It was a good weekend. I have felt better each day and I can really tell how much one round of chemo has improved my health. I can breath again. I can take deep, long breaths all the way into my lungs and exhale without a single itch, spasm or cough. I didn't realize just how severely restricted my breathing had become. It happened so gradually that we just didn't realize how sick I was. The night before the ER visit that began all this I came home from tech rehearsal and lay in bed with wracking, spasming coughs that lasted for 10 minutes at a time. My breath came in wheezes and fits. How we ever thought this was simply allergies astounds me. You just don't expect that something could be really wrong.

Though, I knew I was struggling. And deep down, perhaps I knew I wasn't well. In the days and weeks before my diagnosis, I remember driving home from work with Jackson and thinking about getting dinner ready and him ready for bed and then getting back in the car for rehearsal and just wanting to cry. "I need help." I would think. "I can't do all this, I am just too tired." I fantasized about moving in with my mom for a few weeks until the show opened. I felt so lazy and so guilty about the house going to shit. Leaving dishes in the sink all the time, letting the carpets get so nasty. Laundry piling up. So many little things left undone. And I felt really bad about it, but could not stop being lazy. I even thought a few times and actually said out loud to my husband "I wish I would just collapse so someone would help me." They'd get TV's Dr. House to figure out why I couldn't stop coughing and things would be great. Heh. Guess I got my wish. I just shake my head now about how bad I let things get before my Mother took charge. I just didn't know I was really sick. I had lost weight and couldn't gain it back and had no energy and couldn't take good care of myself, my house and my son. I took little joy from performing, either in Robin Hood or in getting ready for Steel Magnolias. And still, I just didn't even consider that I was really sick. Just lazy. As much as I wanted to, you just don't ask for help to combat lazy. I felt guilty about it and kept slugging on.

Well no more! I feel good this morning. Better than I have felt in months. I have an appetite and what feels like unrestricted airways for the first time in so long I can't remember. I have put on a few pounds and my face doesn't look so scary thin. Heh, even my bras fit a little better if ya know what I mean. I am amazed at how one round of dangerous, violent, wondrous chemotherapy has already beaten back the cancer that was eating me alive. Wow. The side effects are so debilitating and difficult to deal with. But I get to feel the benefits of the treatment this week. The aches and pains are ignorable right now and I expect this will be a great week for feeling good. Feeling normal. I wonder how much harder this process is on those cancer patients who didn't feel sick at all before treatment. Like a breast cancer patient who felt 100% normal and then found a lump. She has to walk in to her first round of chemo feeling well and leave feeling sick. She only gets to feel the awfulness of chemo and radiation and disfiguring surgery on top of the hair loss. I get to feel the 'wow' of treatment. Wow. I can breath, I can eat, I can play with my son on the floor. Wow. I am getting better.

I have been feeling a bit better the last couple of days. Still slow and uncomfortable. Back pain, belly aches and various pains and annoyances. I feel like an old lady. I groan a lot when I get up off the couch and I have to sit down and rest all the time. But these are annoyances and nothing I can't deal with. I have managed to get out and about despite it.

On Friday, Mom and I went to Target for a bit of shopping. I actually rode around the store on one of those go-carts they have for the handicapped. I felt pretty stupid doing it, but Mom kind of insisted that I do it and conserve my energy. Jackson rode with me and when we took off for the first time he turned his little face to me with such joy and awe I had to laugh. His obsession with cars and all things wheeled made driving the cart the most exciting thing he had ever done in his little life. He put his hand on the steering wheel and helped me steer and had a grand time.

The experience made me realize how much it would suck to not be able to walk. I couldn't reach things from the seat and I continually had to get up and get what I wanted and then get back in the cart. I realized how helpless I would be if I were actually confined to a wheelchair or couldn't simply get up and get things. Made me appreciate my legs. And the fact that though my illness will have cycles of real handicap, it won't be every day and it won't last forever.

Friday night, Elaine and I went to see Andrea in Midsummer. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to sit through the whole show with my body aching like it was. But this was another time when it's good to know people. Since I did Robin Hood at this theatre, I happened to know that there was a closet full of fun kid things to decorate the lobby; things including dozens of plush pillows. I am learning to speak up and ask for what I need - a skill I have needed to work on for years. So I found Rita, the manager, and asked if she would unlock that closet and let me use a pillow for my back. She is aware of my situation and graciously let me in the closet. I am really glad I asked because it made all the difference. I was able to enjoy the show and my dear Andrea's wonderful performance in its entirety.

I was somewhat unsure of how the show would be; Shakespeare can be so hit or miss. But it was well acted and directed with great costumes and live music & sound effects. That was really neat to see. The one-lady band played the piano for incidental music and scene changes, in addition to a xylophone. The Xylophone was the perfect instrument for the forest and fairy scenes. She had the perfect sense of less is more. Short chimes here and there, notes in slight discord for the fairies, and the coolest way of using a violin bow to stroke the keys of the xylophone that made a beautiful and eerie sound. Her music and playing really enhanced the ambiance of the show. It was something to see and I am glad I was able to go.

I have been buying things lately. Anyone who knows me well knows that I am not a spender. I just don't buy things, especially for myself. I am skilled at talking myself out of things that I want. Honestly, stuff has just never been very important to me. And I don't generally shop without a reason or a need. But since my diagnosis I have been driven, somehow to indulge myself. Little things at the grocery store will catch my eye and I throw it in the cart. We're talking things like gummy bears. Standing in the checkout line at Fry's I grab a package of gummy bears cause I just want em'. This is not like me. While waiting at Walgreen's for a prescription to be filled I picked up and bought a bunch of crap I don't need. Just cause I wanted too. A pop-up clothes hamper for my closet. One of those vacuum-pack space saver bags for Jackson clothes that are too small. I mean, I just seem to have this compulsion to get whatever I feel like, whenever I want to. New tops at Target, a new clock for the bathroom, more matchbox cars for my spoiled child. And what is even more interesting is how freaking amusing I find it. I buy these things, impulse buys, stuff I can use but don't need and I giggle like a little girl. For some reason getting cancer and having to go through chemo has unleashed this self-indulgent creature; this woman-child who throws junk in the cart with defiant 'so there' and a 'take that' and what-are-you-gonna-do-about it attitude. And it makes me smile. Hee Hee. Look what I can do. I have been restrained and thoughtful about just about every purchase I have ever made since I reached adulthood and all the sudden I say screw it all, I want stuff.

And today...today....we went TV shopping. This is the mother of all purchases. An event so breathtaking I shudder to talk about it. We are buying a new TV and the one we have now is not even broken! Do you understand how huge this is? David has been griping about our TV for at least 2 years now. It's too small at 27 inches. The picture is crap, you can't read the program guide cause the words are sorta blurry. But I have held him off, laughed at his insistence that we need - need, ha -need a new one.

But the bug was planted about a month ago BC (before cancer)at my Dad's house. Dad recently bought a new TV. A nice one. 46 inch flat panel LCD Samsung, and it is a beauty. Beautiful picture in a sleek, gorgeous shell. And it makes pretty beepy noises when you turn it on and off. I was smitten at first sight and David darn near drooled. My Dad even went on about how we should get one too. My Mother also has a nice new TV and she has also complained about our poor pathetic 27 inch Sharp. At the time I considered the idea of getting one and thought that maybe I could talk myself into (or out of) getting one for Christmas...maybe.

