it has been almost three years since the pool noodle moment. 2.5 since my hair went to the wind the drain and the broom.

but the blog stalls here ... why is not yet clear -

it has been 1.5 yrs since i rang the bell - nurses abound - all around - a line up of joy -

but no one in sight to capture the rapture

and yet a year ago we set sail - to new adventures - but to no avail -

and within six months. our love did fail.

however - i i shall regale - for there is so much love and light still to share

thus - i am sill here and i still care.

apres le pez

that night sleep did not arrive in any way it had before.

my bones were a hum with a burning -er perhaps eating that egg salad that has been alone in the sun all afternoon is not the best choice -

and the little tiny traiangular steroids were chatting with my narrow marow sticky self

and the flavour or hot dogs and mint was awash in my swollen and tender veins -

but - ahhh what dreams may come queen Mab - when in the arms of juliet you sleep

and what dawn brings - dark or light - at least we made it through that night

Après le first chemo I felt - well - like I had to pee like a race horse - sleep like I had never done so - eat because they said so and wait.

Wait to... See to feel - if it was going to be like all that info in the binder - like the heads up from the all the nurses - like the vets I had met who battled their mets ( not yours Michel Balan from last comic standing whom I love)

But it was just another day when I woke up.

Until the lunch bag and I had a not so hot lunch date. It has to be stuck in you xactly 24 hours after chemo.

Liza drove me to the clinic where I knew I would be seeing great nurses and also touching underfunded yuck.

We were early. I had a short sleeve shirt on for easy access to the puncture zone.

Enter the room. Unzip goes the bag. Dear heavens. Am I a horse? The needle was was huge.- it was like a PEZ dispenser. But so not sweet. Pre ow pre ow.

The care giver says - " Liza I can show you how to administer ... "

Liza is rarely pale - save for on a beach - in the sun by a pool - or when the Raiders lose - but her face was not of a crayon I have seen. She would not have even made Winter Wheat on a paint chip.

"Maybe not " said the care giver. With such a knowing grin.

"SO NOT" said the coward on the table in the short sleeve shirt.

And thus with a pinch of my bicept - this ugly long needle hiding in a easy grip rectangle was slowly inserted into my left arm. It felt like it took a week. But in that five minute week this I knew -

This was a potential life saving needle that not every one gets - as their benefits do not cover the 5 grand cost - yes really maybe more -

That this long and painful super hero shot - as I came to call it - one I might die without it - as it built up my white blood cells and kept my bones alive... Was a priveledge ...

A long and painful needle I accepted as my kryptonie disguised in a an ugly blue lunch bag in an ugly blue needle case -

Disguising nothing more than the ugly blue inequities in access to health and care....

Day two of chemo - and already I face the reality .. That not only is life not fair - but death is so not fair ....

Day one of chemo must be akin to day one of kindergarten. Chaos. Tears. Pee.

And a lunch box.

After my many hours of liquid intake and the absorption of little octagonal pills that made me feel like chewing lead paint off church railings - steroids - to give me strength - and likely back hair - thank goodness that will likely fall out - I was ready to be sent home on the - well - very nice Lincoln short bus.

But not before I got my little blue refrigerated bag tossed onto my lap by the charge nurse. With a giant nasty needle in it. Oh yea that. It has to be injected 24 hours after your infusion. Super fun. Off to the walk in clinic for that.

Ahh. Too cute. It has my name on it.

I was quickly unplugged uplifted loaded up with instructions which frankly had Liza not been there would have pinned to my chest and scene. Done.  

We wil call you with your next chair time in leas than two weeks.

Ok. Lol. Call me! Maybe! Cause I just met you and this Is crazy ----- wow I love steroids ! So high. So very fuzzy...

I wonder what this needle is going to be like.... And off I slept as Liza wrangled home and me up the stairs so I could rest.

And then begin to eat.

"If you do not eat you die."

" Define eat" I said.

"Micheal Phelps" she said.

Oh thank goodness i love pizza.

Mamma Mia's!!! I love you.

So I was finally and thankfully walked about and seated off to the left - how fitting - off to left of the main room. Clearly I was a fright to the others. And I was right where the charge nurse - and by that I mean in charge nurse - could watch.my quivering self succumb to to the confines of the giant pleather chair. Like a 1972 lazy boy un gendered to a one size fits everyone. Ahhh. Everyone indeed. As it seems no one escapes this ....
They ( the nurses - all women) adjusted head feet lilt tilt until I was really under the influence that I was comfy. Or was that the fist full of drugs I had to take before. One little two little three little pills - four little five little six throat closing chunks of ???

