Smog

Inspirational song: Viva Las Vegas (Elvis Presley)

Eight and a half years into this project, sometimes I still struggle with how to start describing my situation. Where can I start with the last 30 hours? A fourteen and a half hour drive at the last minute is, in a word, rough. I took the shift I expected to, from Grand Junction, Colorado to Richfield, Utah. It was all I had in me. Luckily, it was all I was needed to provide. Three hours of sleep was enough for the Mr to get us all the way to Vegas. As soon as the sky started to lighten, we knew something was different. The air was thick and hazy. I've never seen it as bad as it was this last week or so. It's like the worst LA smog from the 1970s. It's awful out there. But at least it held the temperature down to the 90s while we were out. 

I needed a lot of sleep to recover, but I managed to be alert enough to have brunch with our friends who are Vegas locals, and to get the most wonderful pedicure I've had in years (honestly, the only pedicure I've had in over two years). I had sandals to wear to the events this weekend, so it was mandatory that I had my feet cleaned up a bit. 

The rehearsal dinner was really more of a pre-party party. All the guests were there, and we got the back room of a Cornish pasty shop/bar. I managed to find a non-wheat item to eat, and everyone (including me) had a terrific dinner. 

It's late, and I've burned through a hundred bucks on slots, while watching Mr S-P hit all the bonuses right next to me. Should I quit for the night and turn in? Yeah. Will I? Unclear.

Ramona's Dog

Inspirational song: Vague Directions (James McMurtry)

We got spirit, yes we do! We got spir-- wait. No we don't. And neither does most anyone who bought cheap plane tickets through Spirit this week. It was a mere four hours before our scheduled departure when we got a text from Priceline telling us, uh, hey, there's a change in your flight status, go ask the airline, don't blame us. Being the intrepid adventurers we are, we raised two middle fingers towards the airport, and loaded up the car. Sure, we won't be in Vegas before dawn, but whatever. We don't quit.

There have been multiple mudslides on I-70 around Glenwood Springs. The road is a mess. It is closed, and the governor has declared it a state of emergency. So we have been winding our way through the mountains south of the interstate. We just finished Monarch Pass, and I'm writing now while I have signal at Gunnison. I doubt there will be as good a signal going through B.F.E. Utah.

We aren't the only wedding attendees having trouble with this airline. The groom's dad had the same problem. We are not sure he will be able to rebook with a different carrier. I feel awful for him missing out on it all.

As we drove the long way through the mountains, we played leapfrog with the same maroon pickup, with a cattle dog in a kennel in the back. We were usually behind the truck. After several hours, all I could think of was how much I wanted to pet that dog. I will probably think about him/her for the rest of this trip.

Duds

Inspirational song: Faith (George Michael)

All that we can do at this point is just believe that our flight will go as planned. To imagine otherwise is just too much. I made our parking reservations as if it will happen. Let's do this thing.

We did a little last-minute shopping this evening. I needed a long-sleeved shirt for the rehearsal dinner, and I found one made of a nice soft fabric (my only real priority). Mr S-P needed some new Hawaiian shirts to wear to the various events. Originally, they wanted him to be the flower girl, but as this hootenanny will be at a wedding chapel that needs to be able to turn and burn through wedding parties, they don't let you throw flowers. Too much time to clean in between if they did. 

Now the big question is where in this house are we hiding our suitcases? Am I gonna have to run out and get a new one of those too?

 

Destination

Inspirational song: Party in the USA (Miley Cyrus)

We are all on edge about this weekend. Between Spirit canceling flights left and right, promising to "progressively reduce" the numbers of cancelations over the next few days, and the general nervousness associated with a destination wedding, our Wednesday game night has been simplified. We are sitting around, four of us watching the other four play Mario Party. I am one of the watchers. I have no brain energy for games. I can barely make heads or tails of the activity on the screen.

I had a long phone call with my case manager this morning. This one was week I was super glad to have her. She's helping me sort out why the hospital and insurance are trying to suggest I didn't have a referral for the biopsy, and that I should pay $1100 instead of my usual $61. I failed to make the follow-on call to my oncology clinic, to verify who exactly ordered the biopsy. Why is it the person with the cancer fog has to do the administrative work? That doesn't seem fair.

Assuming we do make it to the wedding destination, I did what I could to make myself more presentable. I dyed my roots, and I blended different color dyes to make a really nice red color. I'm learning how to put finger coils in my hair and get them to dry correctly. I have struggled with this before, but I won't have my styling tools in Vegas so I will need to improvise. I still have a whole day to iron and fold my linen pants for travel, buy a belt so I can skip altering the top, and maybe even give myself a pedicure for the first time since before chemo. I'm not trying to be the star of the show this weekend, just not stand out as looking like an unkempt neighbor who wandered in off the street.

