An equation

Two grants. Two days. Two chemo doses left.

Exhaustion.

The writing's on the wall: We're superstitious.

So far, everything's going right. Who would mess with that by changing any ounce of their pre-chemo routine? Certainly not this girl.  My super-comfy Smart Wool socks are a must. So is my "hope"-printed underwear. The soundtrack for every car ride to Evanston must include the same first five tracks. This soundtrack is always entitled "Booyoung" followed by the number of that particular treatment. (Another discussion for another time.) So when my sister (the girl in the bright yellow bug) nearly had to miss Chemo #10, our superstitious tendencies threatened to be compromised.

Luckily, a hungover Lauren took one for the team and did a little bit of extra driving yesterday. Call me crazy but the socks and underwear can't do it on their own...

Updating my Updates

Here I am sitting on some great details to report for over a week, and they still haven't made it in to a post! Ten days ago I had a CT scan that indicated that my lymph nodes are no longer taking over my body. Great news, right? It gets better. Well, better may not be the most appropriate word. Revealing is my official choice.

Bottom line: to say that my lymph nodes were simply taking up some extra space is an understatement. Thanks to some Google searching, I've discovered that the average little lymph node oozes around your chest at about 1.5 cm. Mine were 4cm! No wonder I couldn't breathe. But leave it to this crazy dancer to blame it on her lack of endurance. Take a look at the numbers with a grain of excited and hopeful salt. Arming myself with Google search to decipher these results is probably not the wisest choice, but here they are in their staggering glory:  (Although I should have made you guess Price is Right style.)

Chest lymph nodes
December.... April
 4.3x4.8cm.....2.2x3.0cm
1.8x2.3cm.....0.9x1.1cm
3.3x4.2cm....1.0x0.9cm


In other important lymph node news, the ones in my abdomen are back to NORMAL. A word that I relish. 

Don't blink. You might miss them.

A few months ago I started to realize that I didn't look like myself, but I couldn't figure out how or what was making me feel this way. With no recent plastic surgeries to report, I was baffled. That is until one rare day that I went to put on make-up and discovered what was missing: my eyelashes. I would never have guessed how significantly those miniscule hairs can alter an appearance, but when I applied mascara the few lashes still clinging to my eyelids sprang to life and there I was.

I am completely obsessed with make-up and have been since meeting Bonne Bell at age 5. One plastic candy cane filled with Lip Smackers and I've never turned back. I've been an avid supporter of the old standby pink and green tube of Maybelline Great Lash forever, but a recent dangerous trip to Sephora led me to stray to one of the best investments I've made throughout chemo:

Dior BlackOut mascara:  Now the official mascara of Chemo Girl and her three remaining eyelashes.

VOTE FOR ME!

In my many hours pouring over bridal blogs I stumbled upon a contest for best wedding toasts. Since I recently had the honor of toasting two fabulous people to what I can unabashedly call "mild acclaim," I decided to go for it. Check out the official transcript here.

And please ignore my inconsistent use of "bride," "groom," "jessie" and "jamie." My usually hawk-like editing skills were on vacation this morning when I typed it in. Whoops.

VOTE FOR ME!

The results are IN!

That's right! Enter Rocky theme...One more loss for cancer as my CT scan results indicated that those giant lymph nodes look DRAMATICALLY better! Phew! Although I kinda knew intuitively, it's nice to get the emphatic stamp of approval from my doctor.

Let the jumping up and down commence!

In the name of millimeters...

Four more treatments to go...the end is in sight. Not quite plain view, but that point when you're driving southbound on the Edens and you get that first shadowy glimpse of the Sears Tower. I've certainly taken better care of myself this time around. (Translation: not drinking so much that my veins disappear. Even Chemo Girl gets to have a little fun!)

Another test is upon us. Tomorrow I visit the friendly radiology department at NorthShore for a CT Scan. Though February's PET Scan showed that there is no more abnormal uptake (the cancer is not active/spreading), my lymph nodes were still enlarged. And by enlarged I mean centimeters. These nodes have been seriously cramping my lung capacity's style for far too long, so I'm really excited to see the results of tomorrow's photo shoot.  Not only am I excited, I'm sure that they've shrunk. Considering my sizable knowledge of the medical field,  here are several reasons why I might be the most optimistic (or delusional?) girl you know:

On Monday, I was doing a pretty intense pectoral muscle stretch during rehearsal and discovered that I was able to breathe easily in the position for the first time IN THREE YEARS. The reason that was my first foray into that particular stretch in awhile is because during Zephyr's usual Monday yoga routine I typically feel like falling down. Recently, however, I'd compare my energy level to that of the Grinch when he lifts the sleigh over his head. Serious power! So not only does my strength and energy level continue to dramatically rise, but I actually feel like I can understand the clues my body gives me.

Time to drink a really awful concoction no milkshake will mask in the name of measurement. Millimeters and such....

I can't stop reading this story.

http://community.lls.org/blogs/lls/2010/03/25/ben-and-beth-love-hope-and-cancer

I know this is posted over to your right, but I wanted to really point it out.  I think I know them...or at least two people like them.

A Wedding of Wigs and Wicks

So I'm hoping that you are all very slow readers. I've been immersed in wedding hoopla and can't seem to jump back in to writing about cancer. Go figure! But really, who am I helping by looking at the 37th blog filled with inspiration boards and DIY projects for a glamorous backyard shindig?

Last weekend, I was unbelievably thrilled to partake in one of my oldest and dearest friend's wedding. I was super honored that Jessie asked me to be her maid of honor and spent the last nine months obsessively asking how I could help with the planning. So when this business popped up in December, I had plenty of concerns. I wanted to participate in the same capacity but was unsure of how I would feel and (yes, I'll admit it) look. It's a moot point. Who's looking at the maid of honor? Well, I wanted to keep it that way and opted to bring along my new friend Cody for a bit of support.

I will say this: I've worn "Cody" (the blonde-choppy counterpart to my otherwise scantily clad head) maybe 7-8 times, and I still can't decide if I'm sold. For the record, Jerome Krause names their wigs, not me. I'm not sure whether anyone was fooled, but she stayed intact all night. Even through my own personal rendition of "Thriller."

(If it weren't my 4th day after chemo I swear I'd crop out the lower 

right corner of this pic. You get the idea regardless.)

 Bottom line, we all had an amazing and sentimental weekend. Certainly I could have gone without splitting my dress up the back, but I blamed the steroids and some dance floor lunges and moved on. 

In terms of feeling up to the trip, I am positive that the excitement leading up to last weekend helped me fly through the usual chemo side effects. Amidst concerns about my weakened immune system, I was prescribed a 3-day neupogen injection to boost my white count while we navigated one too many germy airports. I was nervous that the brief treatment would be painful, but I made it through with just a bit of jaw pain.

In conclusion, (it feels like time to be conclusive)...

Although this routine is getting pretty old, attending Jessie's wedding/taking a mini-vacation/discussing the sustainability of salt licks(?) in a toast to 120 people briefly made me forget that this business had ever been an issue.