It's been a long time. . .
. . .since I've blogged. A lot has happened lately.
I've been informed that the cancer I had has come back with a vengence.
And it's my own fault. I only endured two weeks of radiation and chemo. My body didn't want to take any more of the thirty-mile drive to the hospital, lying on a slab for the ten minutes it took to get arranged for the procedure, the procedure itself and the time it took for the technicians to come back and help me get to my feet.
The chemo was a relative breeze. I used a pump that went 24/7. It weighed 2 pounds, but it was dead weight -- if you pardon the expression. The company that provided the thing was the problem. The man who was to deliver the first fluid tried to find us by GPS, and made me nearly miss my first radiation appointment. Then, at 11 o'clock on Saturday night, the pump sounded an alarm. I was not familiar with it enough to know how to turn the annoying beep off. I called the company, waited forever for someone to answer -- and that person didn't know what to do so held me on line for someone else -- who never answered. I finally did the one thing I could do -- I went to sleep and woke up every five minutes. To this day, no one has called me back!
I was willing to keep going until the second Friday, when my mouth broke out in painful sores. I got a prescription for a medication from the doctor supervising my radiation. The stuff was horrible tasting but I figured if it healed my mouth with the speed promised, it would be worth it. Almost immediately I was visited with "the runs."
It was enough for me. I am not a quitter. I'm one of those persons who carries on doggedly even when everything looks hopeless. But I saw the wisdom of going over to the hospital and tell them I quit.
That was November 1, 2010. So here it is, sixteen months later, and the cancer is back, attacking me somewhere other than where the original cancer struck. I'm going to take the chemo again, with the pump if I can get it. I won't be taking radiation at this time.
Am I sorry I quit, and the cancer is back? No! I've used those months to undate the last two of my book that have not gone into electronic media -- Black-Tie Affair -- is available from Desert Breeze Publishing, and when I am back in gear I will make the needed adjustments in Come Home to Love.
There are miracles. I'm going to be working toward one. But as a writer, I've accomplished more than I ever dreamed I would.
I've been informed that the cancer I had has come back with a vengence.
And it's my own fault. I only endured two weeks of radiation and chemo. My body didn't want to take any more of the thirty-mile drive to the hospital, lying on a slab for the ten minutes it took to get arranged for the procedure, the procedure itself and the time it took for the technicians to come back and help me get to my feet.
The chemo was a relative breeze. I used a pump that went 24/7. It weighed 2 pounds, but it was dead weight -- if you pardon the expression. The company that provided the thing was the problem. The man who was to deliver the first fluid tried to find us by GPS, and made me nearly miss my first radiation appointment. Then, at 11 o'clock on Saturday night, the pump sounded an alarm. I was not familiar with it enough to know how to turn the annoying beep off. I called the company, waited forever for someone to answer -- and that person didn't know what to do so held me on line for someone else -- who never answered. I finally did the one thing I could do -- I went to sleep and woke up every five minutes. To this day, no one has called me back!
I was willing to keep going until the second Friday, when my mouth broke out in painful sores. I got a prescription for a medication from the doctor supervising my radiation. The stuff was horrible tasting but I figured if it healed my mouth with the speed promised, it would be worth it. Almost immediately I was visited with "the runs."
It was enough for me. I am not a quitter. I'm one of those persons who carries on doggedly even when everything looks hopeless. But I saw the wisdom of going over to the hospital and tell them I quit.
That was November 1, 2010. So here it is, sixteen months later, and the cancer is back, attacking me somewhere other than where the original cancer struck. I'm going to take the chemo again, with the pump if I can get it. I won't be taking radiation at this time.
Am I sorry I quit, and the cancer is back? No! I've used those months to undate the last two of my book that have not gone into electronic media -- Black-Tie Affair -- is available from Desert Breeze Publishing, and when I am back in gear I will make the needed adjustments in Come Home to Love.
There are miracles. I'm going to be working toward one. But as a writer, I've accomplished more than I ever dreamed I would.
posted by Jane Bierce | 4:52 PM
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