Chemo Treatment #3: The Amazing Amy

Chemo:         A/C

Treatment:    #3 of 4 of A/C

Companion:    Amy Stutesman

Time:            3:00 p.m.

 

Amy is a Godsend.  I swear.  That woman is amazing.  Not only has she bailed me out of more crap when we were in college (Dad, if you’re reading this, I mean “bail” figuratively), but she has been one of my strongest supports during this cancer crap.  She is one of my best friends and one of the few people I would actually trust with my life.  There aren’t many of those in my world, so that just tells you how amazing she is.

 

For those of you who don’t know Amy, she’s my best friend from college and from law school.  We braved the wonders of the University of Puget Sound in Tacoma for four years where she got to laugh at my sorority antics – oh yeah, if you didn’t know, I was All for Free . . . er . . . I mean Alphi Phi.  I was also initiated into the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity as a “Little Sister of Minerva.”  I was their DJ my junior and senior year, so they decided to initiate me into their fraternity along with ten or so other women who “hung out” at the frat a lot.  After the initiation ceremony, it took facilities management for the university several months to figure out how to get all our brassieres out of the huge tree outside of SAE.  Amy probably remembers that initiation ceremony well.  I’m sure she had to deal with the aftermath at some point that night or early the next day when I had to take a flight home for Christmas break.  It’s interesting now to think about a bunch of bras in a tree.  I wonder how quickly it will take me to adjust to a custom bra after they take Karla.

 

Anyhoo, chemo was pretty basic today.  Again, no major complications and Dr. Pinder continues to be amazed with how I’m holding up.  I swear exercising really helps, and Amy is also one of my most exercise-supportive friends.  She comes over every Sunday to take me to Greenlake to go on a walk-jog and she will often get me out of my condo several times during the week to join me for extra workouts.  This is coming from a gal who wakes up at 5:30 a.m. several times during the week to hit the gym on her own before heading off to work.  If it wasn’t for the exercise, I’m certain I wouldn’t be as healthy as I am right now.  I remember what it was like to go to the gym five days out of the week to get a good cardio workout in.  Now I’m trying to learn how to incorporate more physical activity into my usual routine in addition to getting regular workouts in.  Make it a point to walk to and from work every day.  Make it a point to walk everywhere in my neighborhood, rain or shine.  Hell, if I didn’t work on the top floor of the Convention Center, I’d take the stairs!  Amy is a great role model in this regard.  The girl walks everywhere in Ballard and only drives her car when absolutely necessary.  And with gas prices only going up, I am very anxious to get rid of my gas-guzzling Jeep.

 

God, I love Amy!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Boob Perspective

Perspective.  Today I had my first day of trial in what my Firm calls the “Ta-Ta Case,” and I was reminded of the word “perspective” as I sat through a jury voir dire session that addressed everything about boobs.  I’m second-chairing the Ta-Ta trial with the founding partner of my firm, Mark.  We’re defending in a motor vehicle accident case where the Plaintiff has alleged that the seatbelt cut into her chest during the collision and caused permanent disfigurement to her right breast.  Plaintiff’s breast does have a bit of scarring, but it’s not really noticable unless you stare at both breasts for a while.  With how large this woman is, you really don’t want to be staring at her breasts for too long.  My law clerk told me our file photos of Plaintiff “would make a cow blush.”  That’s pretty descriptive.

 

 

Many of the prospective jurors have dealt with breast cancer (either themselves or their close family members), and one of them, Juror #15, went so far as to share her experience having had a lumpectomy 20 years ago.  She disclosed that she now has a divot in her breast as a result of the procedure, and although she understands that other women may feel differently about their bodies under the same circumstances, she noted that she’s okay with it.  I sat there, just having had the Plaintiff the day before trial try to force me to feel the “lumps” in her gynormous breasts while I interviewed her at her counsel’s office, and I realized that I am probably the last attorney who should be defending this case.  But then I thought about “perspective” and corrected myself — I’m perhaps the best person to be defending this case.  I really had to hold back from asking the Plaintiff if she wanted to feel the lump in my breast.

