Tuesday, July 9, 2013

3am, The Blogging Witching Hour

Update: 3:30 AM. 
This chemo got me a little worse than the last, although it may have been the cupcakes. I don't usually pay much attention to what I mangia (eat!) before bed, especially with all the antiemetics, but that frosting may have been too rich. What a way to go though, right? When I say it got me a little I mean some vomiting, and a whole lot of nausea. I woke up with my new requisite night sweats, despite the A/C at 69 degrees, just one sheet, and the fan on. Don't worry, I put Jack in warm jammies when it's cold like this. On top of that, I'm doing that nauseous thing, the kind where you can't get it to go back down and you do the "oh shit," shuffle between sitting and lying down, between the bathroom and bed. You don't want to be sick, but you kinda do? In this case, getting sick does not feel better. Just FYI. In case you're ever here. 

Sometime in there Jack woke up and as Jim went to make him a bottle he screamed and screamed of course. Nothing is a worse feeling than your child being in pain or discomfort, no matter how mild; especially when you can't fix it. I might bring a box of rubber gloves up here, just to help in situations like this. I could rub his belly or even change him with the gloves with no real contact. 

Last week, Jim told me he's afraid he's being poisoned by the chemo. Both him and the baby. This naturally made me feel petrified that its true (the medical staff make it seem like it isn't, but are also pretty vague, they don't seem to know much.) But it also made me feel like an awful mother for it not occurring to me sooner. It was during a day he wasn't feeling well, teething, throwing up a lot. I kept thinking to myself well why didn't I think of that? And, lets get this kid to the emergency room stat and run bloodwork and every test known to man and figure it out!!!! NOW!! 

Ever have a parental moment like that? I'm guessing its actually pretty common. Phew. So after all of those feelings subsided I'm left with what I'm feeling now, which is fear and sadness, and more confusion than before. So, about the same feelings. Coupled with guilt when I think "it's just not worth it to expose him by hugging or picking him up right now." 

So, I'll update this blog through a sheet of tears on my eyes. The toxic kind. Dripping onto the sheets with no one to wipe them away because they could kill you. Or at least hurt your liver, right? Who knows. God damn Vincristine. Stupid fucking cancer. You know what this is? It's a thief in the night that comes and tries to take away the things that matter the most to you. It pushes you completely to the edge of the Grand Canyon, then mocks at you from the other side, hands on hips, defiant: "nah nee nah nee boo boo, you can't get me! And even if you do, you're going to live the rest of your life in fear that I will be coming back. Even if you have a good day, just one good day, I will be there for the bad ones that inevitably slip in. I will be the stuff of nightmares that keeps you awake and nags at the corners of your deepest subconscious. I'm the one who tells you you're nothing, no good, weakling. I know the power of the words "what if you can't?" I'm the one who says, don't make plans, they might not work out. And ha ha ha to those fond fantasies about your son: his first words, steps, foods, dropping him off at kindergarten, college, toasting on his wedding day. I'm the reason you're lying on the bathroom floor at 4 am, with your cheeks pressed to the tile, thanking heaven and earth for the blessed coolness on your skin. I'm the one who brings sores to your mouth, bubbling and cracking at the surface, mocking that summer tomato harvest because who on earth would eat that much acid with mouth sores like that. Or heartburn from the steroids you have to take to counteract my toxic effects. I'm the one who causes the searing belly pain that 5mg of Valium and a healthy dose of hydromorphone barely takes the edge off of, the constant feeling of vague seasickness no matter where you are, even on dry land. I took your hair, ha ha, how does it feel? I made you ugly. I taught you things about taking life for granted, thinking you were safe, young, healthy. And I'm bigger than you." 

But the thing is, you know cancer? You're not bigger than me. You're tiny and wimpy and useless. You're talking smack and half the shit you're trying to take credit for belongs to the chemo and Lord knows, I need and love that chemo. You're impotent and unintelligent. You try to act like you went to finishing school and got all classy, but really you're just trailer park trash! A wolf in sheep's clothing. You're spineless and spiteful and not at all very nice. I wouldn't share a cupcake with you, even if I had a dozen or more. And I always share cupcakes. I wouldn't share anything with you, including the delusion that anything you try to make me believe about not beating this is true. Not today, not tomorrow, and not 30 years from now when I'm toasting Jack and his beautiful bride. Or groom. Whichever he wants. (Please, no cyborgs.)

That's all for tonight folks. I'm going to have a romantic moment with a bottle of tums, maybe a homeopathic sleep aid (sidebar, calms forte, really works, lets talk homeopathy another day mmmkay?.)  Then, hopefully sleep. Sleep well or have a great day, depending on which side of the globe you're on when you read this. And if you can spare the time, tell me which side. I am so curious about my readers. Anybody out there??



  1. I really love you Kat.. and admire your strength! XoXo

  2. Kat I'm here from Niagara falls, but u knew that. I always marvel at ur words, thoughts and overall good spirits. I love u so much but I don't think those words really describe how much. So to that I say, Fuck u cancer get out of my friend and leave her alone forever I hate u.

  3. Im here Kat. Like Laura I marvel at your words. Like Rachel I admire your strength. I learn with every blog and fb post just how awesome and beautiful you are. I can only hope that if i was faced with cancer that I would have a fraction of your outlook and positivity and strength. Id probably curl up in a ball and not come out again though. Im humbled that you are able to share yourself with us like you do. Now that my darling, would never happen with me. Stay strong woman keep kicking cancers ass. You have lots of cheerleaders out here! Gwen

  4. Your words and your witness to your fight against cancer are helping and will help many people into the future. This is great what you are doing. I hope it's over soon for you guys.

  5. I'm here and thinking about you, wishing you the best.

  6. Kat, I am honored that you have chosen to share with us, your weakest moments and your deepest fears. We are all on this journey with you, well as much as can be in our own way, our hearts hurt when you hurt. The moments when you feel most alone know that we are here with you. We human beings feel everything, when you shed tears know that our tears are shedding with you. Suffering is in this world so that people can really see each other with the compassion they offer others. We may not have know each other well at all, but that does not matter to a heart crying out to be absolved, for its suffering to be over. God Bless you Kat, stay strong!

  7. Kat, This post is heart-wrenching and beautiful. It made me tear up thinking about all that cancer has stolen from me (there's a lot of cancer in my family) and thinking about if I was in your shoes since our lives somewhat mirror each other's, being young mothers with sons the same age. There are no words to make it better, but there are lots of supporters out here in cyber space cheering you on. Stay strong, sweet girl.

  8. Kat, I worked with your Father-In-Law and Sister-In-Law in Buffalo. I was made aware of your story via your Mother-In-law and I have been following your saga ever since. I am sorry I didn't comment earlier (I feel like a bit of a stalker now), but I do want you to know that the words you so bravely share impact me like nothing ever has. This post here is one of those moments when you can almost see right into your soul and feel your pain and frustration and it amazes me that in the end the resilience and strength you have somehow overshadows all that and all a persons sees is a strong, determined woman, wife, mother who is going to kick cancer's ass. Buried somewhere in there you used the term "made me ugly". And I just want to say, lady you are so far from ugly it's ridiculous! To be able to do what you're doing, fight this fight like some kind of warrior and still have the fortitude to reach out to your baby and worry more for him than yourself makes you the most beautiful person I know. So you just keep on keeping on and in the end, when you've finished with the ass kicking, you can look back and laugh at that fucking cancer!

    A faithful follower,