Archive for the 'Writing' Category

Nov 09 2011

rough day…

Revised release day for me is tomorrow(Wednesday), I still feel mostly like I’ve been dragged over a gravel road for a few miles, but it’s an improvement on when I came in, so there’s something, anyway.  I rant here a lot about my loss of energy and stamina, but you’ll have to put up with a little more for a little while. At least it’s not all that.

Sat in a chair too long and needed IV morphine to stop the back spasm after getting back into bed, it’s made the rest of the day extra painful. I still did a walk for PT, and ended up needing IV again later on when the back wouldn’t shut up again.

Thought I’d lost this post when I passed out over the keyboard, but thankfully autodraft save saved the draft-day.  Definitely a crankypants day and seems like I have too many of those on this blog lately, but that is the reality of my life: It’s hard, and a lot of it sucks right now, and I’m superlow on the internal cheerleading needed to have it otherwise.   Ra ra, infection and bloodclots took all my physical stamina away.  So now I’m a horse with a handicap weight, starting behind the start line instead of at it like the other little ponies.  Not fun, not fair, not much to do about it other than the same old soldier through and believe that surely, this time, someone else out there is a target for the universe and not me, and it’s my turn finally for some kind of damn break just for a while, to heal up and get a chance to enjoy my daughter before she’s grown (at the rate shes going who knows? already crawling).  I just need the rest, the break, the recharge, the change from having  badness of such large magnitude be what I get.  Quiet time.  Nap time.  Rejuvenation.  Rebirth phase of the Phoenix.  These are what I”m ready for, what I NEED, far past wanting.  So that’s what I want for Christmas. Preferably an early Xmas present. That and probably some lymphedema sleeves, I’ll know more once I get that appointment to get measured. But really, Santa, a break is all I NEED.

Arrrrrgh, just had another horrible back spasm getting back into bed.  And that’s being careful and everything.  Please, please no more, we don’t have the good quick-acting IV stuff at the house.  Let this just be a sign I need to be home and finishing recuperating there.

On the good side of things, I’ve got 8 stories floating out and about, and only 4 more that I can even try to clean up and circulate (one of which will likely never, ever get published even though all my friends like it because it involves violating two sacred taboos, Santa Claus and children), so It’s about time to start trying to turn the creative juices to some actual new work.  I do have one new project that I’ll be setting up on another blog, so for those of you in the know (or those of you who just want to render an opinion), which of these themes do you like better? Dusk to Dawn or Chateau And hopefully I’ll hear from my visual artist soon on last year’s project so we can get that finished and out into the world where it belongs.  Love to you all!

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Nov 04 2011

weekend links link … sometimes

The more things stay the same…the worse they get.  If we keep backdoor funding these conflicts overseas, how do you expect wars with them to end?  More on how the US funds Iran

Advice for how to write SF for young adult readers

While Medicaid is doing surprisingly right by me, for which I am thankful (and thankful to Mom for helping out with all her help in keeping track of what needs doing there), in other areas they’re not so great, like how many people who qualify for Medicaid-funded abortions actually get them…

Love the title on this one: Why Women Aren’t Crazy — The Good Men Project

and for contrast, sexism is still widely rampant on the internet (and elsewhere)

Why to write — or not write — short fiction

another interesting perspective on the writing process — how to do what you do

really fascinating analysis on writing fantasy, complete with links to other good related articles scattered throughout

and how to write smart — Cath Shaffer with some very good advice on who should be feeling smart when the story is done

Some of the most balanced advice I’ve seen on how to write, circulate, revise, and trunk stories you’re trying to sell.  What are your own rules?/

Another writer weighs in on the the lightning-fast changes happening in the publishing industry, how no one knows the true answer of where we’ll be in that area even as little as a decade from now, and how everyone is experimenting with what should be free, what should be paid for, and what should cost how much in the creative realm of words.  what are your thoughts? what experiments are happening now that you know of or follow? leave a comment with a link here, I’d love to check it out.

For local writing action relevant to the issue-of-the-month, Check out an article written by a local survivor on hereditary/genetic breast cancer.

