We have learned that the Penguin Cold Caps will be on ABC's Good Morning America at some point between 8:00 and 8:30 am on Thursday (it's either today or tomorrow based on when you're reading this blog). Make sure to watch! I plan to see the action before I head to San Francisco for chemo fun (wish I was going to the Giants game instead).
In honor of the occasion, my ever-talented friend, Shana, wrote a limerick that I'd like to share:
There is a fine husband named Pat
Who helps with his wife's Penguin hat.
He's as skilled as they come.
One, two, three and he's done.
And he does it while taking a nap.
One last thing - please don't forget to send me that prayer tomorrow to get me through chemo!
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Monday, October 25, 2010
Good Morning America – Tune in this Thursday Morning!
I have exciting news. Penguin Cold Cap Therapy is going to be featured on Good Morning America on Thursday morning. I have been very involved in helping the founder of the company, Frank Fronda, work with ABC on the story. They are planning to air a 4 minute segment on the cold caps. We are very excited that this will create the buzz that’s needed to ensure that folks who are facing chemotherapy-induced hair loss throughout the US will now know of the opportunity to save their hair. I have been on chemo for 6 weeks and I have not seen any hair loss – if anything, my hair seems to be getting even bigger since I’m not straightening it anymore!
In other news – I may now have a hernia. I don’t know how many of you have ever had a hernia – but it really really hurts. Every time I laugh, cough, sneeze or exert myself, a searing pain rips through my stomach right next to my stoma. When I spoke with my colorectal surgeon’s office today, they said that this is not uncommon for people sporting an ileostomy. Unfortunately, I can’t have surgery until I have completed a year of chemo – so this may make this year even longer and more painful. Oh well. It’s almost amusing to me that I am facing yet another hurdle. I would laugh – if it wouldn’t cause extreme pain!
I should know more soon about whether I have a hernia or if there is something else going on. But – in the meantime – I’m going to focus on taking my picture tonight and getting it to the producer at ABC so she can include me in Thursday’s clip!
I almost forgot to mention that on Thursday, please send your prayers and positive thoughts my way once again – since it’s chemo day. I need all of your great energy to get me through that very long day.
In other news – I may now have a hernia. I don’t know how many of you have ever had a hernia – but it really really hurts. Every time I laugh, cough, sneeze or exert myself, a searing pain rips through my stomach right next to my stoma. When I spoke with my colorectal surgeon’s office today, they said that this is not uncommon for people sporting an ileostomy. Unfortunately, I can’t have surgery until I have completed a year of chemo – so this may make this year even longer and more painful. Oh well. It’s almost amusing to me that I am facing yet another hurdle. I would laugh – if it wouldn’t cause extreme pain!
I should know more soon about whether I have a hernia or if there is something else going on. But – in the meantime – I’m going to focus on taking my picture tonight and getting it to the producer at ABC so she can include me in Thursday’s clip!
I almost forgot to mention that on Thursday, please send your prayers and positive thoughts my way once again – since it’s chemo day. I need all of your great energy to get me through that very long day.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Hurray for Anti-Nausea Meds!
Hallelujah for anti-nausea meds! We finally got the formula right. I made it through Thursday without leaning over a toilet. What’s amazing is my new perception of a good day.
We continued the march of the penguin caps as well, with multiple people helping throughout the day. It is quite the labor intensive process to ensure that the caps drop down to -31 degrees Celsius and get changed within a 2 minute span. The ritual includes changing the cap every 30 minutes for about 7 hours. Let’s just say that it isn’t the best day between the chemo and the caps, but I’m thrilled to say that so far I haven’t lost any hair.
In honor of the penguin caps I'm going to throw in a quick ode from my talented friend Shana:
I may be stuck in this chemo chair,
But I've got Penguin Caps for my hair.
They're cold as ice and freeze my locks,
A follicular form of hair Botox.
So when I'm through with this chemo gig,
I won't be needin' no stinkin' wig.
I bounced back from this chemo treatment much more quickly than my previous two experiences. I feel like we are finally getting the side effects under control. I still have a low level of nausea, but now it just reminds me of being a little seasick at all times. Not great, but livable.
Yesterday, I felt well enough to go to watch the girls play soccer. They were so thrilled that I was there and able to participate. I caught them watching me constantly to make sure that I was paying attention. I know that they worry about me. How I wish that I could take away that worry and replace it only with worries about missing a goal on the soccer field. I work hard to appear as normal as possible to the girls.
But that is my job. I’m the mom and I have to be strong for them. They will survive. I will survive. It won’t be easy, but together, we are determined to see this through.
We continued the march of the penguin caps as well, with multiple people helping throughout the day. It is quite the labor intensive process to ensure that the caps drop down to -31 degrees Celsius and get changed within a 2 minute span. The ritual includes changing the cap every 30 minutes for about 7 hours. Let’s just say that it isn’t the best day between the chemo and the caps, but I’m thrilled to say that so far I haven’t lost any hair.
