. I finally, one year later, finished modifying a Value Village tripod and took not great (but lots of fun) night photos.

Some days are just normal. They're rare. I treasure them.

From the comments

James Petrosky: This is from 2020 but the GoPro software is hinky and uploaded it again and it's a really good photo of Thomasin and I so why not share it again ❤️

A relaxing afternoon

Cycle 1, Day 5

It was a good day, with good weather, and that should be remembered.

Feeling good five days after chemo

Cycle 1, Day 5

On day 5 I finally felt good enough to actually do stuff. It's wild to walk out of Canadian Tire and feel "yes, that was a pleasant trip that I both needed to take and did not make me feel upset in any way".

My apartment has never had a number on it, which has suited my desire for privacy, but not being monstrous to home care nurses ranks pretty high on my list of desires.

Plus! The weather today is extremely late summer/early fall and the breeze is perfect. I might take a picnic to the water if the weather holds.

I still feel a little sick, like I could throw up, but not like it's iminant. I'm getting used to it, but I'm feeling unwell most of the time. I don't think I can enjoy apple anymore, at least for a while, which is a pain because apple sause is one of the main foods recommended for this sort of queesy feeling in general, and especially for chemo patients.

From the comments

James Petrosky: Eff it, it's a bit cool out (newly repaired thermometer reads 21.7C) but I've got the body fat to sit outside in the shade (one of the chemotherapy drugs makes you very photosensitive so it has to be the shade) so bonus recreation of an earlier profile pic

The beard is gone

Cycle 1, Day 4

To properly protect you from bacterial, and especially viral, particles, a mask must be properly fitted to your face. And a chemotherapy patient should be properly protected if they want to maintain some sort of normal life by going to shops and such.

I didn't have to go so complete here, but I thought it would be easier to cut as it comes back in to fit the mask rather than the opposite. I'm having some major doubts right now, though 😛

I didn't shave closer because unnecessary cuts are also a risk to be avoided, so I'm stuck in this in between worst of all worlds (and it's pretty funny, I'm laughing, at least)

The bottle is gone

Cycle 1, Day 3

The chemo bottle has been removed. It was good to get out of the apartment, and I'm going to need to balance getting out with how low I feel on days 1-3. I wasn't going to get Tomara, but I take frequent emergency washroom breaks, now, and the mall in Barrie has the cleanest washrooms with the lowest human density (fast food is much much more crowded). Anyways, this charmer called to me and I have poor impulse control.

The next one I'm allowed to get for myself is after the end of the sixth cycle.

I wanted to post more, but my hydro's been out since early this afternoon and I don't have the light to do it. Tomorrow, perhaps.

The first chemo bottle day

Cycle 1, Day 2

I still have my take home bottle of chemo, it'll be removed late tomorrow morning. I'm not sure which of the drugs caused it, but I threw up last night. I've mostly slept since all day, but did get to see my parents before they returned to Northern Ontario for a few days. I had three phone calls (two followup, one scheduled) and I'm exhausted.

From the comments

James Petrosky: The bathroom of a chemotherapy patient is considered potentially hazardous. Other humans can use it so long as they follow a few ground rules, but animals are not allowed in.

Some animals are extremely offended at this

James Petrosky: I tried to capture it, but the lighting wasn't great, the dark blue pouch on my torso attacked to the belt I bought in Peru over a decade ago (and finally found its use) is the chemo bottle. It's a lot less of a pain than I thought it would be, the only slight challenge is keeping Thomasin away from a fun fun springy hose. She's been good, though.

The first visit to the chemo suite

Cycle 1, Day 1

I expected that to be a lot worse.

The night before chemotherapy

Tomorrow is it, day one of my first round of chemotherapy. I'd be lying to you if I said I was okay, or that I was calm, or ready. Because I'm none of those things. I haven't even fully come to terms with my diagnosis. There's been no time, and getting to this point as fast as possible has quite literally been a case of life and death. I'm exhausted, I'm anxious, I can't sleep.

Tomorrow beings answers to important questions like how will I tolerate chemotherapy, what are my side effects going to be like, how careful am I going to have to be.

Tomorrow brings hope. The only way out of this for me is through the cancer centre, through these appointments. It's absolutely terrifying, every single part of this has been terrifying. Every new pain has been the terror of further spread. Every Covid-19 type symptom for months terrified me that I'd delay this process (and now will cause anxiety because I'm about to become immunocompromised). Every single thing that is slightly abnormal is a new horror. And they will all remain horrors, the thing that has replaced university exams or abusive Target liquidation customers as the antagonist of my stress dreams. But, tomorrow, I also to start striking back. And that's not nothing.

PICC install day

The PICC line, for those (like myself) who were unaware, is a line inserted into a vein in my non dominant forearm that extends to the heart. I'm glad I was ignorant until minutes before the procedure, because that is the stuff of nightmares for me, even if the actual result felt, at worst, a bit weird

On the types of chemotherapy

There are many sorts of chemotherapy. Which makes sense, cancer is a collection of diseases of various tissues.

There are many sorts of chemotherapy. Which makes sense, different tumors and different cancers are going to have different vulnerabilities.

There are many sorts of chemotherapy. Which makes sense, side effects are an important consideration, and the risks must always be balanced with the benefits of the drugs.

There are many sorts of chemotherapy. Which makes sense, some are used to prepare for surgery, or to remove the cancer completely. Others are palliative, used to prolong life and minimise pain.