But ever since the diagnosis I have not been able to get it out of my mind. It has become this secret, burning, almost shameful, desire I have held in my heart and tried, desperately tried to get rid of. But all my usual ways of talking myself down from big purchases were not working. I simply could not stop wanting it. And to further disarm me, I started thinking about how nice it would be to move the unloved Sharp TV into my bedroom so that in the morning Jackson could crawl in bed with me and watch cartoons while I got some extra rest. And that was the death stroke to my spending inhibitions. Every morning while dragging myself out of bed, I would think "Boy, wouldn't a TV in my room be so nice right now. I could still be horizontal right now." The voices in my head would chant throughout the day "new TV, new TV."

I suspect some of my impulse buying has been an attempt to satisfy this beast that would not go away. On Friday I mentioned the beast to my Mother and to my surprise she jumped right on board with it. "Get a new TV, put this one in your room," She said without hesitation. Anything that may get me more rest is not only ok, but necessary in her eyes. So now I had the beast driving me and My mother's assent, too. So I did the only thing I could. I called my Dad. Daddy would tell me if buying a big fancy TV was the height of irresponsible indulgence at a time when medical bills will be coming fast and furious. I trust him implicitly in all things financial - and with toys, he's great at buying cool toys. Dad said go for it. He's even going to kick in a generous contribution to the buy Marsha a TV fund. My birthday is on Monday and dammitall I'm getting a new TV! Hooray, I am so excited! We ordered it online and saved at least $400 from the in-store prices, plus no tax and free shipping from Amazon. It should arrive in about a week and will be in place hopefully by the time I go in for round two of chemo on the 14th. Happy birthday to me!!!!

I never know how to start a blog anymore. I often sit here staring at the screen for a few minutes trying to decide where to begin. I have so much going on in my days and in my head that it is hard to organize it all. Do I make this a simple daily update beginning with what I had for breakfast? My mom would appreciate me chronicling each bite I put into my mouth every day. Do I just briefly say how I am feeling and get on with the facts I learned at the cancer center today? Or do I write a meaningless paragraph about my inability to chose a starting point for my daily blog? I think I will go with C, Bob, thanks.

So today I got up at 6:00 am and ate a bowl of Oats and More cereal with strawberries in it. (That one's for you, mom). Then I drove into Austin for a 7:00 am appointment with my dentist. Along the way I questioned myself about why I chose to make a 7:00 a.m. dental appointment in the first place. That is too damned early for hygiene. But the drive was nice and the traffic was light on the pristine expanse of toll road I traveled.

I had to fill out an update sheet for my chart and it included an update of medical history. You know the long lists of 'have you evers' that you circle N or Y. Heart disease, diabetes, seizures, etc. Cancer. This is the second time I have had to circle yes to cancer and explain. It feels weird. Makes me want to be a smart ass. At the radiology center last week they ask the question strait out on the form, "Do you have or have you had cancer?" My mom read over my shoulder while I filled that one out and asked "Did you write 'yuppers'? Yuppers. I had. Do you have cancer? Yuppers. I don't know why I think that's funny. I just do. But I digress.

I have been to this particular dental office for a few years and always see the same hygienist. Very nice, upbeat and knowledgeable lady. She always tells me where I need to improve while she cleans. Not getting this back tooth area enough. Or the gum line right here needs some attention. Not in a judgemental sort of way, just helpful. I like her. And today I needed advice on how chemo will affect my mouth and teeth. But it is so hard to tell people you have cancer. She had read my updated history sheet, so she knew coming to get me so I didn't have to just out with it like I did to my eye doctor. And as with nearly everyone, she turned to me with such sad eyes. Not pity. I either haven't gotten or can't detect pity. But people look at me so sadly when I have to tell them. It makes me want to comfort them, reassure them that I am OK, I can handle it. Please don't be sad.

She was interested, so I told her all about it, what we know, what we expect, I'm going to be cured, etc. And she and the doc had advice for the mouth pain and some preventative measures to strengthen my teeth. And I have no cavities and all is good. She sent me home with a boatload and samples and freebies. I am the freebie queen lately. People give you stuff when you get cancer. Plus the great parking.

The ladies at the dental office told me how amazingly brave and positive and expressive I am. Said I should be a speaker for cancer someday. I don't know about that, but I do seem to be morphing into brave motivational cancer girl. I am not sure why it surprises people that I am taking it this way. I just don't know how else to be. I can't stop being me just because I have to go through chemo. I am who I fundamentally am and that doesn't change. I am happy, even through hard times. I am a smart-ass and a cynic and a liberal and I regularly talk like I know more than I do and on top of that it now seems I am becoming a self-indulgent blogger who writes endless posts about dental visits instead of getting to the meaty portion that the eager readers want to hear about...

What are the numbers?!? Well, Dr. George looked at all the test results and scans and has made the decision that I am in stage 2 of my lymphoma. All of the affected lymph nodes are above the diaphragm. My bone marrow came back clean. Yay! And the game plan is for me to undergo 5 more rounds of chemo with CT/Pet scans after the 3rd and 6th rounds. Radiation will probably not be part of my treatment. This is all very welcome news. Five more rounds spaced three weeks apart. Five does not seem such a scary number to me. Six total rounds, one is completed. I can do this. This will suck and will probably feel much longer than it is. But if I can just take it one round at a time, get through each one as it comes, I will be done before you know it.

I always feel like little miss sunshine when I talk like that. Chin up, it could be worse, it won't be forever. But I simply have to combat any negative thoughts and feelings as they come. And I do have them. Today while we waited in the lobby of the cancer center for my appointment, there was a lady there, in her 30's waiting too. She was in a wheelchair, wearing robe and slippers and covered in a blanket. And bald, bald, bald. I turned around and saw her and felt like I had been hit with a sucker punch. I couldn't breath. I felt a moment of panic and shakiness that said 'Marsha you are about to lose it!' And I said back 'Don't you dare break down, don't you dare.' And I took a few breaths and conquered it. It was just hard to see her there, knowing that last week I was in the wheelchair suffering the effects of treatment and as much I wish it weren't so I will be there again in another week. And I don't want to be the sick bald girl in the wheelchair. I don't. But crying and screaming and pitying myself will do nothing to prevent me from being the bald girl in the wheelchair waiting for treatment in the cancer center.

And while we waited, Jackson pranced about the lobby talking and entertaining us all, her included. And we talked and laughed together, me and mom and David and the lady in the wheelchair and her support person. And she had such a beautiful smile. And like me she seemed to be laughing and living despite being forced into a role she didn't want. I guess that is all we can do.

I've not been feeling well most of the day. Just real tired and achy and a little queasy. Tonya came this morning and helped me with Jackson today, cause I just felt so crappy. So I got to take a couple of good naps and she drove me to get my blood drawn this afternoon. I started feeling a bit better around 4ish, and Tonya and I got to talking. We decided that I probably have a little virus, a stomach bug or something, and this is not simply chemo side effects. Jackson had 4 suspect diapers today and that kind of made us think that he and I are just fighting a virus. Which actually made me feel better. I can kick a virus. You just have to live with a side effect. And it has been over a week since chemo. I should be feeling better not worse, so we decided I have a bug and will be better tomorrow. I have proclaimed it and so it shall be.