Camels Back

Inspirational song: Ain't That Pretty at All (Warren Zevon)

Yep, I found it. I found the absolute maximum quantity of stress I can hold at one time. I do not need one more obligation, task, or worry. I'm done. If you were thinking of asking me for a favor or unburdening yourself of a secret to me, believe me when I say Now Is Not The Time. My stress levels are like a clogged storm sewer drain and there's a flash flood warning. I am about to go through and weed out some commitments to relieve some pressure. I just hope I haven't waited too long.

Our neighbor texted tonight and said the el-cheapo airline we are flying to Vegas this weekend (because we waited too long to get reservations on a better one) has been randomly canceling flights lately. Apparently they are trying to fly a full schedule with a skeleton workforce. This doesn't work well. It's unsustainable. Lucky for them, I suspect the pool of customers is going to dry up pretty soon. I am conflicted about this. If they canceled our flight, how hard would we work to get to the wedding? Buy last minute tickets on another airline? Or cancel altogether? Drive? I would be safer from the Delta variant, which is important ahead of surgery. But I wouldn't get to see my daughter, who is also attending the wedding. In all honesty, a female Elvis impersonator officiating my friends' wedding will be cool and all, but the main reason I'm going is to see my daughter for the first time in almost two years.

I'm not going to divulge what the last straw in my stress load was. Suffice it to say that I am concerned about someone very important to me. Unless I get specific permission to talk about someone else's world, that's all you get. Don't DM me to ask, either. 

Okay, breathe deep and focus on the best stress reliever I have, who came to visit me for an hour this evening.

It's In There

Inspirational song: Radio Waves (Roger Waters)

The answer to my question from yesterday is no, the tiny RFID chips are not supposed to light up on the TSA scanners. I asked the nurse and the radiologist, and neither had a definitive answer, so the nurse called the company rep. I felt silly for sending them on such an extensive research quest, but they swore they were happy to learn something new. 

The procedure took a while. It was in the same room as the biopsy, on the same table with the hole in it. The worst part is lying face down in the depression surrounding the hole, with very little support to keep one in a comfortable position. My shoulders and neck took it the worst. The pinch of the lidocaine going in was over in a flash, and I didn't feel much in the implantation process other than pushing and moving. It took a long time to get me positioned correctly. She kept adjusting the clamp and taking images of the area with all the calcifications. I'm still having a hard time getting a clear idea how large of a section is coming out as the cancer removal (assuming quite a bit more will go with the reduction). The location chips are about 4 cm apart, from the frontmost edge to the back edge. That doesn't necessarily imply that the cancerous section runs perfectly straight front to back.

I was doing well most of the day, until the baby came over in the evening, and I picked her up. It was that moment that I learned the lidocaine (or whatever) had completely worn off. It started to sting just a bit, and it has continued to ever since. That's probably my last warning not to pick up either of the young girls again until roughly October. I will heed that warning.

Chips

Inspirational song: Mr Blue Sky (Electric Light Orchestra)

Has cancer treatment changed perceptibly in the last two years? I can't tell whether the processes I'm going through are more advanced because they know more, I need more, or the docs got access to cooler toys. It feels like I have to do a lot more this time around. Granted, every part of this round feels different, including how strongly it is affecting me. Still I'm surprised that I'm repeating so little from last time.

Tomorrow morning, first thing, I have to report to the women's imaging center to have markers implanted on either end of the area to be removed. (The size could alternately be described as a pack of Twix bars or a deck of cards--pick your favorite comparison.) The implantation procedure may take as much as two hours. This feels pretty extreme, for a non-invasive, stage zero cancer. The markers were described to me as "reflectors," but when the surgeon showed me one last week, they had little antennae on them. Now I think they are more like RFID chips. I'll need guidance on what to tell the TSA agents on Friday when I go through airport security. Ten bucks says they'll show up on the scan.

I drove my brother back to Denver this morning, down to a part of town under heavy construction, and not just the guest house project he was working on. I saw the space where they were working, turning an old brick detached garage into a gorgeous industrial mother-in-law suite, and I was quite impressed. I hope I get to see it when it is done. I met a darling big red dog, named Cliffton, not Clifford. And when I drove back, some of the rough road leading back to I-70 just about took my car out from under me. Things got a bit squirrely at high speeds, and I wrenched my neck just enough to be sore all the way home.

I enjoyed seeing my brother a whole lot, but today capped a long week of cleaning, babysitting, and visiting. I needed a whole bunch of rest after all that. Now after extended napping, I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep overnight before my chip implantation tomorrow. Can't win for losing.