In honor of the penguin caps I'm going to throw in a quick ode from my talented friend Shana:
I may be stuck in this chemo chair,
But I've got Penguin Caps for my hair.
They're cold as ice and freeze my locks,
A follicular form of hair Botox.
So when I'm through with this chemo gig,
I won't be needin' no stinkin' wig.
I bounced back from this chemo treatment much more quickly than my previous two experiences. I feel like we are finally getting the side effects under control. I still have a low level of nausea, but now it just reminds me of being a little seasick at all times. Not great, but livable.
Yesterday, I felt well enough to go to watch the girls play soccer. They were so thrilled that I was there and able to participate. I caught them watching me constantly to make sure that I was paying attention. I know that they worry about me. How I wish that I could take away that worry and replace it only with worries about missing a goal on the soccer field. I work hard to appear as normal as possible to the girls.
But that is my job. I’m the mom and I have to be strong for them. They will survive. I will survive. It won’t be easy, but together, we are determined to see this through.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Writing As Therapy
The last three weeks have been a series of highs and lows. After getting through that first rough weekend, I steadily became stronger and stronger. Two weekends ago, I was blessed with a wonderful gift from a phenomenal friend – an opportunity to go to an amazing place called Esalen in beautiful Big Sur (I felt that this experience deserved lots of adjectives). Apparently, Esalen was the birthplace of the self-actualization movement. I took an inspirational course with several girlfriends entitled “Writing from the Heart.” I never realized how therapeutic writing could be. Perhaps it’s because I’ve been primarily writing for my work and really have not written just for the sake of writing. Even this blog has been created primarily to keep everyone apprised of my health so that you all don’t worry about me – or at least know what’s going on so you can worry appropriately about me!
Interestingly, I recently heard about a study that was conducted surrounding writing. Apparently, two separate groups with the same medical diagnosis were given two separate writing assignments. The first group was to write about what inspired them, where they hoped to be in five years, things that brought them joy etc. The second group was to write about what made them angry, their fears… (you get the picture). What I found fascinating were the results. After three months, the second group was significantly healthier than the first because they were able to release their frustrations by writing them down. So – for the rest of this blog I’m going to disregard my goal of being positive and just rant…
So I had a really rotten chemo experience on September 30th. For the first time, I had significant nausea which led to a really awful afternoon and evening. The next day was also not great. Fortunately, the weekend wasn’t as rough and I slowly returned to my normal, energetic self. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that this Thursday (my next chemo day) won’t be as terrible since we are going to try a different regimen for side effects.
Now, as I write this, I feel great. That’s what’s so darn strange about this whole thing. I look normal, I feel normal, but I know that I’m fighting a very strong disease internally. It’s hard to remain focused on all of the healing things that I’m supposed to be doing (I still have not mastered incorporating meditation into my life) when I feel like my old self. That’s my greatest challenge right now – remaining focused on my most important goal – ridding my body of cancer, when I just want to put it out of my mind and go back to my old life.
But Thursday will soon be here and my body will be poisoned yet again to remind me of what’s going on inside. In the meantime, I’m going to hit a yoga class, go walking with friends, take my supplements, meet with my Buddhist healer and acupuncturist and try once again to do that darn meditation thing….although I have no idea when I’ll find the time…
Interestingly, I recently heard about a study that was conducted surrounding writing. Apparently, two separate groups with the same medical diagnosis were given two separate writing assignments. The first group was to write about what inspired them, where they hoped to be in five years, things that brought them joy etc. The second group was to write about what made them angry, their fears… (you get the picture). What I found fascinating were the results. After three months, the second group was significantly healthier than the first because they were able to release their frustrations by writing them down. So – for the rest of this blog I’m going to disregard my goal of being positive and just rant…
So I had a really rotten chemo experience on September 30th. For the first time, I had significant nausea which led to a really awful afternoon and evening. The next day was also not great. Fortunately, the weekend wasn’t as rough and I slowly returned to my normal, energetic self. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that this Thursday (my next chemo day) won’t be as terrible since we are going to try a different regimen for side effects.
Now, as I write this, I feel great. That’s what’s so darn strange about this whole thing. I look normal, I feel normal, but I know that I’m fighting a very strong disease internally. It’s hard to remain focused on all of the healing things that I’m supposed to be doing (I still have not mastered incorporating meditation into my life) when I feel like my old self. That’s my greatest challenge right now – remaining focused on my most important goal – ridding my body of cancer, when I just want to put it out of my mind and go back to my old life.
But Thursday will soon be here and my body will be poisoned yet again to remind me of what’s going on inside. In the meantime, I’m going to hit a yoga class, go walking with friends, take my supplements, meet with my Buddhist healer and acupuncturist and try once again to do that darn meditation thing….although I have no idea when I’ll find the time…
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