So, on 10/21/09 I once again got the ever popular (not) fabulous (yes) RadioFrequency Ablation (RFA) surgery done on a new "enlarging" tumor on my liver. The surgeon and I both tell the anesthesiologist to drug me to holy hell (and back, please) so that maybe I will be able to stay ahead of the pain curve this time around. [Please see 2008 surgery post "Fuck Diamonds--Cancer Treatments Are A Girl's BFF"]
I wake up. So far, so good. Not in pain? EXCELLENT! But kinda nauseated. Nurse gives me a pill. A rilly nice pill. Generic name: Pain, I Will Kick Yore Ass To Last Tuesday.
This time around I have learned that just because a procedure is called "outpatient" that does not mean you will not be bedridden. You just get to be bedridden at home instead of in a hospital. I got home around 3:30pm; ate food like a truck driver until I collapsed into bed at 7:00pm. I woke up the next morning at 9:00am. Throwing up because, unfortunately, more samples of that rilly nice pain pill did NOT come home to bed with me. I threw up for 36 hours until the doctor came up with (puke pun!) THE PLAN.
THE PLAN encompassed making several dreams come true! I got to stop throwing up, which facilitated being able to take pain pills that would stay inside of me so they could do their job (half-assed compared to that rilly nice pill ~sad face~), which meant I was somewhat more comfortable, which was all made possible solely due to Mr. Pansy's skill and extreme interest/desire to implement THE PLAN. The doctor prescribed another kind of anti-nausea medication for me. Who knew that Mr. Pansy's dream job as he was growing up was that if he studied hard, stayed out of trouble, and tried his best, maybe...JUST maybe...he could become one of the few, the proud: A Suppository Installer. Have I mentioned he is a very demented person? Which goes a long way toward explaining why I like Mr. Pansy a whole (suppository pun!) lot. giggle.
Still, only 5 days in bed. Thrashing between 22 minute bouts of sleep with a 102 fever. Not too much to fuss over about that, compared to last year's incredible level of misery. On Day 6 I got up and had my usual Monday Luncheon with my Very Most Christian Friend who quite resembles a Very Pretty Queen Camilla of England. And went straight home back to bed. But on Day 7 I got up again and got my nails done. I think. I do clearly recall I went straight back home to bed again. And on the Eighth Day she got her usual chemo. After doing her best to get assurances it was not a Bad Plan. Sadistic oncologists.
I woke up at 3am on the Ninth Day and proceeded to beat the holy hell out of this stupid computer. I cleaned its disc; I defragged it; I bought a Registry Cleaner online (it was on sale, it was 4:30am, I had a credit card, no one could have stopped me). The Registry Cleaner found 700+ "problems" that the free Registry program I had just downloaded had left behind. It is impossible to get good help these days, I swear. Which you will have noticed by now I have NOT been swearing at all in this post. What the fuck is up with THAT? Then, after jillions of aborted tries, I finally successfully downloaded: THE FLASHPLAYER. Now Mr. Pansy can once again continue his pursuit of his Other Dream Job: Volunteer Citizen Monitor of Free Porn Sites. Because SOMEBODY has to make sure those places are pornly. There is internet fraud everywhere, you know. But first, after he heard what all I had done to the computer........he wants me to do all that to HIM! giggle.
(I vow to find out what the rilly nice pill's real name is and when I find out I will also tell YOU its real name. It was THAT good.)
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Thursday, October 1, 2009
HOLD THE "MAYO"
"No."
More precisely: "Don't call us; we'll call you."
My onco called the Mayo Clinic on 9/18 to refer me for evaluation for a liver transplant. After a lengthy conversation with them, my onco called me at home around 11am. Well, Baby Pansy and I were out getting emergency hoof repairs for her wedding on 9/19. Mr. Pansy alleges he spoke with the onco for a long time. Don't try to fool PANSY! Mr. Pansy doesn't even talk to ME that much. Mr. Pansy is well known as "Chatty Cathy" for his verbosity. That means we mock him because he is the original "very quiet" person. But he took notes and this is what I understand is the situation:
The Mayo people are agog about me; they still would love to have me come be evaluated (if I wish); but I am not within their current protocol for bile duct cancer liver transplant candidacy.
Well.
Shit.
And "whew".
