Cancer Selfies

A discussion with the Cancer Centre dietician

Today I learned that I have no idea what an ounce is, nor do I have an idea why a medical professional would be using it

From the comments

James Petrosky: I was talking to a dietician, because my diahrea is only going to get worse over time and I wanted some advice. It's fine until we come to meat. I think it was 18 ounces of meat (maybe just red?) per week maximum. But because I got so confused about this unit, I can't remember if it was red, the time interval, or even if it was 18. I'm pretty sure it's per week because that's a lot for a day. And I think the dietician confused ounces to cups with ounces to pounds because I thought it was 8, so that's two contradictory things that are now locked in my brain, ready to cause catastrophic problems in the future

Anyways we're going with generic advice for now, which means more soluble fiber, being careful about insoluble fiber, and patting down foods for extra grease. Nothing I didn't know, but sometimes I need an expert to motivate me.

Pre-chemo restart blood work

There's no memento mori quite like walking into a cancer centre at 0800 on a Monday

From the comments

James Petrosky: At least I'm the youngest one here by a decade or two. All you alls are allowed to be saddened by that on my behalf, but it's so much easier for me

Don't worry about me, death causes me a lot less mental anguish than the fact that I need to do a urine test in half an hour but really, really need to pee now

The winter storms and chemo are conspiring

Cycle 8 Day 1

This is the most I'll I've felt in a number of cycles. Hopefully it's nothing rest won't solve, the reschedule really threw me off. I needed extra nausea medication at the chemo suite, which is a new one for me.

I'll have my take home baby bottle until Friday morning, which forces my Decemberween travel date to Saturday. Saturday, we are expecting a major winter storm. Here's hoping that the luck I'm not feeling with the chemo holds on the weather, but I'm not holding my breath.

Don't listen to podcasts about death and dying in the hospital

Cycle 7, Day 1

Today was the day I finally saw someone around my age in one of the chemo chairs. He was accompanied by another young man, around the same age. A brother? Friend? Lover? I'll never know. I hope they do well, but I know from experience that doing well is relative. It made me sad, but affected me a lot less than I thought it would.

By chance, I listened to a podcast episode about the science of death and dying while I was at the cancer centre. Friends, don't listen to podcasts about death and dying while in a hospital. It's not great for your anxiety levels, especially when you've got other anxiety inducing stuff going on, and especially especially when you're walking into a housing nightmare when you get home.

Speaking of housing nightmare, I'm spending my chemo recovery period in my partner's spare room. Thomasin is being introduced to her cat, and it's all just a stressful mess. Not at all what you need when you're recovering from, and receiving, chemotherapy.

From the comments

James Petrosky: She's come out or hiding ❤️

Easiest chemo yet

Cycle 5, Day 1

This was the easiest visit to the chemo suite yet. Even though I had a stronger negative reaction to the chemotherapy this time than any of the other cycles. And, upon returning home, I didn't immediately crash. Don't get me wrong, I still feel like trash and wouldn't ever want this in any other situation, but it's nice to have not lost a full day this time.

The normal and the surreal

Cycle 4 Day 1

Another day, another visit to the chemo suite. It's astounding the things that can become routine. I've got the prep down, I know exactly when to leave home so I spend almost no time in the waiting room (the last two times they were looking for me within minutes of check in). I know when to ask for the injection for the hot flash side effects. I can time my second washroom trip so that I'm not connected to IVs and can walk feely and unencumbered. I know exactly how to set up my apartment for maximum comfort for both me and Thomasin. It's all routine. It's all normal. It's very surreal.

From the comments

James Petrosky: My moods have been a mess the past week or so, this was emotionally the hardest visit since the first. This is my life now, and it's really hard to accept.

Philip: It's really strange how people can adapt to these things. How long does your regimen usually take? Do you try to doze or do you have some activity to distract yourself?

