I am late, so very very late
So sorry to be so late

Truth be told, the therapy sessions are as interesting as ever but have evolved into very personal disclosures.  The group has also dwindled to three people, the two ladies who read this blog and me. The tone of the conversation has changed quite a bit. Much calmer, and, as I said, much more personal. We have engaged Our moderator a lot more in the conversations, finding out about his past and how he got involved in Art Therapy. A bit about his childhood, and his current life. But nothing too deep or involved – yet.

I have not take notes, not that the current participants would have minded. The intimacy of the conversations would have made the notes useless anyways.

The paintings have been more of a free for all as opposed to anything specific.

Session 5:

Claustrophobia

Claustrophobia

All our negative feelings and emotions cram themselves into our bodies and minds creating a feeling of claustrophobia.  This is hopefully broken up by the better feelings that creep in gradually into our system. The negatives are far more powerful. The better feelings being of a meeker nature tend to hang around the periphery doing their job in a much more sedate way.The red and dark blue on top are the bad feelings, anxiety, despair, anger, depression, loneliness, exhaustion, self-pity, and any others you can think of. You cannot read them on the picture just because they are hard to read on the painting itself.

The painting did not come out as I had hoped. I may try my hand at a second version sometime.

Session 6:

Blood Cell Factory

Blood Cell Factory

This drawing was prompted by two events. The first is the effects of my low white blood cell count. The second was my doodling one night while talking with Leslie.  She thinks doodling is fun and should be done more often. So This is basically a giant doodle.

The sometimes heart shaped drops represent the dwindling white blood cell count. The factory is balanced precariously and is having difficulty creating enough white blood cells. There is little significance to the various shapes and objects. I was doodling after all. The participants thought the balancing act was interesting, as is the fact that all objects are tied to one another in some way. The double hoops created a bit of conversation. I put them there because I got bored of all the straight lines. They proved difficult to work with though. Where do you go from there? The image is slanted to the right, a sign of looking to the future?

One og the participants drew a circle – again! Much as I keep playing with words, she keeps playing with circles. A target perhaps? Life going in circles? She is a very positive person and is dealing with her life admirably well. At least from the perspective of a person who gets to spend two hours a week with her. She also drew a second piece. A fairy. A fairy princess maybe? The fairy was resting, dainty wings tucked to one side. Her face was very calm. The image was very resting, strangely positive. I hope to ba able to take a picture of it at some point. She may not be at the last session this week. She might go traveling somewhere. Just to have abreak.

The last painting dealt with the confusion in our lives, the swirls that we go through hoping to break though the wall that surrounds and contains the maze in a more straightforward path looking to the future. Cannot say much more about it than that.

I am perpetually amazed by the articulate nature of what people draw or paint.

We talked about a lot of stuff. How cold it will feel once my head is shaved. I have not done it yet. I have SO much hair, that few can tell I am losing any of it. I got a gift of a beautiful silk scarf from one of the ladies. I am so touched. We talked about chemo, and its effect on the brain and the body. The amazing doctors and nurses we deal with. How strong we have to be. What a strain it is on those around us. How life is worth living. How we grew up. What affected us. And so much more. The conversation was easy. All that was missing was tea and crumpets.

This week is out last session. We intend to have some sort of pot luck. I will take in some Iranian nuts and stuff. Pistachios, mulberries, and mixes. Should be fun.

Thank you for being there.

This has probably been the most difficult week since my operation. And that is saying plenty. Remember the wagging fingers letting me know in no uncertain terms that I had a major operation. Time heals all, and memories fade, specially memories of things that are hard to comprehend or come to terms with.

The first few months have crated all sorts of emotions, most of which you are all terribly familiar with by now. The constant expectation to wake up in the morning and find that this was a dream, a case of parallel universes, sliding doors, is always there. The thought that this was a wonderful joke, we all laughed, can we get back to reality now? is pervasive.

Life goes on.

This week was focused on getting my white blood cell counts up. I still have no idea, nor can anyone tell me, why your white blood cell count fluctuates so amazingly. From .8 to 6.7 back to .8.  The Neulasta shot was supposed to make ne feel like a new man. Not so fast. A new man I am not. I sleep every afternoon for a couple of hours in order to stay up at night and spend some time with Janet. I still end up going to bed around 9PM.

We attribute the exhaustion to the low white blood cell count. This conversation has really dominated the week.

I had lunch with my friend Yama yesterday. We met in a food court in the business district. I walked from Janet;s building where we get to park the car for free, to the business district. All underground. Much warmer that way. Temperatures in Toronto are now showing tendencies toward winter. Minus 5 to 10 Celsius. With the wind bearing down on you, it gets much colder. So underground it is. Hard to imagine what it is like if you live in a warm climate.  But there major paths built underground that allow you to go from one place to another without seeing the light of day. Welcome to the cold white north.

