Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Port-a-cath... barf

I met with the surgeon today to discuss chemo. He wants to get started right away because there is still a bit of fluid buildup in my abdomen which is apparently worrisome. I still don't understand the connection between the fluid buildup and cancer. Dr. Barnes, the surgeon, started in on explaining two different types of chemo. Of course the first sounded awful. I would have to come in every few days and would be sick as a dog. The second would be a six round deal with me coming in every 3 weeks. Luckily the plan is to start with the second option and if that doesn't seem to work, move on to the other. I'll meet my oncologist, Dr. Gore, at the end of this week or next week. I'll have to wait to hear back about that appointment. Bad news? For the third time, "you will lose your hair." Nausea and vomiting. Being super tired. Dr. Barnes' nurse seemed sure I wouldn't be capable of handling my beloved job waiting tables (I say beloved with both sarcasm and sincerity) for about 6 months and that I should get a desk job if any job at all. The news that really disturbed me was that I would have to come in next week to get a port-a-cath. I'm not sure where to begin or how to explain this beast so I'll just post this link:
Oh just a "small medical appliance that is installed beneath the skin." Now I really feel nauseous.

No hair. Getting too skinny. Tummy swollen and scarred. Exhausted. And some creepy medical device in my chest. I don't see myself getting laid anytime in the near future. I guess it would be nice to have a boyfriend who was obligated to fuck me. Maybe in the future I should work on being better at relationships.

On the emotional front, I think I'm doing ok. I've been worried about getting super depressed but I'm trying to have a I-just-have-to-deal-with-this attitude. With no work and no school to keep me busy, boredom is becoming an issue. I feel that I could be doing something to improve my mind but have thus far been too lazy.

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