Tomorrow we have an appt with my Oncologist to look at the results of all the testing we've done and discuss what the treatment plan will look like. We'll finally be getting some of the numbers people find so important. Like what stage of Lymphoma I have. I have tried not to think too much about it and have kept myself from doing too much Googling about it. I don't want to put all my hopes into a number. Whatever the number is, I will take it and research it and go from there. Of course I hope for a low number - stage 1 is better than stage 4 - but I can't control it. It is what it is. So I have not been too focused on it. Till now. Now that we get the number tomorrow, I feel a little nervous. Anticipatory. Scared.

But it doesn't matter. If it is stage 2, I'll beat it. If it is stage 4, I'll beat it. I can't get caught up in the numbers. I keep saying that, but here I am still typing away about the numbers, the numbers. I'll stop now.

Good news in my Mom's world. She decided to apply for a weekend shift in the ER so she would be off every Monday thru Thursday and work every Friday, Saturday and Sunday. She decided that she wanted to be available to help me during the week and it took a load off her shoulders to simply change shifts this way. I feel a little guilty about her changing her life so much for me, but the change is inevitable. Her daughter has cancer and she is a nurse. She would be unhappy and stressed if she weren't able to be physically with me when I need her to be. The cool thing is that when she applied for the weekend position, they offered her the Charge Nurse job for that shift. So she asked for a shift change and got a raise and promotion. And she will be able to help me during the week.

I don't know how other people go through this kind of thing without their own private nurse like I have. Simply having my RN Mother with me thru procedures to decode what people are saying and help me make decisions has been so important. When I imagine what other people have to put up with and the obstacle course they have to run to get care, I feel so damned lucky. Knowing who and what we know because of my Mother got me from diagnosis to treatment in less than a week. If it wasn't for her I would be weeks behind in this process still trying to get all the testing done and gathered. Instead we forge ahead cutting as much red tape as we can. It is some consolation to this madness. Knowing the right people has definitely helped.

The bills are starting to come in. I am continually flabbergasted by the way in which we Americans do health care. It is the most absurdly unfair system I can imagine. We got the bill from my initial ER visit. $6487.71 was the charge for the 6 hour visit. My portion to pay is $400.80. "Wow", you say. "How nice that your insurance is covering so much. Isn't life grand?" But I would caution you to look closer at the bill. The hospital billed Aetna $6487.71. Aetna "per contractual agreement" paid $103.20. $300 is my deductible and the $100.80 is my 20% of the rest. What happened to the other $5900? Who is paying that? The answer is no one. The hospital claims to have used $6487.71 in services on me, and they are receiving total payment of $504, mostly from me.

While I am quite happy to be billed $400 instead of $5900, I can't help think about the implications of this. In reality, what did it cost the hospital to treat me? If it cost $6K and they get paid $500 how can they continue to keep their doors open if every patient, every claim is handled this way? And what of the poor schlubs without health insurance? How is it right that he gets a bill for $6K and I get one for $400 simply because I pay a monthly ransom to the right people (Aetna)? This system is designed to kick those that are already down. "You don't have health insurance? You are really sick? Bam! Here's your $6K bill." My health insurance didn't pay shit for that visit. $103. But I get the luxury of paying less simply because Aetna told them so. Am I buying health insurance or consorting with mobsters? I can't seem to tell the difference.

Sigh. This makes me really passionately angry and I could go on all night about it. Instead, I'll just wait till I get my next ridiculous bill. I should be getting one for a $7800 shot I got last week. We shall see what King Aetna proclaims it is really worth.

I had such a good day yesterday. Jackson and I went back to work for the first time in a few weeks. He fell right back into his routine. Helped me set up his bed and fan and napped happily for 3 hours while I worked. Yesterday was the first day of the 4th summer camp session, so there was a big ol stack of registration forms and payments from the hundred or so kids in this session. I had such a good time just sorting through the stack and taking care of it. A little data entry and filing work has never made me so happy. It was great to be back. After work I managed to cook dinner even. I don't remember the last time I did that. It was a good day and I went to bed exhausted.

Today, however, has not been so great. My body was really tired and sore last night and I started to feel my bones hurting. I got a shot of Neulasta last week that makes your bone marrow kick out as many red blood cells as it can to help fight lowered immune system from chemo. I was told that one side effect that a lot of people get is bone pain. They are working hard to keep up and that makes them sore. I am not sure how to describe it other than my bones throb and ache pretty bad. Especially my hips and thighs. I took a Darvocet and it helped a lot - let me sleep, but after only about 3 hours the pain was back. I took another Darvocet at 3 am which helped the pain, but made my empty stomach queasy. So I woke this morning sick to my stomach and really hurting in my bones.

David was able to work from home today and I have spent most of the day on Darvocet and Advil in my bed. I am disappointed that I couldn't go to work today. After such a good day yesterday, spending today in bed really stinks.

This morning I woke up feeling like I had a little energy for the first time in a few weeks. Of course, I quickly burned up that energy by not paying attention to how fast and much I was doing. I have such a hard time remembering to move slower and just be chill. I made Jackson something to eat, threw in some of his laundry and just started picking up a few things around the house. It felt good, but as I said, I quickly burned up that spark of energy. It isn't totally gone, I feel like I can go to the theatre today and be fine. I just gotta remember to move slower and stop being so ambitious.

So I switched to computer and phone work. Made an appt to get my carpets cleaned on Friday because the atrocious state of them makes me ache just sitting in my living room. The simple act of watching TV is made less relaxing because I can't stop staring at the Jackson-induced juice stains and tracks everywhere. It is bad. And I know that I will feel so much better when it is done.

Also made an appointment with my gyn doc. Usually takes a few weeks or even a month to get a yearly exam appt. but I have found that the C word changes things a lot. "We have an opening in September." "Um, I have cancer and desperately need to consult with her about birth control while on chemo." "OK, how bout next week?" So yeah. That is nice. And I really do need to deal with it fast. Chemo may or may not interrupt ovulation, and it almost certainly interferes with birth control pills, so we need to really look at it and make the best decision because getting pregnant while on chemo is not something I want to deal with. All I can ask right now is WHERE IS THE PILL FOR MEN? Can we make some breakthroughs please?

I really wish I had not had a glass of orange juice this morning. The chemo side effect(besides fatigue) that has been bothering me the most is my mouth. Seems that chemo likes to kill fast growing cells and those in your mouth and stomach are very susceptible. So my mouth has just hurt and been uncomfortable for days. Not terribly painful, just throbby and annoying all the time. I keep rinsing with a baking soda wash as they said and it does help. And I don't have huge canker sores like lots of chemo patients get, but I am pretty tired of having a bad taste and feeling in my mouth all the damned time. I am chewing gum or eating something all the time to combat it, but that just masks it for a little while. This morning it seemed much better. So like a dummy I went back to drinking my usual glass of orange juice. Bad, bad move. My mouth complains now and so does my stomach. Too much acid. What was I thinking? Sigh. It is the little things that bother the hell out of you sometimes.

So hair. Hair, hair, hair. Hair. All this focus on my hair. I have just about run the gamut with it and can perhaps (almost) say that I can handle the loss of it. In fact, whether I lose my hair or not, I have just about made the decision to cut it. The truth right now is that I am finding it hard to care for it. After one chemo treatment, the amount of energy it takes to wash, rinse, comb, dry and care for it is too much. I have had help the last three washes and while that is nice, I don't want to need help with it. And the reading I am doing about caring for your chemo influenced hair is daunting. Baby shampoos every 3-5 days, pat dry, no dryers, caps to bed to prevent hair loss through friction, etc. Geez. I am starting to feel that cutting it is the right thing to do simply becuase I will feel worse if I can't maintain it. It will take way more physical and emotional energy to baby my hair and study every follicle to see if it is showing signs of falling out. I am tired of it already and it hasn't even started. And with this fatigue, I have to let something go. And I would rather spend the time with my son than with my hair dryer.

