Yesterday was a long day...

On Nov. 13th, I had an appt for a PET Scan & then on Nov. 20th, an MRI. Yesterday, I had an appointment to go over the results of them. It appears that the cancer is currently contained to the cervix, and is not attached to the ligament like Dr. Scalici (pronounced Scuh-Lee-See) was concerned about. However, there is a spot on one of my lymph nodes that "lit up" in the tests, so she's going to be watching that. At this time, it's still undetermined if the cancer is a stage 1B2 or a 2A because now it depends on that dang lymph node spot.
I had to have another biopsy done. This makes the 5th one they've done on my cervix. How many pieces can they cut off before none is left? The biopsy itself isn't even the worst part, it's the peanut butter stuff they cake up inside you to stop the bleeding it causes. She calls it the peanut butter stuff because that's exactly what it looks like, but when it comes out of you, it's clumpy, grainy, and black like coffee grounds. So gross.

Then we talked more about treatment. I'll be on a very agressive, brutal treatment plan. Their words, not mine.

CHEMO: I'll do 5-7 weeks of it, (specifically, Cisplatin) once a week. This will be done every Tuesday. Even though the chemo itself will only take 45 minutes to an hour, these appointments will be about 6 hours long due to everything else that goes along with chemo. There's labwork to check my white blood cell count and determine my dosage for the day. Then I wait for them to get it ready. In the meantime, I get a bag of IV fluids to help hydrate me and prevent headaches. Then the chemo itself, and then another bag of IV fluids. Somewhere along the way, I'll also get anti-nausea meds in my IV, as well as a steroid to prevent me from throwing up, because apparently this chemo drug they're putting me on it bad enough to make me very sick, according to her. After chemo is over, I go downstairs to radiation.

RADIATION: I'll get external radiation for 5 weeks on a daily basis, Monday through Friday. How nice to have weekends off, ha. I am not sure yet how long this process takes. That will be explained to me in detail by Dr. Outlaw since she is the one who will be administering the radiation treatments. Once that's over, I'll have to do 2 weeks of Brachytherapy (pronounced Brake-E-therapy). I will be honest and admit that I am slightly terrified of this. When I was doing all of my research on treatments, I read about this one and how awful it was, and hoped my doctor wouldn't mention this. But, here we are. Brachytherapy is internal radiation. They'll insert metal rods into the vagina and they'll touch the tumor and administer radiation directly into it. I read that it is very painful. Unfortunately, Dr. Scalici confirmed this. Anyway once the rods are inserted, they'll do a CT scan to make sure they're exactly in the right place, then blast the tumor. I'll have two weeks of this treatment. The first week will be a Mon, Wed, Friday treatment, then the next week will be a Mon & Weds treatment. Absolutely NOT looking forward to this.

I was talked to about chest ports, picc lines, and IVs. They think the picc line is best for me. I'd already figured this considering all the research I've done, so now I have to find a cute picc sleeve to wear because I know my clingy little princess will accidentally yank it out of my arm trying to snuggle or play with me. I also have to order a special shower sleeve since it can't get wet. And the costs keep adding up.

I was recommended to get a flu shot, and to avoid anyone and everyone who is sick since my immune system will be compromised. Even the slightest sickness on my part will prevent me from being able to get treatment and will delay the process.

Dr. Scalici wants me to to participate in a clinical trial for Immunotherapy. She told me a little about it, and then had the research director, Daisy, come in and give me the details. There aren't any crazy side effects and they do the treatments on chemo day, so that part isn't so bad. But the other parts won't be so fun. It involves a lot more blood-drawing, and three more biopsies - two of which will be extreme enough that I'll have to be put to sleep. I don't get paid for any of this, but they cover the extra testing, as well as the trial drugs they give me. Kris isn't happy about it. He says I am not a guinea pig, and no, I'm not... but I have two daughters, and a lot of female friends. But most importantly, two daughters who could get cervical cancer someday and if this trial can help find something that can heal cancer faster like they think it can, then I am participating. Worst case scenario, it doesn't work. But at least I can say I tried. So needless to say, I agreed and did the 17 pages of paperwork on it.

