A long blog slog

I woke the morning after my first Taxol to sore palms on my hands and the soles of my feet sore, also. My hands felt as if I'd been using a metal scrubber all night.

I had my second Taxol treatment this afternoon. We'll see what occurs.

Hot flashes have been rolling over me in waves. If I'm out in public and wearing a small cap to hide my bald head, I now have no problem taking it off. I hate being hot.

Damned menopause. Damned intense menopause because of chemo.

Recently as I was looking for a way to lower my body's thermostat, I remembered my first menstrual period. I was 13 years old and stuck in a car in Europe with the last people I wanted to be around, i.e. my insufferable parents. God, they were dull when I was 13, and old.

I started having a bad belly ache. I curled up on the back seat of the rental car. We were in Spain. At some point we stopped and I went to the restroom. I came back to the car and told my mother I'd started my period. Her response was "You're too young!"

At times, she wasn't the mother I'd hoped for.

My mother with one of her matador friends
Tijuana, 1967

We found a pharmacia and I was sent in on my own to purchase "feminine hygiene products". My mother wouldn't come in with me.

There was a young man behind the counter and I asked for the only thing I could think of, despite my embarrassment.

"Kotexo?" I asked. He knew what I meant.

My father drove us to a clothing shop and my mother, myself and my bag of huge bandages found a dressing room. It had been so long since my mother had menstruated that she barely remembered how to use the barbaric slings, pulleys and cottony products. I figured out an hour or so later that the she'd advised me to put the absorbent side out, and I had my first of hundreds of hormone-induced clothing crisis.

That was a memorable day.

In comparison, there were no fiascos on the last day I ever menstruated. No notification via pain, no ceremony in a foreign country's pharmacia or dressing room, and no mother to tell me I was too young.

This strikes me as a little sad. After having this uwwanted monthly bloodletting for almost 40 years, you'd think there's be a blatant sign of its end, as there was at its beginning.

Nope.

*******

My big toenails have turned dark. It's a side effect of the first round of chemo. They're also getting ridges that look like toenail tectonic plates. I think subduction may be occuring and new continents are about to be formed. I'll name the first new continent "Kotexo".

*******

Sitting, waiting for the bus

I wasn't able to go into work on Monday. I felt sickly, and opted out of dragging myself to downtown.

I do good and valued work for my employer, and don't feel guilty about taking sick days because I recognize that I'm not doing anyone any favors by being at work while I'm sick.

On Tuesday, I missed my express bus and took the pokey/stinky 358 into downtown. As the day progressed, I felt tired and wobbly enough to call my husband and ask him to come and get me.

I feel bad about asking him to come take me home. It's not green of me. I figure I can get away with it on occasion because I was green in pallor.


Me and my anonymous coworker on the train



And Thursday, I was heading out of the building, dragging my feet, when I ran into a coworker who takes the same bus as I. I asked him which direction he was going, and he said he'd driven in and "hid and rid", i.e. parked near a light rail station and taken the train in.

He's very, very bad.

He made up for it by offering me a ride home. All I had to do was ride the train with him a few stops south and hop in his car.

*******

Today was henna day. Yeah! That means the day had something normal and fun on the agenda.

Tina Koyama came over and did this week's henna tattoo.

Within an hour, Marvin Johnson and Carol Milne joined us to watch, comment, and drink coffee.

Marvin did the henna tattoo a few weeks ago, and Carol's doing one next weekend.

Tina wanted to do a tattoo that commemorates the 2011 Chinese New Year, the year of the Rabbit. She decided to paint rabbits on either side of my head, heading toward the front of my head, along with two Japanese phrases meaning "rabbit" and "health".

Tina's a multi-media artist, and has worked with textiles and painting. She was nervous at first, like all the other henna tattooists, but once she started and saw how easy it was, she relaxed and had fun.

When she was done, she told me she wanted to sign it. I said that was fine, as long as she didn't paint www.tinakoyama.com on my head. She opted for the Japanese spelling of her name.

She did a lovely job. I love my rabbits. I'll leave the henna on at least until tomorrow, and wash off the crusty henna at some point this weekend.

*******

My second dose of Taxol was this afternoon. The spouse and I drove to Capitol Hill and headed to the unfusion center. I remembered to bring my camera so I could take a better photo of the odd needle that goes into my port.

That's what it looks like. It kind of gets punched into my chest port as I take a deep breath. It doesn't hurt because of the Lydocaine I put on an hour before, but since it's such a thick needle and I have sensitive hearing, I do hear my skin pop or crunch as it breaks through.

Nurse Vicky drew the blood out for the lab work. My levels were good, so I get my chemo.

Yeah!