A Good Update

Yesterday I had my first PET scan. It was scheduled for 1:50 pm. They told me to fast at least 6 hours prior to the appointment. So I woke up early and I ate my breakfast early. Then they told me that I need to drink a ton of water which I did. It was so hard to fast and I kept thinking of all the food I can eat. I only had to fast for 6 hours and I was already suffering. I started to understand just a tiny bit of what my parents had to go through when they were legitimately hungry when they were younger.

The way it works is that when I fast, I'm basically starving my body of readily available sugar (fuel for the cells) and before it taps into its reserve energy (fat in my thighs). Then when I show up, they inject me with sugar water loaded with radioactive element. This way, any cells that are hyperactive and acting up, it would be hoarding all of the sugar water with radioactive element and the machine will pick up these radioactive elements. Hyperactive cells when I'm resting would be my brain, my kidneys (working to process those sugar water, you know?) and...very very hungry cancer cells. So the areas that hoard lots of these radioactive sugar water will light up like the sun in the scanner. This is how they measure and see where the cancer are in the body.

I'm having this done to see if the drugs I'm currently taking are working. So I did it and today I had an appointment with my oncologist to go over the scans.

Here are the good news:
1. The tumors in my breasts and liver are gone!
2. A bunch (maybe half) of the tumors in my bones are gone!

There are still some tumors in my vertebrae, my right arm, and a small amount in my hip. It's amazing to see the changes in my body with the scans from earlier this year. Earlier this year, the tumors in my hips were so huge that you could barely see the actual bones. However, it looks like it's healed by about 50% now. Yay!

My oncologist told me that I'm right on track with the current drugs. We will continue to monitor via scans. Hopefully the drugs are working and that it will help erase the bulk of the tumors. There is a chance that the tumors will develop a resistance to the drug, then we would have to try a different drug or another method of treatment.

I had a thought that the tumors are kinda like colonies that spread out and settled down somewhere and multiplied. And depending on where they are, they might have more DNA alterations and evolve into another group of tumors slightly different from its mama tumor. Kinda like how migration and evolution of the same squirrels that have spread and evolved based on new environments.

Today, I also wonder what my tumors are like. Are they soft, hard, what are the textures? What color are they? I'm carrying them in me but I don't know they're there. They're like that antisocial roommate who never comes out of their room but you are aware of their presence because they left a spoon in the sink or you can hear their quiet music through the door. They're probably engorged in blood. What I learned from my class is that cancer cells have this nifty ability to cause the area they reside to make a shit ton of new blood vessels so they can get all of the blood's nutrients and oxygen to feed their frenzy growth. So yeah, it'd be cool if I could see them and touch them.

Strangely I don't harbor any hatred toward them. I'm curious about them. They were a part of me and still are a part of me. They are me. They are silly in that they get so hungry and grow so fast that they're consuming me in the process.

You know how in people's obituary they usually say things like "So and so finally succumbed to cancer and die"? Well, I want my obituary to read "LeTran is finally consumed by her cancer baby..." Consume is a truer word.

Here's a cute photo.

Pain is probably good for me

On Wednesday 8/15/18 at 4:30 pm, I took my last dose of morphine. Why? I left my morphine bottle downstairs and I was too lazy to get it for the nightly dose. Then I got the bright idea that since I was already lazy maybe I should go off morphine to see my true base pain level. Ever since I broke a bunch of bones in my spine and then my hip at the beginning of the year, I've been on morphine to deal with the pain. It was a good 8 months. I wanted to know if the pain was still there or I can deal with it.

I've tried to ween myself off morphine before but what it does is that the withdrawal made me think that I'm in a lot of pain so I always go back to it. But this time, I decided to go cold turkey and suffer the symptoms knowing that it would eventually be over.

What I didn't prepare myself for are the withdrawal symptoms. I also was stupid and didn't look it up to prepare myself for it. It started with violent diarrhea. You know why? It's because there are morphine receptors in your digestive tract. So when you're on morphines, the molecules attached themselves to the receptors and caused your digestive tract to slow down so you get horribly constipated. Because I stopped taking morphine, my body's natural morphine is not enough to fill all of the receptors so my digestive tract is like: oh shit, let's go into overdrive! So then I just have constant diarrhea.

