Here's To You, Mr. Hodgkin's

Because I've got weddings on the mind, this is a toast. A toast in honor of what I consider to be a pretty significant victory. A "f*@#$ you Mr. Hodgkin's" kind of toast:

Despite your indiscriminate efforts to invade my organs, your sick, twisted ability to grow and morph, multiply and attack my cells sending my lymphacites into crisis mode, I had a beer. I took a road trip. I slept in a cushy hotel bed. Despite your plots to destroy my good cells and corrupt my lymph nodes with your creepy cancerness, I slow danced with my husband. I fast danced with the girls. I celebrated, laughed and smiled as my friends danced their first dance. Looks like you're not so bad ass after all. Just try to break my spirit. You've got a impenetrable fortress of good friends, good vibes and a whole lot of determination to contend with. So this weekend was for you Mr. Hodgkin's ... and it felt good to spite you. 

If you asked me a week ago if I'd make it to Sarah and Adam's wedding my answer wouldn't have been too certain, but we made the trip and it felt amazing. Like three amigos, Melissa, Craig and I piled into the Corolla for the long ride to Rochester, NY to see Craig's childhood friend (who has grown to be a dear friend of mine for as long as I've known Craig ... and that's a long time) say her "I Dos." At the advice of Dr. Dailey, I was cleared (and encouraged) to go, with the orders for many stops along the way to stretch and walk and get my blood flowing. Following doctors orders, we made the trip in six hours each way. I sprawled and napped in the back for the majority of it so for me, it was a breeze! 

The wedding was beautiful. They said their vows in the warm sun by a country club lake. Sitting there watching them beam at each other flooded me with all the memories of our own wedding and how lucky I am to have this amazing man right be my side through all of this. Don't weddings make everyone sappy? 

Most know how much I love an open bar and not being able to take advantage felt a bit foreign, but I made do with Shirley Temples (a forgotten favorite) which in fact are also included in an open bar setting. Who knew? But the doctor told me that I could have the "occasional

 glass of wine or beer." I haven't had a drink in about a month so I figured this would be the time to cash in my one alloted adult beverage. But what would I choose? With much deliberating among the crew of us it was decided that mixed drinks have too many variables and the wine glasses were too small to make my one drink worth it. So beer it was. Ah, but what kind? I opted for something with flavor and girth. Something that I could sip over the next few hours so I wasn't the odd man out without a drink in my hand. I went with Killian's Irish Red and it was glorious. It lasted me through dinner after which I switched to the real hard stuff ... the Shirley Temples, extra cherries. 

I did the YMCA, my newly minted biopsy scar beaming in my underarm. I did the Twist with three hilarious and always-a-good-time ballerinas. I sang the Sandy parts in "Summer Lovin.'" I even bumped to Sir Mix-A-Lot. This baby's still got back. We laughed over prime rib and wedding cake and smiled and hugged with the newlyweds and their fam. 

But I knew my limits. The clock struck 10 p.m. and I felt like I would actually turn into a pumpkin. It was time. My body doesn't give me much room for questioning anymore so we left the dance floor just as the ties were coming undone and the party really getting down. Craig and I said our goodbyes and thanks and retired to the hotel where Tylenol PM and a luscious King sized bed were the perfect remedy to my tired, achy bones. 

I do feel bad for the housekeeping crew left to clean up the wads of hair I left in the bed, in the shower, on the bathroom floor. I did my best to gather it but it's becoming a losing battle. It's now coming out in baby pony tail-sized chunks. I'm afraid they'll think a scalping took place. But I felt pretty that night.

I felt happy. I felt satisfied and proud that no matter what, when there's a dance floor to tear up, passed hors d'oeuvres to demolish and the chance to sway with Craig to mushy love songs involved, you can't keep this girl away. 

Chihuahua Rescues Border Terrier From Cougar

The shame of it all as told by the Associated Press:

PHILOMATH, Ore. — A big cat picked the wrong little dogs for a fight.

Chiquita the Chihuahua chased off a cougar that had pinned Rosie the border terrier in this small Oregon town near the Oregon State University campus.

The dogs' owner, Loren Wingert, said Chiquita and Rosie are tough, but lucky.

The cougar pinned down Rosie, who squealed, but Chiquita persuaded the big cat to flee by barking ferociously.