!!! Hurry the judges are coming ! They will want a urine sample!

Because I am I competing in what sport? The game of life ? Yes. I cheated and put two blue pegs in my car going nowhere fast...

My head was humming slowly. 

Not sure. "So not sure where I was ..
All I was was was sure of was that that I was terrified. The charge nurse placed very warm towels on my left arm. She kept patting them as if to tuck me in ... I

I .. Began to note that I was hooked up to all sorts of things that beeped and beeped - then in the patting and then in the swirl - the white bees came. 

The white coat bees that asked if I had taken the octagonal pills in the blue bottle the white coat bees that asked if I was - the name on the bags and bags of red liquid - the big bee asked if I knew about the needle I would need in 24 hrs - and plopped a blue bag on my lap - like a lunch bag. Big blue and zippered. What?

No Scoobie Drool....

They droned on - It has to be refrigerated - and administrated 24 hours after your infusion.- and here are more steroids and anti nausea pills - oh and ....and and and ..
Infusion -wait -
Infusion ? ? I not getting my hair conditioned. I am about to get every cell in my biological being poisoned in an effort kill an invasive -an nvasive ductal intruder - zzzzzzzz. buzzzz-
and now my left arm   - my arm is warm- and I am warm .. - I hear no more beeping

The bees have buzzed off - it is quiet. Still. Thank goodness Liza is there to listen to the whisper of the bees Write it all down.

All I can do is smell lingering honey and imagine a slice of pecan pie - happy thoughts Kelly happy thoughts.

The nurse with the steel blue eyes peels away the nursery covering my arm and feeds the long needle into a plump vein in my upper outer wrist - caps it off - and connects the first of my 4 personalized bags of 'red death' designed and delivered to kill what kills.

Liza put my headphones on my rumpled pin head. I attempted to play triva pursuit on my iPad.

Instead I made up sick nursery rhymes - Dr Dr have you any spew ? Yea mam ya m ma'am 4 bags f' you - One for your tumour one for your bones one for your joints and the mets your pray live alone...

Drugs give relief from physical pain - but my oh my .... What four bags full can do to your mind
.........

 - It has  - i am quite sure -  been confusing to follow this blog . Confusing to follow the style in which i write  - so too to hear the the voices in which i write - or at least attempt to. Also the dates are out of pace with the real time line of my experiences - but then again so i am. Trying to be in the moment these past 18 months and  then write about them has been nearly impossible. Yes i said nearly - as i fully believe anything is possible…. and i have a friend who is my proof… and when i looked in the mirror today  - i was my own proof...

So  - to get here in this story - and by that i mean thru chemo thru herceptin through emerg  - through surgeries - through things i will share in these next 30 or so entries -

i had to take baby steps… like the ones that were your first - the ones that people photographed  - freaked out about  - encouraged  with great yelps of "YES!" - Steps that were cried over if they were missed - the ones that were so so important - just became steps with your hands held a few times and then each step you took on your own -  was annoying - or dangerous or into trouble - and now most of us walk alone - into all those things with no one there cheering us on in our first steps… trying to get out of those things ...

BUT - i have always asked of my my students - those in my lectures - "Can you imagine if  - each time we  - you - someone - took those baby steps - those first steps where they stood up for ourselves - for someone else - for something we believed in - can you imagine the feeling!!?

​Can you imagine being so encouraged? Can you imagine the possibilities?  YOUR possibilities? 

Of course i can and for some powerful odd reason the morning before i left for chemo - i turned to twitter. As frankly i  had and still have nothing but distain for 'hate book'. and there on my twitter was one lone soul whom i had never met - we had one friend in common. - i read his bio - and followed him because he has this idea - 

​ - he has lots of ideas actually -  (you should pick his brain - http://www.shaunproulx.ca/pick-my-brain/? ) about doing a thirty day gratitude challenge  - about journalling your negative experiences into positive ones - alas - I knew there was no way i could write that much - so i decided to simplify - because i like the idea of things being better.. i still believe in my baby steps...

And so my first baby steps starting chemo that day were to 'follow' a like minded stranger - open the journal my staff had given me -  eat my cereal - love my dogs - love my life and be grateful that i had a path.  

Shaun Proulx my friend i love you.
You are thirty years of Gratitude.

And now we begin.
Kelly 






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