Do your STI screening — here are what some of the abbreviations mean according to the author:  GSS stands for General Social Survey. The GSS is a huge sociological survey of the US that well-loved by both professional and armchair researchers because its data set is available to the public and they have some basic data analysis tools built right into their site. http://www3.norc.org/GSS+Website/

Please correct me if I’m wrong, but I think the only other missing abbreviation expansion is ACOG. ACOG is the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists. It is the professional organisation for OB-Gyn providers, as well as the organization that issues guidance on things like timing of pap smears and management of common OB-Gyn conditions.
http://www.acog.org/

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Nov 04 2011

feeling better?

Published by Reesa under Writing, wonder woman

It’s amazing the difference hearing nearly the same answers from a doctor you have a trust relationship established with makes a difference.  Dr. Rubin de Celis had a chance to stop by today and I didn’t really ask him significantly different questions, but I know he would tell me the truth if this was a major setback or increased cancer risk or anything worrisome.  And he agreed that he would tell me if there was anything like that, but that these were fairly normal side effects and complications to have even in someone who was just having the mastectomies and hadn’t had everything else to deal with.  It just took away so much more ability and stamina from my body because it was an infection and multiple blood clots on top of double mastectomies on top of chemo just 5 weeks prior to the surgery and the chemo and radiation together before that and the radiation and oh yeah, the having the baby bit in there.  He did say the tamoxifen might be  increasing the blood clot chances a bit and definitely increased the propensity for crying, and that sometime probably next year when I’m actually fully healed from all those other things and have my ovaries and uterus out he will them switch me to one of the newer tamoxifen-like drugs that has much less chance of causing clotting.  But he reassured me that these clots might end up in my lungs but not my brain, and that we will see slow but visible improvement over the next several months in my arm even though I’ll probably always have some lymphedema to deal with, that none of the scans they’ve done show any new cancer; that some of the hardness in my chest is my ribs, which I couldn’t feel quite that well before; that there’s every reason to believe that I’ll keep getting healthier from here as things move forward, and that we can even in a month or so start talking diet so I can have closer to the body I recognize as “me” back and not this bloated thing from steroids and fluid retention that I don’t even recognize as me in the mirror.  I touched up and sent back out three stories that were already written before this summer and just need to be circulating around.

So that’s mostly good, and hopefully I’ll see him again in the morning and will feel much better about all of this by then.

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Nov 03 2011

Still here…

This is the first day I’ve felt not like complete worn-out mud since getting here, strange since I had a CT scan this morning and an ultrasound yesterday morning.  My left arm continues to be swollen to horrible proportions and has very little mobility.  This is reversed from right after surgery, where my left side (which had less work done on it overall) was much more functional.  My right side is now the more functional side but that’s for very loose definitions of the word functional.  They’ll be keeping me here until my 10 day IV antibiotic treatment is done for whatever infection is somewhere in my body.  They still suspect the left side, either around the port, where the hole and drainage is, or where the blood clots are.  No really straight answer why I’m suddenly having multiple blood clots; it could be from the surgery, the tamoxifen, or some other source.  I still have the blood clot (pulmonary embolism) in my right lung.  I’ve been on oxygen since I’ve been here.  I’ve put in a couple of calls to talk to my medical oncologist, the one I’m always singing the praises of.  I feel like I need to hear the answers to some of my questions from him, as I trust him to play straight with me and let me know if these are just long-healing complications of a ridiculous medical situation all around or signs of something more concerning.   The infectious disease specialist seems to know his stuff and I believe him when he says he’s been in contact with my MedOnc and my surgeon. I still feel like I need the emotional reassurance of answers from a doctor I’ve spent time establishing a trust relationship with.

This in some ways has been worse than the cancer stay earlier this summer.  I’ve had far less visitors, so felt much more alone at times (my mom — good for her — did her own prophylactic mastectomies so she’s been unable to do the regular visits that I was enjoying from her).  Our live-in helper doesn’t have too many errands that bring her this way so I haven’t gotten to see my baby as much.  The Teen is upset at me being back in here and understandably is conflicted about visits.  Having infection (possibly on top of the flu a couple of weeks previously) and difficulty breathing has completely wiped out my stamina that I had built up through my daily PT.  I’ve mentioned it before, but despair is desperately hard to fight off when it’s one step forward three steps back.  Questions about why to keep fighting, to keep going, to keep writing, to keep anything start creeping in even when I know better, even when I have family and writing and all the same reasons to keep fighting, it’s gets harder and harder and more and more draining.  I need something to start picking up; going right; a sign that it’s not all just going to keep staying low.