The walk was interesting. I don’t go out much where I am not in control of my surroundings. I go to the market mostly during the week when there are fewer people around. Less chance of having someone sneeze on me. Everything we do is geared to minimizing exposure. Here I am walking through the underground at lunch hour. Painfully aware of the multitudes running helter-skelter from one place to another. Some in an awful hurry, hardly paying attention to the people around them. I found myself walking along the walls, stopping often to let some yahoo breeze past me. It was just a bit scary. Not a lot scary, just a bit, as you come to realize how incredibly exposed you are.

Lisa Merdjanian was always complaining about taking the subway and putting up with the wheezing and sneezing multitudes. I am sure she is still complaining, except I am not there to listen. I suddenly found myself in the same predicament, looking out for people showing the slightest inclination to sneezing, or coughing.

The lunch was fun. Good to be out and talking about almost anything but what I am going through. I had to make a concerted effort to not talk about my chronic condition. Steer the conversation away. Talk about something else. Technology is good. I am trying to keep up with the trends, which are nothing short of amazing. Life is also good. I talked about our new fridge and dishwasher. Not very exciting, but it is cool. Trying to get back to some sense of normal. There is always the soft voice to remind yo of reality, but never mind that. Keep talking. Make jokes. Whine about things. All good normal conversations.

The walk home was more perilous. There were fewer people out, but I was very tired. Walked with one hand grazing the wall as a point of reference.  Still managed to go to the market and buy some fruits. We are out of bananas and that just won’t do. I buy fair trade bananas at the market which taste really good. Some pomegranates, pears, apples, blueberries.  The usual.

Small things that make a difference. You have all read about my bag coming off in my sleep. It happened again a couple of weeks ago when my hand got caught in there somewhere. I heard it snap off. It took a very short time in my sleepy haze to realize what had just happened. What a mess. Janet woke up and we changed the sheets. How do you keep that bag on? Some genius suggested  we look into this spandex girdle thing that pregnant wear over their pants. Turns out a lot of pregnant women keep wearing their regular clothes, except they can no longer do up their pants. Someone has come up with this spandex thing that looks like a tube top that women wear over their pants. It covers thar pants all the way up their bellies. Simple. We bought one, and Fetneh just sent me one which came today in the mail.

Instant relief is what this is. It covers the bag completely. No way for the bag to come off. I wear one every time I get into bed. It might also help solve some other issues. More on that in the future.

Some of our close friends are coming for dinner tonight. They are bringing dinner with them from Riz, a Pan Asian Cuisine restaurant. This takes a whole amount of pressure off Janet and Devin. All we have to do is vacuum the house and neat it up. I have to take a nap to make sure I have the energy to survive a major part of the evening.

Tomorrow is another day.

Ran my fingers through my hair this evening. It is all coming out.

Anyone want to have a head shaving party?

I have been preparing myself for this event. Though really and truly, nothing quite prepares you for the sight of seeing your hair coming out in huge amounts. No clumps yet, just large amounts of it coming out in my hands.

We are so vain, are we not? This is not a big issue. I will go see my hairdresser on Friday and have the whole thing shaved off I could this at home, but I would have to clean up the mess.

I had originally thought I would have a party of sorts. I just do not have the energy to organise it.

Just call me baldy.

Reserved Tenant #12
Reserved Tenant #12

Date: 2009

Location: Toronto

Story: Reserved for tenant #12

The Oncologist

We received an eMail from  our Oncologist”s assistant, Shahnaz, that we should come in ad see Dr. Hedley on Wednesday, the day before our chemo. He needs to see the blood results and discuss us taking Neulasta, a drug designed to boost the white blood cell count. It appears to be standard release in the breast cancer clinics. That is as long as you can afford the $2,800 per month price tag. This drug is not covered by our delightful universal health care system. The cost is covered by Janet’s rivate health care plan courtesy of Ogilvy & Mather.

I did the required blood work on Wednesday morning. Went to the Art Therapy session, home for a bite, the to see the ever delightful Dr. Hedley. Have I mentioned how incredibly kind and gentle this man is? Well, that has not changed from our last visit. We discussed the benefits of Neulasta, and the inevitable side effects. My chemo starts on Thursday, I get disconnected from the baby bottle on Saturday. Neulasta is set for Monday. Would I care to self-administer? Think not! I will let Shahnaz do the honours.