 

It’s a bit of a tangent to talk about how frustrated I am with the litigious nature of our society, but I really felt that angst today.  I mean, the Plaintiff has sued twice before to get money for a prior car accident and a slip-and-fall, suing again now for emotional distress damages for allegedly being unable to work out at the gym or have a relationship with her boyfriend because she was too uncomfortable with her breasts after the accident.  Yet here she is, wanting me to feel her up and wanting to flash the jury so they can see her scarred breast.  When she tried to force me to feel her up yesterday, she had this look of fucking entitlement on her face, as if she was pissed off that the insurance company who hired me does not just pay her out.  What’s funny is that she was so indignant during our pre-trial meeting that she obviously missed the fact that I had no hair under the hat on my head.  For the first time since my diagnosis, I felt angry and conflicted.  I mean, I should be sympathetic to this woman, right?  She has a scarred breast, and I too, will have a scarred (or absent) breast when my treatment has concluded.  At the same time, however, I cannot stand the fact that this woman has demanded enough money to compensate someone who has lost a limb and that she feels entitled to that compensation.  Other cultures in the world have an appreciation for the “shit happens” phenomena of life.  Only Americans seek out the next litigant instead.  Again, I struggle with whether I’m the best or worst person to be defending this case.

Awww . . . Fun’s Over

It’s all off.  Hair kept falling out of my hawk on the bus ride home.  It was time to shave it all off.  Martin was nice enough to bring his beard-trimmer over for Big Gay Dinner (our weekly Wednesday dinner), and Erin was nice enough to join us and to actually do the head-shaving while Martin documented my journey.  I have to say, I have lots more hair than I thought I did.  Here are some photos before, during, and after the final shaving in my condo:

 

http://flickr.com/photos/reinventmdh/2578775036/sizes/l/in/set-72157605609844900/

http://flickr.com/photos/reinventmdh/2577945097/sizes/l/in/set-72157605609844900/

http://flickr.com/photos/reinventmdh/2577949311/sizes/l/in/set-72157605609844900/

http://flickr.com/photos/reinventmdh/2577953031/sizes/l/in/set-72157605609844900/

http://flickr.com/photos/reinventmdh/2577956297/sizes/l/in/set-72157605609844900/

http://flickr.com/photos/reinventmdh/2578792794/sizes/l/in/set-72157605609844900/

http://flickr.com/photos/reinventmdh/2577963161/sizes/l/in/set-72157605609844900/

http://flickr.com/photos/reinventmdh/2577975717/sizes/l/in/set-72157605609844900/

http://flickr.com/photos/reinventmdh/2577998985/sizes/l/in/set-72157605609844900/

 

Having shaved many heads in her time, including her own, Erin complimented me on having a very symmetrical head, no bad divots or bumps, and no ugly birthmarks (just cute ones).  Thank God.  Love the bald.  Love the bald.

Hawking It Out

I came to work today with my mohawk.   It’s actually quite timely, because we had an all-attorney meeting at the Firm.  Our accountant, Germain, gave me a “Mr. T in Your Pocket” keychain a while back, and it has six of his famous sayings.  Check it here: http://www.stupid.com/fun/MRTP.html.  I carried it with me all day to communicate with my workmates.

 

Dennis is the HR partner in my firm and he actually first planted the seed in my head to “hawk it out” before my hair started to fall out – yes, Dennis is our HR partner.  He was extremely appreciative when he walked into the attorney meeting.  He was just ecstatic.  I mean, if you’re gonna lose your hair, might as well have fun with it while you can, right?  During the attorney meeting, if I had a comment for what was being said, I used the keychain only to respond.  As you can imagine, I used all of the sayings throughout the meeting, but my favorite was: “Quit your jibba jabba!”  Just too funny. 

 

John Zehnder, our managing partner, brought his young daughters into the office today and they appeared to be scared shitless of me and my ‘hawk.  The youngest one actually walked by me at one point pressed up against the opposite wall in the hallway.  Poor thing.  She was probably trying to figure out whether I was a man or a woman.

 

I don’t think this hawk will last very long.  It’s actually falling out pretty fast.  I had so much product in it to keep it up today, I was actually worried about sneezing during the attorney meeting and having the whole goddang thing fly off my head and impale one of the attorneys.  That actually would have been funny.  Wonder what that worker’s comp claim form would look like.