Lastly, I received my appointment to meet with Dr. Outlaw on Dec. 1st and was informed that once you see her, you move at lightning speed because she likes to start treatment within a week. I'm not looking forward to it, because I am scared. I didn't want any of this. I wanted to have surgery and be done. But that's not an option, so now I'm ready to get this over with.

Finally, sometime after 4pm, I got to go home. I'd been there since 10:45am. I was exhausted mentally and physically, and laid there last night in bed with my head spinning in a million directions, just thinking of how this is about to be my life. Long, long days just to get up and do it all over again the next day, and the next day, and so on for the next 7 weeks. I'm already stressing over someone having to take care of Zoey every day, the kids being home alone after school for however long, and who is going to deal with the dog while I'm there. I can't drive myself to chemo due to the nausea and stuff, so they said someone needs to drive me. Definitely stressing over the bills. Holy hell, the bills. We JUST THIS WEEK finally paid off the deductible, only to have it turn around and start over in January. Kris is working overtime as much as possible to help keep our heads up as good as we can, so he can't be with me and he's stressing about that.

Overall, I'm trying to stay positive. I know this cancer isn't going to kill me. But my God, this stress possibly will.

Let's talk about Barb...

In an attempt to stay in good spirits, I decided to name this tumor so we can refer to it by name instead of always saying "the cancer."  It's not that I don't want to acknowledge it, but it's just funny.  

So why "Barb?" Easy. We love the Netflix show "Stranger Things" and it just seemed right that we call her Barb after poor ol' Barb in that show. Poor Barb was always around, but no one seemed to notice. And the few times they did notice, they didn't care. 

That's kinda how I was about this tumor at first. I knew something was there, I just didn't care enough to make time to deal with it, so I just went on with life and ignored it, the way they all did Barb. By the time Nancy and the others remembered Barb existed, she was already in the Upside-Down.  My tumor is up in my hoo-ha, and that's basically my upside down. Ha!   
If you haven't seen the show, then you won't get it. But if you have, well... am I right? 

In all seriousness, tomorrow at 1pm, I have a PET Scan. It will be my first, and I'm not sure what to expect. I know they said no food or drink for 6 hours before the appointment. (WHAT?) 

Also said no carbs, no sugar, no caffeine 18 hours before the appointment. (DOUBLE WHAT??)  

Barb isn't going to kill me, but this lack of real food and drink is going to be what takes me out.  I can't even... 

And then it was confirmed..

I've been waiting for that call. I knew what she was going to say. I knew from the beginning.

"Hey, it's Dr. Trammell. I got the results of your biopsy, and it's definitely cervical cancer. I know we were all suspecting it, but now that we know, we can move forward. I actually got the results yesterday evening, but didn't want to ruin your Halloween with the kids. I've already sent all of your files over to the oncologists, and they'll be calling you today with an appointment for a consultation, and they'll go over the plan for testing and treatment options with you then." 

I knew from the moment I called and made the appointment. The receptionist scoffed at me when I told her I couldn't wait a few weeks for an appointment, that I needed to be seen asap because I was pretty certain I had cervical cancer. I want to call her back and be like SEE, BITCH? I told you so. But it doesn't matter now. It's in the past. And my only concern now is for the future.

On one hand, I feel validated, and ready to tackle this thing head on. 
I knew I wasn't crazy and making up symptoms. I've known my whole life I was going to have some kind of cancer at some point in my life. Lambert used to have a cancer policy in our health insurance for me. At the time, I remember thinking how weird that was that he would do that. Looking back now, I realize how it was nice that he believed me when I told him I just somehow knew I'd have it someday, and didn't question it. He just prepared. I wish that policy was somehow still active. Anyway, here I am, dealing with the reality that someday is now. Dr. Trammell says they'll probably just cut it out of me and give me my hysterectomy and that's all there is to it since we caught it early. I hope that's the case. I'm ready to just get the show on the road and get all of this behind me and get my life back. I am ready to stop bleeding. Stop hurting. Be normal again.

And on the other, I feel broken and scared. 
What if it's bigger than she thinks? What if it's spread? What if surgery isn't an option and I have to have chemo and radiation? Who will take are of the kids? How in the hell will we pay for it? Like this is real. It's real.

It's cancer and it's inside me and I'm fucking terrified. 