Wingert lives in a cul-de-sac atop a hill that backs up to a wooded area with deer trails. Warning signs about cougars are posted on the trails.

Wingert said the dogs are fine.
.

Pure Country

Pure Country is rich with color.

6x8 canvas panel. To purchase contact me at

angelasacrylilcs@yahoo.com

Pearl on the Beach

Pearl's first crab.


Pearl on the beach.










.

Royalty

Royalty, anyone who is owned by a

shihtzu knows what this means.

To purchase contact me at

angelasacrylics@yahoo.com

Horse Versus Dog? Dog Wins!

Sometimes I Forget

It's a strange thing having this internal disease with no external signals to the outside world ... at least for as long as the majority of my hair hangs on. I've been feeling "normal" for the past couple of days, like a regular person capable of regular everyday things like eating, walking, working, laughing, playing. Sometimes I just plain forget I have cancer. But then there comes a not-so-subtle reminder like tremendous bone pain from the Neupogen shots, a chunk of hair in my fist, or being out to dinner when everyone else around me orders a frothy brew in an icy glass and I am forced to order a soda water with lime. Do you know how much I want a Sam Summer right now? These things that were regular parts of my life --- a painless existence and a brew (or a few) on a Friday night --- are a thing of the past since Mr. Cancer entered my life. 

As much as I forget, it can also be omnipresent at the weirdest of times. Today I drove past a woman my age jogging along the Simsbury greenway and I was so angry at her. "What a bitch," I thought. Angry that she can joyfully jog in her cute little shorts and racer bank tank, not a damn care in the world. Like it was her fault that I have cancer and can't walk up the stairs without getting winded anymore. Then I'm at CVS and the woman asks, "Do you have a CVS card?" and all I hear is "Do you have cancer?" I get this paranoia like people are looking at me like there is something wrong with me, like they know that I'm buying this Sobe water because I'm feeling naush and faint and am afraid I won't make it through my blood test without fainting. Ahhhhh. Everyone knows! But then I snap out of it and realize of course they don't know. Maybe they're looking at me strangely because I haven't showered in two days and my glasses are completely crooked because I keep falling asleep with them on and warping their shape. 

Then I get to the cancer center for (another) CBC finger prick blood check and it still doesn't seem real. Every other patient there is wrinkled and white haired. Very nice people I'm sure but I can't relate to their talk about forgetting their walker or the gifts they got from their grandkids. It can't be real that I'm actually a patient too. All the nurses, lab techs and receptionists already know my name and laugh and joke with me when I come in, but I realize that I'm not that memorable ... it's because I'm the only person who looks remotely like me. Dr. Dailey keeps talking about all these other twenty and thirty-something patients he's treating, but where are they? All I see is a sea of blue (or no) hair. There was a guy next to me in the waiting area who looked about 18-years-old or so. I found myself morbidly hoping that he had cancer too; maybe we could talk. The nurse came up to him: "Do you have an appointment?" My heart lifted--someone younger than me is waiting to get injected with these poisons, too. But no, turns out he was just waiting for his grandmother. Of course. 

Sometimes even when I'm getting shots or having my vitals taken I feel like I'm just there reporting on a story, watching it from the outside. It's not really me going through this. This is for old, sick people, not healthy twentysomethings. 

But the bitter times pass quickly. I'm happy that there are more moments when I forget than times that I remember these days. And I'm lucky to have so many joyous distractions to help me take the focus off the bad stuff. I'm going to keep forgetting as much as I can for the five days that remain between "normal" me and my next chemo shocker when the body-bashing cycle starts all over again. 

Uncle Jimmy

Uncle Jimmy, camping and

thinking about camping.

To purchase contact me at

angelasacrylics@yahoo.com.

Off to see the wizard......

Gail and I are off to a 4 day seminar to step into the matrix!

I'm bringing my computer so I can share it all with you.

How fun is that!  I love a good adventure!   http://www.matrixenergetics.com/WhatIs.aspx

Matrix Energetics sometimes appears magical in its expression but is based on the laws and expression of subtle energy physics and the concepts and laws of quantum physics, superstring theory and Sheldrake's Morphic Resonance. 

Here we go....down the rabbit hole......byyyyyeeeeeeeeee......