By Friday, it got pretty bad. I got very very depressed. I just sat there and cried the whole day. Good thing I was working from home that day. That night, I had to catsit a few cats and being unaware of all of my symptoms, I went anyway. I started seeing things in double and had to cover one of my eyes so I could drive accurately. After the cat visit, I had a feeling that terrible things are about to go down and I wouldn't be able to operate like going out to get food or fed myself. I knew I would have to lock myself inside and hide from the world for a while to be safe. So I stopped by Safeway on the way back home and got some high calorie food to stock up so I can hibernate. Yes, I was a very functional drug addict.

I think Friday and Saturday were the worst days. I couldn't sleep. I was irritable. I felt like I want to be violently ripped out of my body because of how uncomfortable it was. I was anxious. I started to hallucinate and saw things out of the corner of my eyes. In the middle of the night, I woke up because I had to vomit but I couldn't make it out of bed so I threw up everywhere in bed. So then I got up and changed all of the sheets and blanket in my delirium. I literally thought I was going to die. It seems so dramatic now but I totally thought that dying was probably better.

Not only that, morphine withdrawal also made my skin so tingly that it hurt. My scalp hurt so much that every single movement of my hair hurt. I wanted to rip my hair out because it might solve the problem.

By Sunday, I started to be normal again and acted normal. The symptoms died down by a lot. I was still a bit irritable and skin was still tingling but I could operate and stopped crying. Once I got out of the fog, I realized a few things:

1. I felt more like my old self. I felt determined and very ambitious!
2. My appetite came back. The previous week, I was extremely sad because I missed being able to eat. I missed going to the gym and then eat two burritos. I missed craving food. Food was no longer a joy in my life and I just eat food because if I don't eat, I'd die. But once the morphine was gone, I started to crave food. I started to eat more snacks. I enjoyed my food more. I'm back in love with food.
3. I'm much happier. It was not noticeable during the previous 8 months because so much was going on and the changed happened gradually so change wasn't noticed. But now I realized that I'm much happier and cheery than before.
4. My pain isn't bad. It felt like really bad sore after a day of working out really hard. If I remember to stretch every hour or so, I can function normally. Sometimes, I would need a back massage to assuage the pain but it's not excruciating. I would much rather deal with the pain than go back to lacking feelings.
5. The world seems so much brighter and more vibrant! Morphine made everything seem so dull. Like I had a veil thrown over my head the whole time.

Lesson of the month? Don't do drugs, kids! It's not fun.

This experience got me thinking. Most of the time, when people needed help ending their lives due to illnesses, they use morphine to drift into a painless and peaceful death. I thought that was what I wanted also. However, after going through this, I'm not sure that's what I wanted anymore. I think I want to die kicking and screaming in pain if necessary but at least I would be able to feel things. I would be able to experience the world fully for what it is instead of being filtered and dulled by something. I don't know, perhaps I would change my mind once I'm not my death bed. But for now, I want to die with excruciating pain if need be because at least I can die being myself. I really missed me. 

Body Changes

I used to lift weights. For fun. Also for:
1. Better bone density. Yes, weight training helps promote bone growth, not stunting growth or break your back if you do it correctly.
2. Improve my mood. Lifting heavy weights give me a confidence boost and it also helps promote concentration of the happy hormones in my brain.
3. Improve my health.
4. Grow bigger muscles so I would have to eat more to maintain the muscles and I loved to eat.
5. To be happy with how I look.

Ever since my back was out of commission because of the spinal fracture, I've been pretty much immobile. It got even worse when my hip was fractured and then recovering from the hip replacement surgery. For months, I was bedridden and wasn't able to move much. This made the muscles in my legs atrophy. It's crazy how short of a time it took for my muscles to atrophy. My legs got a lot smaller. My once tight pants now hang over my legs and buttocks like loose drapes on skeletons.

Needless to say, that made me really sad. I used to be so proud of my strength and muscle progress. But for a time, I was feeling like a bag of weak bones not capable of even picking up a cat. It was demeaning.