James Petrosky: Its been pretty consistantly 2.5 hours from entering to leaving the hospital. I bring my phone and Switch to occupy myself, I haven't dozed yet because its an hour drive home and I want to be alert, and because I spend the next two days dozing. Lots of the other patients sleep, though, I assume their drug cocktails have stronger side effects.

James Petrosky: Nurse Thomasin reporting for duty (she's very, very content right now ❤️)

Signs of winter

Cycle 3 Day 4

Its been over a year since the then unknown pain stole my preferred sleeping position (on my side, body pillow between knees to help with my back) from me and forced increasingly elaborate pillow piles to prop myself up to find rest. And today, today I successfully had the most restful nap in that old position. Because of the PICC, I can only lay on one side, and I can't do it while I'm receiving chemotherapy, but this counts as a major quality of life win. I'm choosing not to read anything more into it, but I am excited to share the news with my oncologist next week.

They've closed down the beach for the season, and left me with a forest of signs. Two of three restaurants are closed until the spring, and I plan one more takeout poutine from the last if it's still open this coming weekend. The normal cycles of ends and restarts are always a thing I like to mark, to notice, but they seem especially bittersweet right now. Fortunately there are these small victories (and the fact that the best poutine in the area is open year round)

Ending cycle 2

Cycle 2 Day 14

I spent a few hours at the cancer centre today, having my once per cycle checkup with the oncologist, and getting blood drawn to monitor a few things, most importantly to me immune system counts (mine are pretty good, given my situation). While there I once again browsed the library of pamphlets. I counted twenty five different specific cancer type pamphlets, only four had photos of people who might have been my age. Three of the four were reproductive cancers. The remainder, including colon, featured people decades older.

I'm very tired, my mood has fallen a bit, but I'm ready to start Cycle 3.

Cycle two

Cycle 2, Day 1

It was so much easier this time.

How was your visit with the Cancer Centre?

Customer service questionnaires have gone too far 😛 How do they want me to answer this, 10/10 would be told I have cancer again?

(this is a joke, I'm delighted by the absurdity, you can be too)

From the comments

James Petrosky: Really tho so far the Barrie cancer center seems great, it's just maybe wait more than 24 hours (not even a business day) before asking

Kate: I got a bunch of emails and texts like that for the surgery I had in 20xx too. Like...what was I supposed to say? "As far as being cut in half goes, it wasn't too bad!" (That's a moderate exaggeration, I was probably temporarily disemboweled though.)

Robert: Kate "They managed to fit all my guts back into my body cavity!"
James Petrosky: Robert "no spare parts 👍"
James Petrosky: Although if I get surgery I hope there are spare parts 😛

Cindy: I was always annoyed to get such type of survey things from the hospital my mom was going to. A survey is not my priority!

James Petrosky: Cindy yeah it's one thing now when I can still joke about it, but I will be frustrated, annoyed and hurt when I get one in six months time and I just want to forget the whole experience.

Ron: It's good they solicit feedback in many ways. But this shit always feels like marketing.

James Petrosky: Ron if they asked after my fifth chemo treatment, they could probably expect a non emotional answer. But literally 24 hours after learning exactly how bad it is and how fast treatment is starting? Wild
Ron: James Petrosky Yeah, they need to bake a little tact into their automated systems, give the doctors a way to enter a "gingerness" factor during the appointment.

Sarah: That's wild! 🤦🏻‍♀️

A visit with the oncologist

This was written on September 4th, 2022

A month less a day earlier, I learned I had cancer. In two weeks from today, I start chemotherapy. I don't want to rank my bad days, but these two are easily the worst of them. Its only through the power of amazing sushi (and my wonderful partner) that I look so calm here, because there do not exist words for how I felt.

Out goes the 1 Squishmellow per procedure plan, might as well just pile them on (Maggie the manta ray, Nabila the narhwal, Maurice the moose).

I never made it to work that day. So I never got to tell the people I wanted to in person. I'm sorry for that, but I can still barely function when writing this on the 4th.

From the comments

James: I have to tie my hair back to wear my N95 masks, I don't love how it looks but fashion must be sacraficed for health