Deep thoughts

Obviously, things are getting bad when friends and loved ones intermittently burst into tears while talking to you at random times.  The fact that I end up consoling THEM is also pretty ironic, but after thinking about it, it's really not.  Because one thing I've learned during my time on Earth is that it's way easier to leave than to be left.

I am really getting off easy here, if I do die in the 6 to 12 months that some sources have laid out for me.  Don't get me wrong- I hope they are incorrect, but if you had to choose your own death, what would it be?  Dying young certainly has it's advantages.  If I die of old age, given my habits, family history and body habitus, it would certainly be of things like diabetes, a stroke, heart disease.. something insidious and slowly painful.  I'll lose my youthful glow, my friends, my family.  I'll end up in a nursing home, alone, since I have no husband or kids.  There will be birthday parties where nobody comes.  Thoughts like that terrify me.  Here's the saddest picture I have ever seen:

I know, right?

So I have been given a several months heads-up that I might be a goner from stage 4 cancer... but I feel pretty good right now, I am surrounded by friends and loved ones, and for the first time in ages, every single member of my immediate family is in regular contact with me.  I don't think that I have been this happy since my early 20's, when I was gallavanting around the world.  (And probably contracting melanoma).  Is there a better way to go?  I can't think of one...

But after the third (usually stoic) friend ran off from me in choking tears the other day, it was then I realized- from now on, my life is really not totally my own anymore.  I need to be there for other people, making sure they get from me what they need.  Whether it's an apology for not being a good friend in the past, or spending time with someone so they have some more good memories of me, or just letting people help me, which is hard for me... I may be gone soon, but you guys will still be here with what you remember of me, and I want to make sure it's positive.

So you will continue to see more of me at social events, and yes I will call you back if you leave a voicemail, and yes I want to have lunch with you.  And yes yes yes a thousand times yes I am going to continue to fight this thing- my new round of chemo starts next Monday.  And you will hear about me making movies and TV shows and anything else that allows me to leave even the tiniest shred of evidence that I've been in this world.  And I want to write and blog and sort through old photos and make up with people and do everything to make things right... just in case.

I hope to see you all soon.  xxx

WOW

The responses of love and support have been almost overwhelming.... thanks to you all.

I have so much to say, and don't know how to begin to even say it.  Sister Leontine, my 5th Grade teacher at St. Teresa School, told me that I'd be a famous writer... so, I'll say that I will fulfull her promise that I will deliver some poignant prose before I die.  I just gotta think on it before then.

Obviously, she was a great teacher.

Here We Go Again

A few weeks ago, I made the decision to go on a spur of the moment road trip with my good friend Kelly Love.  I was still riding the wave of fun following my Kicking Metastatic Cancer's Ass Party, which was on September 10 and was a huge success.  Since I've recently retired from my job, I had the time off and a wonderful and willing traveling companion.  Why not?  So, I pushed the appointment for my follow-up scans back a couple of weeks, packed up Daisy, and hit the road.

On the way UP the East Coast, I stopped at Kelly's house in Lynchburg, VA where I spent several days relaxing during crisp Virginia fall days in their 100  charming year old house.  Next stop was Michele's house in Maryland, where we caught up 25 years in about 25 hours - she just started a yarn dyeing business and has a very active and witty redheaded 9yo son who sold me some drawings and a potholder.  From the quiet MD suburbs, I then drove North to NYC and all it's glory.  My friend Andrew just started grad school at NYU and we reconnected over flaming 151 creme brulees, piano lessons, and Dunkin Munchkins in a bustling park, before retiring to his Brooklyn apartment.  Each stop seemed to make me miss the person I was seeing again even more.  Next visit was Cathi in Long Island.  We've known each other since PA School, and she is now a stay at home mom to 3 gorgeous kids and a McMansion, with the McMortgage paid by Jeff who obviously is doing very well.  I know so many incredibly generous people who opened their homes to me, some at very short notice.  Finally, I arrived in RI at Bruce's house, and Kelly took the train up and met me there.  The 3 of us had a crazy night wandering around the Jaguar shop where he works, looking at cars worth more than my house, catching up, telling stories, reminiscing.  Kelly and I had a wonderful day wandering around Newport the next day, exploring the Cliff Walks and finding the diviest bar on Thames Street.  Went to my cousin Ellen's wedding, which was very fun and hopefully was not ruined by my display of boobies in the photo booth.  Spent time with my family based out of Sharon's house, lunched on Federal Hill, and had a bunch of friends over the night before we left.  The time went by so quickly and there were so many people I wanted to see more of- in fact, Xian even opened her mom's house to us near Atlantic City, NJ, and met us there, for a night that her mom declared "The Best Wednesday Ever".  Toured a vineyard and ate some local seafood the next day, and continued the fun down to Baltimore where we had a cool night in the Inner Harbor.  After a final stop in Lynchburg, I said adieu to Kelly and came home to a very lonely Lowell, who was very happy to see me.  I'd missed him, too.