Ever since I was able to walk regularly again, the muscles in my legs are starting to grow back. They are no where near what they were before but they're growing back. My pants are getting tighter now. I'm working towards to doing more each day until I get back to doing some version of weight training that could help me grow muscles actively again.

To people, I look the same. Just a little bit shorter since I lost a few inches on my torso. To me, it's a huge difference. I am less than the person I was then physically and I'm struggling to deal with that psychologically everyday. I try to not let it bother me so much and just work hard at getting healthy again. I do realize that my body is healing at a much slower rate than my mind. According to my mind, I'm completely healed already but my body is saying "No, not yet. Slow down." It's a constant battle.

This was me at my peak physical fitness on Jan 2017. I had the most muscles and least fat on my body then.

Below are photos of where I am now. Notice that my legs are a lot smaller. In fact, they're so skinny that I look like what is considered "attractive" by the skinny-obsessed people. I'm not happy with it. In fact, even though my legs are smaller, they have much more fat on them and not a lot of muscles. 

You could also see that my torso have shrunk by a lot of the shape of my spine is lopsided now. It looks like it's all scrunched up and since there isn't anywhere for the spine to go, it also sits sideway like someone with scoliosis. It's painful for sure. That is the reason why I'm still in a lot of pain right now. It's because my spine is not of a normal shape so my muscles are thrown out of whack. Not only that, they pinch on my nerves causing a lot of tingling feelings and sharp pain. 

Maybe one day, they could figure out a way to bring my spine back to its original height. For now, I have the posture of an old lady. 

Cheers! 

A Moment of Weakness

The other day, I sat there and I thought of my own mortality. To be clear, I've been very positive in both thoughts and spirits ever since I received the cancer news. However, to be positive all the time can be exhausting so I'm allowing myself sometime to feel other feelings in the range of feelings that I'm allowed as a human. 

So I thought about my grandparents who have all passed away and all of my lovely animals who also had left me for the better world. I thought that maybe I've done good enough. Maybe I've helped people and animals enough that this illness is actually a blessing. A blessing in a sense that maybe I get to die earlier so I could meet all of my loved ones who had passed away. Maybe I'll see Suppy, Xammy, Bandit, Socks, Soy Sauce, Junior, Rocky, Curry, Junie, Smoke, Nashoba, Tanookie, Buster and so many other animals that I have met and loved. That made me miss them a whole lot and I cried. I cried with relief that my own mortality isn't so bad after all. That perhaps this is all for good. 

Then I went back to being positive and happy again soon after. But it was nice to be able to not have to hold up the happy face. Because I know that people who love me will instantly feel sad that I'm sad and will want me to be happy and cheery. But that is exhausting to have to hold up this cheery feeling 100% of the time. Sometimes, I just want to be able to be normal again and be okay with feeling sad once in a while. 

Here's a picture of Cocoa Bean back when his name is Cricket and he was a kitten at the shelter the first time I met him. He's the kitten in the lower cubby. He was adopted out then, was not being taken care very well by his adopter and was returned about a year after that. But since his return, we have adopted him and he's a very beautiful and truly happy cat now. He is the literal definition of happy because when he runs around and does his Cocoa Bean things, you can tell that he's a happy boy. Here he is now:

More good news than bad

So much have changed since the last update and I think there's more good news than bad news.

I've been put on a new medication called amebaciclib (brand name is Verzenio). It was recently approved by the FDA September 2017. It's supposed to be better than my previous drug since it's the only drug that is approved to treat HR+ HER2- metastatic breast cancer (what I have) as a stand alone drug. It's also supposed to be easier on my immune system than the previous drug. 

The bad news is that I experienced very bad side effects with this drug, mainly nausea and vomiting. The first two days that I was on the drug, I couldn't go 15 minutes without throwing up. I could not keep any sort of food down and basically was miserable the entire two days. I had to stay within 20 feet of the toilet or else bad things would happen. Priyanka was in Toronto for that whole week so I was very close to asking my sister to come and stay with me because I couldn't go anywhere on my own. Priyanka and Megan both ordered Amazon Prime delivery and got me some yogurt drinks because I couldn't handle any solid food. 