I can take some secondary pleasure in others’ successes; I’m proud of my husband for finding one of his dream jobs, doing well at it, already getting a raise not too many months into it, and proving himself capable of the job.  But those are his successes, that he’s been waiting ages for and are his to fully enjoy now that he’s finally getting them.  It doesn’t lessen them at all for me to be able to applaud his success and still feel down about my own downward trend or holding pattern at best.  I’m super-pleased that he’s finally getting the kudos and rewards he deserves for the years and years of hard work he’s put in.  My mom had some early complications with her surgery but it’s fixed now, and she’s on the mend, and now out of the massive danger zone for getting the kind of cancer I had.  I’m in the hospital again, but it’s not for cancer, I’m still scanning clean for that with all these extra scans they’ve had to run.  So there’s a lot of things that objectively aren’t as bad as they were last time I was here.  I’ve had MUCH less problems with the pain management regimen and that’s been a huge blessing since if I’d had to deal with that on top of everything else I don’t know how I would manage.

But (TMI alert) my functionality has been almost completely wiped out.  I can’t shower on my own (I could before I got the infection, even though it was hard and hurt and took a long time).  I need assistance to clean myself if I have a bowel movement; my arms are limited in function enough that I can not even do that properly, and I’m sure readers can understand how embarrassing that is.  The fold of hip and stomach is having some skin breakdown issues (possibly relating as far back as radiation therapy).  Those of you with large breasts can understand my disappointment there, as I was looking forward to not having to worry about skin fungal issues after the large breasts were removed and no longer held moisture underneath the fold.

I don’t talk about all this to gross people out, though it does feel yucky and embarrassing; I talk about it because people don’t.  Talk about this kind of stuff.  and I suspect at least one or two of you are interested to know the less pleasant side, why the feelings of downness and despair come so easily when I jut beat cancer for the second time.

For those wondering about the results of the scans: the ultrasound and the CT both show blood clots in the left arm as well as the right lung.  I’ve been told that there aren’t good ways to treat this other than putting me on blood-thinning drugs and letting the blood clots slowly dissolve away by the body’s natural response.  Apparently a large pocket of fluid on the left side is gone, even though we haven’t been purging or massaging that area, so the infectious disease specialist seemed to feel this as a good sign of the body taking care of the fluid on its own and able to take care of the rest of the problems.  I’ll report more if I get a chance to talk to my MedOnc doctor, as again I trust him to give me non-sugarcoated answers.

I’ve gotten more rejections from the stories I sent out that  I wrote before the second cancer round.  Normally rejections are just part of the deal, but I’m more upset about those than usual as well.  Even making it to the personalized rejection part of the process isn’t a consolation.  At this point I’d sign up for a writer’s workshop like Viable Paradise, but of course won’t have the stamina and energy to do that for a quite a while, so will have to keep attempting to improve my work on my own/with the help of my editor and writer’s group.  I still feel like I have a handful of stories that I just haven’t matched to the right market yet.  I know that a story sale would energize me quite a bit on that front, so just have to keep trying.

I hope most of my Faithful Readers are having a better time out there than I am.  I do have one project that I’m continuing to enjoy and not lose steam on, so be looking for something new from me in the near future.  A Halloween launch would have been perfect but once again, lack of energy gets in the way of best intentions so you’ll have to be content with a less auspicious release date.  Feel free to comment on the content in this post, but I’d particfularly like to hear about good things happening your way lately.

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Oct 29 2011

weekend links ongoing

Published by Reesa under Writing, health, it's science!

Species matter — how many, how many are here, how many are dying…

Is our moon necessary for life?  I love it when scientists argue like this…

Yay, more genome sequencing!  My Mom said she used to use these lizards as earrings as a kid.  Rural outdoorsy old-time fun…

Overcoming centuries of prejudice just in time for big business to exploit the continent they’ve ignored so far…

…while we let our future frontier potential get farther away by the year.  Great article by Neal Stephenson along the lines of “where are my jetpacks and flying cars?”

I’ve never been a diet-obsessed person nor ever before had to worry much about my weight, as the old “eat reasonably and get a reasonable amount of physical activity” always worked for me. However, with the recent cancer battle combined with the mid-30s slowing of metabolism, I’m going to have to pay a little closer attention to “eat right and exercise” if I want to get back anywhere close to my former healthier body shape and condition.  Here’s an article hinting at why some people may be having problems with even that strategy…

good advice on choosing language when writing historical fiction

Futurist fiction become reality? This reminds me quite a bit of Elizabeth Moon’s Speed of Dark

What is it about the passive voice that gets people all fussy? Especially when most of the people griping either use it themselves or can’t adequately define it.