So the tentative plan is to go to some expensive salon after Steel Magnolias closes Aug 5th (cause I am still hanging on to the thought I may perform next weekend - let me deal with one delusion at a time please...). I am thinking of some cute low maintanance pixi cut. Layers and spiky? Natalie Portman boyish? Whatcha think? Chin length? I have never contemplated a short do for myself and I am hoping to make it an adventure. I am not promising not to mourn my hair for a bit, but I think I am already thru the worst of it. And I am tired of feeding it energy. So there.

Poor Jackson. His normal life has been so disrupted the last three weeks or so. Being away from home, having house guests and babysitters, not going to the theatre, etc. And we have let him develop some sleeping issues with all the turmoil. Like wanting to get up in the middle of the night to "sit me" on the recliner and watch late night tv. We decided after yesterday's 5:00 am yellfest that we simply have to go back to what worked for us in the first place. Stop going in when he yells. It doesn't calm him down if we go in to reasure him. He wants what he wants and he yells all the louder for thinking he might be getting it. So last night, he woke up about 1:30 and chanted, yelled and cried "Get up, get up, get uppppp mammmmaa" for an hour. Then at 2:30 he took a 10 minute break before starting back up again for another 30 minutes.

David has a hard time with it. He wants to go in and comfort him. But from experience we know that if you go in, it will only piss him off when you leave again. So we let him chant and yell about getting up and wanting the 'yellow paci'.

I have to say it is harder to do this time than when he was one. This time he has words and uses them. Hearing 'Mama, sit me" is bittersweet at 2 in the morning. But his sleeping has been disrupted for a few weeks and I can tell the difference in his behavior when he sleeps and when he doesn't.

On another note entirely, J and L visited a few nights ago and brought me a book. I glanced at the book when they gave it to me and was a bit confused as to why this book. It is called "Of Monkeys and Dragons; Freedom from the Tranny Disease."

"Tranny disease?" I thought. Is this a memoir of a transexual coming to grips with the reality of his/her life? And what of the Monkeys and Dragons? Is he/she a monkey and wants to be a dragon? I was confused, yet interested in a Maury Povich sort of way. I thought "Hey, I trust my friends to bring me something worth reading."

And then last night I took another look at the book laying on my counter and noticed one Key error. The Y. In Tyranny. As is Freedom from the Tyranny of Disease. A perfectly appropriate book to give a newly diagnosed cancer patient. Much more appropriate than the transvestite memior I imagined. Um. Yeah. Tyranny.


And yet, oddly, I wonder about the monkey/dragon he/she and how that memoir would have read...

It is not quite 8 pm on Saturday night and I am almost too tired to blog. I could go to bed right now, but I am not ready to give in and go to bed before dark yet. I decided yesterday that I was not going to perform this weekend and that is turning out to be a very good thing. I feel ok. Just very, very tired, like I am slogging through molassas to get my legs to move. I am slow. And I can't seem to get moving any faster and for me, that is very hard to take. I am a person who moves quickly from place to place, with a focus and a purpose. I have always been impatient walking (or driving) behind the slowpokes. And now I am having to come to grips with the fact that I can't control everything. That I can't speed up and walk faster just because I really, really want to. And purpose be damned I will get there when I get there. But it sure is difficult. My mind is still going as fast as ever, it's just my body that simply won't keep up.

Luckily I am with understanding people mostly. Today David and I went to the Theatre to help a bit with Cats! auditions. Jackson came along and took his afternoon snooze in his accustomed place in the handicapped bathroom. He slept like a log all afternoon while the auditioners sang and danced. It was good to get out of the house and see friends and just be around the theatre and the normalcy it represents for me.

I was a bit afraid I would get there today and feel disappointment or pain to see the Steel Magnolias set waiting for tonight's show in which I will not be performing. But I think the fact that I could hardly climb the steps to the stage made it perfectly clear that I did not really decide not to do the show, I simply cannot currently do the show and I can't change it. If I got there and felt great and got that energy you get before a show and then had to say, "I wish I was going on..." But nope. I am ok with it. I may be up for it next weekend or I may have done the last of it I can, and I have to just accept it.

It was nice to step into the office for a minute. I found a whole stack of cards on my desk with my name on them. People have dropped off little notes to me. It is so wonderful to know that even though this really sucks and isn't what we planned for my 30th year, I am surrounded by people who care about me and don't hesitate to say so.

I actually had a minute or two yesterday when I simply felt happy. Well, content, I should say. How weird that I should feel contentment now. But there it is. We have been dealt this hand and I am proud and happy at how well we are going to be able to deal with it. We are blessed with good health insurance that is widely accepted and I don't have to work full time to keep it. We have family nearby who can and will take as much slack as they can. And tight as things may get, we aren't going to lose our home to pay our bills. If you have to be diagnosed with cancer, geez, there isn't a much better position to be in.

I do worry that this may mean David and I cannot have another child. Heh, we were well into the planning of baby #2 when I got Lasik done and put it off for a few months. Who would have known what a good thing that was. To have gotten pregnant and then be diagnosed with cancer would be...well I don't even want to think about that. It is just another bonus that it didn't happen.

I got my appetite back yesterday. Spent most of the day grazing on the homemade beef stew my dad made. I was pretty weak and shaky for much of the day, but in the afternoon Dad, Jackson and I went to the grocery store. I had been told that walking and getting even a little excercise would make me feel better. And it sure as hell did. I was weak and slow and shaky when we got there and after about and hour of walking around my legs felt better and stonger and I just felt more myself. I was tired afterwards, weary, but not as weak it seems. So yes, getting up and moving around even when I don't feel like it has to be part of my daily life after chemo.

Jackson is having a serious language explosion. He is repeating everything and even coming up with independant thoughts. "where's mama?" he'll ask and they say "Mama sleeping?" And he just talks up a storm all day now. You folks at the Palace aren't going to believe it when you see him next. He is turning into a little boy.

My hip bone is sore from the bone marrow biopsy. I have not heard any results yet and am hoping to get a phone call today. I may call and harrass them this afternoon if I don't hear anything.

And since today is Friday I have some decisions to make about the show this weekend. I just don't know yet if I want to do one, some or none of them. I have a hard time letting the show go on without me, but I also have to face the reality that I have an illness that is taking my energy and attention. Not to mention the new port on my chest that isn't quite healed and the hip bone recovering from the biopsy. I don't know why I feel the need to push myself further. The show will go on whether I am there or not. SO I need to just relax and let my body decide and go from there.

Oh, on the good news front, we read up on my health insurance benefits and they will pay up to $500 for a wig if I want one. Heh, I can get a kick ass wig if I want and Aetna will pay for it. Yay Aetna.

The last two days have been quite eventful and full of surprisingly enjoyable moments and some not so enjoyable ones. Some of which I have chronicled here. It is a long one so feel free to get bored and stop reading at any time.