I emailed my doctor and said that I'm throwing in the towel because I just couldn't handle all of the vomiting. My doctor prescribed two anti-nausea medications. So I gathered all of my strength, prepared myself with poop bags in my pocket, which were great for vomiting, and drove to the pharmacy for the anti-nausea medications. Well, they worked very well after the first few tries because I kept throwing up the anti-nausea medications. Ironic, isn't it? After that I was able to get back to my normal life again. I went back to the office three days a week. 

My life has been normalizing slowly. 

One day, I felt like I could do some push ups. I talked to Lidia about it and she said: "If your mind is there, then your body is ready." So I went home and found out that I could do four push ups! I was so happy to know that after being non-active for almost a year.

Edited: As suggested by Indu, here's the video of me push-up-ing

I also went back to feeding my feral cats for the first time and managed it pretty well. So many little victories to celebrate. 

Recently, I was able to walk 1 mile somewhat comfortably. Somewhat because toward the end of the walk, my new artificial hip was hurting and being stiff so I had to kind of hobbled along. But that is also another small victory of me getting my strength back. 

The only thing that is still bothering me a lot is how gravity is hurting my back as the day goes on. I feel like that is the last thing I need to get over to get back on being my normal self. That is also something else to be worked on. I've been thinking on how to solve this problem and I think I would need to strengthen my back muscles a lot to 1) bring it back to its normal strength and 2) once it's strengthened it can hold me upright against gravity much better. So I'm going to embark on my slow and careful journey to strengthen my back again. I do know some exercises that specifically target the back muscles so I'll be working on that slowly. 

My plan right now is to improve myself slowly and surviving until the next drug is approved to keep me alive a bit longer. Then the cycle will continue. Someone on Quora who has cancer said "I know that I'll die someday, but today I am alive." 

Today I am alive. 

Guess What?

I'M PREGNANT!

Hahaha, just kidding!

While I was in the hospital, they took a urine sample for various tests. After I got discharged from the hospital, I noticed that they have assigned me an OB-GYN to my care team. Wut? I was confused but didn't think much about it.

At the end of January, I emailed my oncologist because my period didn't come. I figured that it was one of the cancer drugs that makes me temporarily go into menopause (yeah, it's true! Menopause at 35!). He replied that yes, the Lupron injection stops my period...but the urine test from the hospital showed a positive for pregnancy. He believed it was a false positive and ordered a blood test for hCG (human chorionic gonadotropin). Well, the test came back with a presence of hCG in my system.

I emailed him again and said there is NO WAY I'm pregnant and I would be willing to bet whatever is left of my life on it. So he ordered the quantitative test for the level of hCG in my system. The previous blood test only tested for the presence of the hCG hormone but the quantitative test would tell the exact level of hCG in my system.

The result is...NOT preggers! Whoohoo!

You know what would be nice? What would be nice is that the doctors at the hospital notified me of a possible pregnancy when they got the result. What the fuck, man?

Anyway, I thought this was a fun distraction from all of the poop and vomit stories. 

A Better Week

During the time I was staying at my sister's, I was getting better each day. I could eat more, I didn't have ulcer pain anymore, I stopped vomiting, and my diarrhea was slowing down. I was recovering nicely.

I was still on restriction from the orthopedic doctor that I cannot bend so that the space between my torso and my thigh is less than 90 degrees. That means I couldn't really put on underwear, pants, and socks on my own. Every time after I showered and dried myself as best as I could without bending over, I would holler and my sister would come and help me put on underwear, pants, and socks.

Anyone who knows me knows that I love being independent to a point of annoyance. No, I got it! I can do it! You don't have to help me! I can do it only own! I'm strong! Well, that story is very different now. I need help with basically anything. At least I no longer need my mom to wipe my butt for me every time I pee because that would be very hard to deal with. But I still need help getting stuff, sometimes opening a bottle cap, getting dressed, etc. Mentally, I try to deal with it because I can't physically do these tasks but it does make me somewhat cranky.