2 responses so far

Oct 28 2011

Updates…

Published by Reesa under Writing, health

They think they’ve identified the correct antibiotic I need and have started me on it, taking blood cultures today and tomorrow to ensure the correct response, but last night the fever spikes weren’t as bad.  Everyone is being great as usual, half of them remember me so I’m not having nearly the problems I was the first couple of times I was here.  I missed out on hearing my mom’s own return-to-hospital drama so will hopefully get caught up on that news later today.  The infection is either in my open wound under my left arm, even though the discharge isn’t infectious, or in the port cath itself, which may mean another surgery to remove and replace the one I have.  And that’s the News as known today.  Still writing new things, though no more on the brand new shiny thing, not quite sure where I want to take it, hopefully one of my writer friends will be one of the visitors and we can brainstorm this week.

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Oct 27 2011

still here…

fever spiking and going down for past few days, nurses are great about changing sheets and helping out whereever possible.  Ufortunately, all I can do is lay around and make work for them by soaking sheets with sweat and eating ice and such. They’re taking lots of blood for cultures, got an ECG for the first time as well as an EKG when first coming into hospital and an xray.  On two different types of blood thinners to prevent further clots, but they can’t do anything about the one that’s already there except wait for the body to deal with it.

I’m frustrated because I was keeping up all the recommendations, legs elevated in bed at or above the heart; doing my in-bed PT exercises nearly every day; walking more than to and from the bathroom several times a  day plus walking a little extra, especially on appointment days;  had even gotten up to walking down several houses and back (Round Rock has TERRIBLE sidewalks).  Now I can barely stumble the step it takes to get the bedside commode, can’t move or anything without help, and spiking 103 fevers every night isn’t helping.

At least this part isn’t cancer, even though they aren’t quite sure about why the fevers keep coming around. I miss home,  but the upside is that the helper is hopefully getting a little bit of rest having only one person to take care of so constantly so she’ll be able to catch up on rest.  Nathan has stopped by the last couple of nights which has been nice.  I miss my kids bunches, will probably miss Wednesday’s first real crawl being stuck in herel instead of her cute 5 point crawl-scoot she’s been managing.

This has been a bad time all around.  But a perfect example of the one step forward, three steps back concept in healing.   At least it isn’t cancer bears repeating.

One good note: Whether or not it gets finished, I wrote the first third (possibly fourth, depending on how the sections break down) of something brand-new that I had no idea of before all this latest cancer round started. So that seems like progress to me.

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Oct 18 2011

Mostly baby, little bit me

Wednesday has continued to be mostly the perfect baby.  She loves everyone and has a smile that even baby-haters seems to want to return, and fits into the world like she already knows how loved she is and how strong a place she has in it.  I wonder if that’s what my parents felt like when they had me, not to be egotistical-sounding.  But my name means beloved, and I have always strongly known myself and who I was and how much I was loved, and if the indications are right, my bright and shining Wednesday will grow up with a similar knowledge.  I hope it leads her to even greater things, places, and people than it has me.

I dream of her at different ages, and my superstitious self hopes desperately that means I’m alive to see her at those ages.  I do my PT even when I don’t want to, when everything screams that it hurts too much and no one cares anyway or will notice if I do, because I want to be there for those ages.  I save my tears for late at night when everyone is in bed that I can’t right here, right now, carry my baby around to rock her to sleep when nothing else will soothe her, for one of many frustrating examples of limitations.  I have to be happy and thankful that others are there for those duties, and I am.  But there is so much I am missing and some of it I don’t get do-overs or make-up work later on.  Some of it I just have to be happy she is getting from others, so that she can be that all-loving open and friendly baby I wanted her to be, so that she can grow into the person who knows so solidly, without question, how loved she is in the world.

And yet still, she and I have a special bond.  I knew her in the womb and here she is:  how I knew her, yet ever-changing, just as she should be.  So much of how she was born is tied up in why and how I am still here to write these words.  She knew when to come out, and how, and did, and because of that, I’m currently cancer-free and without broken hips.  Timing matters.