I am going to schedule the appointment for my tattoo now. I'd decided already that once it was confirmed, I was getting a teal cancer ribbon tattooed on my foot so anyone and everyone could see it and ask questions and I could spread awareness about it. No one talks about cervical cancer. But they should. And I'll be the one to tell them.

For now, I've just got to figure out when and how to tell my own kids.

Sometimes we are just lost feathers floating through a fray.

I am in a shitty place today. I woke up on the wrong side of the couch and I just can't shake this bad mood. I am aware I'm being pissy and I'm even on my own nerves for it, for feeling this way, but damn if I can change how I feel because all the little things about life that annoy me have come to a head today like a big pimple waiting to pop and I feel like the only way to ease my irritability is to write it all out..
I want to sleep in my own damn bed. The one I helped pick out and bought sheets and a comforter for. But I can't because my husband snores. Some days aren't as bad as others, and I can just pop in earplugs and sleep through it. Some days I can slip away to the couch fora little while and the snoring goes away and I'll get back in bed before he wakes up and notices I was ever gone. But the past three damn nights, I've slept on the couch all night long  because it's like having a monster truck revving its engine right by my ear and the earplugs just don't matter. Of course I can't really wear the earplugs lately because the tiny child is potty training and she likes to yell out occasionally that she has to pee. Guess who gets up for that? When I think I am lucky and she doesn't wake up to pee, I check on her only to find that she's shit herself around 1am. Yay. Cold wipes = wide awake child, so it's back to fucking square one waiting on her to pass out. By then I'm super tired and every sound seems amplified. Stupid ass aquarium. But if I unplug it, I can hear his snoring through the bedroom door. Or Kylie's stupid ass hamster scratching at the roof of its cage and I can imagine myself putting it out in the cold garage and hoping it doesn't make it though the night, because then that means maybe I can sleep tomorrow night because I won't hear it. I try to get in bed in the mornings after the bus runs and hope I can sleep a little bit then, but the door makes some popping sound that sounds like someone is tapping on the glass and wakes me up constantly, resulting in one of those headaches from being jolted awake and medicine doesn't help it, only time.
I feel like in a sense, my life just keeps repeating itself. Have a baby, stay home, baby starts school, get a job, have a baby, stay home, baby starts school, get a job, just kidding, have another baby, stay home, repeat over and over... I want a job for two reasons: (1) Money. (2) New friends.
Kris is all "don't get a job" on fb and in conversations in front of other people but then when it's just us, he will talk about jobs I could/should try to get. "Masland has great insurance." "This place has good discounts."  "You need somewhere that'll let you work school hours for the kids." I'm so torn between wanting to go back to work just to have a fucking identity again and be a person again and make new friends instead of just being someone's mom and someone's wife (bonus: lunch dates with real people!) and accepting the reality that nothing I can actually get hired for will be worth taking because it'll either (A) pay nothing, (B) have shitty hours, (C) require me to work weekends, or keeping it real: (D) all of the above.  I'm literally only qualified for retail and by the time Zoey starts school in 2 years, I'll be 38 years old,  so I'd be 38 years old working with a bunch of high school/college kids. Ya know, that loser lady who never did anything with her life because there's always one, and it would be me this time. Awesome. The thought along makes me nauseous. I'm just so tired of being nobody. I want to be able to clock out. I want to be able to come home and just once, sit down and not move because I've had a long day at work. I'd like someone to be like "Be quiet, try not to wake up mom, she's got to work tomorrow."
But I'm the mom, so even if I did have a real job, I'd still be the one rushing around to cook and clean and make kids bathe and do laundry and pack lunches and sign papers, and wake up at 1am to change shitty pullups and stay awake til she goes back to sleep whenever that is, on top of waking up extra early to fix hair and get them to school or daycare before I got to work, because that's what moms do. We aren't the breadwinners, the one who has to pay all the bills, so our  needs (physical or mental) never come first, or even second, and that is probably why I'm always pissy. Kris's solution to my moods is to start drinking earlier because I'm nicer when I drink. Gah, I wonder why. I don't want a drink. I want a break. Like a few-days-long break with no kids, but that's a joke. (I can't even get away with Kris for that long of a time.)  I'd settle for a girls night, but at the same time I don't even want that because depending on who it's with, it usually ends up with me listening to said friend bitch about her husband/boyfriend and/or kids (Haven't they heard of blogging??) and that's the last thing I want to talk about or hear about. Except for the ones who are no longer with their husbands/boyfriends and talk about how the kid(s) have to go stay with him and it's so sad. Bitch, please.  I have no words of comfort for you.  I miss the glory days of having a free babysitter every other weekend. I hate being invited to girls-only events because the first thing that crosses my mind is "well that's gonna count against me and I won't get deserve another girls night for a while, do I really want to use it on this?" That makes me such a shitty friend but it's the damn truth. See point below.