But being at home with my family was fun. In the morning, my dad would make me breakfast and we would take the time to chat for a bit while I eat my breakfast. Then I moved myself to the couch where I worked while watching the cats go about their day. I usually snack through out the day on fruits and whatever else my mom had for me and not eat lunch. I couldn't eat a full meal for lunch for a while now. In the evening, my mom would make me dinner on whatever food I want. I would binge watch Black Mirror with my mom and my sister. Then I hung out with the rats and my mom sleeps in my room with me just in case I have another night episode.

The weather was so nice and warm so they cats got to spend a lot of time in the garden. Once in a while, I would go sit in the garden with them.

About 1 week after my last day of radiation, I stopped having diarrhea. It was a cause for celebration! I also figured a good way to start my day. The night before, I set up my pain medication and water right next to my bed. The minute I wake up in the morning, I would take a painkiller then go back to bed for another 20 minutes while the painkiller would kick in. Once it's in and I was no longer feeling pain, I started my day. I've been somewhat good at remembering to take my painkiller on time. I still get really tired just from sitting up or doing any physical activities.

However, another improvement while I was staying with my family was that I could dress myself! I have figured out that if I sit on the toilet, it's low enough that I could swing my underwear and pants down that I could slip them on. I still couldn't put on socks though. But I could dress myself! Hoorah! Slowly and surely, I'm getting back my independence and be a real big girl again!

Curry munching on a banana! 

Lily asking me if I'm going to pet her. 

Calvin being melancholy instead of enjoying the sun in the garden. 

Calvin being a Calvin and Hobbes judging me to take pictures of him. 

Hobbes contemplating about life and such. 

My sister being cute! 

Hobbes enjoying the morning sun and wondering why I'm not petting him. 

Monster Carrot wants nothing but to be on his way. He's very very very busy, you know? 

Back to the Emergency Room Again

Saturday 1/27 at around 3:30 am, I woke up feeling really sick. So I went to throw up. When I got back to bed, I started shivering and then the shivering got really bad. I was shaking very hard and just couldn't stop. I also couldn't breath for the life of me and was just wheezing like crazy.

I made Priyanka look up symptoms for blood clot (pulmonary embolism) or blood transfusion allergies. Those were the two things that I could think of that could happen for my condition. The whole feeling was just really scary because I couldn't breath in enough oxygen to help my life. 

After 10 minutes of me shaking and wheezing and we couldn't find anything that could possibly be the cause, Priyanka called 911 again. The paramedics came and asked me about my conditions. So I basically repeated all of my answers to everyone (there were like 4 paramedics who came in at all different times asking the exact same questions). Why are you like this? I have cancer that metastasized to my bones and liver. Can you move? I could but I also just had hip replacement surgery. What medications are you taking? Here are a list of of all of things I'm taking. Are you allergic to any medications? Not that I know off. What else should we know? I just got a blood transfusion on Wednesday (it was actually Thursday but I fucked up on the day, give me a break, I couldn't breathe and answering all of the questions 4 times). 

They took me to the ambulance, put an IV in (by the way, I was so overly poked on both of my arms that they had to put an IV into my hand), and gave me oxygen. I threw up a couple of times in the ambulance but the oxygen made me feel immediate better. 

When I arrived at the Emergency Room, they put me in the isolation room. I basically came to the ER wearing just my pajamas and no shoes. They then took a bunch of blood for all sorts of tests and even did a blood culture. Then they pumped me full of antibiotics because my blood work came back that I my white blood cell counts were insanely low. They also did a quick x-ray and CT scan to make sure that I don't have pulmonary embolism which was a great relief for me. It was determined that I probably got a bacterial infection and because my immune system is pretty fucked from the cancer and cancer drugs, my body went into shock trying to fight off the stupid infection. 

So they admitted me to the hospital to monitor me and to keep pumping me full of antibiotics. I was considered neutrophenic (aka, I have hella low neutrophils) so they put me in isolation. Anyone who came into my room had to wear a mask and if they touch me they had to wear gloves. My family had to wear masks too. 

It was determined that I should stay in the hospital until they get no growth from the blood culture which should take 72 hours. Meaning, I wouldn't be able to go home until Tuesday at least. It was very boring in the hospital. I was just lying there watching a lot of TV, getting antibiotics every 4 hours, and hooked up to the IV 24 hours a day. 