9:00 yesterday morning, Mom and I arrived at the cancer center for my first round of chemotherapy. The lobby volunteers offered us juice and refreshments and made us welcome. We didn't wait long for the nurse to bring us back to the chemo infusion center. It is a big open room with a nurses station, lots and lots of windows and three separate infusion areas. Each area has about four to six vinyl recliners with a pillow in each one. They are arranged in a circle, so that patients can interact and talk with the others. Pretty good idea to prevent isolation. The nurses area is nearby and open to the room. They can easily see if someone needs something or calls for them. Infusions can take hours so it is nice that the environment is so comfortably laid out.

My nurse, Jennifer, is in her early 30's and really savvy and nice. She sat with me, mom and Andrea' for half an hour discussing the drugs I would be receiving and what to expect from each one. She was so kind and thorough and spoke with me as a peer in intelligence, if not in knowledge. She told me to pick a spot and recommended the back corner where you can see everyone coming and going and still see out the windows. So I set up residency in the back corner. Mom and Andrea were allowed to stay with me as long as the chairs weren't needed.

Heh, I was sitting in the corner facing the whole room, with my visitors and the nurses and the American Cancer volunteers spending lots of time just talking with me. I felt like I was holding court from my throne. Made me laugh. Mom said that the nurses and volunteers were so interested in me because I am a youngster, rather than their usual elderly patients. I have more conversation fodder and I tend to get chatty when drugged. They started the drugs with IV Benedryl to prevent severe allergic reactions and I was high as a kite for a while.

All in all, my first chemo session took about six hours to complete. And it was a surprisingly enjoyable experience. Having the port implant meant that there was no one digging around in my arms to get an IV started and without an IV in my hand or arm I had both hands free. I had the company of my mom and my best friend, a great nurse, and great conversation with people I will be spending lots of time with in the next several months.

I didn't start feeling queasy until about an hour after I got home. I took one of the phenergan they gave me for nausea but it didn't help much so I took a second an hour later. You are allowed two at once, but I like to start with lower doses because of my weight. I battled the nausea through the night, waking up to eat some fig newtons and take more medicine. Poor David, I woke him up at 5:30 this morning crinkling the fig newton wrapper so loud for what seemed like 5 minutes, because I couldn't get them open in the dark.

When I got up this morning I had the worst cotton mouth ever and my body felt really really heavy. Like my limbs were wrapped in cement. But after a bit of breakfast and juice and my anti-nausea big gun (Emend), I started to feel a little better. The nausea subsided, and I was just left with this odd weakness.

You know that is what is really surreal to me about this whole thing, the times when I need to use a wheelchair to get around and have someone help me get into the bed or to the bathroom. It just doesn't feel like I am me at those times. I am a strong, vital person and I am tough. I do pain and illness well. I handle it with minimal drama and understand that simply relaxing through the pain and knowing that it isn't going to last forever, makes it easier to endure. So when the tough girl can't walk from department to department in the hospital or can't manage to get into the bathroom without help, I start to feel really weird. Who is this person I have become? Personal Long-term illness simply isn't in my plans. It isn't supposed to be part of my life story and I am having a hard time assimilating it. But perhaps my inability or refusal to define myself as a sick person will help in the long run. I won't wallow in this. I won't be a victim. To do so would mean re-writing my entire internal story of who I am. And I am not willing to do that.

Of course there is one thing that I am unable to take quietly - the hair. I am going to lose my hair and there isn't anything I can do to stop it. When I was feeling the ill effects of the chemo last night, I indulged in a hair meltdown. I cried and sobbed about it. I don't want to lose my hair. And I am not interested in being positive about it. Yet. All the well-meaning "It'll grow back" responses I get do not make me feel better. Yes, I will eventually have hair again. But not for quite some time. As long as I receive chemo - 6 to 8 months, my hair will not grow back. When it does start growing again it will be fragile, possibly and probably a different color and texture. And it will grow slowly. Maybe 6 months after I stop chemo I may have something I won't be embarrassed to be seen with. My hair as I know and love it is about to be gone and I refuse to take it in stride. I am mad about it. Pissed off. Sad. And I think I deserve to be. So while I appreciate the caring motive of the 'it'll grow back' crowd, all that I truly wish is for co-misery. I'd much rather you tell me "I think it really sucks ass that you are losing your hair. That pisses me off too!"

This afternoon I had my bone marrow biopsy - the last big procedure to determine my stage of cancer. David and Mom went with me to Georgetown hospital to get it done. One perk of being a Cancer Center patient is that I don't have to go through main admissions and the waiting room gauntlet to get registered, etc. The Cancer Center registered me and took me strait to my prep room.

I had to get some lab work before the procedure so we got to test the amazing port for a blood draw. Yesterday, accessing the port was pretty painful - because it is new and still tender and also because the needle is like a push pin that they pop into your skin to the port below. Today, I went prepared. I got a prescription of Emla cream (mostly lidocaine) and put a gob on the port site and covered it with a small piece of Saran Wrap. By the time the lab was ready to access the port, I was good and numb. Didn't hurt at all. And once again I had my hands free and no stress about how many tries it would take to get an IV started. Yay ports!! If you ever have the unfortunate luck to get cancer, you simply have to indulge in this must-have accessory. It is all the rage in the Cancer Center.

The biopsy itself went well. It was done on the CT scan table. They took the biopsy from my pelvic bone, accessed through my butt. I had to lay on my stomach and using the CT scanner, the doctor located the exact trajectory for the needle. He marked the spot on my ass with an X (of course) and that told him the best path into the bone. It was a ten minute deal. Pretty painless since I got the mighty Fentanyl/Versed cocktail for the third time two weeks. Of course I needed the drugs for more than just pain. Because I had to lay there all covered up - except for one thing. My ass. I lay there on a skinny little CT table facing the wrong way to see the team in action, with my tush quite perfectly on display for any and all comers. Yes, the nice nurse pushed the drugs at about the same time as a stranger began drawing with a marker on my ass. All I could think was "Am I back in College?"

I have to say that I am having a bit of a problem with these doctors who begin performing their little procedures on me with not so much as a "Hi how are you? I am going to draw on your ass now." First Dr. Cain, who didn't say boo to me before the WD-40 attack on my nose and now the Radiologist whose face I never even saw has intimate knowledge of my ass, but didn't introduce himself to me before or after the biopsy.

I am just glad that Dr. George and the nurses at the Cancer Center are so wonderfully human. And I would like to know what the hospital plans to do with those CT scan pictures of my ass. If I were a state beauty pageant winner they would be posted to the Internet by now and Donald Trump would be defending my honor.

Oh man, I am rambling. Sorry.

Just had to post these pictures of Jackson on his second birthday on July 14th. Elaine took them and I just stole them from her blog. http://stillrunningamuck.blogspot.com/

She is really getting good with her camera. The first picture is the perfect moment when we brought out the cake and Jackson got a look at it. Cake is one of his very favorite things. The second picture is the after pic of the sated little boy. He sure loves chocolate cake.

The shows went well on Saturday and Sunday. I was feeling well enough to perform. I kinda pooped out Sunday afternoon, long about intermission though, and had to finish the last scene on sheer force of will. But I did it. We performed to very full houses, almost sold out both shows. That was really nice. My Dad got to see the show on Saturday night and though the irony of the role wasn't lost on him, he enjoyed the show.

This morning I had an eye doctor visit to check on my lasik healing. I confess that I have not been as diligent with the tear drops to combat dry eye as I should have been. Guess I just had other things to think about. So my left eye is still a bit behind my right in terms of dryness and visual acuity, but all in all the lasik was a success and I can see 20/20 without contacts or glasses.

