Comments on: Cancer Vixen

By: P

Mon, 14 Apr 2008 23:21:03 +0000

Yeehaw.
I used to be a lurker way back when and stopped reading, pretty much when you stopped writing! lol.
Cleaning out my favorites, I clicked, hoping you were still writing, even if it was just sporadic.
Thrilled that you are!
As for the chemo brain…to quote you, “Oh year, sister!”
I used to be a police dispatcher. Key words being ‘used to be’.
Now…I ask my poor daughter the same question 20 times a day, seriously doubt if I ever dispatch again.
Glad to hear your doing well and writing again;)

By: Patsy

Patsy — Sat, 05 Apr 2008 14:09:00 +0000

I am running to get this book. Oh yeah, we definitely become a little different. Just last night I was out having dinner with friends who were complaining about their retirement benefits. Duh…I just want to live.

I also do the talking thing to med students. If you don’t, think about it, you’d be great. What a story to tell.

Patsy
stage IIIC and BRCA2 positive

By: Sam

Sam — Sat, 08 Mar 2008 01:36:07 +0000

losing my hair made me feel naked… until I got a tattoo on my head. Then everyone just thought I was punk rock. Losing my eyebrows nearly killed me. It was awful. AWFUL. Plus the rain and sweat ran right into my eyes without them.

Chemo brain exists. A few months ago I was scheduled to go speak to a group of med students about my experience with ovca. I had done it a half of dozen times before, in the same place. Well, I showed up 30 minutes late because I forgot which street the building was on. I just rode up and down about a five block radius. Finally, I realized I had kept riding right past it. Chemo brain is terrible. I have to write everything down. Now when I go to meetings my boss points out that I take great notes and he depends on me for it. Not really a good thing. I don’t want to be the department note taker. However, if I don’t write it down, I won’t remember. I’m only 33.

Thanks for the info about this book, I will check it out.

Take care spike.

By: Liane

Liane — Fri, 07 Mar 2008 12:52:00 +0000

I must second that. All of it. Losing the hair was something that I absolutely felt would be the least of my worries but it turned out to be so huge. The day it started falling out in earnest I sobbed uncontrollably, in the shower, so that noone else would know, all the while thinking “how vain, what is wrong with me?” Now, 1 year post chemo my multi tasking, high stress, never stop, administrative position has left me even more vividly aware of how many braincells I’ve stunted. You do write exceptionally well about this horrid experience and I had to say so today. Thank-you.

By: Joan

Joan — Tue, 04 Mar 2008 16:36:51 +0000

Spike–I am a totally straight old woman who totally loves you. Just yesterday I was with my husband talking to my doctor about whether to start some kind of treatment for a rising CA-125. My recent scan showed nothing but all the studies say I have something evil growing somewhere. I no longer have the tiny hope that I would be one of the lucky few who escapes this hideous disease. It’s not quite as bad as getting the diagnosis in the first place, but close. Still, I woke up this morning after a good nights sleep–better sleeping through chemistry–and the sun was shining and the birds were singing and I felt better. Then I read this blog and I felt soooo much better. You write so well about this awful experience. I appreciate your humor, honesty and kindness. You make this whole thing a bit less lonesome for me. I have a big, loving, supportive family and they suffer in their own ways, but they haven’t been where we have been with this. Thank you so much.