**Disclaimer: That night mentioned above was not even a girls night, it was a friend's birthday, he was also invited and chose not to go, and there were just as many guys there as girls. 
Anyway, then basically I'm stuck with the guilt of choosing to be a good friend or saving my quarterly very rare girls night out for something of my choice that will temporarily make me love life again and choose to be somewhere where noone talks about kids or husbands or boyfriends. Let's be honest, I'm selfish in this kind if way so I'd rather choose my own sanity and do my own thing, but not selfish enough to actually follow through so I end up staying home and doing nothing at all, and being pissy at life (again) for feeling that way.
We watched the Bad Moms movie a few nights ago and I was so excited. For once, I thought someone could relate to me, really 100% relate. They covered all the same points I made above. But of course it's Hollywood, so naturally they always managed to have babysitters (quite often too) and no one's husband ever got mad except that one time and she snapped at him and then he was like a puppy doing whatever she wanted. That's not fucking how it is. I'd never snap at Kris like that, not that he'd call me in a panic like that dad did, but still. And there's never babysitters. Getting one lately is like winning the lottery, but then I'm sitting here contemplating even taking them to the sitter because you know tomorrow it's gonna be something... "She did this. He was so bad. They fought the whole time. He's so loud. She wouldn't sleep. What time are you coming to get them?"   How about fucking never? Like really, what happens if I just don't come back to get them? You see that they're that annoying and exhausting -- that's my life, 24/7/365 -- so please give me just that little bitty ass break without making me feel like shit for it when we/I pick them up.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I hate my kids. I don't. I love the little assholes, but they're just that, and being the one that deals with them the majority of the time really takes a toll.
I'm not saying I don't love or appreciate my husband, or that he doesn't do enough. He's my everything and I can't imagine life without him, even when he snores. He does so much for us, more than a lot of my friends men o which explains why they never last. But never in my dreams about our future together did it ever include someone sleeping on the couch because he was continuously sawing logs with a chainsaw in my ear. He's never snored this much until about 2 years ago and it isn't getting better. It's only getting worse and the future I see in my now now involves separate bedrooms when a kid moves out. I feel like he's torn between wanting me to stay home so we can hang out on his off time since we never have sitters, and actually wanting me to go to work but maybe his man-pride won't let him admit that? I don't know.
The tiny child just waddled in here with pants around her feet saying she needed to be cleaned, so the highlight of my day is knowing that at least I won't have to sit up at 1am because she shit and the wipes woke her up. On that note, I'm ending this so I can go wipe up shit.

Mega Update

Sooo much has happened since last time I wrote. We let Kim take over our lease, and we moved in with Sharon on Aug.19th. It took a lot of adjustments on our part. We went from living in a pet free, smoke free home with everyone in their own bedroom to being smushed up into 2 bedrooms in a house that smelled like a giant ashtray with a dog that smelled like wet rancid asshole who bit my kids almost daily. We tried t stay in the bedrooms when she was home away from the smoke and I hope it didn't make her feel like we were hiding from her personally, but I just can't deal with the smell of it. On me, on my clothes, in my hair. Gross. There were ten days, ten long days, where we had Tara's three dogs as well. That's four dogs. She didn't do a single damn thing for them. She didn't feed them or let them our before she went to work. She didn't do it when she got home either. When I'd tell her the last time they went out and ate, she'd just say something along the lines of "I don't care, I'm too tired to deal with them tonight" or "They'll be fine until tomorrow."  (Yeah, tomorrow when *I* let the out and feed them...) One particular day I had let them out in the backyard to play and run while I did some cups in the front yard. Next thing I know, they're running towards me from down the road, soaking wet and covered in mud. No idea where they were or how they even got out of the damn fence, but they threw mud all over me, the cups I was doing, and everything around me. I had to wash all my cups, change my clothes, and start over, after I cleaned them up as much as I could and got them back inside in their kennels. I was livid, so I made a post saying "So over dogs today" and Tara gets a damn attitude with me. She needs to stfu since she doesn't know what's going on, but I'm sure Sharon just pretended like she's bent over backwards to make things perfect for the dogs. Truth isn't her strong suit, as she proved when we took them to Orlando and she lied to everyone saying that WE stayed drunk the whole trip and made her & David take care of Kollin while we did whatever we wanted. Kris had one beer, and I not one single drop of alcohol the entire trip. Anyway, thankfully we were only there three months because...