I told Dr. Miller about my lymphoma and we talked a bit about what chemo means for my eyes. She said that chemo can exacerbate dry eye, so we need to keep using the gel drops at night and I will continue with monthly check-ups to make sure this doesn't mess with my eyes too much. She wants me to consult with her before I get any radiation, cause that can cause some damage depending on the type or placement of it. But that will be later down the road and she said that as long as we watch it, cancer should not mess up my great lasik results.

I am sure glad I got it done. With all these procedures they sometimes don't like you to wear contacts and that means glasses, which you can't wear during a procedure, just before and after it. So you end up blind and wondering where they put your glasses when you are already vulnerable from the drugs and procedures and those breezy stylish gowns they give you. It is definitely nice to not have to worry about my sight while undergoing all this shit.

This afternoon I got the Portacath placed in my chest. They were really nice and even pretty much on schedule today. I was not supposed to eat after 8:00 this morning, but after experiencing on Friday just how sick I could get going NPO all day, Mom and I decided to ignore that order. She's an RN and felt that while it is imperative to be NPO for a PET scan like Friday's, it is simply not necessary to be NPO for conscious sedation, like today. They don't want you to get sick from the drugs and puke all over them or yourself or aspirate it into your lungs. But I had these same drugs last week. We know they don't make me sick. So we decided that it was in my best interests to eat a light lunch. And when they asked me when I had last eaten, I was a bald-faced liar and told them what they wanted to hear. I wish I didn't have to do that, but after Friday, I am not going to go without eating without a really, really good reason.

The port is just under the skin above my left boob. You can't really see it under there unless you are looking for it. Right now it looks kinda scary cause I have two incisions and pen markings all over. But when the incisions heal, I think it won't be very noticeable. It is pretty tender and sore right now. I am not looking forward to the nurses touching it tomorrow when I get my first round of chemo. But in the long run this will be so much better than having to get an IV all the time. I will not miss the techs and nurses multiple attempts one bit. Today the guy got in on the second try. No I won't miss that a bit.

While I was having the port placed, Dr. George called my cell and left a message for me. He has the results of Friday's PET Scan and it is very good news. The scan did not turn up any other areas of lymphoma. So what we already knew about in my chest/lung area is all of it. The lymphatic system is all over your body and they are all connected to each other somehow, so it is possible for the cancer to travel to other parts of your body where there are lymph nodes.

But in my case, they all decided that living in my right lung was the way to go. So they are all concentrated there oblivious to the fact that we plot their death even now. I picture the bugs in those old Raid commercials. You remember, they're all sitting around the kitchen partying and having fun til one sniffs the air and yells "RAAIIDD!" And they all explode in a cloud of dust. Well that is my lung: Party central today, but the sunsabitches are gonna get it tomorrow!

Heh, I think the darvocet I took for my tender port is making me silly. I better go to bed.

Yesterday was a tough day. I was tired and short of breath from the getgo. It is amazing how little activity it takes to make me feel like I just ran around the block. I can't carry Jackson anymore.

We had a wellcheck at the pedi for Jackson in the morning. My mom came and took us to that. Jackson was having a rough time. Crying cause I wouldn't let him play in the water in the toilet, crying cause I wouldn't give him ice cream for breakfast, and refusing to eat the waffles that I did make him. My mom wrangled him into his clothes so I didn't have to. I was just hoping he wouldn't be getting shots at the visit. He didn't. Apparently he is done with shots till his 4-year-old visit. So that was good news. He is still small. Still only 21 lbs. That is less than 5%. But he is sure getting tall. He is 34 in. plus a little and that is the 50%. Which means that he is taller than half of the boys his age. So he is going to be tall and thin like his dad was. Dr. Unite was wonderful as usual. We told him about my diagnosis and we talked a bit about it.

My Dad recently suggested I find a part-time preschool for JAckson to give me more rest and flexibility with Doc appts. I thought it was a great idea, but Dr. Unite and my mother quickly put the kabosh on that idea. Chemo severly lowers your white blood count and weakens your immune system. If I send Jackson to preschool he is going to be constantly bringing home colds, viruses and other illnesses. While it would be nice to have the Jackson break, the risk to my health is too great. So Jackson stays with me. I am ok with that. I have a ton of people who would watch him if I schedule things well. Instead, we discussed a housecleaning service. I want to find someone to come in and clean several times a month, both so I don't have to do it and so the environment gets de-germed more often. I think that is a great idea and am going to look for a service right away. If anyone has a recommendation I am open to it.

In the afternoon yesterday I had my PET/CT scan done. This is what made the day so damn hard. I wasn't allowed to eat all day in preperation for it. Normally I could probably handle it, but now if I don't eat I feel terribly sick. I started feeling weak and light-headed from no food around 10:30 and it only got worse from there. We arrived at ARA at 1:15 as sceduled and waited in the lobby for over an hour. I felt myself becoming weaker and I turned to my mom and asked "So what happens if I pass out in here? Do we have to reschedule?" Mom felt my pulse, which she called 'thready' and was about to have me lay down in her lap when they called us back. Finally. I had a hard time walking unassisted so they brought out a wheelchair for me. Tells you how sucky I felt, I let them push me around in a wheelchair like an invalid.

After 2 tries with the IV start they finally got one in, but it was too small for their comfort. They watched it constantly while I got the radioactive sugar infusion. This is what makes the PET scan work, something radioactive. After they gave it to me, they made my mother wait behind an iron sheild and I'm thinking "this stuff is so bad you can't even be near me, but it is ok to shoot into my veins? Alrighty." They put me in a warming room to percolate or whatever for about 45 minutes. They were also nice enough to leave me with a cup full of barium to drink. Nice white chalky liquid lightly flavored with coconut. Yuck. But the actual scanning only took about 20 minutes and was not uncomfortable. I just had to lay there.

On the way home Mom picked up a pizza. It was 4:15 when I finally was able to eat something, and you'd think I'd pig out, but I didn't. I ate as much as I could which isn't much right now. I am having a hard time eating sometimes. It feels like the food gets stuck in this one specific spot and it hurts. Mom thinks it is an affected lymph node pressing in where it shouldn't be. It makes things uncomfortable sometimes.

I was just so wiped out yesterday that I couldn't do the show. Steel Magnolias went on without me last night. Joni says they did well. I am glad. I am disappointed that I couldn't do it, but I was pretty sick.

Today I feel great in comparison. I have eaten and not had to run all over to appointments. I am going to be able to go on tonight. My Dad has come into town unexpectedly to see me and he is going to the show if I go on. And it is 2pm and I feel good. If I can get a nap in and eat another couple of times today, I should be fine and dandy to go on. Yay!

Today I had my first appointment at the Southwest Regional Cancer Center - Georgetown branch. I met with Dr. George there along with David and my Mom. We had all my records faxed to him from Round Rock and from the Pulmonologist so he was able to read all that and take over my care. Looks like I have Large B Cell Lymphoma. But I have to have several more tests and scans to determine what stage of cancer I am in. That information will determine exactly what kind and duration of treatment I will undergo. Short course of chemo followed by radiation or long course of chemo with or without radiation. Most likely the latter - 6 to 10 courses of chemo given every three weeks. Radiation down the road if necessary. Dr. George assured me that lymphoma is not only treatable it is curable. We will talk about my specific prognosis when we have established in what stage I am.