Here's the frustrating part, while I was in the hospital, I was visited by a different doctor/resident each day. No one could offer me any concrete answer. No one update me on my test results. They kept drawing my blood every morning at 6 am. One day, I think it was Sunday, my body finally gave up. They were supposed to take 5 vials of blood in the morning, but my body only gave three vials and it was like: FUCK YOU GUYS, I DON'T HAVE THAT MUCH BLOOD ALREADY, SO I'M KEEPING THESE. Later in the day, another nurse came in attempting to draw two more vials. Again, my body only gave one vial and it said: FUCK Y'ALL AGAIN! In the late afternoon, another lab tech came into draw the last vial and he had a hard time because all of the accessible veins were already all poked and bruised like shit. Oh by the way, I bruised way easily because my platelet counts were also super low. He then told me that I have another blood draw later that night to check my antibiotics level. 

By this time, I was sick of all of the blood draws. First of all, all of the damn blood I just got from the transfusion are gone because of all the draws. Second of all, I'm fucking anemic, don't they know since they have my chart? It's not like I'm a normal person and I can go eat an apple after a draw and be able to regenerate blood volume just like that. Third of all, I've been fucking poked 3 times in a day already and each time they poke me, I bruised (I also have two IVs in me, one on my right arm and the other in my hand), so there was basically no more spot to draw blood from. 

So I got pretty angry, I made the nurse put me in contact with a doctor. I told the doctor that I'm fucking anemic and my body already quit giving blood so they need to group all of their tests together and be more efficient about that shit. So the doctor said: okay, we'll just move tonight's blood draw until tomorrow's morning. 

Later that night, a new nurse started his shift taking care of me so he came in around 7:30 pm all prepared to draw my blood again. I said: Nuh uh, hommie, I already told them I'm not giving anymore fucking blood and made him put me in contact with a doctor again. Of course, it was a different doctor and I had to explain my whole situation again and again they agreed to push the blood draw to the next morning. 

Next morning, I got a different doctor coming in to visit me, of course. Again, I told her of my concerns. She was apologetic and promised that she will check my charts and make sure that if there are unnecessary blood tests she will remove it so I don't have to have so many vials of blood taken from me. She also promised me that she'll come back and go over all of my results with me. 

This was Monday morning around 7 am. Around 10 am, a patient coordinator came in to make sure that I have everything I need when I go home. I was confused which clearly showed on my face. She said: oh, you're getting discharged, didn't the doctor or a nurse tell you? Well shit, no one told me anything! Thanks for letting me know I'm getting discharged. 

By the way, I had a Lupron injection on Monday morning at 11 am in the next building about a block away. Obviously I was in the hospital and couldn't make the injection so I repeatedly told everyone (nurses and doctors) that I need my injection and need to get it while I was in the hospital. Well well, they tried to discharge me as fast as possible so I could make my Lupron injection because they didn't have that drug readily available at the hospital. So I basically was rushed out of the hospital with no shoes on and just my pajamas. I didn't even have my wallet on me! 

By the time they were done with all of the paper work to let me go, it was 10:50 am. There was no way that my sister could have walked to her car, circle back to pick me up, then drive me to the next building (yeah, it was a block away but there's no easy turn to get there in a car). So I said: fuck y'all! and I walked in my pajamas and my hospital socks (because I ain't got no shoes) to the other building. When I get to the check in point I told them that I just got discharged and I got nothing on me (no ID, no nothing) but I got my hospital bracelet which should identify who I am. Good thing the reception person remembered  me so I went through my check in and injection smoothly. 

After my injection, I had to go back to the hospital to pick up the antibiotics to take when I go home. Same thing happened. I went up to the pharmacy and I said: I got nothing but you still have to give me my drugs! They made me verify all of my information and gave me my drugs. 

My sister then drive me back to my apartment because by this time Priyanka have gotten a cough and was feeling unwell. Being in the conditions that I was, we tried to avoid having me come into contact with anyone who could've gotten me sick. So I went back to my apartment to be by myself. 