We bought a house! The same house we looked at a few years ago on Spanish Drive. The one with the inground pool (which is actually gone now, the crazy dude filled it in) and the koi fish pond. It's also got palm trees in the back yard! They were around the pool, but we're going to get an above ground pool next summer. It's also been remodeled on the inside and I swear, they did it the way I would have (minus the ugly tile in the kitchen floor.) When we walked in this house, it just felt like home. It's not fancy, but it's nice. Most importantly, it's cozy.  I love it so much. It was for sale by owner and it was a pain in the butt to deal with everything, but I can say I officially own a house for the first time in my life. It's exciting. We closed on it on Oct 12, 2016 and moved in the same night. I had scheduled for the POD to be delivered the day we closed, and it made things sooo much easier and convenient.

We've been in the house for a couple of weeks now, and it's slowly coming together. It's so big, and there's so much space that we needed (and still need) more stuff to fill it and decorate it with. The neighborhood is so quiet. It's nice not having to wake Zoey up to drive the kids to a bus stop in the mornings and drive to pick them up in the afternoons. They can walk to the bus stop here, and we have sidewalks. There's pretty much zero traffic on our street, which I love. What I don't love is how no one has bothered to come visit. I got so much shit from people when we moved away. And then when we decided to move back, everyone acted so excited about it. One friend asked me a few times about the gym which unfortunately kept taking a backseat because other more important things were happening that prevented me from going. I've signed back up as of the other day but she hasn't made mention of going, I guess because her other friends got memberships, now I don't matter anymore. Holli invited me to dinner one night and I actually went since Kris was off. She said we should make it a usual Wednesday thing but ever since then, I've had too much going on with the house stuff to go again, but now we can get together again since things have settled. Another friend, I've hung out with and dne lunch with a couple times but only because I've called/texted her and made the effort to see her. I've tried more than that but finally I just stopped. She's always got something going on with someone or some group of kids (mine are never included, which kinda hurts my feelings to be honest but whatever) and I'm not interested in competing for friend of the week. I'm learning real quick that all I really need is myself.

New neighbors moved in next door last week. The guy came and introduced himself to us, so I stalked his fb page, as well as his wife's. They seem pretty cool. The wife is really pretty. Like, seriously pretty. And she's 40 years old. (I want to look like her when I'm 40 and I have to get started because I'm already 36. This motivates me to hit the gym.)  They have kids - two boys. One is in college, the other is a year older than Kylie. They also have a cute little weenie dog named Sadie, who Zoey is in love with. She comes over to our yard and plays ball with her.

Speaking of Zoey... the best news of all, which I saved for last. October 5th, she had an appointment with the cardiologist to check on the holes. The VSD (the non-concerning one) had closed up all the way. The ASD (the one that was an issue) had shrunk and is now very small. He thinks it will continue to close up on its own and not pose a threat. He said he's confident she won't need any procedures. I can't even tell you how that made me feel. I didn't know how scared of it I was all this time, until I wasn't scared anymore. It felt like a weight being lifted and I ugly cried all the way to WalMart. I had to just sit there in the parking lot and cry. Every time I thought I was okay, I'd think to myself "My baby won't have to get heart surgery" and I'd cry again. I finally got it together and was ready to go inside when the phone rang, and it was Ashley (loan officer) telling me the appraisal on the house was good and they were getting our papers ready to close. Alot happened that day, all good things, but Zoey's news was the highlight of it all, for sure.

So that's everything, I believe.