It's Kobain's turn to add to the mushroom......

Water Fun

Water feature at a local park.

To purchase contact me at

angelasacrylics@yahoo.com

A day with Ava and the mushroom project.......

We are beginning our mosaic at the top, just under Mr. Caterpillar, with bits of ceramic and glass flowers that I found at the swap meet.  We'll decide on the placement of the oyster shells  when we get lower down on the mushroom.  I've run out of apoxie sculpt, so I have to wait for my shipment to arrive.....

Celling Out

Maybe it's just one of my weird neuroses, but I'd often get sunburnt on my scalp, or in the side part of my hair or along the front of my hairline where I didn't put the sunscreen high enough. When it would start to peel I couldn't help but scratch and rub it and watch the dead skin cells flake off like snow tumbling before my eyes. I had a similar experience today, but this time it wasn't burnt epidermis, but my hair itself. 

Since I've started working from home my personal grooming has taken a bit of a dive. With no one to impress but the mailman, I've been wearing my hair in an effortless knot on top of my head. But this morning I was feeling great and I had an appointment for a blood level check at the cancer center. So I decided that I would get all dolled up, actually blow dry and straighten my hair and wear pants that don't have an elastic waist. My goal was for the cancer center staff to not recognize me I looked so good compared to the sweat pant-wearing, makeupless wreck that rolled in last week. 

As I started to do my hair, I realized that all that time it was tied in a floppy pony tail it was slowly becoming detached. I ran my fingers through my hair in front of the bathroom mirror and they would come away wrapped with fistfuls of hair strands. I'd run them through again --- more hair wrapping around my fingers, getting caught in my wedding rings. It was disgusting, but just like picking at a sunburnt scalp, I couldn't stop. I continued to finger comb my hair until the fistfuls subsided to scattered strands. I knew that my hair would likely fall out as a result of the cell-killing chemo, but I don't think anything can fully prepare you for it. The worst part? Two days before my ER visit and the beginning of this adventure I had just gotten a much overdue full highlight and haircut. $130 (before tip, eek) down the drain. Now my beautifully high- and low-lighted hair was escaping my scalp strand by strand. I wonder if I can get a refund? I took this picture today for memory's sake if in case tomorrow I wake up and it's all on my pillow. 

It started with the loss of my nose hair, which I have no objection to. Last week not only did my nose hair disappear but with it went all of the nasal membranes in bloody, tissuey chunks. Now the inside of my nose is like a squeaky clean and smooth cavern. And it seems that my head is on the same path. It's almost like I can feel my scalp releasing the dead hairs. My scalp feels super tingly like I doused it in a deep conditioning foam or slathered it in Nair hair remover. The more it burns and tingles, the more comes out with each finger pass through. I just want to end the itchy, tingly scalp sensations and the site of the hair balls. Gag. 

Despite this thinning-like-a-balding-man experience, I did receive very good news today. My bone marrow biopsy results were negative. That means the Hodgkin's cells have not creeped into my bone marrow!!!! (exclamation points justified today). This is great news. Dr. Dailey is still keeping me at a Stage 4b Hodgkin's Lymphoma patient, but we rejoiced together in the fact that it's much better to be Stage 4b minus bone marrow involvement. 

Not good news, but not unexpected news, my white blood cell count took a big dip. We track my blood activity now like some people track the New York Stock Exchange. I've actually started a blood cell portfolio. One week ago my White Blood Cell Count was 10.0, today it is 1.8 (normal is 4.1-10.9); my Granulocytes were 8.8 one week ago; today, barely existent at 0.3 (normal 2.0-7.8). If I was scheduled for a chemo infusion today they would not be able to treat me as my body would not be strong enough to handle the drugs. 

Now I understand why Dr. Dailey did not want me working in the hospital setting ... my body is inherently defenseless at this point. In steps Neupogen, white cell booster shots that will get me back to fighting strength. I got one shot in the arm today and have to go back in for two more doses tomorrow and Friday. Like Barry Bonds preparing for a big game, I'm taking in injections to pump up my body for next week's chemo attack. I'll take the shots and bathe myself in Purell until Friday's finger prick when hopefully my body is back in the disease fighting game. Ka Pow! 

Sebastian

Sebastian a beautiful older shihtzu.