The next day, I had an appointment the orthopedic doctor to check up on my hip so I asked Helen to drive me to my appointment. I got to meet Helen's new foster dog, Oreo, and she was so cute! Helen was super nice to drop me off at my place and then went and got me a whole roasted duck! She came back to drop it off but I was so exhausted by then that I had to ask Helen to bring the duck up to my apartment. Lord! Helen did that, too, of course. 

Later that day, my sister came by to pick me up to bring me back to Sacramento. I was to chill at home with my family for a week. It was nice to come back and by then I was feeling better and was able to eat a bit of food. 

A Pretty Bad Week

The day after my birthday, things got really bad. As in I wasn't feeling well at all. I was very very tired. I could barely do anything so I just stayed horizontal the whole day. I was constantly vomiting and spewing out liquid poo all day long.

Not only that, a stomach ulcer developed and I was in pain most of the time. It felt like someone just stuck a dull knife into my stomach and just kept on twisting it for fun. So that weekend, I basically stayed in bed moaning, groaning, and just being baby.

I didn't have an appetite for the life of me. One day, every thing tasted so salty, even though it was seasoned just right, that I couldn't even eat a bite. It was a very miserable week.

It took all of my strength to just make it to my radiation appointment each day.  The only consolation was that radiation treatments end on 1/24.

On the last day of my radiation appointment, they gave me my custom-made mask. The radiation oncologist told me that some people smash them up and some people make planters out of them. After asking my friends for thoughts, I decided that I'll make my mask into a succulent planter. Of course, I have a feeling it would take me half a year to even start something like that. I do everything ultra slow now.

On top of the ulcer pain, vomit, diarrhea, and feeling fatigue all the time, I was also very very bloated. During this time, my diarrhea turned pretty serious (gross, I know) like just turning on the water faucet serious. I couldn't eat (no appetite and vomiting all the time) and was losing fluids like crazy with the watery diarrhea. I took some imodium and that basically turned off my stomach and intestine. This made me into a GIANT balloon full of gas. I couldn't fart nor burp so I walked around super bloated and SUPER uncomfortable.

Not only that, I found out that my hemoglobin levels were very low which explained why I was very tired. I requested for a blood transfusion to help with my energy level. On 1/25, I got a unit of blood and felt much better. I also decided that to stop taking imodium and just deal with the diarrhea just to help me with the gas issue. 

The Day I Turned 35

On January 18th, I turned 35. I was looking forward to being 35 only because I don't like even numbers and totally disliked being 34 simply because I don't like that number at all.

The night before my birthday, something cool happened. Priyanka told me that we have to be home by 6:30 pm because he had a phone interview. I was a bit confused because who would have a phone interview at 6:30 pm but I didn't question him. So we were home and he rushed me through dinner. He never rushed me through dinner. He's the type that eats slowly and mindfully. I kept telling him to go prepare for his phone interview but he kept avoiding me. He then told me that he rescheduled the interview. 

At 6:30, he asked me to go walk the dogs with him, even if it's just for one block. I agreed and when we went downstairs, he didn't let the dogs walk out the door at all. Super confused. He opened the garage door and I saw a pig and someone who looked a lot like Indu standing outside. Since I wasn't expecting Indu, I didn't think that it was Indu who was standing there with her phone recording everything. She said: we heard that you were born on the year of the pig so here's a pig to see you! Indu had arranged for Lilou the Pig to come pay me a visit. Oh gosh, friends, it pulled at my heart string so hard that I cried. 

I mentioned to Indu that I've always wanted to meet Lilou the Pig (the first assisted therapy pig in San Francisco) but never got a chance to see her at the airport. Indu fucking made it happened! 

We got to hang out with Lilou for a while. I got to see her bow, wave, shake, and play the piano! What? I had so much fun petting and just hanging out with Lilou. She even gave me a bunch of kisses. I smiled so much that my cheeks hurt. 

It was such a wonderful surprise! I love giving people surprises but usually dislike being surprised myself but this surprise was very welcomed. Thank you, Indu! Thank you, Priyanka for lying to me. 

The next day, I had the best birthday party ever because all of my friends showed up to hang out with me. My sister even took the day off to come hang out with me and my friends. She even set up a photo booth and took photos for us. She brought the red velvet cake from Ettore Bakery which has the best red velvet cake I've ever tasted. Priyanka got me two cakes, one from Schubert (also my favorite bakery in SF) and a vegan cake from Black China Bakery. I got three cakes! 