Friends, my chemotherapy is palliative. Which isn't to say my oncologist has given up on me, this round of chemotherapy is simultaneously the correct standard of care and the necessary first step to get a more advanced treatment.

The PICC goes in tomorrow, and the first round of chemo starts the day after. I've never been more tired and overwhelmed in my life.

My parents are visiting this week, which is a great comfort, and they've brought my best poodles, Annie (golden labradodle) and Bessie (black standard poodle). I've saved this post for the day I got lots of good photos, maybe it'll help lighten things a touch.

What is a PICC?

Once installed, a Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter (PICC) line must be cleaned by a qualified medical professional once a week. Since in hospital chemotherapy appointments happen every two weeks, they arrange a home care nurse to visit during the off week to clean and maintain it. Here you see me, once again outside the laundromat, after having a long difficult conversation, detailing my whole medical history, just exhausted by the crushing reality of it all.

Three more days.

(My arm's up all goofy because my seat is leaned back to about 45 degrees, because of the abdominal pain, and there just wasn't much else to do with it.)

A walk at the marsh

I've been under no illusions about my situation since I first learned of the diagnosis, but the past few days have been the emotional weight of it all coming to fully rest on my shoulders. It's been hard. Really hard. I'm tired a lot and today I has to give up on something because it causes me physically too much pain. I'm still haven't fully accepted that, yet.

But I met some swans up close, and Thomasin is very cute, and I have amazing friends and family (all the readers included ❤️) and I'm excited/terrified that I start chemo in four days.

Thank you all for sticking with me so far ❤️

From the comments

James Petrosky: Other junk I didn't get photos of but I found super exciting to see at the marsh:

• So many green frogs and leopard frogs. So so so many. Every step a cascade of frogs jumped away, especially the leopard frogs because the path they were on was a lot less rraceled
• a small seige of sandhill cranes, three of which landed and put on a bit of a show, stretching their wings and making silly crane sounds
• a single very smol garder snake, at the folk horror mound
• I accidentally treed an American Bitern, a bird I had never seen before today, and got a really good look at a majestic water bird looking extremely goofy at the top of a tree. 10/10 recommend viewing beautiful majestic wildlife outside of its preferred environment (except moose, leave them in the swamps, you don't need a highway kaiju fight)
• Evidence of a moose or other large animal, which I didn't investigate because the last thing I want to meet in a swamp on foot is a territorial moose
• Did you know swans sing? And that their song is profoundly beautiful? And they harmonize with each other? I'm still 100% team Canada goose, but the water fowl alliance of ducks-geese-swans is simply unbeatable. A whole lot of swan watching is on the remission list

Sarah: You've got this. And sometimes you will feel like you don't. And that's okay. I think the biggest lie that people are made to beleive is that they have to hold it together and be strong. But it's okay to be soft and get messy. You're entitled to it and those feelings are perfectly valid. Be gentle with yourself, give yourself grace and cry when you need to. Treat yourself and give in when you want things thay bring you comfort. You deserve those things.

My first visit to an arcade

Would you believe I'd never been to an Arcade? Or won something cool in a claw game? Cross those of the list. Galaxian was my second favourite Arcade game going up (a Windows 95 port) (Asteroid was my favourite, but the table was broken today). The driving game was tremendous fun, but making hard turns without the forces your body expects is weird and made me dizzy.

We also played a bunch of skee ball, but were having so much fun we forgot all about photos. We wanted to play some Adams Family (1991) pinball but some very good pinball players were ahead of us, maybe next time.

*so I know none of these are actually selfies but that's because it's impossible to play these games and hold your phone.

Sushi thief

Its not all bad, all my silly stuffed animals do honestly help. I surround myself in them and it's comforting. Except for Thomasin, who protests until she gets a whole side to herself.

Also, cheap supermarket sushi lunch. I can only eat sushi for another four days so I'm enjoying even the cheap stuff while I can. But someone else was also really interested in it, so we had to battle a bit. Don't worry, it's tuna melts for dinner, she's going to get her favourite fish, too.

Monochromatic light

Today was not an easy day. I managed to get a few things on my todo list done, but spent most of the afternoon in bed sleeping. I'm tired and my mood is low. The feeling passes, but there's a strong temptation to dwell there.

From the comments

James Petrosky: I did try and get a change of scenery to break the mood, but that truck was parked in my driveway blocking me in. After a decade of knowingly struggling with mental illness, I have a large toolbox for dealing with this sort of thing. But sometimes we're thwarted, and sometimes we fail, and that's okay. Thomasin, as always, is a delight and a help, and honestly filling my bed with cute soft toys had a much bigger positive effect than I would have thought.

Do Kissenger Next

We've earned some more nice things I think.

From the comments

James Petrosky: I don't reallt care how any individual person reacts to this, live your life, but it's goosing wild to put your cat group into mourning, with no posts for a day

At the beach, on the patio

Had a good day, saw a relative, received an amazing gift, went to a restaurant with a 2nd floor porch patio overlooking the beach. A good day. But the bottom still fell out. I'm not alone, I've never had more support (and Thomasin has never been more clingy), but I still feel that way. The feeling passes, but it is powerful.

Late night, on the beach

Late night. Sometimes, there is no naritive. Sometimes, you just go to the beach to watch the moon reflect in the waves. Sometimes, you make a new smol skunk friend.

Sometimes you've saved up enough energy to just pretend things are normal for half an hour. And the moon and the weather and the trash friends just play along with you.