Dr. George was great. He was informed, seemed very with it and organized. He was determined to get my tests and scans done right now, not the end of next week and he made that happen. And above all he is a human being. Warm and caring. That is such an improvement from Dr. C, the Pulmonologist.

Dr. C did my biopsy on Monday and I swear he didn't even say hello to me before he squirted the most foul concoction up my nose and down my throat. Not even a smile. "This is really gonna burn." He said as a form of greeting. And it did. This was the numbing medication prior to the bronchoscopy. It was in an aerosol can and had that long little tube on it like a can of WD 40. And it tasted like WD 40 - OK, more like paint thinner. Er, I mean it tasted and burned like I imagine paint thinner would. I haven't actually tasted paint thinner so I can't say for sure. But if it is anything like this anesthetic, I certainly would not recommend it.

Back on topic though, I really like Dr. George and he sure got everything moving very quickly. He doesn't want to delay my treatment very much at all. Says we don't have to start chemo tomorrow before we get some test results, but we are starting early next week.

I have a busy, busy week scheduled. Tomorrow I get a PET/CT scan of my whole body to pinpoint any lymph nodes that are affected - could be more than just my lungs. On Monday I am getting a port put in my upper chest, above my breastbone. A port is basically permanent IV access - or permanent til we are done with chemo and we take it out. This is something my mom recommended and the doc agreed. This way I don't have to get an IV every time I get chemo and they can also get blood draws from it. It goes into a bigger vein than what is in my skinny arms. Otherwise I would risk damaging my arm veins and enduring countless sticks and do overs from nurses missing. Pretty practical I thought, so I am getting one. Tuesday we start the first round of chemo. I am supposed to plan on being there 4 - 6 hours as they give you the first dose really, reeeaaaallly slowly to see how you react to it. Then Wednesday I am having a bone marrow biopsy taken from my hip bone. This will make sure the cancer isn't so systemic that it is in my marrow. I hope not.

So things are moving rapidly. And I feel better having something to do and plan. I just want to get started even though I know we are looking at a long road and I really, really don't want to lose my hair. Sigh. The doc pretty much destroyed my hopes that I would not have to be a baldy. But alas, the hair is doomed. That is really gonna hurt. I am sure that I will get over it pretty quickly cause I don't enjoy moping (too much). But man. Sure wish cancer didn't have that one-two punch.

I did request one perk today and got it. A handicapped sticker for my car. If I have to go through all this and do it without the comforts of my hair, I am damned well gonna have preferential parking.

I am going to try to do some if not all of the Steel Magnolias shows this weekend. I think I can do it and I would like to do it. I may find my energy is simply not enough to do all three of them and after chemo next week I may be too sick to any more of. But I am going to try. Wish me luck!

Update...

Thanks to everyone for your thoughts and wishes. Just wanted to post a quick update for everyone, since I don't really feel like answering my phone.

I had my procedure this morning where they attempted to look around and get a biopsy of the mass in my lung. We are not sure if they were successful or not. The doc said that I was bleeding from the biopsy sites too much for his comfort and he stopped before he really got a good piece. What he got may or may not be enough for a diagnosis. If not, I will need a different kind of biopsy that will require them to go into the lung from between a couple of ribs on my chest - a sugergical biopsy instead of an endoscopy. Needle biopsy would not yeild enough of a sample either.

But the long and short of it is that the two docs who treated me today agree that whatever it is appears to be malignant. Yup. I said it. The Big C.

The question now becomes what kind of big C. They are guessing and hoping for Hodgkin's Disease, Lymphoma or a Germ Cell tumor. Any of these things are very treatable and even curable and tend to show up in otherwise healthy young adults like me. If this is the case we are looking at chemo and radiation, not surgery. It's not how I would prefer to spend the next year (or however long) of my life. But nobody asked me.

If this is not some form of lymphoma, but is instead a true lung cancer, I will need surgery to remove most if not all of my right lung. The docs feel the chemo is the lesser of the two evils, so that is what our hope is right now. Hodgkin's, or similar and chemo/radiation. Funny thing to hope for, but that is the plan.

On a different note entirely, I was able to open Steel Magnolias this weekend with little difficulty. We had three good solid shows and pretty damn full houses. Opening night, in fact, we had 230 people which is the largest opening night of a non-musical at the Palace ever. And the biggest opening, musical or non, since Beauty and the Beast two seasons ago. The crowds were appreciative and seemed to really have a good time.

Nikki Z. starts rehearsals tonight to take my place as Shelby. And it looks like she will definitely be needed. I know she will do a fabulous job. And I will try not to be sad if I cannot perform in the rest of the run. I got bigger fishies to fry right now.

It's Friday the 13th. Tonight we open Steel Magnolias to a full house at the Palace. On Friday the 13th. Some people call that unlucky, but I was born on Friday, August 13th and David proposed to me on Friday, December 13th. I happen to like the date.

But it is interesting cosmically that I should be opening this particular show on Friday the 13th. In this show I am playing Shelby, a woman dying of disease and determined to live anyway. This at the same moment in time that my health is in such a questionable state.

This week all the signs and symptoms of illness I have been experiencing converged and made themselves known. My mom took me to the ER on Tuesday because I was short of breath for no reason. She is an RN and knew that was not normal and shouldn't be ignored. Turns out my chronic cough is not allergies as I and my doctor kept assuming, and all the allergy meds in the world can't fix it. Instead, the x-ray and CT scan show that I have pneumonia and some kind of mass or growth in my right lung. Monday morning I go in for a bronchoscopy - where they go in with a camera to look around and get a biopsy. The hope is they will be able to figure out what it is before I have surgery to remove it. Things are pretty obstructed, though and they may not be able to get a biopsy. In that case, I will simply have to have surgery without knowing what it is.

So here is to hoping that they can get a successful biopsy and it turns out to be something cool, like my twin sister, and not something less cool like the big C.

But tonight we open Steel Magnolias. We already have an amazing actor learning my part so they will be covered if I have to have surgery right away, or if I simply become too out of breath to go on. As it is, I feel like an invalid. I feel as if I ran around the block after wrestling my son through a diaper change. Be nice if they can fix this and give me full breath again.

Heh, I just have to laugh now at all the shit I got during Robin Hood about projecting and being heard over the kids. I would just like it to be known that I did the best I could given that half of my right lung is obstructed! So there. And I am grateful to be mic'd in Steel Magnolias so I don't have to waste energy on being heard.

The cast is wonderful. They have cough drops placed all over the set for me. Last night, I was about to have a coughing fit and Jan handed me a cough drop. I didn't even try to hide it, simply made it common place. And it sure helped me get through. Just eased the terrible tickle in my chest and I was easily able to talk without sounding like I had something in my mouth. Hopefully tonight will go as well. I am getting that opening night excitement now and am pleased that nothing can dim the performer in me. Yeah, I am possibly very ill and unsure of what the next few weeks will bring, but goddammit, I am an actor. And tonight the show goes on.

So you'd think that since I haven't posted in so long that nothing interesting was going on in my life. But then you'd be wrong, my friend. I seem to be unable to post when I have too much going on in my life. Rehearsals for Steel Magnolias, memorizing lines. Oh and that Lasik thing.

Yup. After 22 years of increasing levels of blindness, I am now free of glasses and contacts. Hurrah! Of course, it wasn't that easy. No, no, my life needs more interesting fodder for storytelling than simply "Hey, I got my eyes fixed and it was great." There simply has to be an epic tale to tell. So if you want the short version stop with this paragraph. If you want the epic...read on.