My scans were a few days ago, and my follow up appointment was today.  The news was not good.  I've been having some fatigue and pain in the area of the surgery, around my right clavicle.  It turns out that there is another larger tumor there, about the size of a lemon.  Additionally, there are multiple tumors in both of my lungs.  All of these lesions are inoperable.  Chemo is my only option at this point. Dr Sosman went over several options with us today, and my best bet seems to be an experimental drug which is in clinical trials now.  As I have Stage 4 melanoma, the prognosis is poor, but this treatment may extend my life several months, or maybe even cure it.  Without treatment, I am probably looking at less than a year to live.  With treatment.... I'll just be optimistic and say "Who knows?".  But realistically, I am getting my end of life decisions in order while still taking off the gloves for the fight of my life.  I don't FEEL sick.  I'm keeping my chin up and staying positive.  I will find out later this week when the chemo will start, and I'll keep you updated as details unfurl.

Since I've been back,  I've been working part time as an extra on the set of the ABC series "Nashville" which premieres tomorrow.  It's fun and easy, and it's at least a little extra $, at least until my disability rolls in- Dr Sosman reassured me today that he will help make sure it is approved.  Lowell has been supportive and strong as always, and my family and friends have also been reaching out to me with love and support.  I'm still going to Gilda's Club for Group Therapy and love from fellow cancer fighters.  Thanks to you all.  I love you guys so much.  I don't plan on leaving anytime soon!

       (Big Thanks to actor Robert Wisdom, who let me keep his director's chair warm on set!)

Post-Radiation Blues (or, Reds)

To catch you all up on my cancer treatment:  The good news was- I did not have to have another round of chemo.  The bad news?  I had radiation instead.  For those of you who have not experienced this type of therapy, (and I do hope you never will!), I'll give you a primer:

For one month, or 5 times a week for 4 weeks, I went to the hospital before my work day and laid down in a fancy xray machine for about 10-15 minutes, while a red beam of light aimed at my right shoulder and the machine grunted and squealed.  No pain, but what made it difficult was the way they                     made sure I didn't budge while I was being zapped:

No, I am not fencing... I am being restrained down by a plastic mesh mold that is bolted to the xray table, BEFORE I am rolled into the tunnel.  Did I mention that I am claustrophobic?  (Ever since my brother trapped me in a toybox/coffin at my cousins' house when I was about 8, for what seemed like a 1/2 a day, but was more likely 5 minutes).  The squared-off area is where the radiation beams were fired, and even though it's been done for over a week, I have a second degree burn to the area, front and back.  But hey, if if prevents the cancer from growing back, then it was worth it.  Best of all, after the last treatment, the friendly RT that I'd bonded with, Lacey, let me keep the mold.  And of course I had to take her on a little adventure... I seatbelted her into Daisy, we had coffee at Fido, and then we rode the HOV lane together to work.  I plan to make a topiary out of her one day soon- she'll cheer up the garden in my backyard.

                                                           See the family resemblance?  (And the 1/2 neck burn?)


For now, I have some other serious issues going on which I can't really go into detail here - but just keep me in your prayers... and it's a watch and wait situation with the cancer.  I have a PET Scan on September 19, so see if the little spots in my lungs have blossomed, or, hopefully, vanished.  I'm having a KICKING METASTATIC CANCER'S ASS Party on September 10, and if you're reading this, you are invited.  I have 2 or 3 bands and a DJ playing.  MY old friends, the band Starlings, TN, are coming in from Austin for the event.  Yay!  Work is going ok and my boss has been understanding.  I'm going to cancer group therapy at Gilda's Club, and have met a group of amazingly strong women who I am proud to call my friends.

I'm dealing with this as best as I can, and I thank all of you for your love and support.

I've been avoiding the harsh reality of my medical condition for several weeks now, and it was brought to my attention yesterday afternoon as I was eating my lunch and perusing a local medical newspaper.  An article about melanoma mentioned a new drug (one that I unfortunately do not have the genetic makeup to benefit from) - and how it was increasing the life span of patients with metastatic melanoma.  According to this article, the current prognosis of patients with metastatic melanoma is between 6-10 months.

6 to 10 months.

I have not slept a wink all night.

If this is correct, and yes, it seems to be true... what do I do?

I am healing up ok, back to work for a week now, still in pain and have a post-op infection, but every day is a little better.  I see my oncologist in 4 days, and these are certainly questions for him... but he is not really good at giving me a straight answer.