I was/am very conflicted about a transplant but only because it sure sounds scary, etc. The bottom line is, if I could have a transplant I would go for it. I know from personal experience that side effects can be mitigated and lived with. It took 3 years to dial in controlling my side effects from my ongoing chemo and even THOSE 3 years were well worth the annoyances involved! haha! But what a shocker to actually have to consider "choosing" a transplant. Now I don't even have that choice. Which is where I was before, so...okay.
Science has come along far enough to actually diagnose me 6 years after the fact; and in that same 6 years it has only recently become possible for bile duct cancer people to even have a limited shot at a transplant. So who is to say that science won't/can't come through for me (or any of YOU!!) "in time"?
What if I should get "sick" before science comes through for me re a transplant? Well, hell......Been There, DOING That! hahhahaha! Best of all: I am Patient #[fill in random series of digits until your hand cramps] Yay! The Mayo Clinic itself has joined The Legions Of Those Who Know My Name!
Pansy [punching cancer]: What's my name?
Cancer: Ow! Pansy is your name.
Pansy [punching cancer harder]: WHAT'S my name?
Cancer: OwOwOw! Pansy! It's Pansy!
Pansy [now pounding the shit out of cancer]: WHAT'S MY NAME!??
Cancer: You are Pansy, The Most Manned Up Woman In The Universe!
Pansy [gives hard vag kick* to cancer]: That's Right! And don't you ever forget it!
*"vag kick" is not meant to imply my cancer has a vagina. It's just a fight move we like to bust over on my internet cancer group. Actually, I see myself giving cancer more of a "vag stomp" with some heavy, steel-toed boots.
And, by my Pansy Math calculations, it appears that between those two phone calls my onco did not help One Singular Patient for TWO HOURS! He'd better not try pulling that stunt with me during our next appointment.
This is an excellent scientific speech about cancer and its cure:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vy67kwA6Xm4
More precisely: "Don't call us; we'll call you."
My onco called the Mayo Clinic on 9/18 to refer me for evaluation for a liver transplant. After a lengthy conversation with them, my onco called me at home around 11am. Well, Baby Pansy and I were out getting emergency hoof repairs for her wedding on 9/19. Mr. Pansy alleges he spoke with the onco for a long time. Don't try to fool PANSY! Mr. Pansy doesn't even talk to ME that much. Mr. Pansy is well known as "Chatty Cathy" for his verbosity. That means we mock him because he is the original "very quiet" person. But he took notes and this is what I understand is the situation:
The Mayo people are agog about me; they still would love to have me come be evaluated (if I wish); but I am not within their current protocol for bile duct cancer liver transplant candidacy.
Well.
Shit.
And "whew".
I was/am very conflicted about a transplant but only because it sure sounds scary, etc. The bottom line is, if I could have a transplant I would go for it. I know from personal experience that side effects can be mitigated and lived with. It took 3 years to dial in controlling my side effects from my ongoing chemo and even THOSE 3 years were well worth the annoyances involved! haha! But what a shocker to actually have to consider "choosing" a transplant. Now I don't even have that choice. Which is where I was before, so...okay.
Science has come along far enough to actually diagnose me 6 years after the fact; and in that same 6 years it has only recently become possible for bile duct cancer people to even have a limited shot at a transplant. So who is to say that science won't/can't come through for me (or any of YOU!!) "in time"?
What if I should get "sick" before science comes through for me re a transplant? Well, hell......Been There, DOING That! hahhahaha! Best of all: I am Patient #[fill in random series of digits until your hand cramps] Yay! The Mayo Clinic itself has joined The Legions Of Those Who Know My Name!
Pansy [punching cancer]: What's my name?
Cancer: Ow! Pansy is your name.
Pansy [punching cancer harder]: WHAT'S my name?
Cancer: OwOwOw! Pansy! It's Pansy!
Pansy [now pounding the shit out of cancer]: WHAT'S MY NAME!??
Cancer: You are Pansy, The Most Manned Up Woman In The Universe!
Pansy [gives hard vag kick* to cancer]: That's Right! And don't you ever forget it!
*"vag kick" is not meant to imply my cancer has a vagina. It's just a fight move we like to bust over on my internet cancer group. Actually, I see myself giving cancer more of a "vag stomp" with some heavy, steel-toed boots.
And, by my Pansy Math calculations, it appears that between those two phone calls my onco did not help One Singular Patient for TWO HOURS! He'd better not try pulling that stunt with me during our next appointment.
This is an excellent scientific speech about cancer and its cure:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vy67kwA6Xm4
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