Even if I have months’ worth of PT to continue, to get to where I have a chance to keep up with this bright and beautiful being, every tear is worth it.  The set-backs are harder to deal with — more fear-inducing — because superstitious brain gets that edgewise word in every so often no matter how strong logical brain gets trained.  So a week of the flu takes away three weeks of back-bruising PT progress, and there is fear; a scab comes off the left-side scar to reveal a two inch deep suppurating hole, when it was the right side that had the original hole and the greater damage and more swelling, and there is fear; to talk about these things feels like it gives them more power to damage, and there is fear.

I still do all the “right” things.  If my PT is back down to 10 walks from here in bed to the bathroom and back, then that’s what I do.  I keep helping The Teen with his homework, guide the helper to helping me and the baby and the house, keep an eye on the managing of the house to help my husband, and all the other jobs that I can do, and am good at even in sickness.  I get my friends to remind me they believe in me, though probably less frequently than could be helpful, heh.  I’m back up to doing something about writing every day, even if it’s just energy enough to process a rejection (hey, first rejection of this back-on-my-feet slog today, yay!), so that’s something too.  I keep reporting in to the doctors everything I’m supposed to, which means I’ll be up groggy and early and painfully (for me) tomorrow to get this leaking hole seen to.  Gross, still, but cancer is never pretty, easy, or tidy.  Fuck Hollywood for THAT lie.

People ask me how I feel, and I honestly can’t say.  It’s all just too much.  Sometimes you’re just neutral, not feeling much of anything.  Sometimes you’re rapid-cycling through so many emotions so quickly it might as well be idling in neutral.  Sometimes you feel something super-strong at exactly the wrong time — say while talking to a boss, or while trying for once to “take a break”.  All these drain you when you need filling, so when someone asks “what’s wrong?” where do you even begin?  It becomes less about taking a break and more about trying not TO break, because (for example) there’s this perfect, beautiful, bright and shining little girl smiling at you like you’re the best thing in her entire world– and you know that for her, that’s HER truth, and that matters.

For now I’m going to wrap this up and either find a new destination for my bounced story or watch an episode of something in hopes of getting a little sleep before my exhausting and scary doctor day tomorrow.  Possibly both.  Perhaps neither.  Either way, I know tomorrow I get another one (probably more ) of those smiles, maybe even a laugh, and that means it’s a day worth living for.  I hope all of you can find something even half as good to get you through your own days of fear and happiness.

2 responses so far

Oct 06 2011

Bandage-free (for what it’s worth) and general update

I’ve finally been cleared to stop wearing the bandages around my chest, after having to do so every day for five solid weeks (there were a couple of days that we gave me a few hours to “air out” but those don’t really count).  Part of why this was so irritating is that a lot of the skin that the bandages covered has radiation recall, which is a condition or side effect that happens to skin that gets too much radiation (say, from having to get irradiated twice when you’re only supposed to get it once and definitely not while on chemo).  Even though the skin isn’t particularly discolored it feels like it constantly has a small rash or varying degrees of irritation, especially if anything rubs against it.  They hand out handfuls of little sample tubes of Aquaphor, a petroleum-based intense skin therapy ointment at the radiation clinic for just that purpose, but other than keeping a couple to fit in my purse just in case I need it on the go, I’ve long since run through the free stuff.  We’re going through this tub pretty quickly too.

So I should be happier about being bandage-free; after all, it took up a good 30-45 minutes of each day, irritated the heck out of my skin, and was just generally all around a pain (figuratively and literally).  But I hurt just as much if not more without the bandages (to the point of tears getting back into bed several times this week).  There are still pockets of fluid inside me that I can feel move around (and sometimes hear, gross eww yuck).  The doctor attempted to aspirate two different areas this Tuesday visit to get some of the extra fluid out, but apparently while there’s enough to be noticeable, there’s not enough to actually get out with a needle.  This is supposed to be a good thing — it means that my body has a good chance of absorbing it all on its very own, though of course if I notice abnormal swelling call the doc to go in and be aspirated again.  And there’s still a centimeter-sized indentation/hole on my right side that everyone says is closing up quite nicely, but walking around with a hole in one’s skin makes for some paranoia.  At least it’s mostly stopped squeaking this past week.  Now all I have to put up with are the nasty squishy sounds from the internal (but small, really!) fluid pockets.