If I truly have less than a year to live, do I continue working?  Or do I cash in my 401K, file for disability, and travel the world while I still can?  Is this really happening to me?  I feel like I should be writing my life story right about now.  What am I leaving behind, besides some stories of a few cool parties and some sad friend and family members?  I've got no kids, minimal savings, no major accomplishments, no Wikipedia page, and all kinds of loose ends.  I don't have a will, and don't even really have any shit to PUT in a will!  I have enough life insurance to not burden anyone with my funeral, but... my life is going to be more significant than this, right?

RIGHT?

My good news of this weekend is that Friday morning, there was a person sleeping on my patio when I woke up to go to work.  It was my brother, who I had not seen in almost 3 years.  From 1500 miles away, he came out of the woodwork to make peace with me.  At least if I go soon, it will be without the pain of never seeing my brother again.  It's Father's Day today, and I can feel Dad smiling down from Heaven and happy about this.  As a family, we have some more forgiving to do with each other, but maybe if I do go this year, I will at least have helped to bring the Colbys back together.  We're a crazy bunch, but we're good people.

So, Gentle Readers, I ask you... if given a year to live (even if I am wrong, and I do hope I am)... what would YOU do?  I need advice.

Post-Op

My surgery was two days ago, and although I am feeling a bit better than when I arrived home, I still am incredibly achy all over.  I must have bitten my tongue while intubated, because the tip is numb.  I really hope that this is a temporary nuisance - though it would definitely cause some weight loss in the long run because eating anything except popsicles is almost impossible!

The incision is not nearly as ugly as I expected.  It is at the base of my neck, from the area below the chin to just behind my right ear.  Should heal up nicely, and I have some time to come up with a bitchin' story about a knife fight or a shark attack.  I do, however, have this crazy looking drain stuck into my shoulder that dangles 2 or 3 feet down and has attached to it what appears to be a hand grenade full of scary, dark brown liquid.  I have to empty it twice a day, and it's leaky.  I'm going through about 5 T-shirt changes a day.  Since this will be in until I see the surgeon again in 10 days, I am wondering how I am going to hide this at work.  As much as Lo loves me, he draws the line at messing with it.  I don't blame him!  I guess I'll just bring lots of extra sets of dark colored scrubs, and hope for the best.  I have 5 more days off, anyways.  I just can't afford to take off more time.

My friends and family have been amazingly supportive, for the most part.  You definitely find out who your real friends are in situations like this.  My mom arrives in a few days, and I can't wait to see her.  Some other people just don't know how to react to bad news, I guess.  The ones who owe me money are the most ... disturbing.  I have never needed it more, and I shouldn't have to ask for it more than twice.   But I'm staying positive and focusing on the good in people.  And holy crap, do I know a lot of good people.

My dreams are crazy, and are probably being fueled by pain meds and lots of sleep.  Last night I dreamt that my car hit a ramp and I ended up on the top of a water tower - and then it toppled over the edge.   Lo and I just stood there, looking down at my car, flat as a pancake.  The rental place would not give me a car, because I had been in one too many wrecks.  Gary showed up in a Roseanne Barr costume and let me borrow the car he had just rented.  I know!  WTH?  Don't you love how dreams make perfect sense while they are going on?

Well, I'm off to read the People Magazine that lovely Brenda brought me last night, change my shirt, and have another popsicle.  Not much more to Blob about today, but I will continue to keep you posted.  I am again so grateful for the wonderful people in my life.  I am staying strong for you. :)

Update

So I got good and bad news today.

My PET scan showed the angry lymph node, of course.  It also showed two suspicious spots in one of my lungs.  These things are too small to "do anything about" right now, so we are just gonna have to watch them and wait.  The good news is that I am otherwise cancer-free.

I am also in for a much larger surgery than I suspected.  Not only is the lump getting 86'd, but pretty much ALL of the lymph nodes in the right half of my neck are being shown the door.  I'll have a pretty big scar on the side of my neck, but nothing that a bitchin' neck tat won't take care of.  I saw a chick at the DMV last year who had "SEXY HO" and a rose tatted on her neck.  She is my inspiration.  (Oh, if only my mom read my Blob.  My phone would be blowing up right now).  :)

So, that means about 10 days out of work, according to Dr Hooks, the oncological surgeon.  I figure I'll take half that.  I'm tough, and I can't afford to be out that long.  I'll have a surgical drain poking out, but I can wear a turtleneck in June.  Or a dickie.  Or an ascot.

(I am actually pretty scared but trying to stay upbeat.  Dr S said to take as much time as I need.  Thanks for all your prayers... and let's focus on the good news that I am not totally cancer-addled, and taking this lump out is not merely polishing the brass on the Titanic).

Thanks for listening, and I promise to update you all here more often.

Love,

KC