To purchase contact me at

angelasacrylics@yahoo.com

"Day Dream Believer"

Here she is. :)   

I have named this piece "Day Dream Believer".   I can just imagine her standing in front of a mirror....gazing at her image and loving what she sees......and dreaming of the day that she is presented to the world.

14-1/2" tall.  An original sculpt in Prosculpt clay.  Hand painted eyes.  Head piece is created with tiny shells and micro beads, and then embellished with antique wax bridal flowers, glass leaves, netting and fabric leaves.

Her gown is made of antique metallic lace and netting.  It is embellished with the tiny wax flowers, fabric leaves and again, bits of antique silk bridal netting.  

Running down her back is a train of apoxie sculpt clay ( for support and strength ) covered with antique handmade lace and finished with irridescent powders.

Her wings are tiny wire and metal mesh pieces, embellished with wax flowers.

The antique netting that runs along the edge of her train and forms her skirt has been sealed and strengthened with a fabric hardener and then painted with irridescent paint.

Her base is a mosaic of soft blue glass tiles, sea shells, micro beads, glass leaves and rhinestones.

Top 10 Ways to Get a Taste of the Chemo Experience

From PlanetCancer.com:

Top 10 Ways to Get a Taste of the Chemo Experience

From a Hodgkin's Lymphoma Survivor, age 22

10.  Set down a delicious array of food before you, then eat only wood pulp for several days

9. Throw up on your lawn

8. Each week at a pre-determined time, wake up, collect some bees and let them sting you, (for that "I can't seem to get a vein" feeling, apply one of the little brutes to your arm with scotch tape)

7. Throw up on your neighbor's lawn

6. Shave off your eyebrows, take out your eyelashes (except maybe 3) then Nair the rest of your body. Don't worry, the burning is normal.

5. For that fun Ativan feeling, wander into a room and ponder all possible means of the word Amazing. Walk out of the room, repeat.

4. Hang upside down from a tree until your face is cherry red, this will help with the dizzy/flushed, red faced feeling of Adriamycin

3. Lay around feeling like you got hit by a truck

2. Attempt to drink Ensure while you are nauseated. To become nauseated, drink an Ensure.

1. Congratulations, you've finished one chemo treatment, how many more do you get to do?

BeBo

A Portrait of my daddy

James Johnson at his

67th wedding anniversary.

A Revolving Door of Smiles

Our house is like a tropical greenhouse of floral arrangements. Our refrigerator and freezer packed to the gills with delicious stick-to-the-bones home cooked favorites and sweet treats. A visit from the brown UPS truck has been a daily occurence and they're getting to know Sammy's bark. I am so incredibly humbled by the continued outpouring of thoughtful surprises that make me smile. From quote books, flip flops and cancer memorabilia to Broadway videos, comfy pjs, chemo survival kits and dry ice-packed meals, and stacks of heartfelt cards, every day has brought something that made me smile, laugh or cry (or most of the time do all three at once.) 

In one of the books I received, "I'd Rather Do Chemo Than Clean Out the Garage," the author comments that everyone should get hit by a truck just once to see how much they're cared about. It's totally true. Not that I'd ever wish that upon anyone, but it is true. Coming out with your cancer diagnosis is eerily like attending your own funeral, but you actually get to enjoy it, know what incredibly amazing people you have in your life and be humbled by how much they really care about you. I never knew how much my life affected others and how we're all so intertwined. It's been hard to understand that people are finding my story inspiring and hard to accept the outpourings of help but I'm realizing that that's what friends are for: to build you up and for you to lean on. 

Our house has been filled with lots of laughs and love. So many smiling faces have stopped by to share their support, hang out, make a quick drop off, or spend hours talking, laughing and relaxing. Whether its a game of Rummy 500 with my mom and gramma, a night of both cheese and chocolate fondue then classic Bill Cosby comedy with my brother and sister-in-law (and baby niece or nephew in the womb), surprise visits from family and friends I haven't seen in ages, or an afternoon on the porch in the sun laughing about bathroom humor and high school antics with some of the most amazing women that I know, my girlz, the healing powers are immeasurable. 

Oliver

Oliver the sweetest bully you ever want to meet.
6x8 angelasacrylics@yahoo.com

tiny wax flowers and lace.....