I, for one, welcome our new cyborg overlords.

Getting a port put in today. I fought this for what, 3 years? Sick of getting poked and nurses not being able to find my veins easily anymore, but I had fought this until recently. I think something changed when I was in the hospital last month with pneumonia. I just feel defeated a bit, broken down. Tired of mentally fighting to pretend things could go back to normal, that this was all just a phase. Something about staring at those ceiling tiles, again and again, just broke down my resistance, until the thought of just not being stuck (or missed, as the case more often is) constantly got to be too much.

Oh well — on the bright side, I foresee a LOT of natural painkilling methods tonight followed by a sick UFC card on Saturday, so screw it, bring on the cyborg Rich.

Chemo-educated.

Had my chemotherapy “class” this morning with the head of nursing at the cancer clinic I’ll be doing my chemotherapy at.  He was nice and calming, and walked me through what to expect, side effects, what to do in certain scenarios, etc.  I should probably go pick my pharmacy’s worth of drugs today, although I’ll admit I’m a bit freaked out by the concept.  If frigging Anthem BCBS hadn’t broken with Walgreens at least I could have gone to a drive thru, but now I have to stand in line with a compromised immune system with a ton of sick, nosy people while I pick up like 10 prescriptions.  Which being King Soopers will be handled with the delicacy, privacy and professionalism I would expect if I were having my scripts filled at Grease Monkey.

Sigh.

On the bright side, although my chemotherapy will be a weekly thing, (1) I only have to do it at Rose once a month (for an IV infusion that lasts 20 minutes and a visit with the local oncologist) and can do the other 3 weeks at Sky Ridge (about 1.5 hours closer to my house/office, round-trip), and (2) I was told on a scale of 1-10 with 1 being a stubbed toe and 10 being death my regimen should be about a 1.25.  It’s basically a ton of pills I take on my own, a shot in the stomach once a week at one of their locations, and then this IV drip business.  So hopefully that wasn’t just wishful thinking that it will go easy — what this is going to be like has been adding a whole new fun layer on top of the already full cup o’ “fuck, I have to do chemotherapy” anxiety I was already dealing with.

We even chatted about medical marijuana and hemp oil this morning, although after reading a local story on Facebook today about a Colorado family with a child in a fight with Child Protective Services due to the parent’s MMJ cards I’m just closing that avenue of treatment down for now.  I’d rather, well, die of cancer, quite honestly, than put my daughter in jeopardy.  So score one for the ignorati.

Mentally and emotionally I’ve been doing alright this week, at least for the most part.  I think most of that has been accomplished simply by trying not to think about it too much.  I had a long talk with my Aunt after the class this morning and she seemed to think I sounded good, and positive.  I don’t really feel that way, just resigned to move forward.  I’ve learned about as much as I can, I’ve stacked all the odds I can affect in my favor, and I’m now on the only road visible.

Doesn’t mean I’m psyched to be on it, though, nor do I think it takes much courage.  I’ve been given a choice, effectively, of giving up and my daughter never knowing who I was or trying to be around for her — it doesn’t take courage to make the right decision there, just love.

Eight days.

Met with the local oncologist today and it went well, all things considered.  I mean I still have cancer and it wasn’t all some elaborate hoax, but the meeting went well =/  We chose the CyBorD treatment option, which is apparently a ridiculous amount of pills once a week as well as a Velcade shot, a monthly IV infusion of zoledronic acid for bone strength and “survival advantage,” and 1000 units of Vitamin D and 1 to 1.5g calcium daily.  On top of that I have two strengths of anti-nausea medications and an anti-Shingles drug (at high risk due to the chemo treatment, apparently).

So I start in 8 days, next Friday.  I guess I just take all of the 3 chemo drugs in one day, not sure on the rest yet.  I have a “class” to attend early next week to go over my chemotherapy, side effects, etc.

“Joygasm.”

I feel remarkably calm about all of this.  If I were to guess I’d attribute that partially to shock, resignation, denial, the surreal nature of this all, etc.  I was sitting at the schedulers desk setting all of this up today and I said to her how odd it felt to be scheduling chemotherapy, and it’s true — seriously what a bizarre feeling.  I would imagine next week will be an emotional roller-coaster as well as CHEMOTHERAPY DAY looms, but while just next week it feels like a lifetime away.  I guess that’s the problem with having cancer with no symptoms — none of this is real to me right now.

Been researching hemp- and cannabinoid-based treatments for cancer in the last few days.  Obviously there’s very little research out there but a lot of anecdotal evidence that there’s a lot of potential.  I had been hoping, living in one of the most liberal medical marijuana states, that this would be an easy avenue to pursue.  Unfortunately in the last week it turns out the MMJ database maintained by the state is apparently being shared with law enforcement, and with a toddler at home I have no desire to have my name on any lists connected with a Schedule I narcotic.  It’s fucking shameful that this is the case.  You can’t throw the proverbial rock at the Internet without getting 1,000,000 hits of real stories about people who have had success combating all sorts of terminal diseases (including cancer) and critical conditions with marijuana-based therapies like hemp oil.

But as long as the willfully ignorant make the rules (and can send Child Protective Services to your door) it’s just not worth the risk.  Here’s to hoping it isn’t the missing component of my success in beating this goddamn disease, I guess.