Mumble Jumble.

This is just another I'm running my mouth about nothing important blog.

Yesterday, my bra matched my panties and for a hot minute, I felt like I had my life together. I am always making sure that either my bra or panties match whatever outfit I'm wearing every day, but it's a very rare occasion that my bra and panties match each other,, and they match my outfit too. Winning!

So our wedding anniversary is this weekend, on the 13th. It'll be six years.
Six. Whole. Years... and I still like him. More than ever, actually.
My last marriage, I was soooo done a long time ago. We never made it to six years.
So this is a milestone in so many ways. To still be together at this point, happy, and more in love than ever, and to know the feeling is mutual... it just means everything to me.
I am beyond blessed to have that man. I don't know if I tell him often enough how much I appreciate him and everything he does for us, but I need to start. He needs to know.

Zoey is super into Peppa Pig and while the show itself is kinda annoying, her playing with her new Peppa Pig toy is adorable because she talks in the little british (I guess) accent like Peppa does.

Got on the scales this morning. 148.6 lbs!!   Finally back to my weight before we went on vacation and ruined all my hard work and clean eating. So naturally, I'm more motivated than ever now. I've even been buying more workout clothes on Poshmark, so that when I finally move back home and get back into the gym, I'll be all cute and shit. Until then, I'll be styling while walking the neighborhood looking for Pokemon.

Opportunity has presented itself to us yet again, as it seems to do. Kris said it's some kind of weird voodoo thing I do. Maybe it is, I don't know. This time it comes in the form of Aunt Kim complaining about how expensive rental houses are and not wanting to signa year lease and I said too bad she didn't tell us this a few weeks ago, she could have had this house. Long story short, she wants to take over our lease and wants us out of here by Sept. 23rd. She's already talked to Uncle Joe and Donna, but we have to talk to Kris's mom and things with grandad are rollercoasterish right now, so it's just difficult timing to be springing it on her so soon after we told her we were waiting until December. Yes, it helps us out because we're off the hook on this house as far as breaking lease. We may could possibly even get our deposit back. (Bonus, she said she could work it out with Bernie so that I don't have to paint everything!) So we would get to move back over there, and she gets a big house close to James that's a few hundred dollars cheaper than her current (small) house. So what's the problem? Kris can't decide what to do. He doesn't want to move in with her and us be cramped up in two rooms, but he doesn't want to keep renting. Soon the choices will narrow themselves down because there's only 1 house for rent in Satsuma and only 3 in Saraland. They won't be available forever. Or maybe they will, but we'll be out of time because Kim needs an answer by next week. I just wish a decision could be made one way or another. All the back and forth is annoying and disheartening. Tired of getting my hopes up for nothing. We're moving. No, we're staying. We're going to look at rentals, we cancelled. We're looking at houses to buy because they're getting us a loan, nevermind. (Okay, that one wasn't anyone's fault, and couldn't be helped or predicted.) Back to rentals, nevermind we'll stay here until December. Wait, we may move back now. It's too much.

Kids are being crazy today. Weather is preventing them from going outside to play, so they're wound up and bouncing off the walls. I hate that school over here doesn't start for another 12 days. Grr.
Better go negotiate with the terrorists, and by that, I mean bribe them with snacks to be quiet.

Confession.

I like it here, I do. I like being close to everything. I love the house itself.

But I want to go home.

I miss my friends just walking in the front door like they own the place.
I miss the small-town feeling, with Dollar Generals everywhere you look.
I miss friends being close enough to stop by, even if no one ever did.
I miss family being close. Close enough for game nights. I miss game nights.
I miss eating cheese dip and chips and drinking margaritas while the kids play on the ghetto playground that probably should have been torn down years ago because it's falling apart.
I miss feeling like I was where I was supposed to be. For now, anyway.

I can't tell him though. He asks me and says to tell him the truth, but I just can't. Because then he would do what he always does, which is find a way to make it happen, and I love him for that, for always wanting to make me happy. But going back is not what he wants or at least I think. I don't think he really knows what he wants yet. He deserves to be happy, more-so than I do. He's the one that makes all the money that pays for everything. If he wants to stay over here, then we should. He does so much for me, for all of us, and if he wants to stay here, then I can do this much for him.