Homage to Mr. T

Mr. T was intriguing, but scary to me as a child.  Mr. T’s hairdo is still scary, even on my small, Asian head.  My hair started falling out at an exponential rate yesterday.  I realized it’s time to shave part of it off.  After chemo today, at Marshall’s suggestion, I decided to “Mr. T it up” for my last hairdo before I go bald.  To do it justice, I actually donned appropriate Mr. T gear – white wife beater, gold “chains,” feather earring, camo-print shorts, and high athletic socks.  The outfit is even more scary than Mr. T on my short, Asian body.  

                                   

Only photos can do this justice. 

Chemo Treatment # 2 : I Love the Food Network, but Not Everyone Does

Chemo:         A/C

Treatment:    #2 of 4 of A/C

Companion:    Chris Marshall

Time:            Noonish

 

God, I love the Food Network.  It’s good turn-off-the-brain, sometimes cathartic, sometimes just frightening TV entertainment.  With all the brouhaha of alleged nausea side effects of this Adriamycin crap I’m on, I’ve laughed it off by turning on the Food Network.

 

This is all more relevant when I tell you about today’s chemo treatment.  Today, I was placed in a room that I had to share with another chemo patient.  Marshall and I walk into the room where the other patient has already been started on her chemo.  She and her husband looked about our age, and they already had the Food Network on TV.  We watched the end of Molto Mario, one of the last “real gourmet” cooking shows on the Food Network.  As the next show starts up, Marshall and I softly squeal in glee as we realize that the show is all about one of my favorite foods in the world – tube meat.  Yep – good, old fashioned hot dogs.  Unfortunately, my chemo mate today was having a hard time with her chemo treatment.  She effectively started puking shortly after the tube meat special started.  Poor Marshall – it’s his first time accompanying me to chemo, we’re not in a private room so he’s a bit squished next to me, we’re watching bad programming on the Food Network, and the gal next to me is seriously puking.  He was a trooper, though.  Stuck by me the whole time and kept me in good spirits.

 

But I seriously felt bad for my chemo companion today.  The gal continued to have a terrible time with her chemo treatment, puking often and complaining of significant pain — lower back pain rated an 8.5 on a scale from 1-10 and sharp headache pain rated at 5.  The nurses ended up giving her Compazine for the nausea, which ultimately knocked her out.  They also had to slow her chemo down a lot, so she continued to be subjected to the tube meat special.  She and her husband had the remote control for the shared TV, and they may have overheard Marshall and me enjoying the tube meat special, so I suspect they didn’t change the channel as a courtesy to us.  At this point, the gal’s husband had drawn a curtain to shield his nauseated wife from our view, so Marshall and I refrained from verbally engaging them to tell them to turn off the TV if they wished.  It was a bit awkward in the room.

 

To make matters worse, the tube meat special became a string of tube meat specials.  Show after show, it became evident that the Food Network was doing a whole round of shows about hot dogs.  That poor woman.  Not only is she in excruciating pain, puking every time she wakes up from her Compazine haze, but she is subjected to more crap about hot dogs.  Perhaps that’s why she was puking every time she woke up.  I mean, hell, if you were given medication for pain and nausea that knocked you out, and every time you woke up you were hit with yet another hot dog preparation, wouldn’t you puke too?  And note that the TV, though “shared” in this room between us, is more on her side of the room than mine.  She wakes up and BANG – there’s more tube meat to stare at. 

 

It probably also didn’t help that I was just peachy keen while getting my chemo (par for the course so far – knock on wood!).  Giggly with Marshall the whole way, I was in and out of there in a much shorter time than her.  And unfortunately, when we left there was yet another tube meat special on TV.  God, I hope her husband turned that crap off.

 

Karla’s Going Away Party (My Fundraiser)

My fundraiser was an absolute success!  Thank you to everyone who helped, contributed, or just sent good vibes my way.  I believe we made a bit over $8K, which is just amazing.  A special shout-out to Lauren, Jackie, Kyle, Erin, Andrea, Marshall, Scott, Winda, Germain, Azur, Kristy, Laura, Stefan, Ray, and Jeanette.

Here are photos of the event (courtesy of Jeanette):

 http://flickr.com/photos/28443091@N03/sets/72157606079207323/