It was the best birthday ever! I wanted to thank everyone for coming to see me and also thank everyone who couldn't make it for sending me well wishes and presents (even though I said no presents). It meant so much to me to have my friends there and everyone being so supportive and positive with me. I don't even know what to say to express my gratitude and explain how wonderful my friends make me feel. The positive feelings were just so overwhelming. It's like a euphoric feeling that could last me for a long time. 

That weekend, I came back to Sacramento to be with my parents. Guess what? Some old family friends came by and brought me two more cakes! My mom took more pictures and I got a second birthday party. A total of 5 birthday cakes for me this year. If this is going to be my last birthday ever then I'm quite content. 

By the way, I actually was born in the year of the Water Dog (I'm a labrador). Yes, 1983 was the year of the Pig but I was born before Lunar New Year which was some time in February of that year so technically, I was born at the end of the year of the Dog. I accept both designations of being a Dog and a Pig. 

The Radiation Therapy

January 10 marks the first day of my radiation therapy. The tumors in my spine and hips have caused them to be very weak and brittle. They could fracture or break basically anytime even when I do something super innocent like closing the car's trunk.

After much discussion with the radiation oncologist, I decided to get radiation therapy for my lumbar (one spinal compression fracture) and sacrum area.

At this time, I started to feel a bit of numbness roughly 3" in diameter at my left chin area. A quick X-ray showed that one of the vertebra at the base of my skull is also diseased. So we decided to treat that area with radiation too. The treatment plan is for me to receive 2 weeks of radiation, 5 days a week.

Because radiation therapy is very precise sort of treatment, it's required that I'm in the exact same position each time I come in. So the initial position of my CT scan has to be replicate exactly for all 10 sessions. For my body, 6 tiny tattoos were placed to mark my body so that the tattoos scan be used to line my body up exactly every session. As for the area at the base of my skull, they didn't want to give me face tattoos so a custom mask was made for me.

When the CT technician put the tattoos on me, she called them my healing tattoos because they mark my healing journey and that made me cry. She was so nice and told me that some of her family members have gone through the same battle and she was happy that I'm so positive about it.

I think the two weeks where I had to go through radiation therapy were very rough for me. I was very nauseated, had terrible diarrhea, and was very tired all the time. I couldn't eat. All food tasted terrible or very salty. I was constantly throwing up despite anti-nausea medication and all of the ginger I could eat/drink. Basically, I was throwing up and having diarrhea multiple times a day.

During this time, I also developed a stomach ulcer which I gotta tell ya, hurt like a motherfucking bitch. I thought broken bone pain was terrible. This ulcer pain was somehow even worse! It was a sharp pain that felt like someone slowly twist a knife in my stomach and kept twisting and turning for a good half hour. In fact, when it all happened, all I could do was lie and and moaned about it.

To top it all off, I took some imodium to combat the diarrhea and it caused me to be extremely bloated. I could not fart and could not burp. Basically, my digestive system had slowed down so much that I couldn't push any gas out. I was the most uncomfortable human balloon. So I had to stop taking imodium and just deal with the diarrhea.

Finally, 1/24 was the last day of my radiation therapy! But that doesn't mean the side effects stop immediately. I was warned that the side effects would continue for another week or two. Oy! By then, my skin started peeling like crazy. I looked like a birch tree during the winter. After the last session of radiation, they gave me my mask to take home.

I have decided to turn my mask into a succulent planter. I haven't started on it yet, of course. My life is filled with managing the pain of my upper back (did not receive radiation for it because it would be too rough on my organs), diarrhea, and the constant fatigue. 

I feel like I complained way too much about radiation but I didn't even receive that much. Other people have to go through chemo AND radiation and their treatment plans are longer than mine. Those people are super brave. But going through radiation, I was so sick of feeling unwell. Just fucking sick of being sick. I'm usually a very patient person but after just being out of commissions mot of the time, I was so done. I wanted it to be over very fast. But then I was reminded that it's super to be a marathon and not a sprint, it did help put things into perspective.