I’ve got a prescription for lymphedema sleeves and gauntlets; now must find out if Medicaid covers it.  I think I’ll have to make yet another appointment for someone to measure me and tell me what size to get, if I recall last year correctly, though I suppose policy could have changed.  The difference there is that last year, I had the chance to stay on top of things and only come close to actually getting lymphedema.  This year, I got it while on steroid medication and in the hospital, so I never had a chance to do any of the preventative measures I did last year.  It’s one of those things that once you have it, you can control it, but it never quite goes away.  Every time I go on a plane, or exercise, or on flare-up days that you can’t predict the frequency of, I’ll have to wear them.  If I’m lucky, that won’t be every day.  Again, I’ll soon put up a wishlist for those who want to get me a nice birthday or holiday present, since the ones Medicaid is likely to cover are the racistly-named “skin tone” beige color.  Those are fine for around the house I suppose, but I don’t see why something like that has to be ugly to be functional.  There’s a nice company called LympheDivas that has them in bright colors and awesome patterns, and flashy beauty is definitely deserved for going out and about.  Sort of like when I wear brightly colored scarves on my head when out, rather than a neutral-toned hat or beanie — I’m certainly not trying to hide my illness, and if I have to wear them anyway, might as well be fabulous about it.  There’s apparently even a shop in Austin that I will have to get out to and check over once I’m a bit more mobile.

And that’s the most frustrating part.  They were NOT kidding when they said this surgery would take twice as long for me to heal from.  I’m not even back to where I was pre-surgery in my healing from all the other stuff cancer-wise I was healing from before whacking the rest of my boobs off.  Back still hurts, fatigue at near maximum levels (still passing out over the keyboard or while watching shows).  Most days I don’t even feel close to that pre-surgery landmark, much less moving past it to healthier zones.  I am up to doing what I count as PT every day; walking, especially up hall inclines for doctor’s appointments or around the pharmacy or other errand counts.  So does holding the ever-squirming baby or helping to feed her solid food.  Still doing the in-bed exercises for my legs, focusing on those glutes and quads that are weak as jello.  Tried a couple of arm exercises, those don’t go as well and the past couple of days I’ve used my arms WAY too hard — as in I probably shouldn’t be typing and certainly not this much, it’s that bad.  If I’m *lucky*, the next week will get me back to pre-mastectomy health zones, but I can’t count on it.  I just have to keep doing what I’m doing and hope that it will get me there eventually, since they said it would be more like 12 weeks of recovery.  From the surgery.  And then I could start actually moving toward better health states.  I don’t know if this stuff teaches patience or forces it, most days it’s just put one foot in front of the other (metaphorically) to get through and hope that the little bit better is around the next corner.  And the next. And the next…

And next week is another bone treatment infusion, which will set me back a few days with extra bone pain and fatigue and all that not-fun.   I am so very tired of this.  It’s better than dying, for sure.  But so, so, tired.  Life doesn’t stop to wait for me to heal; there’s still kids to take care of, and budgets to help manage, and hopefully a few friends to see, and I have to get help on all of those anyway.  We’ve got someone to help with the kids and house stuff, someone else to help with the budget managing (which we’re going over with the metaphorical fine-toothed comb in October), and I at least still have writer’s group most Sundays, which is work but has a nice social tone to it as well.  Once I left the hospital, the friend visits mostly dried up.  I recognize a lot of that is because the hospital was way more conveniently located than where I live, but I still miss the visits (and the friends, of course).

Speaking of writing, I’ve got an idea to slightly re-write another already-existing story for a market that just sounds cool, even though they only pay semi-pro rates.  At this point I need to be getting my name out there and worry about the pro rates when I can, but not obsess only on those markets.  I think I’ve sent out a story or two since I last reported on such conditions here on the blog.  I’ve written a new piece on the new project I have in mind, and participated again in Leah Petersen’s Five Minute Flash Contest this week (I haven’t been able to for the last several weeks due to doctor visit conflicts).  My two contributions haven’t been all that great, but the effort was made, and at this point getting back in that saddle is the goal, fine-tuning the quality comes next.

There’s probably a lot I’m leaving out, like what about the latest scans?  Well I talked to the nurse about them, but decided not to report until next week when I’ve actually been to the doctor and heard it from him, but sounds like more good news.  I’ve started my anti-estrogen drug tamoxifen, main noticeable side effect so far is the hot flashes are back.  Thankfully my doctor agrees with me that unless scans dictate otherwise, we’re waiting on the ovo-hysterectomy until I’m actually at a point that vaguely resembles “healthy”, so I won’t have to worry about that until sometime next year.  It would be a novel sensation to heal up from a surgery starting from a healthy point instead of at the brink of death’s door; I hope I get to try it.  Even surgical menopause might not be all that bad since chemo and tamoxifen will have put me most of the way there before the organs ever come out.

