Subject: Procrastinating.

Still procrastinating on that essay (the lovely one about how you would react to cancer - although in my case, it’s how I’m reacting to it). I just have to finish it in between now and the 15th, and publish it onto this blog. I’ve got maybe…500 words, with a 1500 limit. It mostly feels like writing another college app - it’s personal, you know what to say, and there’s just too much to say so you end up not knowing what to say.

I’m stressed though, not because of the essay (although that does factor in a bit too). From Christmas till today, it has mostly been hell. I have a new complaint to make about the agonies of cancer - hooray. This one is not a direct effect of chemo - okay, maybe it is. It’s just one that hadn’t been too much of an issue until now.

I believe I mentioned blood count before. In the past, it wasn’t something I’d worried about because, well, I was fine. I had a white blood count around 100,000, more than enough platelets, and a red blood count around 9-10 (normal = 12). I’d go in every week (or maybe twice a week) for a blood test, and they wouldn’t detain me for a blood transfusion.

On a side note, I think it’s funny how I’m so used to having blood tests now. It used to be a yearly thing for me (sorry, my socal friends. norcal is getting to me), and it was hella hard to convince me to step into the doctor’s office to get one.

Back to original story. I learned that there are REAL LIFE VAMPIRES AT STANFORD. FOR ALL YOU DIE-HARD, PSYCHOTIC TWILIGHT/MRS. EDWARD-WANNA-BE’S LOVERS OUT THERE, I RECOMMEND THAT YOU GET A CANCER BECAUSE THEY LIKE TAKING BLOOD OUT OF YOU. THEY’LL DO IT TO YOU MAYBE THREE TIMES A WEEK BECAUSE THEY LOVE BLOOD [TESTS]. (I just got smart and stopped going three times a week after a month). HECK, THEY’LL EVEN LOVE TO GIVE YOU SOME BLOOD (AKA BLOOD TRANSFUSIONS) IF YOU DON’T THINK YOU HAVE ENOUGH. I know, because my doctor threatened to strap me down and give me one.

But that’s not how it really sounds. There’s a reason for why he said that. My rbc count was 6.9 (they start recommending transfusions when rbc counts fall below 8.0). I got out of it, but not before they sent the scary Dr. L to persuade/coerce/terrify me into getting one. They sent a LOT of people to change my mind. I think 6 nurses/doctors/staff were sent. And I still didn’t change my mind.

I also think I mentioned this incident in my last post…

ANYWAYS, my rbc went whack after Christmas. Right now I’m at a fantastic 6.0 (with no blood transfusion yet. Ironically, my doctors didn’t put up a fight yesterday and allowed me to walk out with a 6.0 because I looked “fine”.)

TIP: Invest in a really good lipstick/tinted chapstick. Red lips = Healthy look = Fool the doctors into thinking you are just “fine”

With an rbc at half the normal level…I began having a lot more headaches. Actually, I had a headache the entire week. A headache so bad that if I moved too fast, I would begin to be unable to breathe and things would begin to become fuzzy. And I would have to sink onto the floor, waiting to regain my vision and my breath. It was worst when I would try to bend over and reach something - I remember putting on my boots and nearly passing out within 5 steps. And my heart started beating abnormally fast (my body’s desperate attempt to get utilize my deficient levels of oxygen more effeciently). I could handle the headaches; an erratically beating heart was a different thing. It seriously annoyed me. I could hear my heart go thud thud thud thud thud thud 24/7…it interrupted my sleep, it woke me up, it drove me crazy when I was still awake. And I hated that feeling…it felt like it was going to literally jump out of my chest, and there was no way I could slow down that uncomfortable pounding.

To make matters worse, I had fevers for the entire week. Because chemo lowers/compromises your body’s immune system, the nurses/doctors freaked out when they heard I had a fever above 101.3. They hooked me up to an IV (DISLIKE) and made me take another blood test so that they could determine whether I had enough white blood cells and whether I had some kind of infection (luckily, I did have enough cells and no infection. If I hadn’t, they would have committed me into the hospital.) And then they handed me Tylenol. Very unexciting and very time consuming. And, I was upset because I hate being in the hospital. But supposedly, there are stories of patients who had fevers above 101.3…and these patients didn’t get their fevers treated, and so within a few hours…they died (because they unknowingly had dangerous infections). Despite knowing these stories…after getting another fever (or fevers really), with the highest going up to 103.7…I still stayed home and refused to get checked by the hospital. (As you can see, my fear of hospitals is starting to overrule my fear of death. And blah blah, I know it was stupid…but really. I bet all the doctors would have done was to hand me another Tylenol. And I would have had to undergo through that IV+blood test torture again, and my mom would have had to drive for 2 hours…just for a silly little Tylenol. I think sleep is just more effective, at least in my case.)

So. Bed rest. For an entire week. All I did was sleep. eat. and watch movies.

Hence, I am infernally behind on Christmas gifts. still. Christmas has no deadline for me. It might as well be Christmas all year round. I wouldn’t mind…the presents part. And the lights. And the family + friends getting together part.

I would get sick of Christmas dinner though. It’s good food, but I’m tired of meat. And carbs. My mom has fed me steak from October until now. I am expecting steak until the end of April/May. Or until the end of chemo at least.

I would really like vegetables. Tomatoes especially. And fruits. Simple stuff. No more butter please. I don’t like being fattened up. I’m also no longer interested in eating chocolate or candy. Or cookies.

I think I would just like to…not eat. A sinful admittance, really, with half the world starving. Yes, yes, I know it is a privilege to eat - I’ve always adhered to this piece of philosophy. Just now, I don’t think I can stomach any more food…I just don’t really care about eating anymore. Eating is no longer joyful. I’m so sad. I would rather watch people eat. I can’t enjoy food anymore. It’s not that I can’t taste it, I do. It just no longer makes me happy because I don’t really feel like I want to eat anymore. I think cooking or baking would still be fine - it still sounds fun - just with less people to eat it, I don’t really have an incentive to do it. And I think it’ll just make me sad…it reminds me too much of the past. I baked to gain acceptance, but I was never accepted and I think it backfired on me - people said that “I tried too hard.”

LOL. Of course, that means nothing now. When I heard that just recently, I was surprised by the lack of response I had. (Literal response = “oh. okay.” And then I moved onto the next subject.) I guess I care less about how others perceive me now. Or maybe I handle criticisms of me better now. Or  better self confidence, perhaps? :)

But baking is kinda ruined for the moment, because I think of that incident and how silly I was last year. I also think of how people responded to my baking, and while they appeared to like it…I don’t really remember many people thanking me for it. I think very few thanked me or appreciated the effort I made. I mostly feel used and abused and taken for advantage. But I allowed people do that to me, so it’s also my fault. I should have just baked small quantities for my friends and teachers, because they were really the ones I cared about most…and I baked to show them that I loved them.

I don’t like being reminded of painful memories. That’s why I usually block them out, but this one refuses to leave. I suppose that’s because it’s there to remind me to never revert back to that same person again. I’ll bake again, because that’s just too ingrained in my life to abandon. But my taste testers will certainly be different next time.