It started so simply. I decided to to finally take the plunge and get it done. Made an appt with my eye doctor in April and found that while I am very blind, I am actually a candidate for Lasik. When I say very blind I mean that 20/20 is a 0 and I am a -12. 90% of people who wear contacts or glasses are a -6 or better. And I am (was) twice that. But testing showed me to have abnormally thick corneas. This is a good thing considering that they reshape your eye, basically shaving it with a laser and the more prescription you have the more reshaping needs to be done. So I am (was) a freak with legally blind vision and crazy-thick corneas.

I wanted to get it done right away, but there were two complications. I needed to be out of my contact lenses for at least 2 weeks prior to the surgery and I was performing in Robin Hood. Maid Marian could not wear coke-bottle-lensed glasses. So we put the surgery off till after Robin Hood closed and I could wear my glasses full time for two endless weeks.

June 14th was the big day. And I cannot begin to tell you how ready I was. Wearing my glasses was difficult for me. It was hard to see because the level of prescription I have gives no peripheral vision and lends a serious feeling of vulnerability to a girl. And I found myself slipping into behaviors and body language that I hadn't seen since I was a sophomore in High School and got my first pair of contact lenses. Couldn't look people in the eye for more than a second and didn't want them to look at me. Kept my head down and shoulders hunched. Protected my space in a way that reminded me of junior high. How you had to be very careful who got too close to you, cause if the smartass boy took your glasses and passed them around the cafeteria to see how blind you are, you'd be virtually helpless till they gave them back. Really -I was that blind. And wearing my glasses reminded me of the precarious position compromised eyesight can place you in. Add to that the fact that I was not taking my headache prevention meds cause they cause dry eyes and was starting to suffer from increased headaches. I was cranky about it and ready to get the surgery.

And at 7:11 am on June 14th, the laser center called to tell me not to come. They calibrate the laser each morning at this morning it came up with an error code. It either works at 100%, or it turns itself off. And there would be no surgeries performed that day. I was devastated. I had been telling myself 5 more days, 2 more days, etc. and couldn't imaging having to wait longer.

But I had to wait. It just so happens that the laser center was moving to its swanky new offices the very next day. That meant they had to shut down and move the lasers, recalibrate them and the FDA had to re certify them before I could get my surgery done. They were very vague on when they could do it, but I finally got them to work out a plan for me personally. My eye doctor is the wife of the man that runs the laser center and I was considered a priority patient. The plan was that they would do their damnedest to get the lasers functional and approved by Tuesday AM and call me in on Tues Afternoon to end my suffering. But we wouldn't know till last minute whether this would happen or not. So I waited. And waited.

Monday evening my doc's assistant called to tell me it didn't look good and to not plan on getting in on Tues. I tried to ask what the alternate plan was, Wed? Thurs? But Joe was just the assistant and had no answers. They would call me with more news.

Tuesday came and I got no call from them. I waited till 3pmish and called them myself. Somebody needed to tell me something. I could not put this off forever. Steel Magnolias opens on July 13th and I understood light sensitivity to be a common side effect of the surgery. Not a good thing when you are standing under stage lights. The flunkies reported - cheerily - that I was being schedule for the next Tuesday, another week away! Why? I asked. Why next week? Well, it seems the surgeon at the laser center was taking his vacation. Leaving tomorrow, so it was either the failed Tuesday plan or next week. I almost calmly asked to speak with my doctor. She'd call me back.

In the meantime, while I fumed, madder than I have ever been in my life, I started calling the other 5 or 6 state of the art laser centers in Austin with my story. Mann Eye Institute said come in tomorrow for scans and if you are cleared, we'll do it Thursday.

When my doc finally returned my call, I told her I had fired her husband's laser center and wanted to go to Mann. And my wonderful doc gave me no shit about it and helped me get my records over to the new place. I think she understood how shitty it was that I was being put off another week so the surgeon could go on vacation.

Mann Eye Institute was wonderful, first class, treated me well, got me - a complicated patient- in for surgery with two days notice. They agreed to co-manage me with my eye doctor and let me do all my follow-up with her. Which is important to me because she runs a child friendly office. All the exam rooms have toys in the corner and they encourage me to bring Jackson along.

So I am now a week post surgery and am seeing nearly 20/20. I am told my vision will improve even more once I heal further and take care of the dryness that is a common side effect.

This is pretty life changing. I have identified myself as being blind for so long. It is hard to grasp that the disability is gone. That I am not just wearing my contacts. That what I am seeing is produced solely by my own eyeballs. Very weird. I have a hard time getting into bed at night. I have such a feeling of wrongness when I walk to my bed with perfect vision. It feels like I have simply forgotten to take out my lenses.

Maybe I needed it to be an epic struggle to make it real somehow. It's a personality trait (flaw?). I somehow need to fight or suffer for something for me to appreciate it. Silly huh?

Just wanted to post a couple pics of my fantastic hubby playing the disturbing Edward Rutledge. Hate the character, not the actor...

Opening nights have a special flavor and excitement to them. And last night was no different. Last night 1776 opened at the Palace to an appreciative crowd of about 120. Andrea and I had a girls date. Dinner at the Wildfire and then the show. We ate too much, spent too much and gabbed plenty. And the show, oh the show!

1776 is a little-known musical, but I don't know why. I love it. Of course in addition to being a theater lover, I am also a history lover. And early US history is my favorite period of study. So I guess I am just destined to love a musical that combines both these things. But more than that, I think it is well written, the music is catchy, lyrical, comedic and at times poignant and biting. The writers walked a fine line in keeping the subject matter fun and entertaining, but throwing in reminders that this was serious business and that these men were signing a treasonous document and that many, many people would lose their lives over the decisions that they made that summer in 1776.

But my real pleasure of the night was witnessing my husband's command performance. It is an established fact that David is a gifted actor and a beautifully talented singer, but this time he has shown more depth and range than ever before. He auditioned for this show feeling certain, because of his height, good looks and tenor voice, to be cast as Thomas Jefferson. A role he could have done very well and done it in his sleep. Instead, what he really wanted was to play Edward Rutledge, the continental congressman from South Carolina. It is a relatively small role, but a pivotal one. Rutledge is not the standard goofy guy/leading man type David usually plays. He is one of the dissenters. He steadfastly refuses to endorse the Declaration of Independence as long as it contains the abolition of slavery.

Not a historically popular stance indeed. But in the show Rutledge disdainfully rejects John Adams' and Ben Franklin's claims that slavery is a dirty southern custom and gets right to the uncomfortable truth that it was the northern sailors who went to Africa selling bibles and rum to buy the slaves in the first place. They may not have held slaves in their homes, but they profited greatly from the triangle trade. And this point he makes in a show stopping musical number called 'Molasses to Rum'. It is a creepy song, designed to make you uncomfortable, even though it is geniusly and beautifully written. And this is the song my husband desperately wanted to perform. It requires both a strong actor and a strong vocalist and holy shit did he bring down the house!

We have been wondering how the audience would react to the number. Would they be silent? Would they clap? Would they boo? Well last night they cheered and applauded. And with good reason. David was magnificent, adding the perfect expressions to throw the point into John Adams' face and the vocal dexterity he showed was the best I have ever heard from him on stage. We all know what a fabulous leading man he is, but after this show, he has proved his stellar chops include a depth and passion that everyone can appreciate.

I am so proud. Sigh.

Go see the show!!!

www.thegeorgetownpalace.org