Hi. I’m Kate. Turn ons include IV drips, PETscans, and organic fig newtons. Turn offs include whining, hospital gowns, and artificial sugar.
Let’s see how much life I can squeeze in between work, chemo, sleep, and scans.
…until
I need your help. The other day someone asked me a question that left me stumped. It’s certainly not the first time I’ve been asked this question, but yet I have no idea how to answer it. The question is ‘How long do I have to do chemo?’
Some people actually know how many chemo treatments they need. That’s a completely foreign concept for me. Like most people diagnosed in stage IV, I have no idea how many treatments I’ll need before I’m in remission. So I decided to compile a list of possible answers to prepare myself for the next time I’m faced with this question.
Possible answers include:
…until Britney Spears is sane.
…until my port-o-cath is paid off.
…until Brad and Angela stop adopting kids.
…until my friends organize an intervention.
…until the Lions win the Super Bowl.
…until Oprah is broke.
…until my doctor calls me Kate instead of Kathryn.
…until FOX cancels American Idol.
and, in all seriousness:
…until I kick the crap out of this cancer.
…until your oncologist’s boat is paid for.
Serious:
As long as it takes.
Obvious:
I don’t know.
Instructive:
I have stage IV, so I don’t really know how many treatments I’ll need until I’m in remission.
Scientific:
There are a great many independent variables at play in that equation.
Melodramatic:
(Just start sobbing)
Deflective:
Usually for about three hours. I usually nap, though, so it’s not so bad.
Suggestive:
Why are you so worried about length?
Avant-garde:
That depends on your shoes, so don’t screw up.
Yakov Smirnov
In Soviet Russia, chemo does you!
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For me it’s something like:
Forever, I hope, as the day that I stop is the day that it’s no longer working.
Hey Kate,
This is my first time posting to you, but I’ve been following your blog since my husband (45) was diagnosed stage 4 last summer and I have to tell you how wonderful it is to read your posts. We, too, do not even bother to look at stats and I have been working on wrenching myself away from the negativity that surrounds this disease. I actually went back several weeks ago to re-read your “online crack” entry–that one really helped me. My husband is doing great and I can tell by your “voice” that you are too. You, and he, will do what it takes, for however long that may be, to get what we want–our lives back. God bless you for sharing and holding out that beacon of hope and positive energy for others fighting the same battles. Together, we can, and will, beat it. Feel free to e-mail me if you want.
Warmest thoughts & prayers from your fellow Marylander and horse-lover,
Amy
i’m sure it will be the latter…cuz Britney ain’t look’n so good.
-Katie
Hey fellow “Lifer”- I too am walking, talking, living, eating, and drinking while carrying the label ” Stage IV-Pancreatic -Metastic -Inoperable Cancer” I am here- no one else is writing this! and the community likes statistics- not the improbable facts that impossible is possible. So, I like your blog, very much and more importantly- I like your honesty. You touch on the very subject that recently I’ve been encountering in my chemo/radiation travels all these weeks ” how much longer for your treatments” is a question I too basically avoid- why? because it takes too long to explain - I find most patients in the cancer centers don’t know ANYTHING about pancreatic cancer- let alone that there really isn’t any known magic chemo that takes it away- like it does for other cancers. And yes, I get frustrated that the most often comment I get is” you don’t look like you have cancer” does my looks make my cancer less real? Oh, yeah, and they give me a blank face or their eyeballs go large and round when you start to tell them where all of your tumors are—and they assume that because I’m a woman I have breast cancer. So, Hello, you’re not alone in America. I was diagnosed in July 07- and as of this month- 8 months and to infinity….. counting to beat this. I am able to identify with most of what you’re going through, except that so far my hair is still attached to my head- but it’s gone through such color transformations my husband says my hair dresser is “chemo-sabie” Its nice for me to know that you’re another one- like myself- making and meeting the milestones to survival and healing. Take care of yourself, there are journeys we need to make for those who follow, Pat
Ditto on comment #8 from Pat, for my wife Susan, except she is getting close to 18 months. See her chemo hair perm photo at http://www.susan-can-help.blogspot.com. I’ve never heard so many great comments about her hair since the Oxaliplatin permed’ it into a kinky/curly style. Kate - I understand sort of about those questions, Sue gets them and I get them all the time - the same exact question.
GREAT answers! I hate that question. It’s like people are getting bored or impatient with me having cancer now. Time’s up. Let’s get this show on the road because it’s not fun anymore.
NO FREAKING KIDDING. They’re bored, impatient and not having fun…GET IN LINE!
I actually like all your answers as well as some of Harris’ so I may use them from time to time when people ask.
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