Oh, and my mom is doing the brave and smart thing and having her own prophylactic double mastectomies next week. (Meaning, she doesn’t have anything showing on scans but she has the same genetic flaw I do and it’s the smart thing to do BEFORE problems show up.)  So take a little of the good energy you’ve been sending me and toss it her way; since she IS getting surgery from the point of healthiness and it sounds like she has good doctors, she should heal quickly and well.  I’ll probably try to have a quasi-interview thing here on the blog with her about it at some point.

Now to quit hurting my arms by typing and watch a show until I pass out.  And take my overdue meds, they don’t help if I don’t take them.

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Sep 27 2011

more writing than cancer topics, I hope

I know I’m healing somewhere when I get this little itch about feeling like I haven’t blogged in a few days and really, ya know, should put up a post about something.  This is a good itch that doesn’t even feel bad, like the good-but bad-feeling itches that hurt but mean wounds are healing do.  It’s been a mostly quiet week too, which is another odd sensation.  Mostly a week of getting house dynamics tweaked and adjusted some as we all learn to live together as a working team (still more work to go of course), healing and being irritated about the whistling hole under my arm that’s at least apparently getting smaller as it heals and stays not-infected.  Gross, but still positive overall.  I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow (it never ends), where I desparately hjope I can finally get the other two drains out, since they;’re both now producing (just barely) under the 30mL minimum that they need to be in order to get taken out.

My emotions have been up and down over the slow healing of this surgery.  It may not even be all that slow of healing as it feels, just slower than I’m used to.  My body really is stronger and my immune system more awesome than I sometimes remember to give it credit for, and double mastectomies coming on top of twelve weeks of one of the most aggressive forms of chemo my oncologist could devise plus 34 rounds of radiation to fix a stage 4 cancer that had metastasized to the point of partially paralyzing me (resulting in a total of 3 months spent in the hospital this year alone) was asking a bit much of it.  Ya think?

Emotions aren’t logical, however, and I can read all of that and even believe it, and still tear up over not being able to hold my daughter (too heavy for my arms right now plus she kicks a lot), or be the one getting up at night when she needs something, or all the work I was doing to retrain being able to sleep on my side being completely erased and back at the starting line (behind the line really, since even after drains and such come out it’ll be a while before I can try that again), or all the PT I was doing being similarly reset, especially anything to do with the upper body (which totally discourages the motivation to do the other parts of it, even though I do SOMEthing most days, even if it’s just the in-bed ones.  And that doesn’t begin to cover all the various things I could get upset about if I think too long or too hard about all that’s happened to me in the past two years or so.

So. On lighter notes, I’m hoping to reconnect with the visual artist I was working with last year long enough to get that project wrapped up and ready for the world, and I even have the energy to put toward it now and a deal ready to make with the artist so no excuses there.  I’ve started submitting pre-cancer-written stories around again (three submissions this week!) and I’ve made my writer group meetings for the past several, and participated too.  (Heck, at least one I felt I monopolized talking about how to re-motivate and find ways to generate new creative content from a well only slowly filling again but the others seemed to get some benefit from the discussion as well so hopefully that was all right.)  I’m blogging regularly, and not just collections of links (though I’ve certainly found some interesting ones), and I even applied for a slush reader position.

I’ve taken a more active nightly role in helping The Teen with his homework and staying on top of his school stuff (though giving due credit, the caretaker-helper is assisting with that as well by talking to teachers about what homework there is when she picks him up from school) and get some baby interaction every day, usually in the form of a feeding or nap.  Though the house maintenance may not be where I would prefer it, the pathways are kept clear, everyone gets fed, and while the budget is in need of more balancing due to all the medical expenses (any philanthropists out there not already helping out, we’d love to hear from you!) we’re really not doing badly all things considered.  I still fall asleep over the computer most nights; I still have embarrassing medical moments; I still feel like I’m missing out on so much I wanted to do with my wonderful, brilliant baby and my awesome teenager.  These are all true things, and it’s complicated because so is life.

And I’ll take it, because life is worth fighting this hard for.

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