The CEA blood results were positive in that the numbers are declining. Dr. Hedley did not make a fuss about them. I think we need a couple more counts to determine the trend. Two counts create an indicator. Four will start creating a trend of sorts.

My white blood cell count is low. We went from 0.8, to 3.9, back to 0.8, up to 6.7, down to 0.8. The last count from Wednesday morning showed a dramatic nothingness. Up to 0.9. Neulasta it is then. The good doctor says we cannot afford to iss these weeks.

I cannot pretend I understand what these number represent. All I know is that my chart has little asterisks whenever a number is too high or too low. I cannot understand why a number would  drop from 6.7 to 0.8 in one week. and no one appears to have an explanation. There appears o be lot of, this is just the way it is. I am as accepting as the next guy, but it would be nice to know.

I have been told to rest a lot. But that has not helped. I wrote an entry a while ago about the voice as a barometer. That has not changed My voice fluctuates with the state of my health. It is almost a whisper at the moment and has been for over a week. It made a comeback after the visit with Dr. Hedley which shows that the voice is affected by physical and psychological impulses. It went back to a whisper on Thursday in honour of chemo day.

Chemo Day

I was delighted that my appointment was for 8:30 in the morning. A couple of hours on the chair, home, hopefully before noon, great way to start the day. Better home around noon that at 7PM.

What a disaster. we got there at 8:30 and had to wait for them to get in touch with Dr. Hedley to make sure we could go ahead with he treatments. His office had not updated the files. They are all so over worked, it is not funny. We had waited an hour when Janet went to investigate. She located Shahnaz who works in the breast clinic on Thursdays. The clinic is located right next door to the Chemo Daycare. This was a no brainer. Shahnaz call it in.

My drugs had not been prepared, since they were not expecting me to get treated. We waited another half hour and I went in to investigate. They explained that they are waiting for the pharmacy but do not have a set time. I was pretty wasted by 10:30 and went to investigate again. The people at the front desk gave me a very hard time. Interrupting me. asking me why I was asking so often. They decided to have the nurses all me in to get rid of me. I refused to go and sit in the chair inside. What is the difference between waiting outside or inside if they do not know how long the wait is?

They gave me a pager and Janet and I decided to get get a bite. I had a chicken salad sandwich on brown with all the trimmings. That and a bottle of water, and I was back in shape. The pager went off almost as soon as I had finished my scrumptious meal.

We wnet in as instructed and made our way to our station. A very young nurse, as it turn out 23 years old would look after us. She said later that she thought I would be trouble. The best thing that happened is that one of the nurses with whom I get along particularly well came by and we joked around for a while. That helped ease any notions that I would be trouble.

This is a great department. Once you go through the doors to the clinic itself. The staff at the front desk have issues. They are in the wrong job. We appear to be in their way, and they are rarely prepared to help out.

We were finally out of there by 1:30. Ridiculous I say. Had a bite to eat, and straight to bed for a couple of hours of sleep.

The nurses in the Daycare do a lot of cross checking before giving you drugs. They check your tag, cross referencing your hospital number, last and first names, and finally ask your date of birth. The do this every time they connect you to a drug. They had misplaced my 5FU drug. This is the one in the baby bottle that I get to take home with me. They found it, but all the cross referencing prevents them from giving it to the wrong person.

Not much more to say about this. Looking forward to the Neulasta. Could use the energy boost.

Thank you for reading.

We become cancer patients and are told that it is now all about us. I suspect that all chronic disease patients are told the same thing. It is a way to make us feel less guilty about our condition. We are an instant burden to those around us. And Lord knows there is a lot [...]

Monday, Nov 23 Had an appointment to see the surgeon, Dr. Erin Kennedy. She was ecstatic. Have never seen her so amazingly cheerful. You look great she says. Have you seen your CT Scan report? Yes, we say, met with Dr. Hedley. Don’t pay any attention to it, she says. The increased size of the [...]

Three Cats

We have three cats in our house. You should probably skip this post if you are allergic to cats. Our cats have all been trained to come when you whistle. All we have to do is stand on the front porch at night and whistle, and they come running. If they feel like it. For [...]

Art Therapy: Session 4

This is a turning point in the Art Therapy blog posting. I was expecting this to happen. The only unfortunate part is that the objections have come form people who have not read the blog. The sessions are a safe place where people are encouraged to speak their mind. Someone taking notes might appear intrusive. [...]

My friend Mehran wished me luck before my operation. The usual thinking of you, praying for you, sentiments. He also requested that I do something about hospital gowns. You know what I am talking about, those things we have to wear that are backwards. Your front is covered, but your tush is exposed for all [...]

© 2010 I Have Cancer Suffusion theme by Sayontan Sinha